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constantineshots · 9 months

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these were some of the tags on the post where john was commenting on if facing demons was because he being self-destructive or if he was being enraged. i say both, and very much do agree with the tags, but i'm putting what i have to say on it under the cut because it's going to be a lot. trigger warnings for abuse, mentions of death/animal deaths, depression, etc. also a bit of rambling. this also somehow turned into psychoanalyzing. oopsie.

naturally, john and i have vastly different experiences regarding life, but i think there's a connect that helps me see things through his lens a lot more clearly, especially when it comes to the psychological.

just a bit of recap on my life i guess, but i'll just say "i got abused" and we'll move on from there. i can connect, in sum.

while john has newcastle and the deaths of friends under his belt, the abuse of his father, the blame of the death of his mother ( though i can't remember if he knew about his twin or not, but i don't think he did ), the magic, the killing animals, the killing of that one man all weighing on his shoulders and then much, much more, the trauma left behind was something i could easily connect with because of the depression, the self-destruction, the instances where even he himself is debating on suicide and alludes to it consistently, while also doing things to save his own ass but also that could very easily kill him. it's conflicting.

for me, i was angry and self-destructive because i felt like the world hated me. i'm sure if there was some form of power that i thought could help make me feel more powerful and i had less of an obligation to my siblings of whom faced the same treatment, i would have taken it and ran with it, too.

but there are things you start to do. you learn to lie to keep yourself out of trouble, give the people hurting you the truths they want to hear and it's something you learn to do in every day life. you'd say something that fed into what they wanted to be the truth and get the same abuse anyway, except the arguments wouldn't be as long and you'd get out of the situation faster. it's a bit of a morbid way to look at it, but while people tell you to "fight back", it's not that easy. i think it's why i connect to john so much- he didn't necessarily fight back against his dad from what we could tell until he eventually did the spell to keep his dad sick. and people will constantly say "i'd just fight back", or "i wouldn't have let that happen to me when i was a kid" and that ends up enforced in some medias that people write.

john does a lot of running and ducking his head and getting other people wrapped up in his shit. it's a path of destruction because he doesn't realize, at first, that it's going to be as big of a shit show as he thinks. for example, with ritchie, when ritchie says "oh i can handle it no worries john it's my expertise" etc. and john trusts it- he needs something done, and someone's willing to do it. but then ritchie ends up another person hurt or dead in what he thinks is his own fault.

you get told the same thing so many times throughout your life that you eventually start to believe it. sometimes, things just fuck up. you get called killer all your life, it only takes so long before you think that, well, maybe you're the curse. maybe you're all the bad shit that everyone says you are.

i do want to note that john does have dissociative episodes, especially in the newer run of hellblazer and he straight up says that. however, as someone who's taken so many psychology classes that i probably could have gotten a degree in it had my university provided the program, that doesn't necessarily mean a disorder, but it does usually fall under ptsd, depression, anxiety disorders, bipolar disorders, borderline personality disorders, schizophrenia, and other disorders. most disorders fall under these categories, though.

i have c-ptsd, depression, anxiety, and probably a lot of other mental disorders not explored because of past traumas that i could probably connect to his self destructive nature, but john has also probably only seen the therapists in ravenscar that proceeded to give him electro shock therapy while everyone else who had the nerve decided to beat the fuck out of him because they thought he killed astra. so more trauma tacked on to john's little plethora of already traumatic memories.

to be technical, there is a difference between c-ptsd and ptsd. with c-ptsd, the symptoms tend to begin six months or more after the initial traumatic event. *cracks knuckles* there is also a difference in symptoms, though they aren't necessarily exclusive to one or the other. c-ptsd tends to also be a result of ongoing, repeated emotional traumas, and on top of that, holds the trauma of ptsd, and then more. to clarify, ptsd usually has symptoms of dissociative episodes, flashbacks, dreams and nightmares related to trauma, commonly taking part in self-destructive behaviors, etc. to tack onto c-ptsd's symptoms, there is the constant feeling of guilt, constant hate towards yourself, consistently believing the world is bad in general, etc. i also want to focus on the fact that c-ptsd usually stems from childhood abuse, which is why i personally think john has c-ptsd, and then it just got worse from there. but you can have both! that's possible. so. i mean. well. call it like it is, john's probably got both.

anyways, moving on! borderline personality disorder, or bpd, kind of changes somewhat person to person, but overall, i think that the symptoms can fit john, in some cases. i pulled up a list just to be a little more clear and concise, but there is "an intense fear of abandonment, even going to extreme measures to avoid real or imagined separation or rejection" and i would really like to point out that, most of the time, john likes to say things like "i'm not good for you" or "i walk this path alone" or. you know, things along that line. for the most part, he pushes people away before they can get close. "a pattern of unstable intense relationships" and i would like to use chas as an example, which i know people would hate, but there are quite a few moments throughout hellblazer where chas will literally tell john that he hates him or shove his face in a toilet and tell him that's where he belongs.... and john doesn't walk away, he just lets chas walk away and come back because. well. why not? he thinks he deserves it half the time. but also, most of john's relationships aren't exactly stable. half the time, his niece and sister don't want to see him, the other half are his relationships that end fairly quickly, and others are just. john being john. "...seeing yourself as bad or as if you don't exist at all." "impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success" the guy smokes after having of had lung cancer. what more do you want for an example. he also consistently does magic even though it's fucked over his life multiple times. again and again and again and he knows that it's fucking him over. unsafe sex can also be debated- in the newer version of hellblazer, he has an illegitimate son named noah that he didn't know existed, for example. and that's where i'll leave that. though in some cases, it can be argued as symptoms of ptsd, though it's possible he could have bpd.

this is going to be the last one, and i am not a doctor or anything but i think that it's possible he could have schizophrenia, or simply hallucinations as a result of any of the other disorders on here, which is sometimes possible but not exactly always common. based on john being an unreliable narrator, there is the suggestion that the ghosts that plague john constantly are not actually there, and that they might just be hallucinations. there are other symptoms of schizophrenia, but i've mostly covered them above. visual hallucinations also include people who are typically loved ones and friends who are no longer alive, i would like to add, but again, they could actually be ghosts, though it's somewhat possible that they're not. in the case that the ghosts are not real....

ANYWAYS. feel free to add more. i did it quick, but. there is this....

#john constantine #blabbing #is it just me or when i type super long posts tumblr decides to be a huge ass #it's always like “hm. well u cant type now for a good second. fuck u”#like what the hell am i supposed to do when i am on a roll and you stop me.#ANYWAYS

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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By: Freddie deBoer

Published: Apr 29, 2022

Marianne Eloise wants the world to know that she does not “have a regular brain at all”. That’s her declaration, on the very first page of her new memoir, Obsessive, Intrusive, Magical Thinking. The book catalogues her experience of a dizzying variety of psychiatric conditions: OCD, anxiety, autism, ADHD, alcohol abuse, seasonal affective disorder, an eating disorder, night terrors, depression. By her own telling, Eloise has suffered a great deal from these ailments; I believe her, and wish better for her. But she would prefer we not think of them as ailments at all. And that combination of self-pity and self-aggrandisement is emblematic of our contemporary understanding of mental health.

Eloise is a champion of neurodivergence, an omnibus term that’s recently ballooned in popularity, which can include autism, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, or indeed any other psychiatric condition that’s hot right now. The term is designed for making sweeping pronouncements. Forget the fact that, say, autism and schizophrenia are so different that they have at times been described as opposite conditions. Forget the fact that saying you’re neurodivergent has as much medical meaning as saying you have a disorder of the body. The idea is that there’s a group of people whose brain chemistry differs, in some beautiful way, from some Platonic norm. And it’s an idea that’s taken on great symbolic power in contemporary liberal culture.

There is, for example, a thriving ADHD community on TikTok and Tumblr: people who view their attentional difficulties not as an annoyance to be managed with medical treatment but as an adorable character trait that makes them sharper and more interesting than others around them. (They still demand extra time to take tests, naturally.) It’s also easy to come across social media users who declare how proud they are to be autistic; I’m glad they’re proud, but their repetitive insistence makes me wonder who exactly they’re trying to convince, us or them.

Darker, there’s the world of “DID TikTok”. DID, dissociative identity disorder, is a profoundly controversial condition, once known as multiple personality disorder. Many serious experts question whether it exists at all; at the very least it’s incredibly rare. And yet thousands of adolescents have diagnosed themselves with the condition, and happily perform their various personalities for their social media followers, typically in ways that defy all established psychological understandings of the disorder.

Against this backdrop, Eloise is a marketing department’s dream come true: hers is a story of the young, beautiful, dysfunctional — and successful. Eloise is the perfect 21st-century woman, from a certain internet-enabled philosophy of human affairs. She is an admirer of witchcraft and believes that women have a mythical connection to water. She does a lot of drugs and becomes bisexual. She uses Tumblr and travels the world, vacationing in Lisbon and the south of France, and moves to Los Angeles to be an actor, taking care to embed that period of her life in a self-defensive patina of irony. She lives an enviable life of obvious socioeconomic privilege, which she does not have time to recognise, as she’s too busy cataloging her psychiatric maladies.

She crams them into every last anecdote: apparently nothing happens to her that she does not ultimately attribute to those maladies. Eloise’s love of swimming as a child is, for instance, laboriously explained in terms of her neurodivergence. I’m talking thousands of words. It seems never to have occurred to her that a love of swimming is not exactly rare among children, or that she doesn’t have to justify her joy at being in the ocean by making it “deeper”. Again and again, she holds perfectly mundane attitudes and behaviours up to the reader and says “Isn’t this special?”

The label of neurodivergence is so vague and capacious, pretty much anything can be pulled into its orbit and made “diverse”. There’s a meme that crops upon Tumblr, TikTok and Twitter that starts with “the neurodivergent urge to…” and is immediately followed by, well, just about anything a person does. Common examples include the neurodivergent urge not to reply to an email or to order food in rather than cooking what’s in the fridge.

Take Eloise’s nightmares. She has, at times in her life, suffered from debilitatingly bad dreams that made sleep a constant source of fear and pain. This sounds like an awful condition, and she deserves sympathy. But she gives the game away when she writes: “Maybe my relationship with dreaming wasn’t like everyone else’s.” Not like everyone else’s, no. But certainly like that of many people who suffer from recurring and terrifying nightmares. Eloise writes that, according to the Mayo Clinic, nightmare disorder “only affects around 4-5% of adults, which shocked me: did adults really not have nightmares?” It’s as if she genuinely does not know the difference between 4% and zero.

It is perhaps comforting to see every last detail of one’s life as the product of some uncontrollable force. “I am this way because I was born this way,” Eloise writes, in a remarkably bald denial of personal responsibility. As a pawn of the various interior forces that do combat in her brain, she is adamant that there is nothing wrong with her, that her suffering is all in service to some deeper way to live, and that she is proud of the very conditions she asks us to treat as a perpetual get-out-of-jail-free card for her behaviour.

The implication is that the neurodivergent might just be better than other people. As with introverts, social media users have developed a discourse around neurodivergence that is nakedly self-celebratory, a bragger’s genre. Eloise has clearly endured a great deal of hardship, but like her culture she seems to feel that this hardship can only be given meaning by being woven into a journey of self-actualisation. Eloise writes that her life is “underpinned and ultimately made whole by obsession”. Can you imagine a sadder statement: an adult telling you that there is nothing to distinguish her or give her value but her psychiatric conditions, conditions she shares with millions of others?

Diagnosis is the Holy Grail of the neurodivergence narrative. Eloise fixates on hers and its quasi-mystical powers. No reader could doubt that her problems are real, but she seems to have treated getting diagnoses like a consumer on Amazon. She states flat out, on several occasions, that she went shopping for an autism diagnosis, went to doctors with the express intent of wringing one out of them. There was a time when self-diagnosis was understood to be unhealthy, and perhaps embarrassing, but this is a brave new world we’re living in now.

Once enough people insist on mental illnesses as upbeat and fashionable lifestyle brands, then any of us who oppose it are guilty of the most grave sin of all, the sin of perpetuating stigma. It’s stigma to call autism a disorder, despite the fact that it renders some completely nonverbal and unable to care for themselves; it’s stigma to suggest that someone with ADHD bears any responsibility at all for problems at school or work; it’s stigma to speak the plain fact that people with psychotic disorders sometimes commit acts of violence under the influence of their conditions. It’s stigma, in other words, to treat those of us with mental illnesses as anything else than wayward children.

Stigma, that cartoon monster, has never been in the top 100 of my problems in 20 years of managing a psychotic disorder, but never mind; stigma is the ox to be gored in contemporary pop culture, and so we must fixate on it to the point that we sideline the health, safety and treatment of those with mental disorders.

What I find tragic about those who buy into the neurodivergence narrative is that they become their illnesses. And yes, there are alternatives. Eloise and people like her seem never to consider one of the possible ways that they could have dealt with their myriad disorders: to suffer. Only to suffer. To suffer, and to feel no pressure to make suffering an identity, to not feel compelled to wrap suffering up in an Instagram-friendly manner. To accept that there is no sense in which her pain makes her deeper or more real or more beautiful than others, that in fact the pain of mental illness reliably makes us more selfish, more self-pitying, more destructive, and more pathetic. To understand that and to accept it and to quietly go about life trying to maintain peace and dignity is, I think, the best possible path for those with mental illness to walk.

But in this culture, all must be monetised, all must be aspirational, anything can be marketed. Eloise lacks the self-awareness to ask whether there’s something exploitative and ugly about turning psychological illness into fodder for soap opera and motivational posters. Again and again in this book, Eloise gins up the kind of statement on mental health that you might find in an Instagram meme, wedges it awkwardly into some prosaic story about her youth, and then skips away. At one point she mocks “Airbnb-style Live Laugh Love signage”, and I could only think, you’re writing a book filled with it.

The most real, most human, most honest, and most humane part of Eloise’s book is something she wrote in a journal in 2009, when she was a teenager:

I fear my mind, as one single assembly by one fireman on fire safety in primary school caused this deep-seated fear. That shows the true extent of my mind’s power over me. Although these things are unlikely to happen, just yet, I fear every one of them one day. I don’t need a doctor to tell me that is a problem. But I want, so badly, to get better.

This is what it’s actually like to have a mental illness: no desire to justify or celebrate or honor the disease, only the desire to be rid of it. But the modern conception of neurodivergence (and disability activism generally) wants to have it both ways. Sometimes, people would prefer for you to think of their conditions as debilitating hindrances for which they may demand special dispensation. And sometimes they would like them to be seen as positive personality quirks that make them unique.

It is hard to witness the damage that has been done to this young woman, by a culture that insists she views her suffering as part of a beautiful journey. Today’s activists never seem to consider that there is something between terrible stigma and witless celebration, that we are not in fact bound to either ignore mental illness or treat it as an identity.

Were we wiser and more serious, we might be able to see psychiatric disorders as both natural and lamentable, as beyond the control of the individual but still within their responsibility. We would have sympathy for those who suffer from them, but recognise that sympathy only accrues to those whose conditions are unfortunate, unhealthy. We might be honest and say that, yes, it’s bad to be afflicted with psychiatric disorders.

We might, then, have the courage to say that mental illness sucks, that there’s nothing good about it, that the efforts to bend it into some superpower of greater creativity or deeper living is sour grapes from those who can’t escape. We might help people like Eloise, rather than celebrating them as self-actualised girlbosses. We might have the wisdom to ease her suffering, while we patiently tell her that there’s nothing beautiful about it.

Somewhere along the way we overshot “destigmatize” and ended up at “celebrate” and “reward.”

Not everything needs to be completely destigmatized.

#mental illness as identity #neurodivergent #neurodivergence #attention seeking #personal identity #personal responsibility #external locus #mental health #mental health issues #victimhood culture #victimhood #religion is a mental illness

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kuri-no-tani · 23 days

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JVC Post #30

Welcome to the NHK

This was one of the first anime I watched on my own, and at the time I loved it. I thought it was one of the best anime I had seen. Now, after watching it again after so many years, I still think it's pretty good, but not as good as I thought at one point. It's part of a slew of important anime that came out in 2006, which was a huge year in anime. Some other big names from that year are The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya(<3), The Familiar of Zero, Death Note, Aria, and Code Geass. There were also some cool OVAs like the Hellsing Ultimate OVA and Dai Mahou Touge. Though this anime is way too pervy. I think there's a lot this series could have done if it didn't have so much perv humor (even if I get why it was included).

Satou is a pretty well written character as well. He feels like a realistic portrayal of a shut-in NEET. This is a common point that a lot of people bring up when they watch this show.

That being said, Satou is also pretty clearly mentally ill (he doesn't have schizophrenia) which is part of the depiction of hikikomori. It's easy to tell someone that you just have to go out and talk to people or whatever, but it's never that easy for that person. For someone like Satou, something that simple is an insurmountable hurdle. Though, it's not just presenting Satou's issues. It also shows you (and Satou) that everyone struggles in their own way. This is harder to see in the 4 episodes we watched but I think the way this show presents mental illness and the complex situation someone Satou is in is something worth noting.

But all of this is really slapped around by the presentation sometimes. Particularly the way it jumps around after episode 11. The anime is a lot different than the manga or light novel, which are more focused. I feel like this anime would be better if it had stuck to what it was building up in the first half of the show instead of going off on a tangent in the later half. It would have been great as a 13-14 episode anime, even if they did change a lot of it from the light novel/manga. While I love MMORPGs, we didn't need 8 episodes about it in the show.

Its hard to get everything out of this anime with just a few episodes. Some of the episodes are just stuffed with great moments. Despite a lot of it being gross and weird, not a lot of shows have this sort of presentation of otaku culture to my knowledge so it's neat to see. It makes me cringe and look away but it's neat.

What I think the main point of this series is, is to tell people who identify with Satou that no one can go it alone, and to get them to realize that people like Misaki don't exist. You can't hope that someone is gonna knock on your door and rip you out of what you're going through. You have to put in work to make progress on your own; No one can do it for you. It also uses the NHK (Nihon Hikikomori Kyoukai) as a metaphor for blaming the world around you rather than looking inward. It's easy to imagine that you're part of some conspiracy or are in your situation because somehow everything is out to get you, but that's not (usually) the case.

However, I think the "message" of the show might be kind of murky and not well defined. Even with it's realistic depiction of an otaku shut-in NEET, it doesn't say enough about it or offer anything for Satou in the end other than a bittersweet, unhealthy relationship with Misaki. People who relate heavily to Satou aren't going to come out of NHK with anything but a lasting impression of that realistic depiction and will have nothing to go off of. It's a bit disappointing.

Lastly I wanna point out a cultural reference I noticed that I hadn't before. Though we didn't watch it, you can see in episode 3 when Yamazaki hands Satou his top 10 gal-games he hands him "Toki-doki Memorian" which is an obvious reference to Tokimeki Memorial (which is a great game you should play it). Pururin is also pretty clearly inspired by Di Gi Charat's Dejiko.

#doing this for a class

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deusexmachinawitch · 10 months

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Hii!! Can you talk about how to script for revision?? Thank you ❣️

Of course! I’ll talk about my experience when revising my Mom and my roommates since I’m still working on SP (mostly my self concept first so I can be as specific as possible) and what I did for each situation is different. You can see both the stories in my masterpost.

When it comes to my Mom, my script was more like a story-style first person book. I would remember the good things I enjoyed about my Mom when I was a child and before her mental illnesses suddenly coming up and wrote that up in a doc. I also thought about the traits that I felt somewhat jealous about when it came to the families of other people that I wanted for myself. I recognized that jealousy and flipped it around saying how everyone was jealous because my Mom was the way I wanted her to be and how I loved my relationship with my Mom. Describing the things we did, the things we enjoyed as in memories from seeing her whenever I visited her (even though I haven’t seen her in person for 8 years) in a first person narrative and then describing the conversations I had with her like I was already having them. I indulged in the feeling of how much fun I had with my Mom and how much I missed her but I turned the feelings of missing her old self of missing her because we live in different cities and thinking how much fun I have with her.

Suddenly, my Mom was revised in one night and my Mom is exactly how I want her to be. I have conversations with her normally without her being like before (she has BPD and schizophrenia, but hasn’t shown any things of that since the revision and it has been quite a time) and when she was even calm and open with me about her worries, I affirmed that my brother (who has also been the root cause of my rift with her) would move out and that my Mom would move out to her dream place because she was really afraid of her previous neighborhood because it was dangerous. In the end, one day my Mom was cleaning my brother’s room and found certain “grass paraphernalia” and kicked him out and when she went apartment hunting, she found a beautiful huge apartment in front of the beach for cheap and moved. All of this happened in just a week and everything has been pretty wonderful since then. I will eventually revise my brother but I know I hold resentment towards him still for disrespecting me and my mother’s illness so I’ll work on myself first then on my perception of him.

When it comes to small things like my roommates doing certain things, I made a custom server for myself on Discord where I write conversations with myself like telling a friend things like my roommates cleaning or not being mad because of gaming. Then I re-read the convo and make affirmations very short and easy to remember affirmations related to that and that usually works for me quite well.

The key is doing what feels natural to you. If what you write doesn’t feel right it’s because you either have to work on self concept or your assumption about the person or situation first or the writing technique isn’t the right one for you because it doesn’t feel natural to you. Have fun, be specific, this is writing a story, YOUR STORY. And after that just be very simple with your affirmations especially if you’re an anxious person or an overthinker. That way is easier to overwrite any intrusive thoughts. Identify what’s easier for you and work from that, if it’s not natural it won’t work. You’re the God of your reality, you don’t need to adapt yourself to the techniques your read, YOU are the one that adapts the technique because it’s YOUR reality and YOUR rules.

I don’t think it’s bad to overconsume as long you learn from reading to learn, adapt those teachings and apply. Go with a mentality of “Yes, I like how this sounds but I will adapt it to what feels natural to me because the law bends to what I want and feels natural to me”. Same goes for the feelings during manifestation, they should be natural. That’s why work on yourself first so it feels natural that good things chase you because you’re amazing and it would be natural people bend to match such a wonderful person and that good things happen to you because you’re a God and everything works in your favor. So it’s natural everything good happens to you and it’s not about lucky girl syndrome. You’re not lucky because you’re a God, it’s just natural everything good happens to you because you’re a God and you’re in charge of literally writing your own story and it’s not about luck that things will happen, it’s just natural things will happen.

Hope this is helpful!

(Also sorry if there’s anything weird in the formatting but the mobile version of Tumblr does weird things sometimes).

#anon #law of assumption #loa tumblr #manifestation #manifestation technique #loassblog #loassumption #scripting #revision

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overmorrowpine · 1 year

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pinned post moment

hi! we're theo or sundry, an endogenic system of, as of last headcount, Officially A Fuckton. he/him pronouns default, or ask

will post/reblog: httyd, mcyt of Many different kinds, warrior cats, tma, silt verses, malevolent, good omens, percy jackson, wings of fire...honestly just many things. also chickens. so many chickens. & wasps too wasps r beloved

(check out our warriors-inspired project over at @wayward-wilds)

i will block you if:

- you're racist/queerphobic/ableist etc, this is probably obvious but yknow

- you're an empty blog (i will think you're a bot)

- you have anything hp related in your header/bio/url/anything

- you're anti-kin

also, please dni if you don't mask or do other things for covid precautions. this is the only thing that i can't Tell from a blog unless they outright say it, hence why it's not a "i'll block you if"

this blog supports:

- endogenic systems (systems who formed for reasons other than trauma)

- ANY AND ALL good faith identities (including mspec lesbians, including people with brainweird and strange identities, including people with contradictory identities. ALL OF THEM.)

- any and all neurodivergencies (including the super stigmatized stuff, like npd (hii) or schizophrenia or paraphilias (as long as you're not hurting anyone i don't fuckin care))

our stance on ship discourse is: tag your shit and we'll do just fine, or, see this post

if you self-identify as an anti, we will probably block you. if you think it's okay to harass, suicide bait, report stories or art of fictional characters to real life abuse hotlines, or spam report people, we will for sure block you.

tagging system:

#sundrops - stuff i say

#[name] tag - friends :]

#writings, #adult tips, #things to do when bored, #friend talk - all probably self-explanatory

#[trigger] tw - how we tag triggers

#[identifier] tag - (jewish, brainqueer, alterhuman, disability, etc) stuff that fits under that category that relates to me

#reblogging for [name] sundry - something that the current fronter thought another headmate would like

also, don't mind the tags at the bottom of the post, it's stuff i want easy access to

#chicken tag #writings #things to do when bored #posts that i have collected #fave #save

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companionplanting · 1 year

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We've been debating on how to properly tackle this kind of subject without coming off as ignorant, contradictory, or belittling to others. So if our words come off in that way, please reach out to us and let us know.

With the rampant scene of various mental illnesses being painted as malicious (ASPD, NPD, Schizophrenia, etc.), TERF/SWERF ideology being mainstream as well as on the other side of that same coin of "Alpha" males, it has clearly been shown to us what we had speculated for a while.

People don't want to confront their pain, and blame their trauma on anything but the truth.

I'm gonna go more in depth with this so hear me out.

We had (and still have) gone through a multitude of confronting our trauma, processing it, then eventually having to accept it and move on. It's challenging to say the least. But it's necessary. We have a lot of trauma, so we have had to do this song and dance multiple of times. None of us can say it gets any easier each time, but it has always lead us to getting better.

Each time we are confronted with the same question,

"Why did this happen to me?"

Of course sometimes it goes deeper with other questions, but we always circle back to that same one. A lot of people have asked that, honestly it's not new. We also acknowledge the outside factors that lead to moments of abuse or trauma like systematic oppression of various groups, indoctrination of ideologies, generational trauma, as well as lack of different kinds of support and community. Of course those are explanations, not excuses.

So we then go back to that question after learning what we know about the world and it's harmful systems. "Why me?". What we ultimately came up with was

"It just happened because."

It's anticlimactic and frustrating, we acknowledge that, but true. You can point to all the outside influences, you can dissect people's personhood down to their very core, you can label them with whatever would fit best but none of that is going to answer why it happened to you.

And it won't. But that's okay. There wasn't a grand scheme, it's no one culprit, it's not a big master plan, it's simply just happenstance. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and it's awful, but it had nothing to do with you specifically.

It's easy for us to create a big boogyman to blame our problems. It makes it simpler, easier to digest.

For one example this comes in the form of vilifying people with mental disorders. Maybe it's to excuse their parent's or partner's selfish actions, sudden and aggressive bouts of unexplained violence, or simply neglect in every field.

For TERFs and SWERFs, it's anyone one that doesn't prescribe to their definition of 'womanhood'. Maybe it's to excuse the way past partners would twist and violate their romantic and sensual attractions. Maybe they feel hurt and scared in a patriarchal society, constantly watching and judging. Perhaps even just feeling scared and lost in a world they have very, very little control over.

For 'Alpha' males and their ilk it's to men not prescribing to their definition of 'traditional values'. Maybe it's an excuse to direct sadness and anger that has built up for so long towards society's lessers. Maybe it's an excuse to feel powerful and important in a sea of random unimportance.

I cannot say for sure what these people have been through or desire. Even still it's simply, again, explanations and not actual reasons. But it all goes back to pointing the blame at something, anything to make the world less scary.

The truth, the much more scary truth, is that there is no reason. The world is random, and that includes pain. Those people didn't hurt you because of their mental disorders, their gender, their occupation, none of what that person was.

It happened because.

Of course more awful things happen to various minority groups (LGBTQIA+, disabled people, POC, etc.). Even still, that is again an explanation not a reason.

But there is no one singular monolith you can tear down to make the world freer and happier.

It's just the many complicated and absolutely random layers of the universe.

That's okay, and you will be okay. It makes the world more unpredictable, but you'll find your footing. We're sure of it.

-🖋️, 🌲 & 🍂

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messyrosedepressy · 11 months

Text

Psychic or Psychotic?

Sometimes,

I get this overwhelming feeling

That I have the ability to become

Somebody else.

Somehow,

my mind gets taken over

by an entirely different person.

Somewhere along the way,

a specific soul enters the control room,

pushes buttons, pulls evers,

making my body twitch,

Carrying it to unseen places.

They push strange phrases out of my mouth,

things that have never once escaped my lips.

Things that I would never dare,

Seemingly out of thin air…

Is my mind so vast

that can create this wide variety of personas?

Or am I just incredibly ill?

Or perhaps…

spirits are using my body

To feel alive again?

Easily and without hesitation

One could say that all signs point to;

Mental illness

Schizophrenia, dissociative identity disorder, Bipolar disorder…

Easily one or all three, quite possibly more.

I learned in an Abnormal Psych class

how truly insane I must be,

when the professor spoke the words

“Ghosts do not exist.”

You mean to tell me…

the belief I have had my whole life

Is it just a made up concept?

And that believing it makes me

Unwell?

To that degree, all science is constructed the same way.

Everything comes from a theory.

Theories aren’t absolute truth,

Absolute truth is impossible,

But proven theories are as close to truth

as humans feel they can get.

If you believe in magic over science

they can stamp your file with a diagnosis,

Schizoaffective Disorder.

They’ll feed you pills that dull your senses,

so you can’t even feel your own energy.

What if

the people who have the ability to see magic

aren’t the crazy ones after all?

Do scientists definitively know

whether or not there are mystical forces

in the universe?

They put zero stock in being able to feel energy or see auras.

“You’re not summoning the spirit of your deceased loved ones in a séance,

You’re tapping into your deep subconscious, to bring forth the impression of that person.

They can’t actually be there, it’s not scientifically sound.”

Maybe this kind of person just can’t see through their third eye,

either because their spiritual self is sleeping,

or because they are subconsciously drowning out the ability to see

because they can’t fathom this reality.

Therefore, they aren’t actually seeing the whole picture.

How do you know my perspective isn’t correct?

Maybe I’m a celestial being who has taken human form,

To influence humanity

To change.

My mission is to supply them with metaphorical monocles,

or cause such a ruckus, that the third eye will open from shock.

Encourage them to lift the veil from their spirits,

And open the eye they weren’t aware they had.

The world is not black and white

It is full a spectrum of brilliant colors,

thanks to the light from a giant star,

And the receptors in our eyes and brains that interpret the colors.

How can you think about scientific concepts like this

and not consider the pure magic in it?

It is more than I have ever been able to summarize with my words

Yet here I am, giving it my best shot.

Bipolar symptoms include:

delusions of grandeur.

Strangers have always depended

on the kindness of me.

Though I have come to realize,

I am a powerful force,

with the strength to withstand

the discomfort they leave me with.

And this state of mind-

This feeling is such a contrast,

to my natural state

of feeling like an insect.

Insignificant, easy to step on;

accidentally of course.

They never mean to hurt me,

I understand.

They just don’t realize where they are letting their foot fall

Before it’s too late.

Where has all this uplifting, self-generated energy been,

When I am so low?

When I find myself operating at the weak frequency

When I long to sink into the earth,

approximately six feet beneath the surface;

like the perpetual wounds in my soul,

so deep and so wide

they can never heal.

I will continue to bleed,

Until my life force leaves my body.

Where does my confidence go?

My sense of self is so radically inconsistent.

Why don’t I always see myself this way,

Realize that I am more than just a suicidal soul,

buried in creative energy, yet lacking in motivation?

It lies dormant within me,

and has unpredictable eruption patterns.

The power surges through my body,

Almost to the point of pain,

and definitely to the point of insanity.

Is sanity truly achievable?

I’m not sure I’ve ever considered myself

To be very sane at all.

Mostly insane, a fraction of sanity.

But does that make me

Any less deserving of a good existence

Than someone with more sanity?

#poetry #spirituality #psychology #art #beauty #science and magic #mental illness #poetry journal

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ramblingdisaster73 · 1 year

Note

I know many people find it romantic that Iris suggests the annulment and I wish I could feel the same about it, but her character is just written so inconsistently. On one hand she is supposed to be sensitive enough to think of that solution and to give the speech about how TK should be Carlos' first marriage, but in the next moment she calls him Carlos' project in colorful imagery and we are expected to excuse that because she supposedly doesn't have the social abilities. I think I would be able to enjoy her character more if she hadn't been so obviously written as a plot device.

I have other reasons for not really being able to romanticize the annulment idea, but I can see why you feel this way.

I, personally, don't actually see her as inconsistent, but I can't speak to how realistic the character's schizophrenia is displayed on the show, I do not have irl experience with schizophrenia. I do have a lot of irl experience with autism. I have a few relatives that are on different places on the spectrum. Both schizophrenia and autism are nuero-developmental disorders that have similar issues with interpersonal relationships and cognitive dysfunction.

My stepson's younger brother (13) is on the autism spectrum - he is considered high functioning - he is very intelligent with excellent critical thinking and problem solving skills - to the point that he can make any adult in his life look dumb. But, this kid has absolutely no filter - if he thinks it, he says it. He isn't trying to be mean, even if what he says sounds like it. He can give some of the best descriptions of his games or stories that match those of sci-fi writers. There is no limit to what our brains are capable of. I think this is why I personally do not find the character inconsistent, but I can see why others would.

I would love it if the show actually explored the character they reintroduced, but like you said, she is currently being used as a plot device, and it can make it hard to connect with. I think we may be seeing her occasionally from now on, maybe an episode or so once in a while, we could learn more.

I feel like the only way for us to get any information on what Iris was like before she had started exhibiting signs of schizophrenia, would be if they actually did a "Carlos Begins" type episode.

What we know about her pretty much comes from Michelle in Season 1 while she was missing, or now from Carlos - kind of, and Iris herself.

In Season 1 Michelle when was talking to the curandera, she indicated that Iris had been a bit of an overachiever, athletic, and fairly intelligent (at least I hope so since she was in or at least had been accepted to medical school before she disappeared). We now know that she has been working with the same organization as Michelle, helping people that were in a similar position to her.

These parts of her wouldn't really just go away with her illness, they may be altered somewhat depending on the subtype & other factors.

It's hard to tell what parts of the character are just Iris and what the effects caused by the schizophrenia/medication.

In the end - the writers hope that we will just ignore the plot holes, conflicting character info, any sense of an actual timeline because they do tell a beautiful story. It is hard as hell to suspend reality sometimes.

So far, they have steered away from the only fear I had when I realized the manner in which she was being introduced. It is easy to make a character (or real life person) that has a mental illness or nuero-developmental disorders the problem or the bad guy in whatever plot has been cooked up - it is easy to blame it on the illness/disorder instead of the person. I am so thrilled that doesn't seem to be the direction they are going. I have been a Lyndsy Fonesca fan since she was on my grandma's favorite soap opera.

I have come to accept that reality and legalities were not considerations when they came up with this storyline - they also don't expect a bunch of us to dissect, question everything, so they don't bother with side character development or trauma recovery.

#anon ask #911 lone star season 4 #911 lone star spoilers #iris blake

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hypnotichyenascrunchyrollcatchup · 20 days

Text

Parasyte The Grey

"Hey Hyena, what gives, that's a people! I come here for anime wtf?" I hear the rhetorical reader in my head saying. Well, in case you hadn't heard of the award winning manga from 1989 Parasyte or the 2014 anime adaptation on Crunchyroll's top 100 best anime from the 2010s Parasyte: The Maxim, it's related enough to anime that I consider it fair game for this blog. Hell, if y'all want I could do a series of Netflix anime adaptations if you enjoy me hating on things. Maybe this one isn't so bad though?

The most important thing to know when judging this adaptation is that not only is it telling a different story, I don't think it's even the same timeline. A lot of things just do not make sense until you forget what happened in the anime. With that said, it's still got some real goofy flaws.

Right in the first 5 minutes of the show, you've got a flaw that just does not make logical sense. So at the moment of pollination, one of the larvae dropped on a guy at an EDM festival in South Korea, and proceeded to go on a rampage in the middle of the crowd. A lady comes up to him and tries to get him up, the parasite had already taken over his brain by this point so it's very odd that he just gets up and starts walking into the crowd.

The thing about the parasites is that they're very simple organisms in that they are instinctual. All they really know when they're first born is hunt, they do gain knowledge as they go on but it's kinda like being a toddler in an adult's body. So the fact that this newborn parasite just passes up the chance to get an easy hunt is just baffling ? The argument can't even be made that it was avoiding being detected because while it was out in the crowd the parasite bumped into someone and they accost it which sets off the parasite's killing rampage.

The next thing about that incident is that it did not make the news. How is it not going viral on social media? This was a stadium with thousands of people, some of them surely would have been able to record the incident and get away. In fact we are shown footage someone at the concert took at the end of the episode when we're introduced to this parasite task force. I'm not buying their claim that they were able to censor every bit of evidence, not with a crowd that large. Something like that would have blown up like cancer on the internet before they would even get a chance to put a lid on the story.

After that the episode is hard to follow for a while as they try to introduce too many characters at once. Or rather we're not even introduced to these characters, they just sort of show up like the guy that eventually has to explain the situation to the main character first shows up in a scene where he's stabbing some unrelated guy in a brothel.

The main character gets her parasite after getting stabbed by a guy that followed her home from work, and because of her injuries the larva was not able to consume her brain in time. At first I thought this was dumb, but then I remembered that there were other ways for hosts to remain human, I just can't remember if something like this happened in the anime and whether it worked the same. They said the guy that stabbed her had schizophrenia though which is yikes.

I will give it credit for having an interesting dynamic in which the parasite cannot directly communicate with the main character unlike Migi in the anime. I'm guessing the reasoning is that it is a part of her brain so instead of taking control of the hand like Migi, it takes control of her whole functioning. This leads to the aforementioned random guy coming to a meeting of parasites after following the parasite in his sister's body. At first the main character's parasite was going to kill him, but then changed its mind and told him to pass on the message to the host.

It's not entirely clear why it changed its mind, I guess because he knows one of the parasites? But like, why would it care if he was killed, there's no emotional attachment. Even if it was to prevent suspicion that it wasn't a successful integration, that wouldn't even be on the sister parasite's mind. He snuck there, the parasite wouldn't have known he was there in the first place or else they would have killed him. This guy's disappearance would have been chalked up to some rando hunting him.

Another thing I want to mention is that when introducing both the parasite's church and the anti parasite task force, we're shown that the church was storing bodies in some abandoned location. We know that it has been a month since the parasites arrived on earth, so what I want to know is how are these bodies not rotting by now? It can't be that they're saving them to eat later because one body would be enough to sustain a single parasite, and since the method of luring victims seems to be through one parasite disguised as a prostitute they wouldn't be getting more than one kill at a time. So they somehow managed to get working refrigeration in this derelict building.

The cops break down the door to their secret body storage room and find a symbol used to represent their church. Then, as the camera pans away from the main cop lady we see the same symbol written in blood on the side of the building across from them and it's much larger. This was probably the goofiest mistake this show has made, because it's literally just done to be spooky without any thought put into it. This is a secret organization of organisms that can telepathically tell when one of their own is nearby, why would they paint their logo on a building like that? Not to mention, it isn't as if they would know what it was if they weren't already contacted about it. All this does is go "LOOK OVER HERE WE KILLED PEOPLE" which is not something you want to do when you're a secret organization storing bodies for some nefarious purpose.

There were other things that may or may not get explained from watching more episodes but I don't know if I want to do that to my Netflix algorithm. I was intending on this being a quick review whoops.

#parasyte: the grey #parasyte #netflix live action #anime adaptation #body horror

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luminousvision · 7 months

Text

At Sea

A few of his friends from Long Island said he once owned a veritable mansion in Virginia on a thousand acres, all to himself, before he sold it and set sail forever. No, he had never spoken about a wife, children, or about any family except his sister who had some early onset of dementia or schizophrenia—something of that unfortunate sort—and didn’t recognize him anymore. It doesn’t sound very funny, they admitted, but it was hilarious when he told the story. It must have been, because everyone laughed.

I met Marcus Venacio on a soggy San Diego morning, aboard a yacht named In Between. We had a mutual friend who suggested the adventure would help me find myself. He said Marcus was a fun person with a great sense of humor. I sold street paintings after high school, but this barely paid the bills, so I thought it was either the army or the seas. Between these, the decision was easy: I’d take the undulating ocean over the rectilinear military life any day.

When I stepped on deck, Marcus looked me up and down, the same way my best customers inspected my paintings. He was a short man with jet black hair combed over. He wore a nice white suit.

“So, you’re interested in heading over there?” Marcus gave no indication of where that might be.

“Absolutely.”

He paused. “You know where ‘over there’ is?”

“Anywhere but here, I’m sure.”

Marcus looked into my eyes. “Second question. How many people live worthwhile lives?”

This question sounded rehearsed. “Well, many of them,” I said. “Different people find their own calling.”

“That’s unfortunate, don’t you think? We each only get one life. What should we do?” Marcus crossed his arms.

“We should just live all of them at once.” This was a joke, but he did not laugh.

“What’s your name?”

“Ricardo.”

“Welcome aboard, Ricardo. We leave in two hours.”

We departed for some place in El Salvador where we stayed only an hour for supplies, and then left for Havana where hundreds of his friends were waiting. A dozen new crew members appeared and organized a celebration, bringing out more food and wine than I thought could fit on a yacht. I asked one of the guests what they were celebrating. Why, they were celebrating Marcus himself, she said. Everyone loved this remarkably cosmopolitan man.

Marcus put me on janitorial duty because I was new, so I spent an unpleasant night cleaning after the revelers. I woke up when we were adrift in the middle of the ocean, unsure of when I fell asleep. I asked where we were. We were headed to Caracas. What was at Caracas? More of his friends, I soon learned. We repeated this around the world, somehow never docking in the same place twice.

Marcus was no hedonist. He drank no more than was necessary to loosen up his friends. No women stayed on the yacht. His only real pleasure was setting sail. One day leaving Singapore, I asked him why he seemed so happy to leave. He enjoyed the reminder that nobody could hold him anywhere, Marcus explained. Each Marcus at each destination was unique except that each had many friends, stories, and jokes to laugh at. Singapore Marcus? He lives one day, not longer.

In Buenos Aires, his friends whisper that he’s in with the Saudi prince. In Dubai, they say he runs Venezuelan oil by day and Colombian cocaine by night. The English suspect he’s French, the French suspect he’s Swiss, and the Swiss are probably too polite to pass any judgment at all, except Marcus doesn’t have friends in Switzerland. Only the Americans admire his braggadocio and his dislike for any particular flavor of nationalism. Just like a true American, they say.

Marcus Venacio directed us around the world with the thick mustache and smile of a pirate hauling bounty, arriving at one port with the express intent of leaving it.

After fourteen months of docking, partying, working, contemplating, and departing port after port, we finally docked in San Diego. We’re back home, Marcus told me. So are you, I replied. I’m always home, he said, smiling. I had land duty. We needed some paint, lumber, and plumbing supplies, so I went to Sam’s Hardware. Old man Sam used to work every day, but I did not see him. Instead, a high school classmate scanned my items at the register. He didn’t recognize me.

I stopped by my old home, a quiet heap of brick now coated with lichens. The car wasn’t there—perhaps my parents were on a trip. I looked in through the windows and saw a pristine house still furnished. The front yard had a few spiky weeds in the parched dirt and little else. I considered venturing downtown where I had made a name for myself selling paintings curbside, but I didn’t have much business there anymore. I instead headed back to the port, looking into the glistening blue ocean in the distance.

Dozens of times, I had sworn to quit the Marcus Circus the moment we returned anywhere near San Diego. I would declare this crazy adventure complete and return to my old life. But the hundreds of Marcus’ San Diego friends who came aboard that evening looked, smelled, and partied just like Marcus’ friends everywhere else. They even spoke English with an accent.

Marcus pulled me aside the next morning.

“Visit your parents?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them a lot?”

“Not as much as they miss me.”

Marcus nodded. “Surprised?"

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, congratulations on your first year, Ricardo. I’m glad you’re still with us.” He patted me on the shoulder and handed me a solid bar of gold. My bonus.

I asked him what the hell I was supposed to do with plain gold. Marcus winked at me. It’s for the house on land someday, he said.

“Someday,” I said.

I sailed with this same Marcus Venacio for another two years before the fateful day we docked in Hong Kong. Three serious men in black demanded Marcus off the yacht. I didn’t hear their subsequent conversation, but he shouted at me to get the papers below deck. I did not know of these papers. When I hollered back that I couldn’t find anything, Marcus walked steadily towards me until he was halfway down the length of the yacht. He then took off like a jet on an aircraft carrier. Suit and all, he launched himself into the sky and plunged into the water. He swam away faster than his yacht had ever left port.

A few of his friends in Taipei called me some weeks later, saying that they’d found him washed ashore, miraculously still alive. The sea does funny things to a man. His hair was grey and he didn’t have a mustache. He insisted he was Jesus because he had been reborn onto land to save each human being from himself. Consistency, he shouted several times, delirious. I asked his friends to inquire whether he had a sister. They struggled to get an answer because the man wouldn't stop laughing. He did not have a sister.

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entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys · 2 years

Text

Video games are worthless

Video games are nothing more than a distraction with false achievements and different pain ever losing a video game over and over again and go crazy or something that only exist on a screen and let me put pixels and is not real

Ever see how people get upset with video games and just to achieve nothing they're obsessed over a fantasy video games in a way are kind of like normalized schizophrenia

It is a disconnect from reality and that ultimately to a degree is kind of okay you can stretch that but to complete disconnect it's madness

Video game serve as a way to torture us while we accept the pain being beaten in a video game puts false shame on the people that make them think that they are inferior

When in reality video games are extremely limited in what is quote on quote "Real" !

I don't believe video games cause real world violence because of the guns look at thinking of all the movies of which shooting people shooting in them and blood and gore video games are not nearly as realistic as movies are I've seen good graphics and trust me I seem Mortal Kombat 11

Video games are stupid they're supposed to be a way to make you happy they're either painfully too hard or extremely boring

An example is for two heart is the soul series like Dark Souls 1 2 and 3 or Demon Souls !

Or the crash bandicoot series

Oh they're ridiculously easy like a Kirby game

And all the ones in between are just stupid silly boring uninteresting and I'm sorry to use harsh words but everything retarded

I'm sorry I didn't come into the post saying where we're going to get rid of video games because they're stupid

Online competition show no skill you're not really Shooting a real gun you're just using a Cyber projectile there's no wind involved there's no real problematic there's no thinking skills and yes I don't like the idea of people getting better at murdering each other, even if it's just a video game

Like think of Call of Duty what is the skill I'm better at killing you than you're better at killing me ?

I know I understand it it seen as just good fun but that's how they mask this

The ideas of killing someone and normalizing the idea of kills is demonic

And trust me I would know for I am a demon I understand the Dark World in which I come from or came from

That's not the point

The point is that I hate video games and I'll just admit it I hate them now I have played at least over a hundred video games probably 300 per console

I'm an absolute loser who had no friends played video games and just got into my own topic I never got any friends I never had any friends growing up I just had the video game

There were a few that were effing amazing and I love them but only a few

I will display the video games in my next post that I absolutely loved they are best described as sacred treasures to me

But the vast majority of the video games I played I did not like

I do not understand why we consider being good at murder online is a skill also FUK fortnite !

I also intensely hate Mortal Kombat ( And, God of War, it's Sacrilegious ) I just Can't understand why that level of violence should be celebrated I don't understand well why beating the living Shit out of someone else better than they can beat you makes you a better person

Here's an idea what if pedophilia was normalized in video games ? has I gone too far what if it was instead of that it was little kids going around murdering each other ?

And it was ultra realistic graphics, how would that make you feel would it make you feel a little uncomfortable ?

. . .

Video games are stupid

one of the games that I liked that was somewhat hard but I liked it cuz they try to be a good story with a game called Banjo-Kazooie

Another game I like that was skill based was the game called phantom dust this game is now Dead online !

One of the other games I love intensely was the video game called Mega Man legends ! 1 & 2 !!!

I know the game I like but was very hard a time with the video game called Pixmin !

There are quite a few last one I wanted to let you know is called Metroid prime echoes 2

That game was religious to me it was for some reason an extremely spiritual experience that the only video game that did that to me though

The whole game was an extremely extremely spiritual experience for me

The light the dark and the bug people it was I had to come to remind myself this is a video game made by Nintendo but it was holy to me even though it was just a video game it was I couldn't stop having a religious experience

😐

So even though I said video games are stupid I don't ultimately hate video games if I did why would I play 300 video games per console how did I get that high ?

!!! GameFly !!!

Also I used to spend all my money on video games but then eventually got tired of that I just kept renting them all

I played hundreds of games and then it started from the Super Nintendo to the end Nintendo 64

All the way to all the PlayStation consoles I failed on the Xbox I didn't get that many games on the Xbox I played the living Shit I Halo 2 though !

I played that intensely day in and day out I was up all night playing that when was out and I kept missing school and kept losing sleep and I was up all night trying to get kills and trying to show how good I am and I kept figuring out wondering why is that all my skill and progress didn't give me anything in the real world ?

If you win the game you get nothing if you lose the game you get nothing it doesn't make any sense it just seems like the obsession of video game is an insanity ?b

It's like everybody's playing virtual pretend and no one gets anything you're all playing for pretend, it's all pretend !

And so I thought I'd let you know that I really think video games are dumb now I think they're used as a psychological weapon against people so they can hurt themselves like obsessing over the video game Dark Souls and then hurting yourself or elder ring !

All this hard work for something that doesn't matter you got you train your brain really good to get good at Mortal Kombat I don't care which one !

And how is that transition into real life you cannot press a button and kick someone's ass with that

Your gamer skill did nothing more than really poison your brain

Because the skillet pressing buttons got you nowhere in life and you don't even know how to fight a real person I don't even like the idea of doing that I like the idea of trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation and turn an enemy into a friend but that's not possible with absolutely everyone

You got a pack of angry wolves at you they're just hungry most evil comes that comes from animals comes out of desperation of hunger

Or Fear

So I wanted to let you know that

I think video games are a curse on the society

To a greater extent I don't believe that they're evil but I believe they've been made evil

I special don't like how video games have Ultra normalized murder

I know it's going to sound stupid but I want you kind of get the idea of like imagine if rape was normalized and if you do game

Imagine any sick disgusting thing besides murder because murder is not good murders evil murders a dark thing I'm sorry but it's dark

Animals cry when their own people die you kill a wolf they'll how the other wolves will how you kill an elephant they're going to scream and sorrow you kill a champ all the other chimps get around and cry they literally cry

Animals know when one of their own kind has died and they're sad about it most of them

If you kill a snake another snakes are going to come by and cry is probably going to eat the body it doesn't care

😐

Most animals don't want their own kind to die

😐

Anyway I know I made a super long post about video games being total Bullshit Now !

I just wanted to let you know that I want people to wake up to the whole video game problem

And don't even get me started on games that are gotcha games are mobile games or games that want you to pay unlimited amount of money to get unlimited money junk you won't actually need virtual items should not cost so much effing money !

😡

I got your games really pissed me off they really do you're paying all this money for a virtual item for something you can't even hold in the real world

! You're paying real money for fake stuff that should be illegal !

Let's not forget about the DLC if not forget about how game companies will cut their game in half and make you pay full pressure half the game but pay even more for the other half the game doubling the price of a game

And please don't forget that it's called a game for a Reason

You're supposed to go into this imaginary world and have fun but I haven't had fun in a video game over 10 years

😡

Nothing but sorrow pain misery and a waste of time but you keep doing it cuz it is a distraction from your life if either suffer the pain of boredom or the pain of the video game but either way in America there's no way to escape pain !

#video game #gaming #video games #Hell #Horror

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epzfinest94-blog · 2 years

Text

James Powers “Red Cross The Boss” COMM-1400-600:Social Media Communication

The Red Cross is a special nonprofit that helps benefit a lot of people and that’s why I chose to write about in today's blog post for you guys. More specifically their vanity metrics as that is a new study of business I am researching right now, also including how they could improve their metrics and what they can do to change it for the better.

With a quick search in google you can easily find all of the Red Cross’ social media accounts where they have over a million followers on all of their accounts, and their Twitter specifically has five million followers. A further look into their twitter will allow me to see a better look at their vanity metrics, as a good format they have a pinned tweet at the top of their page. Their pinned tweet give a very good insight on their values which I find very important when it comes to a Non-Profit vanity metrics, and in this add it includes a free help line titled “Disaster - Distress Line” which is to “take care of your mental health and those around you” (Red Cross Tweet). This shows a great importance towards mental health which is a very important factor in the Red Cross values, as it also includes a link to their site where you can research their values further. Values and more importantly the clear message of the values, which they clearly show on with consistent posts and helpful tips that are available on their Twitter, Face, and Instagram, but most platforms have many similar problems, or availability to improve further which I feel should be discussed.

“If I were in charge” is what I'm going to title this paragraph because If I were in charge I would have a whole campaign. By campaign I mean a quick plan that sprung in my head as I was researching the vanity metrics, is a weekly or even daily focus on a different help problem to keep people's attention. I would have a whole style that would hopefully be pleasing to the eye of the viewer and may be even described as very “recognizable”. This would also include events like if a specific day is a national holiday for lets say “cancer”, “alzheimers”, or “schizophrenia”. Another important part of social media that I saw the Red Cross wasn’t using to their advantage was Instagram stories, that allow the viewers to interact. The viewers can interact in such ways as a poll, questionnaire, and even a small little quiz which I will use to my advantage on days to try to get them to get themselves to learn.

To further research their social media vanity metrics I would suggest for both Twitter and Instagram an advanced metric they can collect is how many people view their story and how consistent the views are, a different kind called channel metrics is their post likes/comments, and how many people interact with the story like quizzes, and last behavioral metric could be collected by seeing if a post that may go “viral” of they end up with more or less followers whether it be on Instagram or Twitter.

It can’t be easy though, to run a social media page and expect to meet all these deadlines. Maybe the Red Cross at this point in time is fine with their current metrics, but I believe my ideas would increase interest in all accounts, and would show in the vanity metrics.

#NonprofitMetricsSusiSummer2022SessionI

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futuremrsreid · 3 years

Text

Baby Steps

Request: @gubswh0re requested: "hi! could you do 20,25 & 48 from the promt list all in one? would be amazing, thank you!!"

Summary: A case gone wrong and Spencer blames himself. Reader tries to make him feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: hurt/comfort, angst, a bit of fluff if you never felt happiness before

CW: sad as fuck uhm I lowkey broke my own heart but its also really sweet

Word Count: 1,9k

If I had to describe Spencer Reid handling his emotions in two words, they would be “quiet suffering”. In the two years I have known him he only opened up a handful of times. Not in the sense of him never talking about his past or things that happened to him, but whenever he talked about these things, he tells them like one of his facts. He tells you that his mother has schizophrenia, but he doesn't tell you how he feels about it. It always reminds me of a medical anamnesis.

On rare occasions, he would break. Everything became too much, even for him. I remember the first time I witnessed it very clearly. It was after he visited his mom for a few days and, from what he told me, she was in such a bad condition that she didn’t even recognize him. He was devastated and when he was on his way back he drove straight to my apartment, not knowing how to deal with everything. Spencer didn’t call or text before he arrived there and saying I was surprised when I opened my door doesn't even come close. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Truth be told, I was very overwhelmed so I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled him inside and hugged him as hard as humanly possible.

In the office everyone always jokes about Dr Reid and his fear of human touch, but he hugged me back so hard that breathing became just a little difficult, and in that moment I realized the reason he doesn’t hug people isn’t because of his fear of bacteria. It’s because of the closeness of it. My heart cracked then.

The next discovery I made was that Spencer is a quiet cryer. I didn’t even notice it until his tears started seeping through my shirt and I could feel the wetness. I don’t know how long we stood there, but when I could feel him calming down a bit, I pulled away just enough to be able to look at him. He was extremely embarrassed and started to pull away completely to cover his face with his hands, but I’m too stubborn for that, so I grabbed his wrists and made him look at me. He started crying again then.

It took an hour until he started telling me what got him so upset and after that we talked the whole night, about his mother, her sickness and everything related to it. I always hoped that he would open up about it eventually, but when he finally did, I couldn’t handle it very well. I tried not to cry myself, but that is hard when the person you love most breaks down in front of you like that.

That night I held him close, let him lie on my chest, played with his hair - everything to try and make his pain go away. And after that day I thought things would have changed, that he would stop hiding and open up more to me, but I was very wrong. When he woke up the next morning he apologized about a hundred times and no words or reassurance made him less ashamed. Afterwards he tried to act like nothing had ever happened.

So in conclusion: I had done a lot of difficult tasks in my life, but getting Spencer Reid to talk about his feelings was by far the most difficult. Nonetheless, today was one of those rare days.

We just came back from a really shitty case that resulted in more victims than it should have due to the police department holding back evidence. It was messy and frustrating and exhausting. Spencer was there when one of the victims was shot and he blamed himself for not preventing it, even though we all told them that there was no chance that he could have done it.

And as if the case itself wasn't bad enough, we were stuck for more time back in the office to do the paperwork. When the clock turned 8 pm Hotch came out of his office to tell us to go home. We all sighed in relief and started packing up our things. All of us except a particular dr. He was still sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. I watched him for a while, contemplating what to do, and after everyone said their goodbyes, I walked over to him.

“Come on. I’ll take you home”, I said, leaning on his desk trying to catch his eyes with mine. No luck.

“I still have work to do, I’ll take the subway home later.” He continued typing like i wasn’t even there and I got frustrated. The case was already bad enough and I would not stand here watching him torture himself.

“That wasn’t a request, Spencer.” I didn’t intend to sound so harsh but hey, at least it made him look at me. “We are gonna leave. Now.” He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again, he knew better than to argue with me. My eyes said it all: If he would stay, I would stay. And since Spencer Reid cares about everyone but himself, he closed his computer and packed up his things.

The walk to my car was quiet, and so were the first 5 minutes of driving. I kept glancing at him from the driver's seat, but he was looking out of the window, lost in thought. The guy on the radio made a stupid comment and normally he would have immidiatly complained, but it seemed like he didn’t even hear it. His brain is a beautiful place with a million facts and ideas, yet I can imagine how scary it can be as well. When Spencer gets really lost in his thoughts he begins to spiral and I can just guess that that is what happened at that moment. Only then I came to the conclusion that he wanted to stay and work because that would distract him from anything going on inside.

“Talk to me, Spence.” My tone was pleading, practically begging at this point.

“I’m fine, y/n.” I sighed. I was thinking about just letting it go, but then I thought about him alone in his apartment, stuck in this beautiful scary brain of his. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I took a deep breath. If you're lost, stick to what you know.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”, he turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Do you trust me?”, I asked again, looking him in the eyes this time.

“Of course I trust you. Why are you even asking me this?”

“We’re making a detour. I’m gonna show you something.” My words didn’t leave room for questions so we just fell silent again. He continued to watch me with a questioning look, but i tried to ignore him. I was too focused on taking the right turns anyway. It was hard to find my way in the dark, but 5 minutes later we were there. I got out of the car and waited for Spencer to do the same and after he did, he seemed more confused than ever. I walked over to the familiar building and fished for a key at the same moment.

“What is this place?”

“It’s an art gallery. My mom used to work here.” I found what I was looking for and started to unlock the door.

“And you just have a key to this place?” If the circumstances were different, I would have laughed at his confusion, however, the circumstances weren’t different.

“Yep.” The door opened and I looked for the light switch. “Come on, just follow me.”

I led us up the 5 flights of stairs and then, after 2 more doors we were finally there. The place that has been the only place I called home for the years before I joined the team.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? We’re not breaking in right now, are we?” At this I did laugh. I stepped further onto the rooftop.

“Relax Spence, we are not breaking any laws.” He was still hesitant so I took his hand and pulled him to the edge. The railing was high, meaning there was no danger of falling down. I let go of his hand and leaned on it. The building was on a small hill and since it had a few stories, you were able to look over a big part of the city. It was always a beautiful view, but that night was extra special. It was a Friday in the late summer, which didn’t only mean the sky was clear, there were also a lot of traffic lights and buildings that shone bright.

I just watched and after a few minutes Spencer stood beside me and did the same. Some time passed before I broke the silence.

“How many people are living in the US?” He didn’t hesitate before answering. It was like a reflex for him by now. I liked to ask random questions all the time and to this day, he always had an answer.

“331.002.651 people.” I paused for a few seconds.

“You can’t protect all of them, Spencer.”

“Y/n I-”

“I mean it, Spence. It is humanly impossible to protect everyone. You can protect some of them, maybe even a lot, but you won’t ever be able to do that if you keep beating yourself up over incidents like today.” He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. “I know how you feel and I know it’s not easy. There was no chance for you to save that girl, Spencer. Zero. And if you can’t accept that, you will lose yourself. And then you won’t be able to save anyone anymore.” I know it was harsh, however, sometimes that's the only language he understands.

“You could have said all of that in the car.” He paused. “Why did you take me here?” I didn’t expect him to comment on what I said. He knew I was right, that’s all I needed.

“My mom sometimes took me with her on her shifts and after she was done we would go up here. After she died the owner gave me a key so that I could come here every time I needed it. Or needed her.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. This place was the only thing making me feel at home for years and I came almost every day, but when I started working at the BAU I stopped going here more and more. And now I don’t really need it anymore, because my apartment finally started feeling like home. Especially when you are there.” I looked at him while saying that last sentence and I saw him smile for the first time in days. His eyes caught mine.

“Thank you, y/n.” Those words could have many different meanings. Thank you for taking me here. Thank you for staying. Thank you for making me feel better. But it didn’t matter what he meant, because I knew.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

And that's what we did. We stayed there for hours. That night we talked through every possible way of how Spencer could have acted differently, yet every scenario ended with the death of that girl. After that he finally accepted that it wasn’t his fault. Baby steps.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reider #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #this one hurt ngl

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

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