#only thing i did differently was last night i begged my dad (deceased - never knew him) for help

[starbuck]

well… just went from my worst mental health crisis in seven years to completely fine in the course of a day, so we’re doing great on that front.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

My Dad

A.N.: Pat with all of his kids! That’s kinda it. I hope you like it! Comments and likes are appreciated. (I do not own anything related to the Stargirl tv show or the comics) :D

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Pat didn’t plan on being a Dad. The superhero gig took up most of his time. He was fine with it too. He knows he’d only get a kid if he had time for one. Sylvester was the one who really wanted kids. Pat was more focused on keeping him alive to see him or her or they grow up. Sylvester was pushy though. Late nights when they were relaxing after patrolling he would day dream about little feet running about. 

He finally got his wish years into their superhero routine. Sylvester and Pat had been living together for years. If they could get married, it would’ve been their 4th anniversary, and on that day, they brought home little Mike Pemberton Dugan. They argued for a long time on what his last name should be. In the end they flipped a coin and Dugan won. Life was fine for a few years. Then the ISA got worse. Pat begged Sylvester to not go and fight, but he wouldn’t listen. 

“What happens if I don’t show up, Pat?” Sylvester would always ask him. “If I don’t show up, what kind of world would Mikey be subjected to?”

“A world without you,” Pat would always think, but never say. Eventually Sylvester would win the argument, and Pat thought it was the worst choice he ever made. It was a couple weeks before Christmas, Mikey was turning two. He was babling and walking down around the house, elated when Sylvester would come home. 

Sylvester and the rest of the gang went out giving Pat specific instructions to watch over the kids. Pat didn’t listen. He found a sitter and paid her good money before rushing out to join them. 

He was too late.

He was too late.

He was too late. 

It kept running in his head, “He was too late.” The ISA had won and almost all of the JSA had died. Pat didn’t know what to do. How do you tell the little boy waiting at home that his other dad wasn’t ever coming home? 

Mikey didn’t take it too well. He became moody and irritable overnight. A small funeral for the deceased JSA members was held a few weeks after their deaths, two days after Christmas. Him and Mikey were on their own after that. Pat tried to date other people, but nothing seemed to stick. Besides, the ISA were still out there so there were other things to worry about than dating. 

Then he met Barbra. She was the sweetest, prettiest woman he had ever met. He thought, maybe, it was time to settle down again. Courtney was a slight problem though. She didn’t take too kindly to Pat. He thought maybe he should end things with Barbra, but she promised everything was going to be okay. And it was, Courtney, very slowly, opened up to Pat. Trust was there, and Pat tried so hard to be a good not-dad for her.  Then it broke when they had to move. 

She wasn’t happy about the move, Pat knew that. He also knew that he wasn’t her biological father, but he wasn’t going to let her get into danger fighting Brainwave. His brain screeched at him to acknowledge that Sylvester had another kid, but he shoved it down. That possibility could be dealt with later. Right now he had to figure out a way to keep his step daughter alive. 

Joey Zarik dies and Pat has nightmares that it could’ve been Courtney. 

Rick Harris seems like a nice kid. Troubled though, and Courtney figures out that he’s a legacy, Hourman’s kid. Pat was surprised, the kid’s grown up a lot since he last saw him. He decides to give him a gift, a piece of the car that he remembered Rick needing. At his house, something felt off. Rick’s uncle reeked of alcohol and he didn’t seem like the nicest person in the world. Pat didn’t want to say anything yet, he opted to just keep an eye on Rick whenever he could. 

He hears that Courtney recruited a bunch of other kids, Rick included, to join the Junior JSA. Pat wonders if he has grey hair yet. He knows he’s going to get an ulcer soon. Sylvester would probably laugh at him. Pat spends most of his time planning on different strategies to keep them safe. 

He fails. 

He tried so hard to prevent this, but Beth gets injured. They were fighting off Tigress and she was out for blood. Rick picked up Beth and cradled her in his arms. Pat picked them up in his giant robot hand and flew them off. Barbra was waiting for them in the auto shop and immediately went to help Rick with Beth. Pat pointed out where the antidote was then flew back to help Courtney and Yolanda. 

Despite the fear in his heart, he couldn’t help but feel pride at watching Courtney and Yolanda fight. They have improved so much, their moves were more precise and graceful. Pat stayed back and only attacked when needed. 

They managed to knock Tigris out. Courtney and Yolanda dragged her body over to pat and together all four of them flew back to the auto shop. Barbra was taking Beth’s temperature while Rick clutched Beth’s hand. 

Court and Yolanda took Trigis to the basement of the auto shop then put as many heavy objects as they could over the door. Sure it was a fire hazard, but they figured if worst comes to worst, Rick could move all the stuff off the door.  

“How is she?” Yolanda asked. Rick was quiet, Pat noticed his usual brooding borderline angry look was replaced by complete sadness. He looked like his world was falling apart. Pat filed that detail away for later. 

“She seems to be fine, currently she has a low fever and in a minute I’ll take her to the emergency room so they can monitor her.” Barbra replied clipped and profesional.  

“She should be fine, guys. Green Lantern was hit with it once and he survived. I’ll call all your parents and tell them that you’re having a sleepover.” Pat reassured. 

“But that doesn’t cover how Beth got poisoned.” Courtney almost yelled. She was pacing around fiddling with her fingers. Rick still hasn’t said anything, his eyes never straying from Beth’s face. Yoland crossed her arms and eyed Pat defensively as if asking, she’s right Mr. Dugan.

“I’ll think of something. For now, all of you get changed out of your uniforms. Take a shower, I’ll talk to your parents. Then we’ll take a trip to the emergency room.” Yolanda and Courtney left to go change while Barbra went to fix up the car so it could take Beth to the emergency room. Rick stayed though. 

“Rick, she’s going to be fine. You need to change.”

“It should’ve been me.”

“Rick.”

“If I was just fast enough, then it would be me instead of her injured. It should’ve been me ‘cause now she has a fever and she’s in pain. And I’m not leaving her side, what if she needs me.” Rick swallowed a lump in his throat. “What if something bad happens?” Rick spews out quickly. Tears are threatening to fall now and his grip on Beth’s hand has tighented. 

Pat scooted closer to rub Rick’s back in a hopefully soothing manner. “You don’t have to leave her side. I can stand my ground against your uncle. He’s been drinking too much for him to be a problem. Anyways, Beth’s going to be fine, medicine is advanced than it was ten years ago. And, don’t think that way Rick. Self-hatred will get you nowhere. After this we can analyze the fight and see what went wrong and what we can improve up and what we did right. I only need you to leave her side for a moment. You shouldn’t stay in that sweaty costume any longer than necessary.”

“Pat-”

“Now Rick, and don’t punch Tigris in the face quite yet. As is she’s quiet, I don’t want to deal with another thing right now. Beth and calling you parents, but mainly Beth needs my full attention.”

Rick reluctantly left Beth’s side to do as Pat said. He was surprised, he expected more of a fight from Rick. Then he realized that Rick probably left so he could compose himself and  ‘shower’ by spraying febreeze on himself.  

“The car’s ready for transportation. I called Mike, he’s up and he said he’ll bike over to the hospital but I refused. After dropping off Beth, I’ll pick up Mike. He seems pretty spooked.” Barbra rubbed her hands on Pat’s shoulders. 

Pat rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ll bet. You okay honey?” Pat turned around and ran his arms up and down her to try and soothe her. 

“Yeah, a little spooked, but she’ll be okay? She’ll be okay.” Barbra said in an effort to reassure herself. “I never thought I’d be this stressed as an adult. They’re doing well for themselves though. Very impressive.”

Pat nodded in agreement. “I should start calling all their guardians.”

“We need to do something about Rick’s uncle,” Barbra commented. 

“Yeah, but I want to be careful about it. One wrong move and CPS will send him halfway across the country.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Barbra reassured. The calls went easier than expected. Rick’s uncle didn’t even pick up, and Alex picked up and he seemed fine that his sister was having sleep over. It was the Chapel’s that made him nervous. Her father was on a business trip, but her mom was already at the hospital and she promised to ready a bed for Beth. By the end of the call everyone was ready to go. Pat got into the drivers seat while Courtney, Yolanda, and Rick sat in the back holding Beth to their laps. Barbra made sure it was as safe as possible before climbing into the passenger seat. Pat got them to the hospital in record time. Rick picked Beth up bridal style and carried her into the ER. Mrs. Chapel showed Rick the right way to the emergency room. Barbra kissed her husband on the cheek before going to pick up Mike. 

Yolanda and Courtney walked hand in hand into the hospital. Pat was right behind keeping an eye on them. Sue him, his already frayed nerves were completely broken after watching Beth get injured. “How are you girls holding up?” 

“Beth- She’s like this bright light. She’s kind and she's positive and she always says the right thing you know? It feels wrong like something is deeply wrong in the universe, you know? It- not her. It never should’ve been her.” Yolanda tells him. Her voice sounds more hollow then usual, but her eyes her entire being radiates anger. 

“I get what you mean.” For the thousandth time, Pat wondered if this whole game was worth it. They were kids, amazing kids, but kids nonetheless. At least with the original JSA they were adults. Pat knew they were in too deep, so he just texted Barbra to bring more coats before taking a seat in the waiting room with everyone else. Rick eventually came back, seething somewhat. Pat assumed that he was kicked out the hospital room and just gave him some space. 

Barbra came back with blankets and coats and Mike, who looked dead asleep, was carrying a couple trays of drinks from McDonalds. “Mom and I stopped by McDonald’s for drinks. They’re all labeled.” Pat smiled at Mike calling Barbra mom, it was a small thing, but it made him happy. Mike went to everyone before heading back to his father. There was a seat open between Courtney and Pat so Mike took that one. 

He, with his big puffy coat, curled into Pat’s side. “Everyone’s ok?”

Pat thought hard before answering Mike, “Well, we’re in the hospital, but we’ll be okay.”

It was a cold and long night. Mike dozed off not long after coming here. No one else could sleep. Horrible, awful, what-if’s ran through their mind. After a while, Rick was coaxed out of his brooding by Barbra. She gave him a blanket and a seat to sit on. No one said anything. Maybe they should’ve, but then a nurse entered the wait room and talking was forgotten in favor of listening to the nurse. 

“For Beth Chapel?” Barbra and Rick shot up. Pat couldn’t with Mike and Yolanda and Courtney were half-asleep. 

“How is she?” Rick asked. 

“She’s going to be fine. Any of that weird substance in her system isn’t putting her in danger and the fever should pass by the night. Her mom is with her now, but soon multiple visits will be allowed.” 

A collective exhale was let out around the room. Beth would be fine. Rick smiled. Barbra let out a relieved chuckle and gave Pat a kiss, careful of Mike. Yolanda and Courtney gave a sleepy whoop. They pulled Rick in for an hug that he got trapped in once they fell asleep. Pat felt himself finally relax knowing that they were all safe. He never planned on being a dad, he wouldn’t change his situation for the world. 

[tom-hanks-is-bae]

I need some help. Please.

Okay, so this is my baby, Alex

On the morning of August 25, I lost him. This is a hard post to write.

I drove home late Saturday august 24th because he wasn’t doing well (my mom took care of him while I’m at school but I FaceTimed him every single day)

Alex wasn’t eating or pooping, this has happened before but we can usually get him out of it by using pear juice, baby gas drops, tummy massages, critical care and other things. I knew this time was different. We got him to the emergency vet (over an hour away) at around 8:30 PM. He was different this time.

They took an x-Ray and did some bloodwork and found he had a big gas bubble in his tummy. And the bloodwork showed his potassium and proteins were off. His temperature was Also a little low, running 99ish and rabbits should run over 100

They wanted to hospitalize him for 24 hours but I didn’t want to leave my baby. We stayed for a while and they gave him pain meds, he became very sleepy after this, this is the last picture I have of him alive, he was sleeping in my arms

They started an IV drip to hydrate him and hopefully get things moving, there was also pain medication in the drip.

We left him there but got a hotel 5 minutes away. ($120) I slept absolutely none, and called to check on him ever 1-2 hours.

I called at 4am and they tell me his temperature had dropped (96ish) and were planning on starting syringe feeding at 6am if there were no improvements

He didn’t make it to 6

I woke my mother and we went there straight away. We get there about 4:10 and he was in a small room they have for rabbits and it was really warm trying to raise his temp. At this point we’re doing almost everything, there’s one other thing they can do.

A procedure where they sedate him and go in his stomach with a tube and release the gas (which he still had not passed)

I agree to this because it was a last resort, my baby wasn’t eating or using the bathroom. I sat on the floor and held him for a couple minutes before they took him to do the procedure. I remember holding him and putting my head on his and thinking “I hope this isn’t the last time I get to hold him, I have to remember this moment.” And it was the last time I held him alive.

They did the procedure and the vet comes out and says they got a good amount of gas out and he pooped one pellet, I was hopeful. I went back to see him and he was laying on the table, groggy from the sedation. I rubbed him and told him I loved him. I told them about how sweet of a bun he was, how he loved to get under the recliner and thought it was a game, how he just got a scooby doo chair that made him feel like a king.

They took him back to let him rest and I thought he could use it so I went to the waiting room. I’ve questioned and went over 1000 times or more in my head if I did the right thing. Because about 10-20 minutes later the vet comes and tells me Alex has arrested.

My baby. Writing this is beyond hard. I scream, I cry, she leaves and said something about CPR. I run to the back and open a door, I see him on the table and her trying to revive him. The vet tech comes out and tells me she’s doing what she can, I scream, I beg them to save him. He wanted to come home. I screamed I didn’t care about the money, just to help him.

They brought me my limp baby boy in a blanket, brown stuff all over his mouth and I cried and begged him to wake up. He didn’t. My baby was gone and gone too soon.

To you he may be just a rabbit but he was my baby, he helped me through things in ways I never thought he could. I found a love for rabbits, much more then them just being cute, they have personality and he was the best boy, he just wanted to be loved and he was, but I wanted to love him more and more and more and more.

Early in the night we realized the bill was going to be much more than the money we had in our pocket or our bank accounts. So we applied for care credit and were allowed $1,500. The total ended up being a little over 1,600 and we used $200 something from my grandmas credit card that we will have to pay back to her. The whole time I said “it’s okay, Alex has insurance, they’ll cover most of it right?”

WRONG. I got NATIONWIDE exotic pet insurance for emergencies like this and I submitted a claim. They are willing to give us a whopping $279??? So we called to find out the reason, and here’s the gag. They’ll only cover up to a certain amount of $ for a certain issue, so for GI Stasis (which is in simple terms what Alex had but there was other stuff going on) they only cover $140. They have a limit they will pay for each health issue so essentially Alex would have to have been even worse for them to cover more (I don’t remember what the other $139 went to) the exam itself cost $130. So honestly boycott nationwide because not only did they do this but we called the day it happened and told them to cancel the policy because he was deceased and when we called to question the amount, the policy was STILL ACTIVE!

So I’ve got this thing to pay off and if it’s not paid off in 6 months it gains 14% interest, not on what you have left to pay, but on the entire loan amount. Which is almost $200 more. I’m a student and will be doing work study but I can only work 80 hours per semester and will make less than $700 if I did all that. My dad doesn’t work because he has multiple sclerosis (and so do I, yippi! 😕) my mom is picking up every shift she can but we have extra medical bills because I just started a new medication after having a relapse on my old one.

I’ve been in a super depressed state since losing him, not being able to eat, drink, shower, or just generally take care of myself. This bill is a big stressor because I know it’s stressful to my mother as well and I worry about losing her too. I hope this post gets seen by people that would be willing to help me or at least pass this post on so that others could. I would never ask for this if I wasn’t desperate.

I’d do anything to hold my baby again, to tell him how much I love him, get nose kisses and give him treats, I’d pay even more. I’m going to post a couple more pictures of him and then my links to PayPal/cash app/ and Venmo at the bottom if anyone wants to donate to help me. If this gets a lot of attention somehow and I get enough to pay the bill off I will not let people continue to give me money, I will post updates of the care credit balance once i make payments. Here’s my baby:

My paypal: https://www.paypal.me/mikalaalex

Cashapp: $mikalaalex

Venmo: mikalaalex

[essaysbyciara]

Old Habits Die Hard| Part Six: Just & Righteous

SYNOPSIS | PART ONE: DAYS BEFORE | PART TWO: JUST BE GOOD TO ME | PART THREE: RECOGNIZE THE BUTTERFLIES | PART FOUR: DOWN THE STAIRS AND TO YOUR LEFT| PART FIVE: JUST KNOW

Warnings: Languages, brief mention of police brutality, lightweight mentions of sexual situations

Almost at the end of this thing, whew. As always, you can read on Wattpad as well. Thank youuuuuuuu for the likes, reblogs, comments and commentary. Y’all bring so much joy. Peace & love. 

JUST & RIGHTEOUS

It seemed as if history repeated itself. Minutes, hours, day, weeks, even months passed without hearing a word from Dave. He sent no DMs and leveled no texts your way. He left the text message containing your phone number on read and left you feeling waves similar to what you felt last summer. 

But it was the sweetest dismissal you ever could receive. Truth be told, you didn’t need to hear from Dave at all. The fact that you sent him your number as you sat in the passenger seat of Yahya’s car was the lowest of low. Yahya was nothing but great to you. He didn’t deserve your betrayal. You were happy that the Universe conceded on his behalf -- and blocked yours. 

As the months eclipsed between that unfortunate reunion with Dave and the date of your wedding, you tried your best to hide the glow of the what-if’s involving Dave. How would you even pull this off if Dave did reach out to you? You felt bad for imagining the many ways to do just that. 

Your reality inched closer and closer to you as the day of your wedding dress fitting approached. As you sit in your mother’s living room the day before the fitting, you look over at a framed photograph of your parent from their wedding day. Your mother, Jackie, saved her billowy couture gown with the miles-long train just for you. Thankfully you were a bit too thick in the hips to fit into that 1980s extravaganza of a dress. 

It took your father’s  passing for you and your mother to become close. You were a Daddy’s girl through and through and as much as Jackie didn’t want to feel bothered by your daughterly allegiance, she felt hurt by it. You would beg to stay at your Aunt Jerri’s cramped rowhouse every summer even when your Mom’s side of the family had the house not too far away with the extra bedrooms and the basketball court. You’d rebuff your Mom’s invitations to sorority events and balls to watch college football with your Dad. You even pledged her rival sorority. 

It was as if you were doing everything in your power to spite her. 

The truth wasn’t that. To you, Jackie was regal. She was the epitome of a queen. You always admired the way your Dad would stop everything to take a look at her, his attention so rapt that you had to nudge him back to reality. No hair was out of place, even her eyelashes curled with perfection. She was the epitome of “it” and you wanted to be her. Jealousy enraptured both of you. 

But once your Dad died, that jealousy had no more blood left on to feed. It did have your father’s side of the family, who chose the funeral’s repast to air out their decades-long grievances with each other concerning your Dad. 

A bottle flew in the air and almost hit your mom’s sister. In the midst of that chaos, your Mom grabbed your hand and asked if you were okay. Accusations were flying  around that made your Dad either look like an angel or the devil incarnate. The same people that loved hard on you -- including your Aunt Jerri -- dogged your father out in front of everyone.  Jackie gave a damn about you when the people around you both were worried about the “ principle” of it all.  You and your Mom had no more reasons to fight. You became a united front, so strong that you both proceeded to curse out everyone into submission. Aunt Jerri even apologized to you since she “didn’t know both y’all bougie asses could go off like that.” 

You made peace with your Aunt Jerri. Jackie was a different story. 

“Is Jerri coming?” Jackie asks as she pours blistering hot water into her coffee mug.

“Yes, she is. She’s staying at my house … don’t you start.” 

“Start what? I have no problems with that woman. As long as she knows her…” 

“Both of you need to stay in your place. No disrespect, ma.” 

Your Dad was a graduate of the North Philly streets. Your Mom was a first-year grad student at the University of Pennsylvania. Somehow your Dad made his way into a fraternity party on Penn’s campus and got a glimpse of Jackie, or ‘J8’, strolling in a circle with all of her sorority sisters to “Curious” by Midnight Star. He found a reason to linger around the house  party at the defiance of his friends, waiting for the right time -- and right slow jam -- to get Jackie away from her girls. No such luck because somehow your Mom got out of the house and on her way home before your Dad could get a chance to dance with her. 

But your Dad had collegiate connections -- your would-be Uncle Terrence, who willed himself away from those same streets and into Temple on a football scholarship -- who knew when the next party would be taking place. Your Dad waited and, sure enough, he laid eyes on Jackie again and this time, he’d get the slow jam he wanted. 

It didn’t matter to your Mom that your Dad wasn’t on his way to a doctorate. It didn’t matter to your Dad that your Mom came from a well-off family from Chestnut Hill. Jackie would hang out in those same North Philly streets as her man with ease and your Dad would stroll around Penn’s campus like he belonged there. To everyone around them, they had no business with each other but they didn’t care. So much so that they eloped right after Jackie graduated, pissing off both sides of the family especially your Aunt Jerri. 

Truth be told, Jerri and Jackie should be two peas in a pod. You’ve seen your Mom at sorority events and, without question, she could out-party your Aunt Jerri. In theory and practice, Jackie and Jerri should be on some seven-day cruise getting drunk together but alas, they both sit around with unresolved beef involving your Dad, the person who isn’t around to tell them to cut it out like he did in the past. His passing wasn’t enough to get them to bury it. 

“I’m still your mother, watch it…” 

“You sound like Jerri right now, you know that…” you joked,  bracing for the coffee mug to travel from your mother’s hand towards your face. “Look, I’m only asking for you two to keep it church cute for two hours, if that. You can do that. At least for your husband, God rest his soul. And for me.” 

“I will … and I’m praying for your future husband because I know Jerri is driving him insane.” 

Aunt Jerri is indeed doing just that but Yahya doesn’t mind. Yet. 

Aunt Jerri constantly reminds herself that Yahya is her future nephew-in-law. Yahya is so much like recently deceased husband -- Uncle Terrence --  that she can’t help but erroneously fall in love with your man. Aunt Jerri tries to curtail her lust enough as Yahya walks into the house fresh from the gym. 

Yahya tosses his gym bag onto the vestibule floor with aims to run upstairs and grab a quick shower but Jerri prohibits that plan. 

“What do you think? Do you know of anyone in Philly that could help?”

“I mean, I do but this is nuts…” 

Yahya read the entire court case that Aunt Jerri handed him as he ran on the treadmill. What looked first like a false arrest turned into a case of police misconduct and judicial overzealousness. He’s seen judges level exorbitant bails on suspects before but this amount of bail was way beyond the standard. The way the police treated the suspect made Yahya so angry that he twice hit the treadmill’s emergency button to stop himself from running off of the exercise machine and into a wall. 

He promised you that he wouldn’t take on any new cases this close to the wedding but his heart couldn’t let this one slide.  His good heart couldn’t pass this over to someone else who he wasn’t quite sure could handle a case of this magnitude.  But he wanted to practice fairness and ask you how you would feel about him picking up a case just months before the wedding. Yahya was running up the steps to take a shower and mull over what to do. 

You aren’t right on time as you walk into the house just as he stands in the kitchen with sweat dripping off of his body from his run and the idea of you going off because he wants to play hero at the wrong time. He walks up to you and kisses your cheek. You implore him to get upstairs and wash away his workout before you three go out for dinner.

“You okay, Aunt Jerri?” You sit on one of the stools next to the kitchen island not rushing to tell Aunt Jerri about the conversation you just had with your Mom. 

“Yeah, I am. Yahya and I were talking about some fucked up shit happening back home.”

“What’s messed up?” 

“That wack shit that happened to Dave…” 

Dave walked down Ogontz Avenue to blow off the steam of seeing your face for the first time in a year -- and the man that earned your love after he abandoned yours. He remembered the final night of your two-week stay last summer.  You drove with him out of the county to what felt like the middle of nowhere. You sexed each other so deep and hard in the backseat of your car that your body heat had to escape through the tailpipe. 

You were coming down from your high when you asked Dave to come back to DC with you. He could stay with you and then later visit you on his off weekends. Dave, so deep inside and into you, did not hesitate to agree. He wanted to wait until he was off from work to visit you first, not risking the job that Trace got him on the fly. Dave was on the way to becoming a supervisor at the warehouse and he didn’t want to mess up the grind. 

You agreed and waited but Dave never came. 

He sent that text after seeing you drive off with Yahya. He wanted you to know that he messed up, that fear of the unknown stopped him from making the move that his heart wanted to make. Hood dudes don’t drop everything for women, at least that’s what he saw around him. Dave still reveled in being revered in the streets. A new city with a woman he barely knew outside of the sex they created and the one date they shared wasn’t worth throwing away the relationships he built up north. But instead of telling you that he wasn’t ready for that, he ghosted. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He did more than that. 

He grieved his decision as he walked down the street to grab some Backwoods before walking back home. There he was met with four police officers ransacking the corner store looking for a suspect related to a shooting that took place just blocks away. Dave was too deep into his thoughts to stop himself from walking into the store and what would happen next. Dave fit the description of the suspect: tall, tattooed with ahki beard. He didn’t have time to plead his case as the police slammed him up against one of the coolers and onto the floor, breaking his jaw. 

Because Dave had a record  and the victim was a five-year-old, the judge set his bail beyond even what his Mom could put her house up for in collateral. His lawyer, a public defender, told Dave to plea. A witness said she saw a man matching Dave’s description   walking down Ogontz after the shooting. Dave was nowhere near the shooting, rather he was sitting on Aunt Jerri’s porch, ruminating about losing you but the lawyer didn’t want to hear it. So Dave sits in jail until his trial date and the neighborhood stewed in disbelief. 

Aunt Jerri told Dave’s mom that she knew a civil rights attorney in DC that could help. She hoped that Yahya would take the case up himself, not thinking about the awkwardness of her niece’s fiance representing her niece’s ex-flame in court. 

It hits you once you hear the story: that’s why you didn’t hear from Dave after you sent that text. He was sitting in PICC away from his friends and family. But you quickly wondered why you are now hearing about this from Aunt Jerri -- and how Yahya became a part of this conversation. Aunt Jerri quickly answers you. 

“I was hoping Yahya knew someone up there that could help Dave.” 

“Oh, because I know he’s not taking the case.” 

“I was hoping that he would…”

“No the fuck he isn’t, Aunt Jer-.” You stop yourself from letting out more words that you both could handle. Despite the precedent set by you at your Dad’s funeral, you respect Aunt Jerri enough to reel it back in. “He can’t. We made a promise to each other that he wouldn’t take any cases from now until the wedding.”

Aunt Jerri stands bewildered as she hears you dismiss Dave’s need. She knew you were upset about what happened but she didn’t think you would react this way. 

“I know Dave dumped into you and ditched you but this ain’t the way to get your revenge.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

Your rage boils as you listen to Aunt Jerri use your resentment toward Dave as a reason to keep him in jail. There’s a million lawyers in Philly, Dave didn’t need Yahya. You also didn’t want Dave and Yahya to ever meet, for Yahya to even know Dave’s existence. You were able to dodge a meetup when you were in Philly months prior. No need to plan one now. “First of all, you were the one that told me to get with him. And secondly, what you think it would look like if your new man is reppin’ your old in court. That’s foolish.”

“You were foolish in how you handled that Dave situation. I told you that boy didn’t want you…”

“Yeah, just like Uncle T ain’t want your ass either.” You could swipe low blows with the best of them.

“I know my brother loved you but don’t think I won’t…”

“Do what? I’m not my Mom. You can’t punk me.”

Yahya turns the corner of the steps to see you and Aunt Jerri almost eye to eye in the kitchen. He knows your faces of anger, catching  it a time or two from you. He knows something is wrong and he fears that Aunt Jerri told him about the case. He knows what you don’t want him to do.

“Y’all good? Y’all ready to head out to dinner?” Yahya tries to break up the detente happening in the kitchen. 

“I think so.” You cut a look at Aunt Jerri that could cut through steel. She grabs her purse and heads to the front door. Yahya passes her to meet you in the kitchen. He grabs onto your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You rebuff him at first but like always, your body sinks into his without much hesitation. 

“You okay, babe?” Yahya braces himself to kiss you again if you ask about what Aunt Jerri brought up to him. 

“What’s this about a case?”

“Someone from the neighborhood got himself in a lousy situation with the police up there and she wanted to know if I knew of anyone up there that could help.” 

“I’m sure you do because you promised me that you wouldn’t do anything else…” 

Yahya doesn’t want to tell her that as he showered, he made his decision: he is going to represent Dave. 

Taglist: @yoursoulstea​​​​​​ @harleycativy​​​​​ @twistedcharismaaa​​​​​ @dorkskinneded​​​​​​ @need-my-fics​​​​​ @ghostfacekill-monger​​​​​ @writerbee-ffs​​​​​ @chaneajoyyy​​​​​ @amyhennessyhouse​

[michael-langdon-baby]

Salvation

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word Length: 2.6k~

Warnings: Nope~

Chapter 10: Absolution

Masterlist! (Really should put link here I guess...)

It was around 11:30 when Julie March found Chloe Bennett- and it wasn’t like she’d been looking for her.

 In fact, you could even say Julie had been trying to escape the cruel thoughts of her mother no doubt worrying as to were she was, the fact that she’d left Michael standing there with a heartbroken look on his face- she never wanted him to look like that again, and wherever the hell Chloe was. It turned out to be a simple answer.

 Chloe had gone to visit her mother.

 Julie always told people that Chloe’s mother had just ‘left’ them alone, and to a certain extent, she had left them. But unbeknownst to Julie, Jamie Bennett had loved her daughter, her husband, her life… but she hadn’t loved the dark evil magic that had flowed through her veins. The power at her fingertips had poisoned her mind, her soul, and she’d left her family behind.

 The police had found her body- drug overdose of a massive combination- in a hotel room in Memphis. Mr. Bennett had wanted nothing to do with the woman who’d left him, but Chloe had begged to have her body buried here, in Clearview Cemetery. And so she was- Julie had come with Chloe a few times to visit the grave, but they hadn’t in a few years.

 Julie didn’t have anyone buried there, so her being there seemed odd and strange, but it felt like the only place she could be alone. And she had been, until the small echoing sobs echoed through the air. It had made her pause as she walked along the gravestones, taking in the names of all the deceased people. There wasn’t a single one she knew, but she knew those sobs.

“Chloe?” Her voice was a whisper, and the sobs immediately ceased to exist, like almost everything else in the Cemetery tonight. It was nearly impossible to see where they were coming from, as the moon was a clear waxing crescent, the normal glow missing from the night sky and leaving the air a pitch black.

 She uttered the name again, ready to just start stumbling around the grassy area when a body crashed into her side, arms wrapping around her midsection and a face stuffing into her neck, tears wetting her shirt. It was easy to wrap her own arms around the torso that was holding her close- and only one girl in this town wore that perfume.

 The two friends hugged in the cemetery, one sobbing and the other simply holding, not knowing what else to do; only offering the comfort of her arms. The grief of thinking Chloe was dead in a ditch somewhere was gone, but the worry was still there, so Julie leaned back and tried to peek at her friends face.

 “Chloe? What happened to you?” There was no response, so she begged in a broken voice, “Please, Chloe… talk to me. It’s me, Julie. I’m your friend”

 But Chloe blubbered like a scared child, clutching her friend even closer as more tears fell. Julie was a bit lost, what was she supposed to do?

 “I can help her.”

 A new voice echoed the Cemetery and Julie abruptly turned, forcing Chloe behind her as a new woman stood before them. This was a stranger; her long strawberry blonde hair was a stark difference from her black clothes. It reminded her of Madison- the stylish black was a new thing that Julie just didn’t get.

 “I know how to help your friend. But you have to let me Julie-“

 “How do you know my name?” It was a valid question but Julie didn’t know this woman.

 “My name is Cordelia Goode.” Cordelia strode forward, as if walking on clouds. “I know how to help Chloe. My mother did something awful to her and I need to right her wrongs. But you have to let me Julie.”

 Her friend trembled behind her back, and Julie found she couldn’t say yes, even if this was Madison’s Supreme Cordelia. “Prove that we can trust you, then I’ll let you help.”

 And Cordelia smiled, as if this was something she’d dealt with before. Her pale hand rose in into the night air and a smoke like fog started to rise from the ground. “What’s happening?” Cordelia didn’t answer, just continued raising the smoke with a simple smile.

 It surrounded the three women, filling their lungs in a way akin to coal filling a sock, but the only one who fell to her knees was Julie. The smoke was suffocating. She felt Chloe try and hold her up, but failed as Cordelia came closer and closer. It was a shock when her friends legs stood before her, bleary eyes watching as she took a protective stance.

 Both women seemed to ignore Julie in their stand off.

 “What did Fiona do to me?” Chloe’s voice was absent of sniffles or tears, instead full of anger and betrayal, and Cordelia bloomed a frown.

 “My mother tried to make you the next Supreme; she saw a strength in you that would easily overpower the rest of the Coven.” Cordelia took a few steps closer, “She never thought that an untrained witch as yourself would grow as unhinged as you did, and she certainly never thought you would turn your back on your own Coven.”

 “I didn’t!” Chloe screamed so loud the trees shook. “You aren’t my Coven! I don’t even know what a Coven is but what reason did I have to stay?! To watch you all kill each other to become the strongest witch on the planet?” Her shoulders fell in a display of defeat. “I never wanted any of this.”

 Julie could finally breath as the smoke suddenly was gone from her lungs, air clearing up and allowing her to stand at Chloe’s side. It was easier to see Cordelia at a closer distance, and Jessie March had always told her not to judge people by their first appearance, but Julie didn’t trust her.

 “I can help you Chloe.” Her hand was offered, “You can transfer your magic to me. You’ll never have to worry about it again.”

 Now that didn’t seem like a bad trade off; Chloe would never have to worry about magic ever again and… and yeah that was it. But Julie had one question for Cordelia, “How did Fiona die?”

 It was then the first real flicker of emotion crossed Cordelia’s face, “For one Supreme to rise, the current one must fall.” It was a bold statement, and the two teenagers faces dropped, both stepping back from the Supreme.

 It was Chloe who uttered, “Did you kill your mother?”

  “You think you’ve won daughter? You think these petty little girls and your shitty house will ever make you Supreme?”

 Fiona Goode was wrapped around a metal pole, ropes binding her with no chance of escaping. She’d known this was coming; Cordelia was always a goody two shoes, and after the last girl had fled- she’d been stronger than Fiona had imagined, too strong, and handing over her magic had been a mistake she would make again and again- it was no surprise that her daughter had turned the Coven against her.

 “I believe that you are here today to pay for your crimes against this Coven. For cursing the witch Chloe Bennett, and transferring your powers to an unwilling host- is punished in this Coven. I, Cordelia Goode, sentence you to death by fire.”

  “It was her time, even my mother knew that. But what my mother did to you was inexcusable, and I want to right her wrong. I can help you Chloe.” Something was wrong to Julie; this woman had presumably killed her mother to become Queen of the Coven, and wanted to ‘help’ Chloe by taking her magic?

 “Can you train her?” Chloe sharply turned with a furrowed brow. “Instead of just taking it, why can’t you help her control it?”

 Chloe butt in before Cordelia could answer, “Would you do that? Make me like you?” Cordelia’s eyes darted between them, contemplating the situation. It was a lip bite and eye twitch later than Cordelia let her head dip lightly, “If you come to my school, I will help you. We already have a witch who’s promise is as strong as yours.”

 Chloe’s eyes lit up in a bright contagious smile, turning and hugging her friend. It was a sweet moment that was short lived as a gluttural moan of pain left Chloe’s mouth, hands clutching her scalp in pain. Julie turned to Cordelia, “Help her!”

 And with a nod she did, eyes closing and riding the young girls body of Fiona’s nasty curse, eyeing the powerful old magic that flowed through those young veins. Cordelia thought, ‘what a waste’.

 But Chloe felt went it was gone, whatever it was, and stood with clear eyes for the first time in days. She turned to Cordelia, “What exactly did Fiona curse me with?”

 “The curse of hunger that typically drives the host insane, but you were just strong enough Ms. Bennett.” Cordelia held out a hand once more, “I do think you’ll make an excellent addition to my Coven.”

 Chloe went to take her hand, but turned to her friend, “What about you?” and Julie gave a bright smile, “I’m not a witch, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She pondered, “Just think of me as your Coven away from Coven.”

 It was a laugh shared between the two girls that brought forth a massive hug, cheeks pressing against one another, years of friendship shared between them resonating the in the air. There were mutual “I’ll miss you’s” thrown about, before they let go.

 “You’ll be here when I get back?”

 Julie nodded and watched her friend take Cordelia’s hand, disappearing from sight.

  ~~

 “You promise she’ll be okay? I’ve met Madison and I mean I’d rather never see her again.” Cordelia chuckled as she stood on the front steps of the March household- they’d just enjoyed a hearty meal of glazed turkey breast with green beans and a piece of pumpkin pie. Jessie March had calmed down after Cordelia had made up some bogus lie about being a school tutor, but her mother had eaten it up.

 So here they stood, Julie in front of Cordelia, on the front porch.

 “I think she’ll do amazing. There is another student, Mallory, who also shows signs of being stronger than the other girls. They will get along well.” Julie nodded, but shyly asked, “When will she be back?”

 The Supreme thought for a moment, “A year or two. I have a feeling she won’t need my help for long.”

 Julie had to tell her, “What about her dad? She…” It was still too hard to think about, but Cordelia waved it off. “I have fixed the wrongs that have been done.” It wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if witches could bring people back from the dead, and Julie hoped that’s what she meant.

 It was an awkward silence that ate up the time they stood there. “I guess I’ll see you around.” They both nodded and Cordelia held out her hand to be shook, and Julie had no reason not to. It was a jolt of electricity that went up the teenager’s arm and behind her eyes-

 Ave Satanas

 Julie pulled back with wide eyes and Cordelia furrowed her brow in confusion, which in turn furrowed Julie’s own brows; had she not seen that? Felt that? It made her heart up tic in a way, not understanding what it meant. It had been happening more and more, it scared her-

 “Absolute power corrupts absolutely Ms. March. You would do well to remember that.” And then she was gone with the wind, her voice an echo that she hoped would never speak again.

 It felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest when the door finally closed with a small noise, a smile gracing her face. “I’m goin to bed mom. Night!”

 Hell, today had been stressful for her and stretched her arms and legs in a humorous fashion and she stumbled up the stairs. A faint response from her mom was good enough for her as she stomped into her room, letting the door slam shut and flopping on her bed—

 Which was in fact, not as empty as she assumed it would because the large body shape that had been in her bed had let out a yelp at the sudden influx of weight. The body scrambled off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thunk, prompting Julie to run to the wall and turn on the lights.

 It was easy to peek over the side of the bed, and give a single raised eyebrow to the blonde haired boy lying on her floor in a jumble of limbs. It took him a moment to right himself up, and she frowned at his bloodshot eyes. Had he been crying?

 It was a simple walk around the bed and she was crouching at his side, hand on his shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

 He said his answer as if it was as simple as why the sky was blue, “Because you hate me.”

 What!? “What!?”

 She crowded closer to him, “When did I ever say I hate you? Michael, talk to me.” It was no easy feat to turn his face to her, watching those bloodshot blue eyes and messy blonde locks come into full view.

 He sniffled, “You left me and-and…. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I don’t want to be alone, you can’t leave like my grandma- you can’t- you can’t- please don’t-“

 His words halted as her soft lips met with his, his eyes widening as hers were closed, It felt like heaven to kiss her, and any sadness was washed away. She hated that she’d made him feel this way and pulled back to watch his wide eyes, “I’ll never leave you Michael. I love you.”

 His voice cracked, “N-Never?”

 She nodded and they kissed once more, paying no mind as he had them on the bed in seconds, his hands roaming every inch of her body he could. He hadn’t touched her since that night- so long ago- and craved to taste every inch of her again. Julie hadn’t felt his hands in ages- that one dream had seemed so real- but wanted to give him every part of her that he would take.

 His hands were desperate in wanting to feel every inch of her skin against his lips; she was all smooth flesh and warm blood that he wouldn’t mind taking just a taste. That was a thought for a later date as her wanton cries echoed the room.

 She pulled back from his lips with wide eyes, before bursting into a fit of giggles, Michael chuckling along with her. They hoped her mom was asleep.

 They positioned themselves on the bed, facing each other with hands clasped together and noses almost touching. Her voice was small and her eyes roamed his face with curiosity, “what are you Michael?

 There were so many things he could say; I’m the Antichrist, I’m a monster, I’m a murderer, I’m nothing… But Julie made him feel like something. She made him so, so, so happy. And that’s not to say Ms. Mead didn’t make him happy too- she was like the mother he never had, but Julie made him feel like he wasn’t so bad after all.

 “I’m just me.” That was enough of an answer for Julie, eskimo kissing as she drifted off to sleep, smiling at the feel of his safe arms around her. It was hard to think that everything was going to be okay, but with Michael by her side, maybe it could be.

Hope you enjoyed!

[itsblosseybitch]

It’s Never About Disney Tickets

About a year ago, I went to Disney with my brother, sister, and her boyfriend. Before we left the house, it came up that one of us didn’t have a ticket. More specifically, that person was my brother. Despite the fact that my brother is 34, he has never learned to master his finances. Like my 56-year old father, he’s notorious for borrowing money left and right, and rarely paying it back. These are things the family discusses when neither gentleman is around. From people who have, more than once, let these fiscally irresponsible men borrow their money and then bitterly complain about getting screwed. 

So, the idea was that my brother would borrow money from someone for a Disney ticket. I don’t go to Disney often, and I don’t know the exact price, but tickets are in the $150 range. That’s a lot of money to let someone borrow, regardless of how financially savvy they are. And somehow, everyone else in the room (my sister, her boyfriend, mom, and stepdad) decided that that person was going to be me. 

Why? I’m not sure. 

Knowing his track record, and the fact that he’s shown no improvement in this area, I refused. So my brother offers, with no sense of irony, to pay me back in Chick-Fil-A. Now I’ve told this portion of the story before with people completely floored by this part. Yet this is 100% in character for my brother, and this didn’t surprise me. I still said no. 

I thought I made a wise and fiscally responsible decision. But everyone else in the room didn’t seem to think so. 

Both my mom and sister brought up my savings account, which I was working hard to reach towards a certain number (and did, shortly after this incident). They brought up how I had more than enough to spare (which I did), and should just give to him. I still said no.

I finally pointed out to my sister, “He’s not good at paying people back.” And knowing that my brother was financially in the red and that my mom and sister let him borrow money recently, I asked her point-blank: “Did he pay you  back?”

After a pause, she angrily replied: “Jordan, I’m not taking you. I’m not even kidding!”

I ended up leaving the living room and going out to the car. After a few minutes, my sister emerged and said that they “handled it,” though I can’t remember if she elaborated on that or not. She then berated me for “not listening to Reason.” I mentioned how he offered to pay back $150 in Chick-Fil-A, but I don’t remember that giving her pause. Regardless, I went to Disney that day, with my bank account intact. 

A few weeks ago, I had one of those arguments with my mom and sister where a bunch of past grievances came up, and my sister brought up this incident. My mother said that it was “hurtful” that I called out my brother’s lack of fiscal responsibility in front of everyone, and she kept insisting that it was hurtful even after I pointed out that this was a fact everyone in the room at that time knew about. I’m not a Ben Shapiro fan by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s right: facts don’t care about your feelings. 

My sister was continuing to give me shit about it, when I pointed out he offered to pay me back in Chick-Fil-A. 

This time, it gave her pause. But then she angrily replied: “Well, you should have just given him the money anyway, because you had so much of it.” 

I walked away from that argument completely baffled by my mom and sister’s twisted logic. There’s no way  they thought that letting him borrow money was a genuinely good decision. Their pauses told me I had a point. So why did they keep insisting that I should have done it anyway?

I was still baffled about this last night when I was watching a YouTube video about gaslighting. I posted in the comments section, “I don’t know if this is gaslighting and don’t use that phrase lightly...” and launched into my story. 

Almost immediately, I got a reply from another user, who said:

“They probably wanted something that you giving him the money depended on. It’s not quite gaslighting, it’s more like turning butthurt and throwing insults at someone that does not give you what you want. Immature and childish, using the appearance of hurt feelings to gain control over you. A grown man should have more pride in his money. Maybe the money was for something other than a Disney ticket.”

I replied back with a simple: “Now that I think about it, it probably was.” 

The more I’ve thought about it today, the more I’m almost certain it was. 

On its face, this situation makes absolutely no sense. Even if we went with the narrative that my mom and my sister are the dumbest people to have ever lived on Earth (which they aren’t), their reactions to this situation still  make no sense.

But if you add the possibility that the money wasn’t  for a Disney ticket, then things start adding up.

As I’ve already established, my brother was financially in the red at this point. More than usual. I knew he was on some sort of plan to borrow money from my mom and stepdad, and to pay them back. As far as I know, this plan had mixed success. I also knew my sister let him borrow money. 

I sat around at dinner conversations where all three of them complained that he hadn’t paid them back. Surprise, surprise. 

I remember a few years ago, when my dad had an explosive breakup with his ex-fiancee, how he moved in with my eldest sister (not the one already mentioned) and her then-husband and daughter. My eldest sister was letting him borrow so much money, that she was borrowing from my mom and stepdad to let him borrow money. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. After a point, my mom and stepdad put a stop to it, and my eldest sister had to tell my dad that she could no longer let him borrow money. My eldest sister at one point complained about how our father reveled in “how good it felt to buy stuff again” and how she just nodded along, obviously full of suppressed resentment. To my understanding, my mom and stepdad gave her this money, knowing what the situation was. I guess that’s just what family is for. When I was with my siblings, I made the radical suggestion that we shouldn’t let our father borrow money from us. I can’t remember if this was explicitly stated, but the attitude towards my suggestion was that it was heartless. It hasn’t happened (yet), but I’ve had my “no speech” rehearsed for when my dad asks for me to lend him money since this time period (7-8 years). 

Now that I look back, there was no moment where we all went around the room and decided who was going to give my brother money. The idea that that the person was going to be me was more implied, almost as if it was decided beforehand.

Call it what you will. Conspiracy, intervention, or collusion. My immediate family also has a history of coordinated group effort, usually spearheaded by one or both of my sisters and my mom being the accomplice. 

Almost exactly ten years ago, I was the center of one of these group efforts. In a sleazy condo rented out by my dad’s adoptive mother (now deceased), both of my sisters and my now former brother-in-law told me that we wouldn’t leave the condo unless I told them everything I did with my on-and-off boyfriend at the time. This was the summer, and one of our “off” periods, and I was reeling from what would be the first of many of our micro-breakups. Even though I was 13 at the time, we had unprotected oral sex. It was irresponsible, and I was too young to be doing that, but thankfully I got no STDs from it. I should add that this was consensual. I felt horrible about being forced to give very intimate details about what I did with a boy I was crazy about at the time and still thinking about despite our “off” period. 

I begged them not to tell my mom, which they said they wouldn’t. Not only did they tell her, but they told her before  that night in the condo. They already knew everything from the detailed journals I kept. I don’t remember exactly how I found this out, but it was months later in the car with the sister I’ve mentioned most frequently, and by that point my then-boyfriend and I were back to business as usual. When I brought up that they forced me to tell them really private stuff, my sister said “we didn’t force it out of you.” I’m pretty sure I pointed out the part where our eldest sister said “We’re not leaving unless you tell us what you did.” I don’t remember my other sister directly or indirectly responding to that. 

I think there’s two types of naivety. There’s personal naivety, when you’re not good at reading another person’s character. And then there’s social naivety, when you’re not good at reading a situation for what it is. I think I’m good at judging a person’s character, but I’m not always great at reading a situation. My emotional intelligence scores seem to think so, as well. The EQ tests I took measure emotional intelligence in four different areas: self awareness, self management, social awareness, and relationship management. I’ve taken this test twice, over a year apart. Even though all my scores have improved, the pattern remains the same: my highest skill is self awareness, and my lowest is social awareness. Now’s a good time to mention that I have Asperger’s, and was even diagnosed as having moderate-to-severe Autism as an infant. 

I’ve spent weeks, months, sometimes years fixating on social situations that absolutely baffled me, and I’ve realized that I took most of those baffling situations at face value. I never looked at these situations with nuance until it was usually too late. Once, I was completely baffled as to why the best friend of my high school crush would try and call me at 4 AM. What kind of person calls at 4 AM?  Three weeks later, it dawned on me that those were Peak Booty Call Hours. Thinking about my social life sometimes feels like the equivalent of watching The Office, and realizing you’re Michael Scott.

Now I realize that every time someone tried to manipulate me, whether it was for sex, money, or information, my lack of social awareness was usually the thing they were preying on. Consciously or unconsciously, they were banking on me to not recognize the subtext of a situation. And if this attempt on their part was unsuccessful, it was usually because I found a minor plot hole. 

It was never about the Disney ticket, I’m sure now. I don’t know exactly what it was about, but I’m bound to find out sooner or later. I always do. The Disney ticket was just a fairy tale that was made up to convince me to do something that I wouldn’t have agreed to in a million years. 

I’m sure the writers of this fairy tale thought that I loved food so much to the point that I would risk parting with a significant amount of money just to get Chick-Fil-A. Hell, my brother probably wouldn’t have been timely on those payments, either.

 I’m sure they thought that guilt-tripping me would work, even though none of us were raised Catholic. I’m sure they thought that making me feel like I’m crazy and stupid (and saying as much) would spur me to action, but they’ve used that plot point so many times that I’ve learned to turn it on its head. 

My only question now is why they couldn’t be honest with me.

[sie-sie86]

Almost a year without you

May 16th, 2018

The day that will forever be embedded in my every being. Growing up I never pictured life this way. In my younger years I saw both of my parents living and making it to their elderly ages. I pictured both of them together forever and as grandparents. You were 64 years young and I was 31. A few years before... you started to cough a lot among many other symptoms. Different doctors with different diagnoses. Finally we found out that you had congestive heart failure. We had hoped that you could be fixed. That they could repair your broken heart and make you whole again. That you would be okay and be able to live life for many years down the road as pictured. Little did we know, that wouldn’t be the case. The first hospital that we went to, they didn’t want to operate. They said it would be too risky. After that we decided to get you to Mayo in Rochester. They did all sorts of testing and met with different doctors. They said that they would do the open heart surgery to repair your valves. The doctor said that you should be able to walk me down the aisle. You had your open heart surgery but things went downhill from there. A few months down the road, your lungs started to fill with fluid and they started to collapse. You had to have lung surgery. They said if the lung didn’t inflate all the way back up that you would only have little time left to live. A month and a 1/2 after your lung surgery things were not looking too good with how you were feeling. After a hospital stay in Illinois we got you down to Barnes Hospital in St. Louis, Missouri. You didn’t know if Mayo would take you back due to insurance. You appeared so frail and stumbled at times when you would walk. You had to have a room with a roomate. Maybe it was a good thing for you but we wished that we could have spent more time with you at your side. It was May, you wished to sit outside for a bit but it was against hospital policy. Doctors sometimes didn’t come in to see you until 9pm at night. They made you NPO then canceled  testing on you after you hadn’t eaten or drank in hours. This made you upset. You had so much hope that the ball was rolling. I was at your side that day. You were trying to help us with accomodations so we could be nearby and didn’t have to travel. You were ready to pack up and head to Mayo. Oh, how I wish I would have agreed with you Dad. I wish I would have packed your belongings and loaded you into my car for the drive to Rochester. You told me you were so upset you felt like crying. I must have just said it’s okay. I wish I would have done more than that, been there for you more than that. I wish I would have given you the biggest and warmest hug but seeing you upset made me upset and I had to leave the room to go cry not in front of you. I must have said I was going to get something to eat. Many times at the different hospitals seeing you upset I couldn’t handle it. I had to leave the room whether it was a gently cry in a bathroom stall or a fullblown shrieking sobbing in my car begging for you to be okay. 

After days of just laying in your bed at Barnes hospital they finally scheduled your second open heart surgery to put a tissue valve in because your mechanical valve failed. They said that this was a “suicide mission.” The other option was to do nothing and live for just a few months more. We all agreed to the surgery. We all had the hope that you would make it through. Before surgery we were at your side and you spoke to us one by one. You were joking around with the nurse like usual with the occasional smile. She said that she was going to have to take you home since you were so full of it. You told me to take care of mom. You said this numerous other times during past hospitalizations with your CHF. I listened but I didn’t really listen. You knew that things might go south but in my mind you were going to live forever. You told Derek the same, to take care of mom. Mom said you promised to come back. We gave our hugs and said I love you’s and traveled towards the elevators to go to the waiting room. As they wheeled you out I waved and you waved back. Little did I know that glimpse of them pushing you in that bed down the hallway with you waving at me back would be the last time I saw you alive. 

Matt decided that we should do something to try to keep my mind off things since the surgery would be long. We decided to go to the zoo since I had never been there before. I was hesitant at first but then decided that it would be okay to go. My brother said that he would contact us for updates. After awhile the first update was that things were going okay. Later in the afternoon my mom got a call that things were not looking good. My brother said that we needed to come back to the hospital now. Once we arrived back at the hospital their still were not any details. Just that last dreaded call that things were dire. After awhile I really don’t remember, things around the time are still kind of a blur due to the sudden shift from feeling hopeful to feeling extremely worried...the doctor directed us into a room and began to speak with us. From what I can remember overall she said that they put you in an induced coma (ECMO) due to a period of time where there was a lack of oxygen during surgery. They allowed us to go back to see you. I couldn’t handle looking at you like that. The tears flooded. The most tubes, lines and machines I have ever seen during my eleven or so years in the medical field. After seeing you we went back to the waiting room. My brother decided that he would stay there and that the rest of us should go back to the hotel room to get some sleep. It had to be 3, 4, or close to 5 in the morning when my brother got ahold of us and told us that it was time to say goodbye.... That they reopened you right there in that ICU room to operate due to bleeding that they couldn’t control. You were also having seizures that my brother witnessed... They had you on medications to keep your blood pressure up so we had the time to be there with you and tell you goodbye... This was the most traumatic experience that I have ever had to endure. Losing my grandmother Darlene was very hard on me then and for a long time afterwards. I thought her loss was devastating but having to say goodbye to my father was unimaginable. I just felt like I floated down that hallway unaware of my own steps. Going into that room seeing all the tubes, lines, machines and beeps keeping you alive for the moment. As I uncontrollably sobbed, saying no, no, no, arguing against you leaving, arguing against saying goodbye, kissing your forehead and seeing your last heartbeats turn into that flatline with the machine beeps of failure my world was and has been forever changed. 

I don’t know how it has almost been a year. Still to this day my wish is that maybe I am in a coma and that this is all a bad dream of mine. Maybe I will wake up soon and there he will be by my side smiling...glad that I have awoken. We all experience grief in life and many people are able to adapt. Throughout this almost year I have experienced all of the stages of grief and I guess that they will last in no particular order throughout the rest of my living days. I have been angry that he couldn’t be saved. I have felt guilty that I didn’t get him to Mayo. I have racked my brain with thoughts that maybe if he would have went there for his second open heart surgery then maybe he would still be alive today. I was numb for awhile after he passed. Then after awhile the sadness seeped in and has remained with me off and on since then. Something I haven’t told very many people and have been scared to share: I use to be hopeful and very spiritual about an afterlife, but when the first deep gut wrenching sadness set in...I began to wonder. I began to wonder if I will ever see my dad or deceased loved ones ever again. That maybe what I had with them was just that and there will be nothing more. With this thought I was broken to pieces for awhile and still am in a way. I use to fear my own death but not anymore. Grief of a loved one feels unbearable and when my time comes I will be ready to hopefully join my loved ones that I miss very much. I have had some signs. I have always been a “sign” kind of person and we use to live in a house where very weird things happened in a ghostly manner. So with my past experiences of living in such a house and the signs that I have experienced not only from my dad possibly but from other passed on loved ones I have been split between the war of is this all just a big coincidence or is there something more? Maybe this is a normal part of grief...feeling so down about life after death. I don’t know. But all I do know is that I wish I would have had more time. Looking back on life, my thoughts scurry with trying to remember and hold onto the memories of you. You are constantly missed more than ever and will always be loved and kept inside my heart with what heart of mine remains. 

[smellofparchment-blog]

By Moonlight and Sunrises: Chapter 4 - Nostalgia

Story Title - By Moonlight and Sunrises (ffn link)

Story Description - There was no awkwardness. No need to fill the empty space with words because the space wasn’t empty. There was something - inaudible, invisible, of course, but there was something there anyways. “How can I possibly want to kiss a woman whose name I don’t even know?” Percy finally asked, breaking the silence.

Story Rating - teen (T)

Story Characters - Percy Weasley, Audrey Shacklebolt, George Weasley, Keegan Shacklebolt (OMC), Sabina Kopitar (OFC), Oliver Wood, Kingsely Shacklebolt, Zhara Shacklebolt (OFC), Kristopher Shacklebolt (OMC), Kelsey Rowle (OFC), Thorfinn Rowle, Molly Weasley I, Arthur Weasley

Story Pairings - Percy/Audrey

Chapter - 4) Nostalgia

24 August 1999

Seeing Percy again had left Audrey in a distracted trance. The events of that night had been nothing but a hazy memory, but as soon as she recognized those bright blue eyes, she could see it clearer than what she ate for breakfast.

At Hogwarts, and even shortly after graduating, Audrey had not given Percy Weasley much thought. He was the Head Boy, in charge of delegating her shifts and running those tedious weekly meetings. He was Fred and George's older brother, who they incessantly made fun of. He was the "young man" Kingsley always spoke of with a concerned tone. All of that stood in the way of Audrey recognizing his sheer ambition and loyalty... and she remembered the day it was so conveniently pushed out of her view so she could see Percy Weasley for who he truly was.

"Here's some files you should read up on," Kingsley started as he set down a very heavy box filled with muggle notebooks on the rickety table, "secret operatives of the Order, their missions, and their code names, should you two ever need to go undercover to provide back-up."

Keegan nodded thoughtfully and grabbed a handful of the notebooks. Audrey paused for a moment and glanced worryingly at her uncle before doing the same. This was it. As soon as she grabbed one of those notebooks, there was no backing out. She delicately turned the pages of the notebooks, taking in the information within the pages... wincing every time she got to one with a searing red stamp that read "DECEASED" boldly dominating the top of the page. For the most part, all of these were the people she had expected to be in the Order. It took a couple hours for Audrey to finally get caught off guard and do a double-take.

Audrey paused as her eyes took in the new page before her, a mix of surprise and sudden revelation dawning on her.

Code Name: Knight

Real Name: Percival Ignatius Weasley

Blood Status: Pureblood

Mission: Ministry intel, muggle-born protection, double agent

Notes: maximum clearance, mission and post must be maintained at all costs

Almost half the notebook was filled with details and information related to Percy and his mission just in the last month. In a typical Percy Weasley fashion, he left no stone unturned and no details omitted.

"Kingsley..." Audrey called, trailing off. "Is this right?" she asked as her uncle entered the tent.

He sighed heavily before slowly nodding. "Yes, I was just as shocked when Dumbledore had told me. I don't think anyone's given up more than he has for the Order..."

After the war, Audrey had expected Percy to be revered as one of the Order's heroes. She had been as behind-the-scenes as it got, and there was no doubt in her mind that if people had found out about everything he did for the Order, it would be front page news. However, months went by and there was nothing. Not a squeak. Logically, it made sense to Audrey. He kept it hidden and focused on what really mattered: his family. Still, he lingered in her thoughts. The file, the encrypted contact she had with him during the war, and that one time she had had to go undercover for him... it was all too much to forget.

It was pure chance that he had been on that balcony that night, and Audrey had most certainly not planned to kiss him... but everything had been perfect. He was captivated, Audrey was intrigued, and they were all alone under a moonlit sky. Perhaps part of it was the "hero goggles," the popularized Witch Weekly term for finding someone more attractive because of their role in the war, but in that moment, Percy was simply a poetic man that couldn't walk away from her. It was truly - as much as Audrey hated to say it - perfect.

Too perfect.

"Good day to my favourite ladies!"

Audrey was snapped out of her deep thoughts by the familiar sound of Keegan's voice as he dropped into the empty seat at the table that Audrey and Oralee had chosen. It was a small French-style patio table, bright turquoise in colour and situated right under the midday sun. Keegan still managed to look completely relaxed in the tiny chair, and he ruffled his little cousin's hair with a joking smile on his face. Turning to Audrey, the older Shacklebolt added, "How'd your day together go?"

"Audrey's going to eat Moroccan food."

The young woman snapped her head towards her little cousin with a glare. Bloody snitch, can't trust little kids with anything, she thought to herself bitterly.

"Moroccan food? That's... oddly specific," Keegan commented.

"A man asked her."

"Ah, there it is."

"Stay out of it, Keegan," Audrey warned as she set her glare onto her older brother.

"Oh yeah, or what?" he challenged.

"Or I tell Mum who you're dating."

Keegan paused and narrowed his eyes at his younger sister for a moment of silence before finally replying, "Go ahead, we both know Gran Lucinda will love her and that's the only opinion that matters. Now, who's Mystery Man?"

Audrey rolled her eyes at Keegan's smugness and simply crossed her arms as she looked away in defiant silence.

"It was Percy Weasley!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Kingsley needs to get this one a sibling," Audrey grumbled.

"Oh, such ruthlessness!" Keegan exclaimed as he high-fived Ora. "You'll make a magnificent Slytherin, love."

Audrey fought back a smile at Ora's beaming face. She could never stay too mad at her adorable little cousin. Her brief moment of happiness, however, was quickly interrupted by Keegan's inquiries.

"So, how'd that happen?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. He was enjoying this far too much.

"Nothing happened, it's just a bloody dinner," Audrey replied with a roll of her eyes. She knew she was trying too hard to down-play this, but her frustration was getting the better of her. Surprisingly, however, Keegan did not push back.

"Fine, don't tell me," he concluded with a shrug, "but be careful, all right? Remember what Dad said: lay low. A Weasley and a Shacklebolt is not exactly laying low."

Audrey slowly nodded but didn't reply. She had to admit that Keegan made a good point - this was definitely something that would catch a lot of attention, both good and bad. Admitting that out loud, however, was a whole other thing. And in any case, she could handle herself.

"What did you do?" George asked slowly as Percy entered the joke shop.

After a brief pause, Percy hastily answered, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Noth - ah forget it, I can't do this," George started. "We both know what you did, in any case."

Percy scoffed. "Sure you do," he replied disbelievingly. He was absolutely certain that George had figured it out, but over the years Percy had learned that the best way to deal with the twins was to mess with their heads just as much as they did with his. Besides, the last thing he needed was George to go blabbing to Mum about Percy's love life.

However, the next thing to come out of George's mouth surprised Percy.

"Just be careful, all right?" his younger brother warned. "She may be Kingsley's niece but... she's also a Slytherin and part of a big pureblood family with lots of ties to Death Eaters. Don't be stupid."

Percy narrowed his eyes at George, a sudden wave of defensiveness coming over him. Where did he get off on making those kinds of assumptions about Audrey? Perhaps while they were at Hogwarts, Percy would have thought the same of her, but he knew that was far from the truth. He remembered seeing her name alongside those of other Order members after the war, and he remembered how serene and thoughtful she had seemed that night at the gala. Perhaps George had some more experience with Audrey and had a good reason to say that, but Percy was simply unable to accept that logic in that particular moment.

"Noted. I'll see ya later," Percy replied somewhat bitterly, before bidding goodbye to his brother and making his way back to the Ministry.

George may have just been trying to look out for him, but Percy was capable of making his own decisions. It seemed as if ever since the war had ended and Percy had started to reconcile with his family they were all walking on eggshells around him, like they expected him to just leave again. It was those moments he wished more than ever that he hadn't kept so much from them.

26 August 1999

"So, what's new?" Sabina asked as she heavily dropped herself on Audrey's coach.

"Where do I even start..." Audrey muttered tiredly.

Sabina Kopitar was Audrey's closest friend. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts, and a perfect example of how a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw could be completely unstoppable together. The two had been inseparable since their first year. After graduating, they took different paths in the professional world, Sabina choosing to train as a Healer, but their friendship had still remained strong. Then, when the war truly reached its peak, Sabina was right alongside Audrey in the Order, putting her skills as a Healer to use whenever she was needed. The two of them truly had been through thick and thin together.

"Beer?" Audrey offered, raising her own bottle.

Sabina shook her head, her blonde ponytail swinging around. "No thanks, took up a medi-witch shift tonight," she answered. "Dad begged me. New Keeper is a little reckless apparently." She sat up straight and fixed a frown on her face, before adding in a near perfect imitation of her father's Slovenian accent, "'This one is more square than the rest of them, I tell you!'"

"Reckless quidditch player? Why I would have never guessed," Audrey said sarcastically as she sat down next to Sabina.

Sabina laughed and added, "All right, you can only avoid talking about yourself for so long."

"Damn you Ravenclaws," Audrey grumbled, following with a sip of her beer. "So I have a date," she started as she set down her drink.

"Nice, nice, what's he do?" Sabina inquired.

"He, uh, he works for the Ministry," Audrey answered.

"Doing what exactly?" Sabina coaxed, evidently starting to get impatient.

"He's uh... he's the Head of the Floo Network Authority."

Sabina's grey eyes stayed fixed on Audrey and almost pierced through her very soul for a pause, before the blonde woman blinked a few times and slowly stated, "You're going on a date with Percy Weasley."

"Yes, that would be correct."

"Does he know your name this time?"

Audrey rolled her eyes as Sabina cracked up laughing. Audrey had always known telling Sabina about the what had happened at the gala would come back to bite her in the arse somehow, but one could never quite predict anything accurately when it concerned the former Ravenclaw.

"It honestly isn't that shocking that he didn't remember me, all right?" Audrey reasoned. "I mean, Merlin knows Penny was a bit too possessive back in the day."

"Oh hell, don't even remind me. I had to share a house with the girl," Sabina agreed, her laughter dying down just slightly. "Still, you saved the man's life once."

"Well, he doesn't know that. Code names and disguises, remember?" Audrey justified. "Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Keegan had to save my arse that day, and you did too."

Sabina sighed and nodded, a grim look appearing on her face as she recalled the mission. She quickly forced a smile on her pale face before changing the subject. "Anyways, as much as I like to tease, I am happy for you. Getting out there and having an actual date instead of a regretful one-night stand."

"Bloody hell, it happened once," Audrey grumbled as she rolled her eyes, then grimacing slightly as she recalled her brief, drunken reunion with her ex all those months back.

"Okay, seriously now, he seems like a nice bloke," Sabina admitted. "A little full of himself, but hey - birds of a feather."

"You just can't stop, can you?"

"Nope!" Sabina agreed cheerily as she jumped up from the coach. "Anyways, I gotta get going now. Thanks for the update, love."

Audrey waved goodbye to her friend with a small smile on her face and a shake of her head. Hearing some positivity from Sabina did lighten her mood a bit and take her mind off of Keegan's warning, but it brought other troubling thoughts to her mind. Audrey hadn't thought about one of her missions in ages, but that mission in particular always sent shivers up her spine and triggered a sharp pain throughout the scar that ran along the length of her left leg. Some parts of the war were truly inescapable.

Percy always enjoyed family dinners now. There was nothing he had missed more after he had left home, and now he tried to attend as many as possible and truly make the best of them. He knew, deep down, that he could never actually make up for that lost time - but at least he could try. Weasley family dinners after the war were always a chance to leave your worries at the door for a few hours. Despite his small spat with George the other day, they still hugged and smiled and chatted throughout the dinner like it hadn't happened. Family dinners were now a sacred event for the Weasleys.

One of the clocks in the living room chimed one o'clock and Percy lifted his head to look out the window at the night sky. The tea in front of him had gone cold yet again, so Percy swished his wand to warm it up... again. Even though the family dinner had been a nice distraction, afterwards his head was still plagued by George's words the other day. With his mind racing, he could barely stand staying in his childhood bedroom, so he headed downstairs to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea and try to calm his nerves.

So far, no luck.

"Ah, can't sleep?"

Percy's head snapped towards the direction of the voice but visibly relaxed when he realized it was Arthur. He shrugged lightly and replied, "Just a lot on my mind."

"Anything you want to talk about?" Arthur offered as he walked over to the kitchen table and sat across from Percy.

Percy stayed silent for a long moment, considering how he could talk about what was on his mind without giving his father too much information. He didn't want anyone else knowing about him and Audrey - especially not when there was so many questions racing through his head. He felt inexplicably attracted to her, but there was so much he really didn't know about her. Everything he was feeling defied logic.

"Do you think your Hogwarts house matters as much as people say it does?" Percy finally asked.

A slight look of confusion dawned on his father's face. "What do you mean?" he asked in reply.

"Just, you know... all Gryffindors are brave, all Ravenclaws are smart..." Percy added in explanation, "all Slytherins are cruel."

"Ah, I see," Arthur voiced with a knowing look on his face. "No, I really don't think that. Pride is one thing, but it would be pretty insane to think that every witch and wizard truly and wholly belonged in one of four categories."

"That's not the popular belief though," Percy countered. "Especially not nowadays."

"No, it's not, and it is very easy to get caught up in that," Arthur admitted. "Happens to me sometimes, but then I remember one simple fact."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Percy asked, partly out of curiously, partly because he hoped it was something that would help his case a little.

Arthur's smile widened. "Your Nana was a Slytherin, and I know she was only alive for a few years after you were born but she was damn near the kindest woman you'd ever meet," he said with a longing tone to his voice.

How could Percy forget about Nana? Cedrella Weasley had been a household name among both blood purists and so-called "blood traitors" for quite some time after she had been disowned by the Black family. She had just fit in so well with the Weasleys, though, that no one ever questioned her ties to the Black family, let alone the fact that she had been a Slytherin some decades ago. He supposed it made sense from the vague memories Percy did have of her. She was always carefully watching and analyzing, and he had a very distinct memory of somehow convincing Bill to clear the garden gnomes completely on his own one day.

"What's got you thinking about this?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Just um, a lot happening at the Ministry," Percy replied vaguely. "There's lots of innocent people with ties to Death Eaters and it's a recipe for cruel gossip."

"Like Kingsley," Arthur said with a sigh.

A bit of panic filled Percy as Arthur got dangerously close to his real concern, but he decided it would be safer to just play along with it. "Right, it truly can't be easy for him, especially as Minister," Percy contributed.

"It's not... and on top of what they did to his father and parents-in-law during the war, it's a shock anyone questions his loyalty," Arthur continued, "but unhappy people always need to find someone to blame. All you can do is try to show some empathy."

Percy nodded, deep in thought. He remembered the day that Arthur was talking about all too clearly, but it was his father's advice that Percy focused on in that moment. He had been so busy being offended by George's forwardness that he hadn't considered the storm of emotions George hid from all of them on a daily basis. He should have been more understanding of his little brother's concern.

"Thanks, Dad," Percy replied quietly with a small smile.

[garryspolicememories]

                             Policing Memories of

         Garry Crawford Circa 1962

                          Part III

     The days at Warren passed very quickly. We found a one room apartment in Rudi Laframboise Apartment building at the corner of Stanhope St. and Balfour St. in Warren. My family moved down within the first month.      At that time we were expected to live in our Detachment Area. I was never sorry about that as we enjoyed our time there and felt much at home. The people treated us with respect and it was not long until we were part of the community. I was in uniform by this time and I will never forget the first night my wife seen me load my revolver before going to work. I have always been a hunter and trapper, and had many firearms at the house, but I think she realized this was different. It sure showed on her face. Thank goodness she was able to get by that.

     I remember the first traffic ticket I issued, it was for unnecessary noise. I was patrolling alone through the village of Warren. A young fellow was sitting in his car on Rutland St., it was about 11:00 at night, he spotted the new fellow (me) and thought he would have some fun. He started pushing the accelerator to the mat. It sounded like the pistons were going to jump right out of the motor. I shook my finger at him, then; circled the block. He continued roaring his motor. I stopped got the necessary information from him and issued the ticket. The following years I had many run-ins with that same young man. He never lost his recklessness. He passed a number of years later in a farm accident. That was one sad thing that I seen happen time and again. We would know which of the young people we would most likely find in a fatal accident of some kind. It was sad because we would talk to them and they were not really bad kids as such. They would not listen. They were just wild and reckless. The times were different than today. Back then if you passed by some young fellows who used foul language at you, you stopped the car, gave them the side of your foot in the butt then took them home to Dad and he gave them another one.

     I have attached a photograph of a second world war stretcher. It was identical to one we had at the Detachment. It seemed like it weighted about 50 lbs. the body was made of canvas, it had very short little legs on it. The two carrying poles that ran through the length of it were made of hardwood. It had two iron hinges that allowed you to fold it together. I often thought of how many stories that old stretcher could tell. We used it on rescues, deaths and various injuries. In the early years it took over an hour to get an ambulance. When we received a rescue call we often would ask them to dispatch the ambulance to where we could meet them with the person.

     One of the first times I can remember using that stretcher was a call Dick Wood and I received. A chap from Sudbury who worked for the city had taken a heart attack while fishing for speckled trout on a stream north of Warren. We had the ambulance dispatched to the closest road, grabbed the stretcher and headed out. We located the man lying on the stream bank about a mile off the road. He was a stocky man and was conscious. We put him on the stretcher and started out. It was a very warm day and it was not long until we had to take one of many breaks. I think we were both covered in sweat. The patient kept wanting to get up and walk. We assured him we were all right and continued out of the bush. We just arrived at the road as the ambulance arrived. Dick and I headed back to Warren for a needed break. The next morning we found out the victim had made it to the hospital all right but had died a short time later. We both felt pretty low that our efforts had been in vain. It was not long until we had regained our composer and were looking for the next assignment.

                                       PTSD

     My thought on PTSD and the recent run on suicides within the OPP. Many police officers develop a weird since of humor and people outside the force think that it is wrong. That they are in need of physiatric help. I beg to differ.  As police officers we deal with some pretty horrid things. We see what the ordinary person does not, eg: hangings, decapitations, dismemberments, murders. We do our best to see humor in everything and make jokes of the unthinkable. If we allowed ourselves to be serious when dealing with many of these things it would drive many of us over the edge. We must not think that a victim could be our child, or some other loved one. We cannot compare. (That boy could be my son or girl could be my daughter.) At the same time we find ourselves in various situations such as telling a person their loved one has died. That they will not be coming home anymore. I found in these situations I would take off my shield and grieve with them. In many cases I would shed a few tears. We are not invincible, but we have to find a way to cope. Humor helps. The other thing a police officer has to do is make quick life effecting decisions. We must make a decision in split seconds that some judge or judges will analyze for the next 20 years. I got so I would tell myself when dealing with a deceased that their soul was gone, this is just a piece of meat. I would show them respect, but they were gone.

     The force has recently had a large number of members committing suicide. They have set up groups and people that one can go to when they realize they need help. The big problem with this is that police officers feel that it is a sign of weakness to seek any kind of physiatric help. The easy route when they find themselves in this situation of extreme depression is to bite the bullet. As a young officer I did not recognize depression when I seen it in my fellow officers. I did not recognize it until it had bloomed and they were past my help.

     My personal opinion is that they should train all front line members, so they know and recognize depression. The person withdrawing, lack of humor, staring into space, anger for no reason. Etc. In  many cases a good listener helps the person find his own answers. A good friend can help the person realize that the brave thing is to get help if necessary. The second thing I believe would help is to have a debriefing session with all those involved following a traumatic event. People involved can share their feelings and make each other feel that they are not alone in their thoughts.

     I also differ on the thought of suicide. I don’t think a person is necessarily sick if he or she thinks of suicide. It is a sign to them that they better start talking to someone. A colleague or friend; who has seen or experienced the same thing that they are dealing with, a person who will listen to their concerns. A good example of what I am trying to say is the soldiers from the second and first world had PTSD but in far fewer numbers than our recent members who returned from Afghanistan. I think the reason was simply the difference in the time they returned into civilian life. The first and second world war survivors returned in troop ships. They were kept together for weeks following the hostilities. They had time to debrief and realize the horrid things they had taken part in were shared by all, they were not alone. The troops returning from Afghanistan although far less in numbers had a higher incident of PTSD because the were home in a matter of hours and back with their love ones before they had time to debrief.

                                      Humor

     The first six months on the job I only had on the job training. At that time I knew that to receive permanent status I would have to receive a recommendation from my supervisor (Dick Wood), and then write a senior constables exam. I kept looking for some feed back from Dick and he would just smile and put me off. One night I remember we were patrolling the hamlet of Hagar when a person ran over to our cruiser and advised there was a big fight going on in the Esso Restaurant. We drove over there and stopped. I jumped out of the car and ran into the restaurant. As I came through the door I could see three different fights going on down the length of the long counter. I continued running hitting the first two fighters and knocking one each way. I did the same with the second two as I moved down the length of the long bar type counter. One of these fellows grabbed my clothing. I twirled around intent on breaking his hold with a chop with the side of my hand. He moved and as I swung the tips of my fingernails touched the side of his neck, Opening up a fairly deep cut. He let go and I continued moving down to the last two and separated them. I looked back and Dick was just coming through the door. The fighting was all over and I got a towel from one of the waitresses and stopped the bleeding on the fellows’ neck. When it was all over; I asked Dick how come he took so long to come in. His reply was: I heard you were chicken and just wanted to see what you would do. Again the big grin. No other comment.

     One night while attempting to remove a stalled car from the roadway onto the shoulder of Hwy. 17, a pedestrian was struck by another car and killed. Both Dick and I were within inches of being struck too. When we had completed our investigation, we received instructions to report to Inspector Jim McBain and Staff Sergeant Sam Whitehouse in Sudbury. They wished to be made aware of just what had happened and what our involvement was. These were the two highest ranking members in District 13. We appeared as instructed and were marched into their office. McBain immediately asked: Wood what happened out there? Without blinking an eye Wood said: Crawford pushed a guy in front of a car. McBain turned to me and said: What the hell did you do that for? My mouth fell open and I think I stopped breathing. We then proceeded to tell the truth of what had happened. It took me a little while to realize why Dick had done that. I then realized that you can’t always dwell on the seriousness of what you see, hear, and experience. It is just too traumatic. We arrived home that night in the wee hours of the morning. I crawled into bed  with my wife and went sound asleep. For the most part I was able to do that the rest of my career, no matter what happened. I had many a practical joke pulled on me over the years that followed and pulled many on others. That since of humor has stayed with me to this day.

     At the end of my six months probation I received the necessary recommendation from Dick then wrote the exam without any problems.