#he also was the one who got me addicted to fentanyl.

[angelnumber27]

I want to murder the love I feel for the man that cheated on me twice and beat the fuck out of me every day while claiming he loved me more than anything

[lisenberry]

WIP Wednesday Thoughts        

Working title:  There’s smoke seeping out of your bloody teeth (but you’re home somehow)

(From 28 by Zach Bryan)

Recovering Price x Recovering Reader

A/N: I have way too many WIPs at the moment, but this one came out of nowhere and I’m wondering if there’s something more here.

It’s a little darker than my usual, but somehow rides the line of more fluff than angst if you can bear with me through the backstory.  I’m also seeing a trend where I love to paint Price as a complete mess and struggling with himself.  I just know he has some Big Repressed Feelings buried deep in that broad chest.  Like, the Captain takes care of everyone else on missions but needs more help than he lets on in the real world.

CW:  Accidental overdose, Addiction/Recovery, Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous, a whiff of PTSD, single parent/recovering addict Reader, written with afab/fem reader in mind, but it came out fairly neutral. Overall heavy subject matter, but with some hope/humor to follow.

John fucked up.  He knows it, Kyle knows it.  And now Kate does, too.

He’d promised his sergeant that he’d lay off the whiskey, but he didn’t tell him about the pills.  The oxys and the benzos.  And sometimes, when things got really bad and he got in a little too deep, the ketamine and fentanyl. 

It was pure luck that Kyle found him.  That he was worried enough to kick the door in, strong enough to pull him out of the bathtub, and quick enough to do CPR until the ambulance arrived with the Narcan. 

He hadn’t meant to end it.  His life, that is.  Just the never-ending pressure in his brain.  The headaches, the sensitivity to light, everything being so bloody fucking loud.  Two decades of explosions, gunshots, and crashes had racked up on him, each one a tithe to be repaid down the line.  And it seemed they’d all come due at once.

In the aftermath, Kate had paid him a visit when he’d been ready to check himself out of the hospital, and she’d given him a directive.  It wasn’t even an ultimatum.  There was no other choice. 

Get help.

She wasn’t kicking him off the team.  She wasn’t even putting a note in his file.  The military wouldn’t know, other than an extended personal leave signed off on by high enough names no one would question it.  A 30-day stay in a doctor-supervised substance abuse treatment facility, and another 60 days at home with weekly check-ins.

Who he told other than Garrick would be up to him.

He agreed, of course.  It was his last chance to get his shit together, maybe even more than he deserved.  The look on Kyle’s face when he regained consciousness would be ingrained on his brain for the rest of his life.

“I always thought it’d be Ghost.  Never you, Captain.”  It wasn’t disappointment that clouded the kid’s eyes with tears, but fear.  That it could happen to any of them if they weren’t careful.  That the danger didn’t end when they came home.

Price hadn’t asked for help, but he knew when to take it.

Which is how he met you...

He tried to attend four to five meetings a week.  They were usually at night, after dark, when the urge to settle into his chair with a bottle of scotch and a few extra Percocets was all he could think about.  When the distractions of the day faded and he was alone with himself. 

If he could hold the urge at bay long enough, in the company of others, even if he just sat and listened, then it would pass like a mad dog thrown a bone.  And then he could go home in peace, until the dog came back around again.

In the beginning, he jumped around to a new meeting each night.  There was St. Stephen’s, St. Giles in the Fields, St. George’s, the Salvation Army, and the Tenant’s Hall.  Some were for beginners, and others just for men.  He didn’t want to become familiar with any particular one, preferring instead to lean on the Anonymous side of the program.

He sipped his tea and ate his biscuits, all from the back row.  Quietly reflecting on the opening speaker, and the stories of hope and struggle that followed.  At first, he found it hard to relate.  Kids who got hooked on drugs in school to escape from abusive parents, or former gang members and dealers looking to buy their way out of poverty and the system that abandoned them.

He’d been born into money, went to good schools.  His demon didn’t come at him until later.  It had taken its time and made roots into an already established foundation.  Like a parasite, it didn’t take him young, or weak.  It took him when he was at his strongest and broke him down from the inside out.  He was already infected long before he saw the signs.

He had no one else to blame, and didn’t think he’d find much sympathy from telling his story.  He didn’t want it, anyway.  He just needed to get through his 60 days and be back on a mission again.

But then one Friday evening, he walked into your regular 7pm meeting in the basement of an old church and everything changed... 

It was the best around, because they had a small children’s area in the next room, with a library and a sweet old nun who would read books and watch the kids for free.  It had become a local favorite for parents without childcare, and the group had grown as close as a family. 

There were a few of you who took the snack duty very seriously.  There were no stale, day-old donuts or flavorless boxed biscuits.  Instead, the spread was enough to rival the set of the Great British Baking Show.  Cakes and puddings, shortbreads and tartes.  The coffee was freshly brewed, not the cheap instant granules.

It had made you very protective, still always a little wary of newcomers, as against the spirit of the program as that was.  It had become your safe space.  Where you brought your children, and shared your biggest regrets and darkest moments.  And mainly because, despite the progress you’d made in your recovery, you’d never fully be able to trust again.  To look at another person and not see a potential threat. 

Outside the church, you knew where the dealers stood waiting to find you on an off day.  Where the pimps lingered in the dark alleys ready to meet you when you were broke and desperate.  They were the obstacles you could see.  Like a video game level you’d failed so many times you could jump and duck and kick your way a little further with each respawn.  You already knew there was a bad guy waiting on the other side of that door and all the tricks to avoid him.

It was harder to tell with the quiet, six-and-a-half-foot tall, bearded man in the beanie hat and combat boots slumped in the back row.  He’d popped up about a week ago, and always arrived exactly five minutes early.  He'd wait patiently until the snack line died down and load his plate before sitting in the same seat, closest to the door.

He hadn’t shared with the group yet, but offered a few pleasant nods and greetings to anyone who’d initiated a conversation.  It seemed rude not to reach out, if for no other reason than to gauge his intentions for yourself.  Was he here because he was serious about his addiction, or was someone forcing him to come?  Some set number of days on his coin before he’d be free from his sentence and never be heard from again.

It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t any of your business.   

But that didn’t stop you from looking over at him a few times during your share, only to find him paying close attention.  His serious features unreadable. Enough to make you stumble on your words and lose your train of thought.  Everyone there knew your story already and could probably recite it for you.  It just helped to recount the good parts, along with the bad.

“Did you make these?” he asked afterward, a rumbling voice breaking through your thoughts as you sat in a folding chair sipping the last of your coffee. 

He held up a half-eaten salted caramel chocolate chip blondie.

“Yes, those are mine,” you answered with what you hoped was a polite smile.

“I thought I saw you bring them last time I was here.  Fucking delicious.”  He popped the rest of it into his mouth, catching the crumbs with his thick dark beard.  “But your hair’s different, isn’t it?” he added, once he’d swallowed his bite.

You reflexively raised a hand to your head, remembering with a laugh the events of your day.  You’d nearly forgotten the fiasco at work a few hours before.

“I work at a training salon.  I let the students experiment on it when there aren’t enough dolls.”  You didn’t have time to fix it before you had to pick up your kids from their afterschool program.

“It’s green.”

“Very green, yes.”  You found yourself smiling again.  Before that, it’d been black with purple tips.  “Who knows what color it will be next time.”  You stood and folded up your chair.

And tried not to read into it as he took it from you promptly and stacked it over with the others.

“Reason enough to come back and find out, then,” he called over his shoulder.

And you didn’t miss when he stopped to grab the last blondie on his way out.

[dukeofdelirium]

We need to discuss how it wasn't even a full week post-Lisa Marie's memorial before Priscilla was on Riley's ass about Lisa's will and fighting her in court. Like......her child just died and that's what she's focused on? Did she even mourn her? Or did she just go "Oh no! Anyway......."

Then again, going off Lisa's book, it seems like her death wouldn't have mattered to Priscilla regardless, considered how she treated her in life. I don't understand women who are so ride or die behind men. Especially when those guys are just the worst. She's a male-identified pick-me of the highest order.

Priscilla was draining Lisa’s inheritance and getting a mill a year for doing nothing behind Lisa Marie’s back. Priscilla’s lawyer also got a nice pension from doing that for her. From what I read, Priscilla and her legal rep dwindled the Estate and inheritance down to $15,000 which Lisa Marie had to work hard to try and restore… oh and Priscilla’s son was also taking financial cuts of money he had 0 right to. He also tried to blame Lisa Marie for her son’s suicide on social media. He was blowing 3k a month on his fentanyl addiction. He’s good for nothing, just like his mommy.

Priscilla never cared about Lisa’s well-being. She supported Lockwood despite Lockwood financially attacking Lisa and bleeding her dry. Not to mention the alleged fact he had child porn on him which Lisa Marie herself accused him of.

Priscilla put her daughter in a cult and had them raise her cuz she didn’t want to take care of her herself. She let her boyfriend rape her for years and never told the police or did anything to stop it. She supported men who took complete advantage of Lisa Marie in every way and drove away the one man that didn’t take anything from her. She worked to ruin their marriage because Michael provided Lisa an outlet and opportunity to escape her… and if Priscilla lost Lisa Marie and the control she had over her, then she lost the inheritance as well.

She stole millions from Lisa Marie and decimated the Estate of Elvis and nearly drove Graceland to bankruptcy more than once. Not just when her and Elvis divorced but also years later when she dwindled Lisa’s inheritance to a measly 15k. And she tried to sue her own granddaughter for even MORE money!

And in death, she attempts to gaslight Lisa’s daughter and undermine Lisa’s words exposing her for the piece of shit she is, because like a true narcissist, she has to have the last word.

[mlobsters]

things i learned about the opioid crisis that truly shocked me

oxycontin (oxycodone) is more powerful than morphine (i thought i had a decent understanding of opiates, apparently not)

purdue (makers of oxycontin) claimed less than 1% of people got addicted based on a handful of sentences letter to the editor (link to letter in NEJM) in a medical journal about patients taking short term narcotics in a hospital environment and called it a study

the package insert said "Delayed absorption as provided by oxycontin is believed to reduce the abuse liability of a drug." no proof - just believed.

the medical officer at the FDA, curtis wright, allegedly drafted the medical review with purdue including claims about very limited rates of addiction and potential for abuse. a year later, he went to work for purdue

sales reps were paid commission by the number of milligrams their doctors prescribed, encouraging doctors to continue increasing dosages

purdue claimed oxy didn't have the peaks and valleys associated with opioids and used an extremely distorted graph that was incredibly misleading to prove their point (log scale that flattened the curves)

they created the concept of "pseudoaddiction" which meant drug seeking addiction behavior was actually untreated pain so the solution was to increase the dosage

the company who launched the fentanyl spray subsys were encouraging doctors to prescribe it offlabel for back pain and the like with the explantion "pain is pain" asking how is back pain different than end of life cancer pain

i knew fentanyl was a serious problem but i had no idea the overdose deaths increase after the launch of subsys and competitors in 2012 was this stark and terrifying

insys was investing $3-4 million dollars in speaker programs that were a cover for bribing doctors to increase prescriptions of their fentanyl product

in 2015, subsys was one of the top five most profitable opioid products in the US - something that was only indicated for breakthrough pain in cancer patients on around the clock pain management with high opiate tolerance levels as part of end of life care

medicare would not approve the prescriptions and pay for them (many thousands of dollars for one month of subsys) for offlabel uses, so insys created a system where their reps would pretend to be from the doctor's office (in collusion with doctors, dr office would give the private patient information so insys could have the information needed) and lie about the diagnosis to get it approved

actual promo video for sales reps to sell fentanyl

from burlakof, former vp of sales at insys: "the only way that i knew how to do it, to get that guarantee, is to bribe doctors." "you're saying bribery, like you're kind of--" "yes, i am" "that has a really kind of, big meaning, that word." "yes. i think to use any other word would be irresponsible of me at this point." "back then, did you think, 'oh, i'm going to bribe people'?" "yes."

90% of all hydrocodone production was going to pill mills in the late 2000s

at one point broward county alone (ft lauderdale, just a bit north of miami) had 150 pill mills

florida regulations were so lax, anyone could open a pain management clinic - including people with felony drug convictions

florida also did not track out of state people filling prescriptions that would throw up red flags like it did in other states

a retired dea agent, lou fisher, worked with large pill mills to make sure they followed requirements and could pass inspections by dea acting as their "compliance officer"

but fisher was being paid by the wholesaler, he maintains he didn't do anything wrong

by putting prescribing into the hands of corrupt doctors, they could technically be following the rules

once the pill mills were shut down, a large population had been addicted to opioids via pills now only had heroin to turn to

the george brothers and others in pill mills were indicted under the federal RICO act and it was the largest prescription drug trafficking case in US history

chris george maintains he just ran a business. he didn't create addicts, he gave them a safer way to get their drugs. and the people coming to florida to buy his pills were the actual problem. "The patients are the ones that caused whatever problems we have here."

(ps the george brothers are also white supremacists)

stuff i've watched/listened to

American Pain (HBO) - documentary on pill mills in florida, primarily about the George brothers

The Crime of the Century (HBO) - documentary directed, produced, and written by Alex Gibney. The film follows the opioid epidemic in the United States, and the political operatives, government regulations and corporations that enable the abuse of opioids, particularly the Sackler family and Purdue Pharma. Part two focuses on the rise of fentanyl by Insys Therapeutics.

Opioids, Inc by FRONTLINE (PBS) full film on youtube

Opioids in America by American Scandal (podcast by Wondery)

Dopesick (Hulu) - dramatized series based on nonfiction book Dopesick: Dealers, Doctors, and the Drug Company that Addicted America by Beth Macy

Painkiller (Netflix) - dramatized series based on Patrick Radden Keefe's New Yorker article "The Family That Built an Empire of Pain" and Pain Killer: An Empire of Deceit and the Origin of America's Opioid Epidemic by Barry Meier

[nightmarefuele]

@kylo-wrecked :buried treasure.

What was her name? Snow addict with so many pearls in her lashes she might've been growing them out the roots. What did she call him? Something on the serrated edge of a wheat-straw tang. All he remembers.

Doesn't even remember the name. Lenses stick like glue on his eyes, itch-soaked to the cornea. Somewhere between iris and solution's where that memory is, You got no i-dea, could ya!, and she's not the only one, there's files on files (all bunched to a lens) in the folder where he's put her away. Y'ain't ever felt it sting, singin', while you ain't ssleep . . .

Cordate and glass-eyed, the woman's little face — spooked, for all it's worth, the way her train's headed — lets him know: Least he hasn't dipped between the seat cushions.

He watches that barrel, 'cause it goes fast, he thinks. But he also thinks whatever part comes out Solo's mouth ejects straight from it — metal fiber, silver. Sound of flash-charge voltage before a shutter snaps.

The Bat's boot comes down — preemptive, defensive, who can tell any difference. ❛Fentanyl,❜ says Solo, and it's punctuated by microcosmic thunder.

But ❛it's you.❜ Her. Some rogue-strain pity has him shifting his body weight aside. Maybe it's more — a different memory — that watches her go.

❝I'd hate to see whatever it is you do.❞ Show goes on. Tips his chin at the new shadow he casts; peripherals are all for Solo. The Bat doesn't bother entertaining him with a matching stare. ❝What you think you do.❞

He's too cocky for the shit he's in.

He angles his face centimes up out shadows' cover. ❝Speaking of. What's this? In here?❞ Index finger to the nice table. Didn't come with the trailer — thing's its own piece. ❝And maybe you can answer something else for me, if you don't jump out your skin, first.❞ Beat. ❝How long have you been inside the city? 'Cause Penguin's been gone. Two days. No word. Not yet.❞

Another beat. Three-letter word soaks in its own implications.

❝Either that story you told's missing some pieces, simple as that . . . or same thing goes, except it doesn't end there. You got more than just these.❞ That index finger drops, dissolving inside faux Japanese fabric. He nudges with a graven chin. Soft. ❝You know where he is?❞

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

THE IDOL 1x03: Review

For me the best thing from this episode was the new (or unreleased) song from the Weeknd: “Take Me Back”. The lyrics are so powerful and so truthful to this episode. At least, Abel is good at something. So please, stick to the music and stop acting (even if it was a little be better this time because you were mostly wearing sunglasses). Did you notice that so far he doesn’t appear in the short behind the episode. 

Also, again, some shots were amazing, especially the one from the pool. 

I will not comment on the “sex scenes”, because honestly I couldn’t care less, and someone told me they are just not realistic at all (position, fonctionnement, ...). I will not look at the fitting rooms the same way. 

The hairbrush during Jocelyn and Chloé’s scene should have told us a clue about the revelation we’ve got at the end of the episode. But I don’t understand Chloé’s role in all of this. 

Honestly congratulations to Lily-Rose for playing in front someone so bad (as Abel). There is nothing left in his eyes and his glance have really something bovine in them. Il n’y a plus rien dans ses yeux. And his face is all bloated.

Even Tedros’ name is stupid. 

So, we just learned that Jocelyn’s label wants her to be portrayed as a “bad girl”, it’s not her wishes. Like they did to Britney Spears? 

Honestly, the cover album with cum on her face as a success? 

As all the cocaïne in LA will have inside it Fentanyl? 

Jocelyn smoking to mirror a French girl? 

Tedros’ family gives me more and more Manson’s cult vibes (who killed Sharon Tate). From the club to the house. 

Can someone explain to me who are Head (the guy with the tattoo) and Ramsey (The new girl with black hair)? It’s like they appear out of thin air. 

Finally, the girl from Vanity Fair is not present. 

But Nikki is replacing step by step Jocelyn by Dyanne. The music industry will keep chugging along with or without you and that they don’t care about your individual Voice or Vision as an artist what matters most at the end of the day is how they can turn a profit and it doesn’t matter who they use to do that.

At least in Euphoria, the make up was amazing. 

Every intervention of Leia is kind of dumb. 

The conversation between Izaak (which’s still gay) and Jocelyn raises the question of whether or not embracing pain can lead life changing art that is truly impactful? I must agree with it, because it’s bring something so powerful after it, that’s completely addictive. 

We just learned that Jocelyn is on her third album only and her last hit was “Daybreak” on her second album.

The diner scene was truly amazing! But question: who cooked? Knowing that Andrés, the chef has been fired. haha.  At least, this time Tedros was asking the good questions. He is a fucking good narcissistic parasite. He becomes in control of almost every aspect of Jocelyn’s life. 

Whether it’s the music industry or Tedros’ manipulation, it’s so so fucked up to use Jocelyn like this, knowing the state of her mind. 

Her team’s concern is hypocritical. They couldn’t save or help her from her mother, so how could they save her from the grip of Tedros. 

Finally, the real villain is the music industry that preys on those seeking fame and fortune, and they’ll pit women against each other in the process as long as you play by their rules you will get the career you want but it comes at the cost of your own voice as an artist, this further the undeniable parallels between Tedros’ cult and the music industry, both groups are attempting to exploit and profit off of the artist through any means necessary however they have vastly different approaches to doing so but what are these differences. Well the music industry and record label Executives believe that proven data tired clichés and previous methods of success can be repackaged and resold to the masses. They think the general public will listen to or watch anything that is put in front of them because of this they’re more likely to keep all the pieces that work and swap out old artists for new ones that are willing to do their bidding ultimately it is about business over the individual person. As on the other hand, Tedros represents the complete opposite. He encourages being as unique and individualistic as possible because your personal experiences shape your art in a distinct way. Tedros believes in taking risks rather than calculated bets he goes so far as to encourage Jocelyn to lean into publish the leaked intimate photo being used for her own personal gain rather than letting the world paint a picture of who she is without her input it could work or fail but at least she would have tried something new rather than stick with the old such as the music industry typically does although both groups are extremely exploitative and harmful to the artist the series showcases how both sides push Jocelyn into making a difficult decision exploit yourself or be exploited. 

Jocelyn inevitably chooses to exploit herself her pain and her trauma as this will allow her to be the artist she always dreamed of becoming but what is that trauma she has yet to tap into and why hasn’t she done so before you see the reason I found the opening sequence to be ironic and the concern of her team to be hypocritical is because of what we learn about Jocelyn’s mother and their involvement or lack thereof she was physically mentally and emotionally abusive toward Jocelyn and she controlled almost every aspect of her life we get hints of this unprocessed trauma in previous episodes when Jocelyn would spend a significant amount of time in front of a mirror brushing her hair it was with this hairbrush; being the perfect daughter and pop star the physical and emotional scars from that abuse were evident to her team but Tedros points out that no one stepped in to stop what was happening because they were all profiting off of Jocelyn at the time. Tedros sees this as an opening to fully indoctrinate Jocelyn into his cult by convincing her to embrace her pain in order to create music that is authentic and comes from somewhere deep within her earlier in the episode. 

The next day Jocelyn thanks Tedros for taking care of her symbolizing her falling back into the cycle of abuse she was familiar with in the past will result in Justin becoming crazy relatively unstuck 

Overall it was a tough episode to stomach as there were many uncomfortable and provocative questions being raised about Jocelyn’s experience in the industry to me it’s clear that the series is highlighting the similarities amongst the music industry, Tedros’ cult and Jocelyn’s family as they all claim to be looking out for her best interests but that they all are only comfortable with her exploitation as long as they profit from it or have something to gain even Leia who is positioned as someone seemingly innocent and genuinely worried about Jocelyn’s well-being is only okay with exploitation if she is under her management team’s guidance we have to remember that while she’s Jocelyn’s best friend she is also her employee whose livelihood is dependent on Jocelyn’s success as a pop idol.

Honestly, I don’t think that the show is glamorizing these difficult topics just for the sake of being shocking it is trying to make a point about how Fame and the spotlight dehumanized the person behind the music and ultimately turns them into a profit generating machine that commodify is their own trauma.

Dream is never easy and oftentimes it is filled with wolves in sheep’s clothing. 

[mariacallous]

In a nondescript house on a quiet street in a middle-class suburb of Houston, Texas, Alaa Allawi hunched over his black and gold laptop. It was early 2017, and Allawi ranked among the top 10 vendors on AlphaBay, at the time the dark web’s biggest bazaar for all manner of illegal wares. Every week he moved dozens of packages of illegal narcotics: cocaine, counterfeit Xanax, and fake OxyContin.

An order came in from a young marine in North Carolina. He wanted Oxy. Allawi went about fulfilling the order, choosing from among the bags of powders and chemicals strewn about his attic and garage. He had precursor chemicals, binding agents, and colored dyes from eBay, as well as fentanyl—a synthetic opioid 50 times more potent than heroin—from China. “Man, you can order anything off the internet,” Allawi once told a friend. It was the secret to his success.

Allawi poured the ingredients into a Ninja blender, pulsed it until the contents seemed pretty well mixed, then went outside to the shed in his backyard. Inside were two steel pill presses, each the size of a small fridge and dusted with chalky residue. He tapped the potent mixture into a hopper atop the press, which came alive with the push of a button. Out shot the pills a few minutes later, stamped to look like their prescription counterparts. Soon, the fake OxyContin was ready to be shipped, sealed first in a bag and then stuffed into a parcel. A member of Allawi’s crew dropped the order off at the post office, along with a pile of other packages addressed to buyers all over the country.

If Allawi believed the dark web’s anonymity was enough to shield him from the prying eyes of law enforcement, he was wrong. Allawi’s work—slipping small amounts of fentanyl into counterfeit pills, making them effective but highly addictive and sometimes lethal—was fueling the latest deadly twist in a national opioid epidemic that has taken more than 230,000 lives since 2017. Allawi’s contribution to that crisis had made him a prime target for the US Drug Enforcement Administration, and federal agents were intercepting parcels containing his fentanyl-laced pills from Kansas to California. Allawi didn’t know it at the time, but shipping these pills to North Carolina would cement his downfall.

Today, Allawi sits in a federal prison in northern New York, where he’s serving a 30-year sentence. His case was the first prosecution for dealing fentanyl using the dark web and cryptocurrency in the American Southwest, and investigators described his operation as a bellwether for the growing counterfeit pill market in the US. Over the course of more than two years of email exchanges, he told me his story: a criminal odyssey whose seeds were planted thousands of miles away, on a US Army base in Iraq.

When the United States invaded Iraq, Allawi was a 13-year-old living in a suburb of Baghdad. On his 18th birthday, he applied to become an interpreter for the US Army. His uncle, a doctor, had encouraged him to learn the language from a young age. Allawi’s English wasn’t great, but he had been a sharp student, the kind of kid who dreamed of going to medical school himself one day. He got the job.

He was quickly dispatched to Rasheed Airbase near Baghdad, where he bounced from one unit to the next. The job paid well by Iraqi standards at $1,350 a month, but it was dangerous. Al Qaeda didn’t look kindly on Iraqis who collaborated with the US. Allawi says that insurgents tied one of his friends, also an interpreter, to the back of a car and dragged him around the neighborhood until his limbs tore apart. They hung another from an electric pole and left his corpse up for days as a warning. Allawi took to wearing gloves and masks while on patrol in his neighborhood so he wouldn’t be recognized.

The work was also occasionally heart-wrenching. Allawi recalls one house raid where the Americans were searching for someone suspected of cooperating with al Qaeda. After they made an arrest, the soldiers realized their satellite phone was missing. An officer proceeded to question several women who were in the house. When he got to an elderly woman, he ordered Allawi out of the room. Minutes later, the woman ran out after him, tears streaming down her face. All the women there fell to their knees, begging Allawi to stop the search. The officer, they said, had frisked the older woman and reached for her private parts. Allawi was livid, but there wasn’t much he could do. “I felt not only enraged but also the feeling of a person that belongs to an invaded country and the humiliation that comes with it,” he says. Eventually, the soldiers found the phone on top of a fridge, where one of them had left it.

Most of the time, though, Allawi got along well with the Americans. Thanks to years of watching Hollywood movies, he had a good grasp on their culture and wouldn’t say anything when they crossed their legs or exposed their soles, which are considered insults in the Arab world. “Everyone liked Alaa,” says Daniel Robinson, who worked with Allawi as a contractor in Iraq. The two men spent a lot of time together on base, sharing meals and swapping stories about their lives and families. Robinson smoked his first hookah on the floor of Allawi’s barracks.

Steroids were prevalent on US bases. “As easy to buy as soda,” one military contractor told the Los Angeles Times in 2005. Allawi began selling them to American soldiers and was dismissed from the unit he’d been serving with. Within a few months, he got another translation job, this time with AGS-AECOM, a private contractor rebuilding maintenance depots at Camp Taji, near Baghdad.

Now Allawi spent his days sitting behind a computer in a cubicle, translating operation manuals for Humvees that the US was reselling to Iraq. Allawi had always loved being around computers. When he was 14, he’d purchased parts one by one—a hard drive here, a RAM module there—until he had assembled a functioning machine. At Camp Taji, he immediately dove in, probing the company’s internal networks like a deep-sea diver exploring an unknown world. “The depot job was a boring one,” he says. “Not much was happening, but I used half of my job time to learn coding and hacking.”

It was also at Camp Taji that Allawi met Eric Goss, an impish 25-year-old Texan who shared his love of hip hop and would become a friend. Goss recalls one day when the camp’s head of operations called a meeting with the translators and contractors on the base. Allawi, he announced, was now cut off from accessing the internet on his computer. According to Goss, Allawi had hacked their boss’s email, found messages he was sending to his mistress, and forwarded them to the boss’s wife. (Allawi denies that he did this.) But the new restrictions didn’t stop Allawi. He found a way to install a password recovery tool on his computer that he could use to crack his way into the company’s wireless network. Around Camp Taji, Robinson recalls, “the running joke was, don’t let Alaa on your computer.”

Allawi put his burgeoning tech skills to use off base, as well. He built a website called Iraqiaa.com, an online dating and chat platform aimed at young Iraqis. At least one guy ended up marrying a woman he met on the site, Allawi says. At Iraqiaa’s height, he was earning a cushy $5,000 a month from subscriptions. People started asking Allawi to design sites for them. He purchased a server from a cloud provider and started his own hosting company. For a time, it looked like he could put together a tech career in Iraq.

Many of Allawi’s fellow interpreters had chosen to leave Iraq for the US as part of a special visa program. Goss, who had returned home to Houston, kept probing Allawi on MySpace: “When are you getting your ass to the United States?” For a while, Allawi put him off, but his outlook on life in Iraq was changing. It dawned on him that his options for pursuing a full-fledged IT career there were limited. “I realized that I couldn’t go further in my country,” he says.

In 2012, Goss received a message from Allawi. He was coming to the US.

On September 12, Allawi landed in San Antonio.

He was ready to start a new life in Texas. Catholic Charities set him up with a driver’s license, food stamps, a $200 monthly stipend, and a free place to stay. He received an online high school diploma, then enrolled in a pre-nursing program at San Antonio College. He managed to complete four semesters, but eking out a living soon took priority. The food stamps were valid for only six months, as was the rent-free arrangement. Allawi found a job as a machine operator at a door manufacturer 45 minutes away. The pay barely covered his commute and college expenses.

Allawi moved in with another former translator named Mohamed Al Salihi, who had arrived in Texas more recently and was moonlighting as a bouncer. They had a spare room, which they advertised on Craigslist to earn extra money. Their first renter, Allawi says, was a young woman who liked to party with a group of weed-smoking friends. Soon enough, Allawi was hanging out with them.

Allawi was spending enough time with American college students to sense a business opportunity. He started selling weed at parties near the University of Texas at San Antonio (UTSA). “It was just for surviving,” he says. He was intent on furthering his education, he insists, and took on a student loan. The plan was simple: pay his bills, sell weed at parties, and go to school. But this new venture put him in contact with other drug dealers and harder substances. “There is American saying,” Allawi adds. “If you hang around the barber-shop too long, you will end up with haircut.”

In 2014, he was evicted for failing to pay $590 in rent. For a brief period, he slept in his car. He started selling cocaine on the street. On January 14, 2015, Allawi was arrested while driving with a small-time drug dealer who was known to local law enforcement. An officer searching the vehicle found less than a gram of cocaine, 10 Adderall pills, and about 100 Xanax pills, according to Allawi, who says the tablets belonged to the passenger. Allawi was charged with the manufacture and delivery of a controlled substance, but because he had no criminal record, he was sentenced to community service. His run-in with the law didn’t dissuade him from selling drugs. He was just getting started.

Allawi had reconnected with Goss by then. Sometime in 2015, Goss got him a job designing a website for a business in Austin. One of the employees confided to Allawi that he’d been buying drugs on the dark web. “It’s like an Amazon for drugs,” he said. Intrigued, Allawi did his own research. “I went and asked the wizard of all time, Mr. Google!” he says.

The introduction blew the doors of drugmaking wide open for the Iraqi. Allawi wasn’t content dealing on the street anymore. He was chasing a broader market than San Antonio—hell, a broader market than Texas. He bought a manual pill press on eBay for $600, eventually upgrading to a $5,000, 507-pound electric machine capable of spitting out 21,600 pills an hour. He also used eBay to purchase the inactive ingredients found in most oral medications, such as dyes. On May 23, 2015, Allawi created an account on AlphaBay. He named it Dopeboy210, most likely after the San Antonio area code, according to investigators. That fall, Allawi dropped out of school for good.

At the time, AlphaBay was one of a handful of would-be successors to Silk Road, the infamous dark-web market that had been shut down in 2013. If you had a Tor browser and some bitcoins, AlphaBay offered drugs by the kilo, guns, stolen credit card data, and more, all with complete anonymity—or at least that’s what many customers believed. Between 2015 and 2017, the site saw more than $1 billion in illegal cryptocurrency transactions, according to the FBI.

DopeBoy210 eventually offered no fewer than 80 different products. X50, a package of 50 Xanax pills, was one of Allawi’s flagship items and earned enthusiastic reviews. “Good shit,” one AlphaBay customer wrote, according to data provided by Carnegie Mellon professor Nicolas Christin. “Kick ass,” wrote another. The pills were fake.

At first, Allawi blended chemicals with methamphetamine and used his press to churn out tablets stamped as Adderall and Xanax. Students looking to pull an all-nighter or riddled with anxiety craved this stuff; UTSA made for a lucrative outlet. Allawi then moved on to fake OxyContin pills laced with fentanyl that he ordered from China on the dark web. (Allawi declined to say why he switched to fentanyl, but investigators told me that drug dealers like it because they can make thousands of pills using minute amounts.)

Allawi expanded his operation to a small circle of trusted associates. Some he had met at house parties, like Benjamin Uno, a twentysomething Dallas native whose promising basketball career was cut short by injury, and Trevor Robinson, a mustachioed fan of Malcolm X (with no relation to Daniel Robinson, the contractor). Uno helped Allawi manufacture the pills, and he and Robinson took charge of mailing out the merchandise. (Uno and Robinson didn’t respond to requests for comment.) Allawi also recruited Al Salihi, his old roommate, to guard drugs stashed at an apartment 10 minutes from UTSA.

Sporting a beard and a tattooed right arm, Hunter Westbrook had come to UTSA after toiling away in the oil fields of West Texas. The patrolman was used to dealing with the occasional marijuana trafficker on campus. But toward the end of 2015, something changed. Adderall pills, not just weed, flowed into dorms and parties. Then the overdoses began. When UTSA analyzed some of the pills in a lab, they were found to be laced with meth.

As a campus cop, Westbrook could do little more than stop cars for traffic violations, so he reached out to the San Antonio Police Department for help. In the spring of 2016, he sat in a coffee shop and compared notes with Janellen Valle, an SAPD narcotics officer who was on a joint task force with the DEA. The two cops realized that their findings lined up. A Middle Eastern guy was apparently flooding the campus with marijuana and counterfeit pills. Tips from students led to a name: Alaa Allawi.

Soon after, the DEA took over the case. Investigators say that some pills at UTSA contained fentanyl. (Allawi says he never sold fentanyl on campus, only online.) The country was drowning in the opioid, and stanching the flow was a priority for the agency. The number of overdose deaths attributed to it had skyrocketed, from 1,663 in 2011 to 18,335 in 2016, surpassing those from prescription painkillers and heroin.

The DEA’s San Antonio office was used to handling street dealers and Mexican cartels. But in July, an informant tipped off the DEA about Allawi’s AlphaBay shop and sent the investigation spinning in a whole new direction.

The San Antonio office didn’t do cybercrime. Sure, they had heard of Silk Road. But to the DEA agents in Texas, the dark web might as well have been Baghdad—a faraway land “out of sight, out of mind,” in the words of one investigator.

Westbrook became the office’s de facto guide, largely because he was one of the few people there to have a vague understanding of what the dark web was. He met with cybersecurity professors at UTSA on how to access Allawi’s account. He was by far the youngest member of the task force; around the office, he was known as “the millennial.”

The agents purchased a MacBook and a VPN subscription to access the dark web. They were floored when they saw DopeBoy210’s shop. Based on the hundreds of comments left by satisfied customers, Allawi was a massive retailer.

Getting a peek at Allawi’s online operations was relatively easy. To arrest him for it, the DEA would need to definitively link Allawi to his AlphaBay account, which meant they’d need to buy drugs from him. And to do that, they’d need bitcoins.

This had daunting implications for a governmental office, Westbrook realized. The task force might buy $1,000 worth of the volatile currency, only to wake up the next day and find their wallet’s value down to $900 or up to $1,100. Agency bigwigs didn’t love schemes deviating from tradition, investigators say. They certainly were reluctant to become bitcoin speculators. “It was a headache,” Westbrook says. (But not unheard of: As part of a parallel investigation into AlphaBay, DEA agents in 2016 bought drugs using bitcoin. Before that, they purchased crypto as they sought to shut down Silk Road.)

In the meantime, the agents kept pounding away at the work they knew how to do: tailing suspects and working informants. As the new year began, the task force persuaded a judge to authorize the GPS tracking and tapping of Uno’s and Allawi’s phones, and later Al Salihi’s. In March, Westbrook followed Uno from Allawi’s house to a post office, where Uno delivered three boxes and a trash bag stuffed with what appeared to be envelopes. After that, postal inspectors would periodically intercept mail and packages intended for Allawi.

When he wasn’t tailing members of Allawi’s crew, Westbrook worked at a DEA desk that was unofficially assigned to rookies due to its awkward position in the middle of the open room. During the investigation, someone hung a handwritten sign that read MILLENNIAL ISLAND.

Westbrook usually sat alone, but on March 17 the rest of the task force was peering over his shoulder as he logged in to AlphaBay. The team had gotten the green light from DC: They could buy bitcoins and purchase drugs from Allawi. Navigating to the DopeBoy210 page, Westbrook bought 500 Adderall pills for $1,400 worth of bitcoins, and an ounce of cocaine for $1,200. He listed a mailbox at UTSA and finished the order.

About a week later, he drove to the campus to retrieve the package. Looking giddy under a beige ball cap, he inserted a key into mailbox number 825. The drugs were inside. There were only 447 pills and no cocaine, so Westbrook initiated a dispute with AlphaBay (which ended in favor of Allawi). But this was a detail. What mattered was that the agents had conducted an undercover buy on the dark web. The San Antonio DEA had entered a world its agents barely knew existed a year before.

Allawi’s profits were rolling in, but they were still in the form of bitcoins, and he needed to convert them to cash. On LocalBitcoins.com, a bitcoin exchange platform, he met Kunal Kalra, a cheerful Californian who favored Mao collar shirts and a gold bitcoin pendant—a sign of his unwavering dedication to cryptocurrency. Kalra ran a bitcoin ATM out of a cigar shop in Los Angeles. Allawi began visiting the shop to exchange his bitcoin earnings for cash, and paid Kalra a fee for his help. By the fall of 2016, the two men moved their arrangement online. They transferred more than half a million dollars in total.

With plenty of cash, Allawi went on a buying spree. He made a $30,000 down payment for a two-story slab house in a residential San Antonio neighborhood just south of UTSA. “I didn’t know how much money he was making until he came to Houston,” Goss says. The Texas native accompanied his friend on multiple trips to luxury car dealerships in the city that fall. In October 2016, Allawi set his sights on a white 2013 Maserati GranTurismo, which cost $49,000. He began pulling wads of bills from a Louis Vuitton backpack and handing them to a salesman. Goss worried that paying cash would attract attention, but his friend refused to take a loan and owe interest. “Why am I gonna fucking pay?” Allawi said.

A few months later, Allawi took one of his cars in for an oil change. When mechanics lifted the car on a hoist, they found a curious black box affixed to the undercarriage. It was a tracking device. Allawi had it promptly removed. He was disturbed by the discovery, but not enough to stop. “I needed money, and things had to keep going,” he says.

Otherwise, though, Allawi was on top of the world. By spring of 2017, he had the cars, the luxury sneakers, and the bottle service. He was even in talks to open a local franchise for a juice bar chain. Ever the party guy, on March 23 he flew his crew out on a trip to Las Vegas. Allawi, Uno, Robinson, and Goss walked into Drai’s, a gigantic nightclub known as one of the most expensive in town. Lil Wayne was performing as the group huddled in the VIP area. Allawi was wearing a $2,000 suit that he’d nabbed on a whim at Caesars Palace—they all were, courtesy again of the boss. Allawi passed around an enormous bottle of Veuve Clicquot, a flashy move that didn’t go unnoticed by the rapper onstage. “I don’t know who these n––––s is, but I need to be partying with them,” Wayne shouted, according to Goss.

The four men snapped selfies, sticking out their tongues like a bunch of eager teenagers. They were having the time of their lives.

While Allawi’s crew partied in Vegas, a man in the Midwest named Vincent Jordahl was recovering from a close brush with death. He’d snorted a blue powder—fentanyl—and collapsed on his living room floor. His mother found him and performed CPR before medics revived him with Narcan, a fentanyl antidote. He was taken to a hospital in Grand Forks, North Dakota. On March 25, city medics would rush to the home of another man, named Orlando Flores, who’d also overdosed on fentanyl-laced pills and also survived. The tablets originated in the same package, sent by Allawi sometime in March.

Less than a month later, on the East Coast, two other young men readied for a party of their own. Mark Mambulao and Marcos Villegas were marines stationed at Camp Lejeune, in North Carolina. It was Friday, April 14, and the duo were starting their weekend with some gin and tonics at a friend’s house in Richlands, about 32 miles north of the base. Around 9:30 pm, Mambulao sent a girlfriend a photo on Snapchat of a friend’s dog chewing his hat.

Then, Villegas pulled some pills out of a small black plastic bag and passed them around. Mambulao had experimented with drugs before, including LSD, mushrooms, ecstasy, and oxycodone, which he would either gobble up or crush and snort. These pills were advertised as OxyContin. Villegas had purchased them directly from an AlphaBay vendor named DopeBoy210. The friends all swallowed the pills at the same time.

About two hours later, Mambulao started to feel sick and passed out on the living room couch, so his friends laid him down in a spare bedroom, making sure he was on his side. When they checked on him later, he wasn’t breathing. The men called 911 and started to perform CPR, but it was too late. In the early hours of April 15, Mambulao died in a Jacksonville hospital. He was just 20 years old.

It turned out that the pill Mambulao ingested contained a lethal dose of fentanyl. The Naval Criminal Investigative Service began looking into his death. Cooperating with the Postal Inspection Service and DEA, the NCIS traced the drugs to Allawi. (Villegas pleaded guilty in 2019 to distributing oxycodone and fentanyl and was sentenced to 10 years in prison; a second marine was also charged in connection with the case.) Why did Mambulao overdose and not the other revelers that night? There was “no real science” informing Allawi’s pill-manufacturing, says Dante Sorianello, then the head of the DEA’s San Antonio office. “Some of these pills probably got very little fentanyl, and some got too much.”

On May 17, a utility worker in a neon-yellow vest and hard hat walked up the driveway to Allawi’s house in Richmond and knocked on the door. “Sorry, power’s out,” he told the occupants. “We’re going to be working on it for a while.” Anyone who’s been in Houston on the cusp of summer knows what these words mean: Without AC, your home is going to turn into a furnace in no time.

Westbrook and Valle, clad in black bulletproof vests, watched from their cars as Uno and Robinson left the house. The utility guy was a DEA agent, and the whole thing was a ruse so they could raid the house without risking any lives. Law enforcement saw fentanyl as a threat to eliminate at all cost, which meant shutting down the drug manufacturing before moving to arrest Allawi.

At 1:38 pm, men sweating profusely in hazmat suits swarmed the house, lending an otherworldly look to this ordinarily quiet neighborhood. The suits were meant to protect the agents from fentanyl, which they thought could incapacitate or even kill them if they simply touched it. They knocked on the door and got no response. They went in.

The search was fruitful. The agents placed their bounty in front of the garage in a spot demarcated by yellow cones. Among other drug paraphernalia, there were two pill presses, cardboard boxes from China containing ingredients, and enough drugs to put Allawi away for a long time: 500 grams of fentanyl powder, 500 grams of meth, 500 grams of cocaine, 10 kilos of fake oxycodone tablets laced with fentanyl, 4 kilos of fake Adderall laced with meth, and 5 kilos of counterfeit Xanax tablets. Agents found a Ruger revolver and a Sig Sauer pistol hidden in a couch in the living room. They walked out of Allawi’s bedroom carrying an AR-15-style assault rifle and a loaded Glock pistol.

As the agents worked, Uno and Robinson drove by the house and realized what was happening. Far from being scared off by the raid, they returned to the scene with Allawi, Westbrook says. As they drove away one last time, all three men tossed their phones out the car window. Soon after, Allawi called Goss from a new number and asked to meet him at a ritzy house he was renting east of Houston. There, he retrieved a bag stuffed with $50,000 in cash, Goss says, and asked his friend to drive him to the airport. The ringleader had decided to hole up in LA, where he had a condo—and an extravagant collection of sneakers—in the upscale Westwood neighborhood.

His operation was unraveling fast. “I’m fucked. It’s over,” he kept repeating in the car. Like any good drug boss, Allawi started planning his escape. He considered hiding in Dallas or California, according to Goss. When things settled, he could go back to Iraq, where the money he’d sent over the years had allowed his family to start a strip mall. He could flee to Mexico and fly out from there.

But for weeks after the raid, there were no cops in sight. Allawi wondered whether he’d dodged a bullet. Eventually he felt secure enough to return to Texas. One evening at the end of June, he and Goss went to a club. The two men sat in the VIP area, a $500 bottle of champagne on the table. But Allawi wasn’t his usual gregarious self. He remained quiet, his glass untouched. The two men drove back from the club in silence. “I feel like I’m a martyr,” Allawi suddenly said. “All my family’s taken care of. If I die tomorrow, it wasn’t in vain.”

Just a few days later, the DEA moved to apprehend Allawi’s team in simultaneous takedowns across Dallas, San Antonio, and Houston; Uno, Robinson, Al Salihi, and Goss were all arrested. So was Kalra, Allawi’s bitcoin guy. Valle was with a SWAT team at Allawi’s gargantuan rental home in the suburbs of Houston. They tried ramming the door down, but Allawi had splurged on a $10,000 reinforced model, Valle says. The team had to break in through a window.

Inside, they found Allawi clad in black pants and a white polo. He told agents they had nothing on him, even as investigators seized a bitcoin wallet, two money counters, 12 burner phones, four small bags of blue chemical binder, and a .45 Colt.

After the DEA agents made clear that they had more than enough evidence, Allawi quieted down. Sitting on the driveway, handcuffed, cross-legged, and slightly disheveled, he looked more like the young Iraqi who’d smoked hookah alongside US contractors than the leader of a drug ring. He rolled onto his left side, curled into a ball on the pavement, and closed his eyes.

In June 2017, a grand jury indicted Allawi for conspiring to distribute fentanyl, meth, and cocaine; possession of a firearm during a drug trafficking crime; and conspiracy to launder monetary instruments, among other charges.

The mountain of evidence against Allawi was overwhelming—so overwhelming, in fact, that Anthony Cantrell, his court-appointed lawyer, said a trial would take months and put a strain on his practice. Instead, Allawi pleaded guilty to conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute 400 grams or more of fentanyl resulting in death or serious bodily injury, and to using a gun during a drug crime. Investigators estimated that Allawi had made at least $14 million off his criminal activities, and had sold at least 850,000 counterfeit pills in 38 states. Sorianello says that Allawi saw the growing market for pills and capitalized on it with his operation. “He was one of the first we saw doing this at large scale,” he says. “He was a pioneer.”

At his sentencing, Allawi adopted a contrite tone. “I messed up. It was a great mistake.” He concluded by asking for mercy, for the US to give him a second chance. But the court showed no such clemency: As part of his plea deal, Allawi was sentenced to 30 years in a federal prison in northern Louisiana; he has since been transferred to a medium-security facility in New York. After that, he will be deported back to Iraq. Uno, Robinson, Al Salihi, and Kalra, meanwhile, all pleaded guilty and received prison sentences ranging from 18 months to 10 years. The judge was more lenient with Goss, who pleaded guilty to conspiracy to posses with intent to distribute cocaine, and was sentenced to five years’ probation.

Allawi maintained that if the US had been in the throes of a devastating opioid epidemic while he was running his drug ring, he’d never heard about it, “never heard about overdoses or the damage it can cause.” But it was operations like his—dealers selling counterfeit pills laced with illicitly produced fentanyl—that authorities say contributed to so much death and destruction.

Roughly a month after Allawi’s arrest, authorities took down AlphaBay. But it didn’t do much to relieve the opioid epidemic in the US. More than 106,000 people died of a drug overdose in 2021, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention—a record high. Dark-web markets, meanwhile, logged $3.1 billion in revenue that year, according to Chainalysis, a research firm that tracks cryptocurrency activity. Revenue dropped last year, thanks in large part to the takedown of another major dark-web bazaar called Hydra, but illegal marketplaces still raked in $1.5 billion.

China provided most of the fentanyl present in the US before 2019, with traffickers shipping the powder through international mail and private package delivery. But controls that China has since imposed have disrupted the flow. Today, Mexican cartels lead the charge, procuring precursor chemicals from China, which can be legally exported, and churning out enough fentanyl to drown the US. The DEA seized the equivalent of 379 million potentially deadly doses of fentanyl last year, more than the population of the entire country. Distributors are active everywhere. The agency’s Rocky Mountain office, for example, which covers Colorado, Montana, Utah, and Wyoming, seized nearly 2 million fentanyl pills.

Sitting in a hip coffee place in Houston last summer, Westbrook pulled out his phone and flipped through pictures of recent fentanyl busts he’d participated in. In mirror images of the takedown of Allawi’s drug house, federal agents in flashy hazmat suits prowl the driveways of nondescript homes. Industrial pill presses sit on the suburban concrete. DEA offices across the country are establishing groups focused on fentanyl investigations, he says. “It’s weird times,” he later told me, reflecting on the destruction that tiny amounts of fentanyl can wreak. “I went from chasing kilos to grams.”

[lunarsilkscreen]

I am also a Mutt.

This is a racial thing. Depending on who is looking at me, and their perception me; I look like different races.

This typically comes from the people who will say "I don't see color." And that's how I know that quote is bullshit.

I am white in the winter, and tan in the summer. So much so, my dad's friends gave him shit for paying child support to some milkman baby.

Despite having the same exact Tan *his sister* gets.

Some days I look like a tan dyke god(ess), and others; McLuvin from "SuperBad".

One year I came into school after summer break and I said high to one of my old teachers and they didn't recognize me. "I'm me!" I said my legal name; ohhh you sure got a tan, didn't you?

When I tan, I tan.

I have been confused for basically every brown race you can think of. Except Black. That I loose my tan when working night shift with no breaks for too long *really* confused some guys that though I was really [insert minority here].

And this is an issue; because while you assholes are focused on "BiPOC" {bi-racial people of color} there's people like me.

I'm often tempted to get an acrylic tattoo at the begining of summer so that the tan lines are extremely visible when the paint falls off.

But I never can seem to afford the time or money. Plus I think that'd probably be discouraged when I was in the military despite not *explicitly* being against the rules.

--Can some boot find out for me?

And this somehow feeds into my Fox News watching grandparent's world view. I think raciaphobia tied into it.

Despite my mother *also* tanning well on occasion.

This complexion isn't like vitiligo. Where some patches of skin don't tan, or don't have melanin.

My melanin stores solar power and turns pale in the winter in order to increase absorption of vitamin d and shit.

So if I'm pale AF; you know the depression is hitting extra hard at that time.

My other Grandfather told me one day; Were German/Jewish/French on this side of the family. My Dad says "That Italian is really showing through". But I don't know where he gets that from. Or if it's a real comment, or a racial one.

My Grandma name dropped "Black Foot Tribe" but she seems embarrassed to really let people know that it runs in the family.

Despite having a wall of Native American paraphernalia.

My mother and her mother can't really decide if we're Ukrainian or Palestinians. That's where *her* tan comes from.

And on top of all that my dad constantly jokes that I was "Made in Japan" because he was stationed there for a stretch. I forget which base exactly.

Too which some of my Asian friends comment "You seem to have a Japanese soul".

Which I don't know what that means, as my internal depiction is that of a white weaboo. (Japanese Anime Fanatic)

People can never seem to decide on *what* I am; as if it matters.

And *that* has had an impact on my life immeasurably. Not positively either.

Grandpa with his garage of vehicles who says out loud that I am a "dumbass" for having spent my money frivolously, despite only owning one car and only ever purchasing necessities.

Apparently; I just fooled the entire military for a decade and a half on my "fentanyl addiction".

He's the one on fentanyl, I read his labels. He is constantly in pain from bowling arm. Lucky asshole. While I get to suffer from having had a manual labor job.

[je-suis-problematique]

We finally started reading this dark romance book we bought ages ago and I have some things that I want to say that are ironically not about the book at all but rather one of my partners because the book made me think of him. The book is about this girl who ends up fucking the grim reaper and while it isn't the best book ever it's written well enough for me to want to continue reading it and the grim reaper character – Letum – reminds me of Grael. Not in any direct way like his looks or his personality or anything but more simply because it's the grim fucking reaper and Grael is one canon plot point away from becoming his wraith self, Thresh. Honestly I SHOULD have been thinking of Thresh while reading this book but got Grael on the mind instead because when I imagined myself in the main protagonist's shoes, and pictured the events of the book happening to ME IRL, Letum translated into Grael for me. Don't know why or how else to explain it.

Anyway, Grael. My relationship with Grael started out a bit rocky because while I knew who Grael was and already admired him before he even formed, Grael had no idea who I was so there was a lot of wariness and mistrust on his part when we first met. He warmed up to me over time because I was so head over heels for him that I used every opportunity I got to spend time with him and he used to front/be co-conscious often so we interacted a lot. He got used to me and my antics and eventually even welcomed my very obvious feelings for him, albeit cautiously. We were still involved with our partner system at the time so receiving the go-ahead for me to properly date Grael was, uh, Difficult™, but when it finally happened we were both very excited to see where things will lead us. Grael is arguably the person I have the strongest bond with even if we don't live together.

We went through a lot together and I do mean fucking A LOT. He helped me handle a lot of Mainworld bullshit and I helped him sort his life out in the Otherworld, we were both there for each other at our lowest points, we were practically joined at the hip most of the time and aside from being romantic partners we also became each other's closest friend which I think is beautiful but the reason I am writing this post to begin with is to just. Say thank you to Grael for taking care of me this past year almost entirely on his own, while I was neck-deep in addiction.

I was the one fronting when we started using hard drugs therefore the decision to do so was 100% mine and I WILL hold myself accountable for it. I became frontlocked and, before the big detox that I went through, I experimented with a bunch of different drugs before settling on Fentanyl. I was already an addict before all that, I was abusing prescription drugs long before I touched MDMA or Cocaine and I used to have a drinking problem too, but eventually the high from the medication I was abusing wasn't enough anymore and I started using harder shit. The decision to start buying street drugs was made completely on a whim while already high on medicine and it was preceded by a rapid decline in my emotional and mental wellbeing. I attempted suicide three consecutive times in the span of two months before the drugs came. I was not okay and I only kept spiraling further down.

I don't remember much of that time anymore but from what I do remember, or more like.... From what I remember being told after the dust finally settled, my link to the Otherworld and the rest of the system was severed while I was busy using (which I did daily) and that translated into my Otherworld body slipping into a coma. Nobody could reach me on Main or wake me up in the Otherworld and a rift formed between me and the others that seemed unbridgeable at the time. Grael INSISTED on having my unconscious body be at his house (connected to life support and such just not in the hospital) and he tended to me himself around the clock. I have no memory of anything that he might have said to me back then since I couldn't really hear him or feel him but he said he'd keep me company, read to me, and play my favorite music. When I tell you this man is SO FINE.

So after months of being an intubated vegetable under Grael's care I decide to quit using drugs and detox IRL. I went through about a week of pure Hell on Earth, with the first 72 hours being the worst, but for some reason that grounded me back to reality well enough for me to finally be able to hear other alters again. IIRC the ones who kept me company after I returned home from the hospital were Jerome, Astarion, and Silco (I couldn't sleep from the immense discomfort after 72 hours of shaking, puking, and pain), maybe somebody else I am forgetting, and I could vaguely focus inwards again to see that I have awoken in the Otherworld too. Grael was the first person I saw and through tears he explained to me that I have been comatose and unreachable for weeks if not months. And I shit you not, after I regained my bearings enough to be able to hold a conversation, this motherfucker pulls out a brand new violin and says that he got it for me as a gift while I was out cold. I tell him I already own several violins and he goes, "this one's actually for me because I wanted you to teach me how to play so we can play together".

THIS MAN.

I retreated from the front soon after and didn't front again for a long time, Guts was the first one to take over. We managed to stay clean for two whole months following the detox but Zed dragged us back down again at some point and the others went back to using. Not me though. It took me a while to fully recover but I was serious about my decision to stay clean – I even got rid of my booze stash in the Otherworld and vowed never to touch any substances again. I'm not saying this makes me better than the others and that the others are somehow lesser for having a relapse, no. All I'm saying is that I changed my personal life around for the better after a year-long downward spiral, that's all. I straightened out all of my intimate relationships, worked on myself, worked on my subsystem, mended my relationship with my daughter and her father, figured out what I want to do with my life long-term, atoned for a lot of shit I did when I was at my worst. I've hurt people, you know. Many people. Some with malicious intent, others without meaning to, but I DID hurt them. I broke some cycles/patterns that I was perpetuating because of my trauma and apologized to those who deserved an apology from me. Not because I was expecting forgiveness but because it felt like it was the right thing to do.

And Grael? I started teaching him how to play violin like he wanted me to. I also started teaching him proper knife fighting and self-defense, and we had so much fun during our little training sessions. I fully integrated him into my life by encouraging him to mingle with my other partners and inviting him over to spend time with my daughter, too. He warmed up to her really fast. He even likes my dogs, kind of. When they don't jump on him or cover him with their drool. The biggest obstacle that we had to face as a couple during my recovery was Kovacs. When I finally got back up on my feet and decided I want to go back to work with Nightshade, Grael felt a bit.... sour that I'm keeping Kovacs on the team. Kovacs hurt him once, badly, and there was bad blood between them – but I didn't have it in me to kick Kovacs out despite all that. Even Kovacs himself said he'd leave if I told him to but I insisted that I wanted him to stay. Grael and I worked through the uncomfortable situation though and now he can even kind of tolerate Kovacs' presence without stabbing him on sight.

I wrote this whole post just to explain how much Grael means to me as a person. I couldn't ask for a better partner, the ONLY ONE who truly stayed by my side through thick and thin, even when he saw me at my worst, even when he saw how petty and malicious I can be, even when he saw me hurt people. Hurt myself. He stayed by my side through my depression, my PTSD, my personality disorders going out of control, my addiction taking over my life. He never left. He was always, ALWAYS there, even when I didn't know he was there or was too caught up in my own bullshit to acknowledge it. So. Thank you. From the bottom of my wretched soul,

Thank you.

– Chris

[lilacastar]

KDA 19: Meantime

"When you became different," 5K began.

His breath paused, holding the smoke in longer than he would have normally.

"I knew something- I..."

Kalrick waited patiently, not rushing the stumbling words. 5K looked down, away from where his dark eyes stared.

"Do you remember Allison?"

"Your sister, yeah." She'd graduated before all of them, so his memory wasn't especially clear. But he seemed to remember her dropping by every once in a while.

"Yeah, she died."

"Oh." He re-situated the red cup in his hands, but it didn't help with any tension. "I'm so sorry. This probably isn't your first time telling me."

"It is actually. It happened when you started getting really busy, and those symbols got inked on you." He nodded at Kalrick's wrists. "You were really distracted and not around often. Didn't really have the time or emotional energy to bother you."

"I wish I could have been there for you, though."

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "But you know me. I've always had... Substance ish- issues. Allison had a blood clot we didn't know about. She hit her head and killed her pretty much instantly, nothing we could do about it."

"But you can control what goes in your body." Kalrick could already feel where it was going.

"Yeah," He nodded. "I've had addiction issues since- fuck, I don't even know how long. I started using in middle school but it didn't become a problem till later. I felt in control of the coke, acid, ecstasy. I guess her dying was all it took for it to- to go out of control. I picked up heroin."

Kalrick couldn't make eye contact with him any longer. If he had been there, been present... But he wasn't. He could've helped pick him back up. No one was there to care for him.

"I blew all my money but even that didn't stop me."

"What did?" He gestured back at him. "I mean, you're ok and still here."

"I died, Kalrick. I overdosed, and it flat lined me for over 5 minutes."

He couldn't tell if it was the smoke or the weight of 5Ks words that made his head dizzy. If he had just been there, but he wasn't.

"My brain got derived- deprived of oxygen and gave me anoxic brain injury. The dose that kicked me was laced with fentanyl, and I have permeant brain damage. Mostly just gives me tremors and concentration problems. Sometimes I lose my words."

"Damn, I don't know what to say. I've sort of jumped back in and made everything about me. If I can help at all just tell me what."

He shook his head. "You don't need to do anything, promise. Just time will help. They say you can recover for years now, when they used to think it was in the first 6 months."

"Man, but I feel like if I was around I could have gotten you help sooner."

"Don't say that, I did some disappointing things to get better. You're the one who deserved better, cause I'm the one who got help in the end. I got rehab, and you got taken advantage of"

"Then lets not think about it. We're here after all, might as well be present now."

"I can second that."

The door knocked, disrupting their conversation.

"Come on in!" 5K shouted.

Randle entered, shuffling through to where they sat.

"Smells like a hotbox in here," He coughed. "Kalrick, how did you even get here?"

"Teleported." Kalrick nodded.

"Then why can't you teleport to wherever it is you need me to take you?"

"Cause it's exhausting and thought it'd be a great bonding experience. I also can't go places alone and don't ask me to explain but only certain places are teleport-able."

"Is this what you do all day?" He gestured to 5K. "I don't think I've ever seen you go to work, which is where I just came from."

"I'm on disability, not that it's any of your business." 5K rolled his eyes.

"You're right, it's not my business. I'm just tired."

"You don't have to help if you're tired," Kalrick said. "I just thought we all were in this now. And I don't know, it feels good to hang out again. We used to research this type of stuff all the time."

"We did," Randle gazed reminiscently. "I haven't picked that stuff up in a long time though."

"There's nothing you practice? Or I don't know, work with or research?"

"Not really. Kal, I like astrology. Like, reading my horoscope or getting my palm read. Demons, spells, tarot- I liked doing that with you specifically."

"Oh."

Kalrick found himself unable to fathom this information. It seemed like that stuff was all they did together. It always seemed like Randle was having a good time and enjoying himself.

"Well," Randle crossed his arms, looking down at them. "Are we going to follow your lead or keep smoking weed on the couch?"

"I could smoke some more." 5K remarked.

"Let's get started," Kalrick gathered his bag.

"Where did you have in mind?" Randle asked.

"Honestly, I don't know which tattoo place I hit up. I was just going to go to all the nearest ones until I found the one someone named Valery works at."

"Why not just call them and ask?"

"Oh. Uh, I guess I didn't think of that."

"I guess you still have use for me after all."

"I've always had use for you. I like being around you."

He turned to the door. "Let's just get going."

But Kalrick could've sworn he saw the edge of a smile.

[caitsmith08-blog]

People make me out to be a monster, but I’m not. I’m a stranger they want to force ill will upon, yes I’ve made my mistakes…. I’m human. Is that not the only way we learn? Today I went digging, this woman, accused me of being a “killer”, for the longest I couldn’t make sense of it. This woman doesn’t know me, she doesn’t know I have a heart of gold and soul that’s pure, that I share empathy with a homeless person or animal. That I do good deeds when no one is looking and without video. So, I’ve been carrying this burden, of this strangers opinion on me. Bc I’ve always wanted to be accepted, loved, cared for, appreciated, so on and so fourth. And for the longest, I was exactly who I wanted to be, the life of the party, a hometown celebrity if you will. A household name. Then I bought bad drugs. Drugs that took the life of one and almost 3 others, drugs that I think about daily, bc they were daily, not to the point of addiction per say but…. Socially acceptable. Except that night, they weren’t. What I thought to be cocaine turned out to be pure fentanyl. What I thought was the unimaginable became my reality, it didn’t just hit home, it hit me. And everyday since October 4th I’ve thought about my misfortune that claimed a life of a man I truly loved. I feel guilty, most people, good people, tell me they wouldn’t expect any less…. But I couldn’t hurt any more. To me, in a sense, I took a man away from a woman he loved, kids he created, and a family that unconditionally loved him. And believe me, if I could change places with him, I would, in a heartbeat but back to this woman. So, I got in somewhat of a mental rage, and looked up this lady on social media, basically to dig up dirt to hit her where it hurt, because she hurt me. And, well, truthfully, people don’t forget. Then when I got to digging I saw her son had passed, of an overdose. So, everything in my body that wanted to put physical harm on this woman for socially downgrading me and emotionally ruining me…. It started to make sense. I’m sure her son passed of a similar incident. Now, I didn’t go too far into it but I’m sure it hit home for her, her anger wasn’t necessarily aimed toward me but perhaps to the person who she feels like, took away her son. The thing about grief, is there’s no instruction manual how to deal, bc everyone is wired differently. 3 months to the exact date I received a phone call from my father that my 20 year old nephew was “gone”. At the time I couldn’t really comprehend what gone meant, gone where? Where did he go? And then he repeated himself, “he’s gone Caitlin”, and in that moment I knew what he meant. And he was such a good kid, heart of gold, saved baby birds, was into Pokémon, hugged before you left…. My heart hadn’t healed from this man I loved, shared an obscene amount of time with, considered his family mine… and now my baby nephew?! Why? How? When? How did I not see the signs, being somewhat of an addict myself, now - I don’t want to water it down…. I never had shakes, or illness, stole, there was never really consequence to my actions… I never ever, ever considered myself an addict. But I was, I am. I’m addicted to the escape, to the feeling of being something other than me, to feel alive, to not care, to rage, I felt like when I was drunk and on drugs, I was the true version of myself. And maybe, in a sense I was. But I was also manipulated, mean, hateful, angry… and it was no one’s fault but my own. You are how you let people treat you, and I was a doormat, until I wasn’t then I was just…. Hateful. All the time. And I feel like these emotions are similar to the lady that passes judgement without knowing me. It’s true what they say yanno, misery does love company. Sad truth of the matter is nobody wins out of those equations bc at the end of the day all the anger, remorse, sadness, regret in the world will bring back ur loved ones, the hardest path I’ve ever taken was the road to forgiveness. Forgiving myself, forgiving the ones who can’t forgive me, forgiving the people I hold accountable, forgiving everything and everyone…..

[ledenews]

Trinity’s Dr. Srinivasan Prescribing Alternatives to Opioids for Pain Management

Just when no one thought it could get worse, it got worse because of Fentanyl. More than 98,000 Americans died in 2021 from drug overdoses, and that number established a new, and most unfortunate, record in the United States. The opioid epidemic has hit the 35-to-44-year age group the hardest, and the majority of those who have passed have been males, according to the Centers of Disease Control and Prevention. Fentanyl is believed to be the single deadliest drug threat in the nation today because the narcotic has slivered its way into our country’s largest cities the same way it’s devoured so many tiny towns. “We have seen more people are dying because they are using an opiate like heroin, but with a stimulant like Fentanyl added to it,” explained Dr. Suresh Srinivasan, an interventional pain medicine doctor at Trinity Health Systems in Steubenville. “We didn’t see that in the beginning of the opioid epidemic about 10 years ago, but the use of Fentanyl has spread so much that people need to realize what they are using when they decide to (service) their addiction. That combination is deadly, and people need to realize it. Many rehabilitation programs include exercising in a pool. “On the other hand, I’ve also seen Fentanyl being the only drug some people are using for their addiction, and that is a dangerous thing here. I’m not saying heroin is better, but straight heroin is not as deadly as Fentanyl,” he said. “No matter what, the only safe way to use any drug is when you are under a doctor’s care.” Srinivasan has practiced in Chicago, Brooklyn, and at the Creighton University Medical Center in Omaha, Neb., and now his office is located on Johnson Road in Steubenville. His biography on Trinity Health System’s web page states, “His goal is not only to reduce pain but restore functionality and help his patients to achieve their treatment goals.”  “What I have learned from living here and caring for people here is that people work really hard and they always have, and they really enjoy themselves, too. That includes self-medicating,” Srinivasan said. “The tradition of working hard here started a long, long time from what I understand, and that included the steel making that took place here for a lot of years, and the coal mining, too. “I have treated a lot of people who have gotten themselves addicted to their pain medicines because of chronic pain they’ve had after many years of hard work, but there are many others who found themselves addicted because they decided to do some experimenting,” he explained. “Some of those have been kids who decided to explore with someone else’s prescriptions have been available. Once you get on that wheel, it’s very difficult to get off because your brain just keeps craving the dopamine.” For more than a decade, opiate abuse led to heroin and Fentanyl abuse. Toeing the Line Alcohol and marijuana. According to the CDC, those two substances are the most popular for people choosing to self-medicate. Alcohol is more popular with men than it is with women, but weed is equally popular with members no matter the gender. And, according to Dr. Srinivasan, self-medicating is a popular pastime in America. “I have had a lot of people who have told me they smoke weed to get sleep and relax, and they have told me that they drink a lot of alcohol to relieve their pain, and those two practices are very popular across the country,” Srinivasan said. “Most people have told me they do both at the same time because there is less of a chance to overdose on the alcohol. “One of the biggest problems with self-medicating is that you build up a tolerance to things like alcohol, and that means you need more and more to keep that pain away,” the pain management doctor said. “It’s also about the euphoria involved, and people build up a tolerance for that, too. Unfortunately, that’s where the opiates have come into play as a prescription for chronic pain, and in too many cases, it’s ended badly.” Marijuana, Srinivasan has recognized, is very popular with people who are self-medicating. Srinivasan has joined a plethora of his colleagues from across the country in examining new methods to help those suffering chronic pain by prescribing non-addictive medications and in many cases more physical therapy. “Collectively, we have made many changes because of the opioid abuse that has taken place over the past 10 or 15 years, and that’s OK with me. I’ve had patients who didn’t expect the changes and they’ve been upset because they wanted to remain on their on their medications,” the physician said. “But there have been some great changes that have had nothing to do with medication, and that’s because a lot physical therapy is capable of managing pain, too. “Some of the other options include what we call multiple pain management, and that’s when physical therapy is started at the beginning of the treatments,” Srinivasan added. “The science of pain management is an evolving specialty and it is getting better and better as time goes on. Now, we’re always searching for better ways to relieve the pain so our patients can live a better life.” Dr. Srinivasan’s practice philosophy is to blend medical innovation, evidence-based medicine and compassion to meet each patient’s individual goals. Dr. Srinivasan and his team cares for his patients as if they were his own family members, spends time with them to allow for a thorough evaluation and tailors the treatment plans that fit the unique needs of the patients. Read the full article

[scenesofobx]

Doubt, Worry & Betrayal

Part 2 of Lies, Drugs & Withdrawals

Requested by: @storytellingwitht

A/N: let me know if you spot the taylor swift reference 🤪

Warnings: mentions of drugs, withdraws, relapsing, rehab, NA, support groups, violence, guns, kidnapping, swearing.

Word Count: 3.5k words

I'd been trying. For so long in my journey with addiction I'd been in the denial phase, refusing to believe that I had a problem. But for the first time, I had been actively trying to get clean. I had decided to take accountability, to finally accept that I had an issue and to stop for good this time. To take the bad and the ugly that came along with the battle and to face it head on.

Fez had been a huge part of the reason for finally stopping and he helped me a lot on my road to sobriety. He was there when I flushed all the drugs that I'd kept hidden from him down the toilet, signifying to both myself and to him that I was serious about stopping. He got me booked into a rehab centre, opting not to use the same one that Rue used a little while ago, he instead booked me into a sort of 'luxury' rehab centre, saying that he wants to ensure I have a fighting chance to get clean. I'd of course said I didn't need such a fancy place, but he was quick to brush me off saying he only wanted the best for me.

I feel that he may hold some guilt for getting me hooked on drugs in the first place, but I was the one who approached him asking for it, I was the one who kept coming back time and time again. I was the one feeding my addiction, he was just giving me to the means to do so. I don't blame him one bit and wish he didn't either.

He helped me pack a suitcase, ensuring to pack a few of his t-shirts that he knew I loved to sleep in, he even let me wear his favourite dark green hoodie. He walked me in, got all the final paperwork done and gave me the biggest hug and sweetest kisses, promising to visit me as often as he was allowed to.

Now because fentanyl is such a potent opiod, it isn't recommended to stop taking it "cold turkey" because of the fact I could possibly experience a sudden increase in blood pressure, which could lead to a stroke or a heart attack, which are clearly things I wanted to avoid. So the rehab centre helped me 'taper' off as they call it, meaning to slowly lower the dosage therefore weaning a person (in this case, me) off the drug (in this case, fentanyl). It's all done in a controlled environment with the necessary medical staff there to assist and help with all the withdrawal symptoms. Tapering off it meant that the withdrawal symptoms, while still unpleasant, wouldn't be as intense.

My time at rehab wasn't easy, not in the slightest. Withdrawals were difficult, they had been every time before, and this time wasn't any different. It was both a bit easier doing it at a proper facility and at the same time, it more difficult than just doing it at home. Easier because I'd been tapering off the drugs instead of just stopping like I'd tried many times before (always relapsing before I got far into the withdrawal process), and it was more difficult because I didn't have Fez there with me every day, which made it harder to find reasons to keep going, to keep fighting. It's almost like he knew I was missing him and needing his support, because I'd get weekly visits, letters and phone calls, giving me the encouragement that I needed to keep putting my all into getting and staying clean.

Fez would visit every Monday, the best start to the week, his presence being a constant support to fight like I've never fought before. His letters would get delivered to me on Wednesdays, getting me through the rest of the week ahead and he'd call me on Fridays, giving me the strength to get through the few days before I got to see him again.

Now listen, I didn't need to rely on him to get me through rehab, I could do this without him or Ash or Rue, sure. But they made it better, easier, worth it. I wanted to stop for myself but I also wanted to stop for the people around me who love me and hate seeing me suffer. They ensured I didn't give up, they kept me motivated.

Two months into rehab I was officially weaned off of fentanyl and I was celebrating my 'one month clean anniversary' as Fez called it. For the momentous day he bought me another hoodie of his, my favourite blanket that always sat on the couch at home, a photo of Fez and I and one of me with Ash. Along with all of this was a little gift box, upon opening it a gold bracelet with the words "one month" engraved on it came into view. My eyes teared up at the sight, Fez proved through this gift that like me, he too believed I could fight this battle.

Rue visited me twice during my three months in rehab, which was more than I could say for the zero visits I'd paid her when she was battling. Both times she visited me only being when I was clean and tapered off drugs completely. I didn't want her to relapse again. The first time she came to visit, I suspected that she was using again, her eyes looking more bloodshot than normal and the bags under them were more prevalent than usual. I didn't ask her directly but when I asked Fez about it the following week, when it was just the two of us, he said he wasn't sure but hoped that she wasn't using again, and that he'd keep an eye on her. The second time she came however, I knew for a fact that she was clean, and I was proud of her. She came to visit the day after Lexi's play, updating me on all of the drama that I'd missed out on. She recounted the play in such a comedic way that it had me laughing so much that I almost fell off my chair. She was back to her funny, free spirited self, never failing to make me laugh.

Fez and Ash came to pick me up the day I was discharged. I'd had a Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meeting that morning, recieving my two month chip, something I was very proud of. After the meeting I spoke to my sponsor about the support group I'd be attending weekly. I was honestly really excited to stay on this journey of sobriety.

I attended my first NA meeting out of rehab the Wednesday after being discharged. It took place at 5pm at a room in the local church.

I had been enjoying being back home with my boys. Having missed Fez's touch, I hadn't been apart from him much, other than to attend meetings, when either of us went to work or when he did a deal. I loved being able to spend my evenings lying on the couch with my boys watching random old movies, all of us eating whatever dinner I'd cooked that evening. When I was in rehab, I'd had a lot of spare time on my hands, time I spent reading and journaling. I'd read cooking books a lot and had a ton of new recipes to cook. Journaling had helped me cope a lot with managing my emotions, writing them down allowed me to express myself how I needed to, it gave me a voice I felt I had been missing.

Wednesday rolled around once again, Fez had just dropped me off at the church for my meeting, I checked my phone, '4:57pm', I had a few minutes to get to the meeting before I was late. I began to walk through the door again, entering the church...

Now as far as I was aware I had paid off all my debts to Laurie, but she thought otherwise. Which is how I ended up with a cut above my eyebrow and a split lip, sitting on a chair in her kitchen. She was convinced I had some outstanding money owed, claiming it accumulated to the sum of two hundred dollars. All I could think about was how she could have just asked me to pull out my purse and I could have given her the cash on the spot, but it wasn't about the money, it never was in this business. It's about proving that you have the power and means to get even. From what I could tell she was trying to scare Fez for some unknown reason, for all I know it could have been pay back from when Fez got raided by the cops months ago, Laurie may still be stuck on that, although we'd already settled that debt. And before you ask, yes, by "we" I mean Fez and Ash, I didn't often get involved in their business, not unless necessary or if the people the boys were dealing with weren't harmful or shady.

I was in pain, having been fresh out of rehab and clean for just over two months, I didn't have anything in my system to help with the pain of the barrel of a gun hitting me in the face multiple times.

"So what can I do for you?", I question, eyebrow raising slightly, instantly regretting it when I feel the sting of the open wound above my brow. "Use the other brow next time", I thought.

"You owe me, and I'm going to get what I'm owed one way or another"

"Really Laurie, if you just let me get my damn purse out of my bag, I can pay you the two hundred dollars, you claim that I owe you"

Another hit to the face, this time to my cheek.

"That one's gonna bruise, Y/N", Laurie said in her dull, emotionless tone.

Note to self not to claim I owe her anything but for the sake of my appearance and well-being to just go along with what she's saying, even if she is batshit crazy.

"I think we should give our friend Fez a call, hmm?", Laurie asks rhetorically.

Before I could get an word in, she had her phone on and Fez's name displayed on the screen. Turning it onto speaker so I could hear the rings of the line clearly.

"Hello?", Fez answered the phone calmy. To his knowledge I was at an NA meeting, which I would have been if it weren't for Laurie's goons pulling me into her car the second Fez was out of eyeline.

"Fezco, I have something that you're going to want"

"I'm listening..."

"Y/N's here, she owes me some money"

Silence over the line continues for a few seconds.

"Y/N's there?"

"Oh yes she is, right?", she nudges my leg with her foot, signalling for me to speak.

"Fezzy, I'm here... please hel-"

"Why are you at Laurie's?"

"Fez, you've gotta help me, please", I pleaded with him.

"Why are you at Laurie's Y/N?", he sounded sort of mad. I could understand why he would be mad at Laurie, I mean she did literally freaking kidnapping me. I was confused as to why he used my full first name, being used to pet names or nicknames, this didn't sit right with me but I let it go.

"It's not by ch-", I started but was cut off by Laurie's monotone voice.

"- She's got debt to pay Fezco, you gotta bring me what I want"

"And what would that be?"

"A thousand dollars, no les-"

"-a thousand You just said it was two hundred!", I interjected, which I would be soon to regret.

"Honey, that was before and this is now. Let's call it... interest"

"I'll be there when I can", Fez said quite nonchalant, I felt my stomach drop at the fact he didn't say he was rushing to get me, save me from this hell hole but maybe he was trying to put a filter up to Laurie, I hoped he was.

The line went dead right after Fez spoke.

I felt the barrel of the gun hit my cheek once again, "That's for interrupting the boss", one of Laurie's men informed me.

"Seems like Fezco isn't in any rush so... can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Fentanyl?"

"I don't want your drugs Laurie, I don't want any drugs"

"You sure? I know they'd help with the pain radiating from your face right now", she was trying to manipulate me but I wasn't going to cave, I was stronger than this. I had to be, for myself, for Fez and for Ash.

"I don't want drugs, okay? I'm clean, and I'm going to remain that way, so if you'd kindly stop trying to talk me into taking them, I'd really appreciate that!", I fully expected to be hit again but Laurie's hand flew up before the gun could connect with my face again.

"That's enough. I don't need her looking unrecognisable when her boyfriend arrives!"

The guy backed up at Laurie's orders, which I was thankful for. My face hurt enough as is and I really didn't need anymore cuts and bruises.

Back at home, Ash was trying to convince his idiotic brother that I hadn't relapsed.

"Come on bro, she's been out two weeks, she's been back to the Y/N/N we know and love, the one who is kind and cooks great dinners, she was even excited to go to NA today man. You really think she would relapse?"

"I don't know what to think Ash, addiction is hard and withdrawal is even harder, it's not impossible for her to have replased"

"It's not, you're right but this is Y/N we're talking about, she's stronger than that. She was so happy when she got her two month chip last week, she was proud that she was clean. She promised us she wanted to be better and I believe her. Why don't you?"

"I didn't say I don't believe her Ash, but why else would she be at Laurie's?"

"You said she owes her money, that there was interest, what if it's the debt from before she went to rehab?"

"That's... not impossible"

"You see... I'm clearly the brains of the operation", Ash joked.

"Now don't get ahead of yourself bro", Fez scoffed at his brother.

"I'm just saying, let's just go pay off the debt and get our girl back and maybe we can find out for sure why she was at Laurie's when she should have been at NA. There's no proof that she was there to buy."

"There's no proof to say she wasn't", Fez didn't mean to doubt you, doubt your honesty but you'd lied to him before, whose to say you wouldn't again?

"Come on bro, just trust her until she gives you a clear reason not to", Ash defended your honour.

"Fine, fine... I'm gonna get the cash"

"Alright. I'll get my gun"

"Aight"

Fez gets the money together while Ash gets his gun loaded and ready.

Back at Laurie's, you heard a car pull up outside, assuming it was Fez's, hoping it was Fez's!

Two knocks on the door.

One.

Two.

God, please let it be your boys.

One of Laurie's men, the one who didn't hit you opens the door.

Fez and Ash step into your view and you're relieved, they're here to take you home and you've never been happier to see them.

Ash makes eye contact with you and you can see the anger in his eyes, ready and waiting to pull his gun on Laurie and her men, but you shake your head gently, silently communicating for him to play it cool. You don't want trouble. You want to pay what's owed, get the hell out of here and never look back.

"Okay Laurie, here's your mon-", Fez's words get stuck in his throat at the state my face is in.

"What the fuck did you do to my girl?", Fez takes a few steps towards me, before he too has a gun pressed at his face, just like I had done to me multiple times in the past hour.

"Stay where you are", the man who opened the door grunts at Fez.

"Okay, chill. We're good, we're good", Fez says, putting his hands up in surrender. The man lowers his gun from it's position on Fez's forehead.

"You have the money?", Laurie asks, looking at Fez expectantly. I swear the only time I've ever seen her have any form of emotion on her face or in her voice is when money is mentioned.

"I've got it", Fez states, pulling out ten, one hundred dollar bills.

Laurie counts the money,"Alright. Now that that's settled... you can go", she dismisses us with a wave of her hand.

Fez moves towards me, slowly and calculated incase he'd have a gun pulled on him again. When he gets to me, he puts his hand in mine and pulls me to my feet, giving my hand a small squeeze.

We move towards the door, Fez giving Ash a nod, telling him it's safe for us to leave. When we're two steps away from the front door, Laurie's voice stops us in our tracks.

"She's a clean one Fezco, I'll give you that. Didn't want any of the drugs I had to offer.", Laurie didn't know it, but she'd cleared every worry Fez had in his mind.

Fez simply gives Laurie a curt nod and then opens the door, leading both Ash and I out the door and to the car. Ash jumps in the back, letting me get in the passenger seat. The drive back is quiet, the boys not making any moves to break the silence. They may be mad at Laurie, plotting their revenge? Mad at me for ending up in that position? I'm not sure but it didn't seem like I would find out until we got home, so I stared out of the passenger window the rest of the way home, watching the passing cars.

When we got home Ash packed his gun away, gave me a quick hug and muttered, "I'm glad that you're safe and that you didn't relapse", which made me frown a little at the thought of him thinking that'd I relapsed, not thinking I was strong enough to get through this. He retreated to his room right after. I think he saw my frown and knew that I was hurt by his statement, or he just knew that Fez and I needed to talk about the events of the day, either way, he was out of sight within a few seconds.

When I turned to Fez, I saw him sitting on the couch, getting what he needed, out of the first aid kit, to clean me up. I sat down next to him, cuddling into his side, him placing a kiss on my forehead. I then moved back a bit on the couch and let him clean up the dried blood and cover the cuts that littered my face with bandages, to stop the bleeding, he gave me a hello kitty one to cover the cut above my eyebrow, he said it reminded him of that episode of Grey's Anatomy that we watched last week, where Meredith had the pink hello kitty bandaid on her forehead, it surprised me how he remembered such a small detail about the episode.

"You remembered the bandaid?"

"Of course I do, you commented on how cute it was was when we watched it, so I bought a box when I was at the store", he said nonchalantly, not realising how heartwarming this statement was to me.

After he got me all cleaned up, he started flipping through the tv channels, trying to find something for us to watch

I decided to query about what Ash had said, to see if maybe he knew more than I did.

"Did Ash think I relapsed?"

"Nah, why you thinking that?"

"He told me he was happy that I was safe and that I didn't relapse, so clearly he thought I did, which hurts you know, because I thought he believ-"

"I thought you relapsed ma, not him", Fez interrupted him.

My eyebrows pulled together in confusion, it took a second for my brain to fully register what he had just said, but when I did, the anger seeped in.

"What do you- I... You thought I relapsed?", you ask with hurt written over every inch of your bruised face.

"Yeah baby, I mean I get a call that you're at Laurie's, who you went to last time you wanted to get a fix, so I assumed-"

"See... that- that's what angers me, that you jumped to conclusions and you assumed the worst. The worst about me, Fez! You don't trust that I'll stay clean, that I did stay clean. You don't trust me and you never will!", I cried out, a tear falling out of my eye, Fez went to wipe it but I moved back to avoid his touch.

The realisation that the man who I would take a bullet for doesn't believe me, doesn't believe in me, it hurt more than any withdrawal symptom I'd ever experienced before.

Taglist: @storytellingwitht @dreamsinshadesofblue

[Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic/all fics]

[lure-of-writing]

Not like I used to

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: language, arguing, fighting

Sequel to: Not today

Jay was trying to listen, he swears but having to listen to a random  group of FBI agents drone on and on about why they were taking over this case and who the felon was to them is honestly quite annoying. “You might want to try and make it look like you're listening to them.” Hailey whispers after nuding his arm. “This is me trying.” He grumbled back.

Making your way into the 21st district you greet your favorite person. “Hey sunshine, long time no see.” calling Trudy by her nickname grabs her attention from her computer to you “Oh my gosh.” walking around her desk to pull you into a hug “What are you doing here? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Trudy fumbles out all at once. “I didn’t know I was coming back until I got here.” pulling back from her hug she gives you a look over “Alright that's fair but look at you all dressed up.” Looking down at your blouse and dress pants that stopped where your heels began, you couldn’t agree more. “You know how the feds are, they have to always look presentable when going into other stations.” explaining you point to the stairs “Sorry to cut this short but I have to get up there. I’m kinda already late.” sheepishly smiling at Trudy she laughs while nodding “I know I let them in like an hour ago.”

Glancing up from your phone you make your way to stand in front of the whiteboard next to Sam who was currently talking before quickly tucking your phone into your pocket. Silently moving to the side Sam lets you take over.

Jay could not believe his eyes. A few years later and here you were standing in front of that whiteboard as if you never left. He was trying his hardest not to stare but you were his old partner and friend but also someone who was in love with him, and that can really mess with your mind. Thinking you're never going to see someone again and then they appear right before your eyes with no warning.

“As Sam was saying Austin Miller is a very well known drug dealer and he sold anything from weed to laced fentanyl. He also moves thousands of kilos of drugs a day.” Starting off simple seemed like the best idea until Jay spoke “Yeah we know this already and that's why we were going to arrest him before you guys showed up so why is he so important to you?” Cocking his head to the side while throwing his words at you. “Well after I left CPD and went to join these guys.” Pointing to a blurry picture of yourself that had been hanging on the board “I was undercover for three years as Maddie Thomas, a crack addict selling drugs that “The King” made, this is also who Austin bought from. I was trying to get the ring leader but he was smart and only kept to his inner circle.”Stopping to look at Sam for if you could tell them everything he nods “I would check in with my team only once a month by leaving a note under the toilet seat of a diner but Austin managed to find out that I was apart of the feds and told anyone with ears and I was burnt in the process. The only problem was that there is no trace that I exist. No pictures of me, no phone or licence, nothing in my name. My steps were covered. So how the hell he figured it out was a huge mystery until I did some digging.” Pointing to another picture “That is Casey Roberts, fellow agent turned informant at the price of three mill a year.”  Grabbing the folder Sam held out you pulled another picture and pinned it to the board “Casey was acting as a higher member of Austin's crew and knew of my operations since he was a higher level agent and also knew our paths would probably cross at some point. So when I got too close for his comfort he ratted me out.” “Glad you made it out alive.” Voight announced “Me to Sarge.” you chuckle.

Sam was perched on the desk across from you “When we caught wind that you guys had found Austin we knew we had to be there to arrest him and Casey. We also had a psych eval done one both of them with what we know about them and there's a high chance it becomes a shoot out, death by cop, or hostage situation. So we figured you would need some back up.” Luke's words caught their attention. “Damn I knew it was going to be dangerous but not that dangerous” Kevin exclaimed. Josh was next to talk “One very ruthless drug dealer and an ex-fbi agent, seems like a pretty violent combo to me.” Patting Kevin on the shoulder you smile “Don’t worry kev, at least you don’t have a bounty on your head like I do.” “Didn’t Austin raise the price by twenty-five grand like two weeks ago?” Noah's question catches the whole intelligence team off guard “He did” nodding in agreement. Your team laughs at your nonchalant response while your old team stares in amazement at the person you’ve become. Squishing next to Sam you finish talking “Y'all can pick who gets to arrest Austin but obviously I dibs on arresting Casey.”

“Needless to say we will be detailing him for a few days to make sure there are no other people that we need to be concerned about.” Sam called out. Your team as a whole was pretty young compared to other teams and that meant having to do everything by the books even when you could act now. It truly was one of your least favorite things about your job, always having to wait unless it was a dire situation.

“Since we will be working together for the next few days we will be in different pairs for the stakeout.” Luke informed everyone while grabbing a paper with a list on it “Adam you’ll be with me, Kim with Josh, Hailey with Noah, Sam with kevin, and finally Y/n with Jay.” Eyes darting to meet Jay’s you give him a tight lipped smile before turning and raising your brows at Sam with a pained expression.

Noah stood behind you and lowered his head to be at your height “Are you going to keep staring or are you going to go say something to him.” he whispered. Slowly moving your head to the side to look at Noah he does the same thing to you leaving a few inches in between your faces and a whole lot of space for a judgemental staredown. “Why are you like this?” Your question was dull. Joining the conversation Sam lowers his head also “I don’t think you two get paid to look like awkwardly bent ducks do you?” Glancing between Noah and Sam the three of you slowly rise. “I’m just curious what made you think pairing your fiance with someone she used to be in love with would be a good idea?” That was your que to leave as Sam blankly looked at Noah.

“Hey I’m going to go get changed and I’ll meet you out there?” you were apprehensive in your question. “Sure I’ll be waiting.” Nodding Kim loops her arms through yours while headed to get changed. “Alright y/n I want to know everything.” Laughing you rummage through your bag trying to find clothes to match “There isn’t much to know.” Kim rolls her eyes “Right, like becoming an FBI agent and being undercover isn’t interesting!” unbutton your top you shrug lightly “It’s not anything worth knowing about trust me.” contorting her face into an all knowing look she smiles “Right like being engaged to Sam isn’t something I should know about.” whipping around you study her “Relax I overheard Noah talking to him about it.” she frowns a little “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kim looked hurt to be left out of the know. Sitting beside her to tie your boots you reassure your old friend “Kim I promise you I was going to tell you but honestly I just got busy with case after case and I had no room to breathe let alone tell everyone I was engaged. If my love for this job wasn’t being tested on a daily basis I promise you would have been my first call.” Seeing you were being sincere Kim let it go “Fine but I better get the wedding invite.” “Speaking of that I actually need your help planning it.”

Standing outside in a circle everyone except you and Kim were there. “Does everyone have food and drinks?” Luke called out “Also did everyone go pee?” “I know Lauren is pregnant but you are being such a dad right now Luke.” you shout from the back entrance of the station to which you received a glare. “I’m not going to lie man, I thought you would be the “ no food or drinks on stakeouts” type of guy.” Adam jokes. “I’m not a monster” Luke looked terrified. His response caused an explosion of laughter amongst the group. “Nah thats Josh” Noah pointed at his friend “You know what fuck off man that was one time and at least I don’t steal your food and drinks like Y/n does.” Putting your hands up in fake surrender “Whoa I am not sure how I got dragged into this but I want out, plus I only steal your food at the office any other time I steal Sam's food so if anyone should be calling me out it's him.”

Jay watched in fondness as you argued with your team. He, himself, could vividly recall the times you would steal his food or drinks while sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. “Hey Jay.” you sweetly asked, causing him to lull his head over to look at you “what's up?”  Pointing to the chips in his lap “Are you going to eat those?” innocently asking while eye darting between him and the chips. Sighing he tosses them over to you causing you shriek with joy.

“Be safe everyone!” Adam's booming voice brings him back to reality as the paired groups head towards their respective cars. It had been an hour into the stakeout and the silence was driving him up a wall. “So how have you been?” the awkward and uncertain tone of his voice was enough to cause you to laugh “Really after all those years of knowing me that's all you got? How have you been?” He studies you as you laugh “It has been a few years since I have seen you last and I figured you’ve changed.” The sad weight of his words stopped your laughter and forced you to look at him. “I have changed but not that much that we need to go through the gross pleasantries.” you assure him. “Alright then tell me about what you’ve been up to since you left.”

Avoiding the topic of love and relationships was much easier than you thought it was going to be. Neither of you asking questions that could lead down that road. It was harder for Jay not to ask about the beautifully decorated ring on your left finger. He wanted to ask, truly, but he knew he had no right to so instead he asked about things he knew would be safe topics.

Slowly each party had returned to the station after calling it a night and one by one your team piled into a car and drove off to your hotel leaving the intelligence unit standing amongst each other. “Honestly that went better than I thought it would. Sam is actually pretty chill and easy to get along with.” Kevin's review started a string of everyones thoughts on their temporary partner. “Jay how was it with Y/n?” Haileys question was unexpected, ever since you left you were a touchy topic for them. “It was good we talked about random things, not anything too interesting.” As a group they were satisfied with his response and called it a night.

Late nights and early mornings were not your thing which is why you could be found leaning against the car Sam would be driving holding a unusually large coffee while tucked into his side. “Glad to see somethings never change Y/l/n” Hailey remarked while walking by to which you just slightly raised your eyebrows and went back to enjoying your liquid meal.

“She does not like you does she?” your fiance whispered into your ear “Nope” popping the p “Never has and apparently never will.” Sam grabs your cup and takes a sip “Her loss.”

Jay gazed at you curled into Sam's side and it felt like a ton of bricks fell from the sky and landed right on him. You were with Sam. He wanted to tell whoever the lucky person was to treasure you because you were once in a lifetime chance and whatever they do don’t let you go or else they would regret it but looking at you guys now, he knew he didn’t need to tell him because Sam already knew it. Jay could see it in his eyes.

Getting situated in his truck Jay observed from afar as you grab your coffee back from your lover and march over to the door swinging it open before haphazardly crawling into the seat and slamming the door shut. “I am going to take a nap and you’re not going to bother me unless I’m needed.” barking out orders as you get adjusted “Ok.” Your attitude reminded him of all the times you had said those exact words to him all those years ago.

After staring at a door for three hours Jay decided you had slept long enough. “Y/n.” groaning, you peek one eye open to look at him “What?” your tone was sharp. “I’m bored.” “So find something to entertain yourself with.” Rolling his eyes at your attitude he decides to be as sassy as you are. “As much as I would love to, we are doing a stakeout and I can’t take my eyes off that door if you're sleeping. Plus you're my partner and you should be talking to me so I don’t go insane.” blankly staring at him you give in “Fine I’m up what do you want to talk about?” your tone was bitter but you were awake so that was a win for him.

Choosing to be direct he just goes for it“Sam’s your fiance?”  His question causes you to sigh and causes him to look at you cautiously. Turing in your seat to face him “Can we not do this?” It was more of a plea than a question. “Come on Y/n, you had to have known I was going to ask about it.” also turning in his seat while snapping back at you has you face to face with each other. “Yep and yet I was hoping you wouldn’t but you did!” The fake excitement in your voice was pissing him off. “Seriously y/n!” “Oh don’t you seriously me. You have no right to ask me about my personal life!”  Your shouting match was quickly interrupted. “All units be advised we are moving in”  Grabbing the door handle you look at Jay “Can I count on you to have my back?” without missing a beat he responds “Of course.”

The inside of this warehouse felt like a maze. Makeshift rooms were separated by thin pieces of plastic and inside were tables with countless packages of numerous drugs sprawled about. Hearing rustling ahead you glance at Jay. Nodding you both quietly make your way forward until you run into Kim and Josh. The four of you keep pushing throughout the building until you come to two spiral staircases. Looking over to the other stairs you spot the rest of your team. Wordlessly Luke comes to join your side while the rest of the team prepare to head up the stairs.

After both teams got in position Luke gives the hand signal to go and everyone  silently ascends into the unknown. Entering the top floor, eyes darting around for threats, you realize this must be where Austin does his business, right behind those wooden double doors. The creaking of the doors makes you wince knowing whoever is on the other side of those doors heard it too. Peeping around the door frame slowly you spot both men sitting on the couch talking. “You need to deal with that girl and I mean it Austin.” Whatever they were talking about had clearly been pissing off Casey “I am dealing with it I just raised the bounty price by twenty-five grand. I’m sure someone wants the money badly enough.”  While the men sat blindly chatting away both teams had been seamlessly circling around them with guns drawn and you in the front. Swifty standing in front of the people who wanted you dead with Jay on one side and Josh on the other.  Instantly reacting to his unwelcome visitors Austin grabs his gun from beside him and points it at you.

“I’m going to suggest you put that down. But I will say that I am worth more than seventy-five grand.” Looking over to his business partner you scowl “I almost got killed because of you.” scoffing he swirls his drink “Obviously someone didn’t do a good enough job explaining how undercover work goes. You can always get killed doing that job.” “No shit thank you for that explanation I would have never guessed but I shouldn’t be almost killed by the people with the same job as me.” There was no way in hell Austin was going back to prison so while you were having your reunion with your friend he was slowly moving his finger towards the trigger.

“I know you don’t want to go back to prison but if you pull that trigger that's a guaranteed one way ticket to prison for the rest of your life.” Jay's voice was cold and steady but he felt like he could throw up. At any point this person could kill you and he would never be fast enough to stop it. “Put the gun down.” Kim demanded and slowly but surely he set the gun on the table. Together you moved to arrest both men while everyone decided to repeat their rights as a team. With one cuff on his wrist and another soon to follow Casey harshly elbowed you in the ribs before spinning around and putting you into a light chokehold.

Immediately everyone's guns were pointed at you and Casey. “There are only two ways I’m leaving here. A free man or a dead one.” “Honestly such a typical thing to say.” roughly forcing your palm into his chin causing him to release his grip on you while you grab and spin his arm behind him while closing the cuff on his other wrist. “Well Casey I hate to tell you but there's a third way you're leaving and it looks like as a criminal.”

Exiting the building with both men in tow SWAT took them off your hands and while waiting for the proper teams to arrive and process the scene Josh breaks the silence “Sorry Kim I’ve really enjoyed working with you but I miss my partner so I’m going to ride back with him.” he felt like he was delivering heartbreaking news but Kim just laughed instead. “I’m glad to see the bro-mance is still alive and well.” Luke shouts from where he's standing. Noah looks at Hailey “Um like Josh said.””Go” laughing she nods her head. “Y/n I love you but I have had enough of sitting in a car with another person.” “I can respect that plus that means I can ride with Sam so thank you.” joining the deformed circle he gives you a simple reminder “I’’ take that one for the team anytime.” light laughing you send him a wink. Everyone was talking amongst themselves when Jay called out. “Y/n can I talk to you for a moment.” “Sure.” Walking out of earshot he fights to find the right words. “Listen I just want to say I’m sorry for arguing with you, you're right I have no reason or right to ask about your personal life and I shouldn;t have.” nodding in agreement he continues “I know I messed things up all those years ago but I was in love with you too. I was positive you just saw me as a friend so I never said anything but then you were leaving and I panicked. And I’m sorry for breaking your heart even if I never meant to. I will always love you but not like that, not like I used to.”  His words felt like they made no sense but he had to try and show you that he felt bad for what happened and was apologizing for it.

“I know you were only arguing with me because you care but that doesn’t mean you should have.” you're quick to give him a pointed look and he just smiles “Jay we both made mistakes back then but we can’t change them and that's ok. My heartbreak led me to the most amazing people being in my life. When I left CPD didn’t feel like family to me but when I joined those chaotic boys dressed as men I was home.” Looking past his shoulder you see four favorite guys messy around as if they didn’t just arrest two very wanted people. “I love you too but like you said not like how I used to. It’s ok Jay things like this happen and we’ve moved on. We are ok.” He could see the truth in your eyes, and you were ok.

Seeing you come back to the group Sam holds out his hand for you to take. “I know that local PD hates us and you know what fair enough I hated us too but thank you guys for not making me want to rip out my hair. We have a lot of paperwork to do when we get back home and not a lot of time to do it so we are heading out.” Letting go to hug your old friends goodbye Kim starts the hugs and lets you go down the line. “Apparently  what I did was really for the best huh?” Voight chuckles making you grin “I guess so” pulling you in for a tight hug he whispers “I’m really proud of you kid.” “Thank you. It really means more than you know.” letting go you make your way back towards your team.

Sam holds the door open for you as do your final goodbyes.  Watching the rest of your team get in their cars you follow their lead and while getting in the car Kim yells out “I want my wedding invite sent to work so I can show it off and brag to everyone that you’re getting married!” Letting out a boisterous laugh you respond “Deal!”

There was something about watching you leave surrounded by his own friends he called family that brought him peace. Maybe it was knowing that both of you were ok with what had happened between you or maybe it was that he knew you found someone to make you happy. Maybe what brought him peace was knowing that your days of waiting to find someone were finally over. Whatever it may be seeing you glow from Sam's love was enough for him.

[ravenkinnie]

TW: Drugs, substance abuse, murder, violence, the Punisher

Another potentially unpopular opinion I've seen on here (and one that I'll actually rant about) is that, Jason is the only good vigilante in the Batfam because he kills people (think the direct quote is "unlike those other feckless bitches" and something like "when you get saved by Red Hood, you know that you'll never have to worry about getting attacked by the same person again". I don't know how to explain to people that killing the type of criminals Jason killed in canon is wrong and harmful (thinking about the 80 Blackgate prisoners he poisoned - hmm you know the American prison system is pretty fucked up i'm sure they all totally belonged there /s). Like. Jason killing the Joker is one thing, but he literally hasn't killed the Joker - Dick did that, Bruce tried to, but Jason hasn't. But like some people make it out like oh, Jason being a killer is fine because he only kills people that deserve it - who, tell me who he's killing? Sex offenders and drug dealers seems to be the most common reply. And I won't touch the sex offenders but drug dealers? Have you heard of the War on Drugs? Have you seen what happens when people in power decide it's okay to openly promote the killing of drug dealers? I don't understand why people think it's fine for Jason Todd to go around killing drug dealers, as if they don't have families, don't have other things that put them in a bad situation. There's a reason why cops in the US (idk if they do this elsewhere) use the Punisher skull as their emblem - and if you advocate for a Jason Todd that punishes criminals, don't be surprised when the right wing weaponizes him against minorities and the red hood helmet starts to get painted on cop cars.

I wrote a paper on the Norwegian prison system which rehabilitates and releases even the "worst" of criminals and just... I live in the US and it seems like we (specifically white people) have such little compassion for anyone who commits crime. Even after the War on Drugs, even after we learned it was a scam, people fall for the crime and punishment rhetoric time after time. Like I live in a suburb where people are so scared of drug dealers my mom literally called our neighbor because someone cut through our yard (and she thought he looked high or something idk). Which I get it, my cousin died from a fentanyl overdose, I understand you don't want that near your kids. But incarcerating or killing drug dealers is not the answer, and I can't stand it when people take that stance on Jason. You can try to explain the 8 drug dealer heads in a duffle bag any way you want, but at the end of the day, I think the batfamily fandom needs to be more careful addressing this issue because demonizing drugs/drug dealers/drug users is literally one of the ways the American government destroys black communities.

And to think, the Jason Todd stan that this opinion came from replied to me because I commented on how Jason likes to run around in Dick's old clothes - something that has absolutely no bearing on his morals, other than he's thrifty which is a good thing actually, something like 85% of clothes ends up in landfills. Sorry for the rant, you asked for it. Sorry if anyone who sees this likes Jason Todd and is offended, you're not bad for liking him, he has an interesting story, just please don't advocate for murdering common criminals, specifically drug dealers.

AAAHHH NOO BUT IVE SEEN SOME OF MY MOOTS DISCUSS THIS BEFORE

sorry it's late and fucking hot I don't have the most comprehensive reply dbdnhd and I do acknowledge that at the end of the day this is fiction but opinions real people hold come from SOMEWHERE - and I think we have a very ingrained belief that crime/bad deed has to be punished and that there are good and evil people and good people only do bad things when influenced by evil people which is exactly the core of jason's belief - and that's interesting for a batfam character, a former robin!! I like when him and bruce are contrasted based on ethics but I don't like when it's meant to show that jason is right and bruce is wrong

batman is an extremely popular and fascinating character because at his core lies the idea that systems that are in place to 'protect' people are corrupt and it's down to individuals who can do something to go against them and look out for others - that's something that will resonate with people even if irl solution can't be to dress up as a bat and beat tf outta people shdhhshs

I have two points to make here:

a) I'm straight up a fucking anarchist who lives in the woods, thinks aliens are listening, and doesn't trust the government but I don't believe systems are corrupt, I believe they operate the way they are meant to operate to punish and control the populations that the system needs to be controlled to keep up the status quo - war on drugs is such a good example for that. drug dealer also exists as this boogeyman, this idea of an evil person waiting to corrupt and destroy the good people but the fact is: people don't get addicted to drugs bc drug dealers exist, people get addicted to drugs because something, not someone, compels them to do drugs, because something (literal us gov) introduced drugs to their communities and drug dealers are just tiny pawns in that game. additionally, many dealers are addicts themselves who got roped into selling to pay for their own use or who got pushed into the margins of society so much that drug trade is the only way to survive they can find

there are like, whole papers and books and thesis done on this so I'm not gonna act like I can analyse it in a tumblr post dhshsjsj but yeah people who think jason is right usually show this weird superiority of 'oh batman doesnt get how to fix gotham like jason does' and like... no, jason gets played like a fiddle by the system the way people he kills do, and whatever he does will always just hit the other pawns and never reach those actually at the top, those who are profitting from finding scapegoats

and like, batman comics don't have to address that bc it's comics, you can write small lmao but don't argue that jason is somehow more enlightened than bruce for killing

b) this brings a question of, if we decide that there has to be punishment for every crime, who gets to decide what punishment is right for what crime? cause there's not a single person who's infallible enough to dictate what the best approach is in every situation

and batman works best as a traumatised man who's loves his city sm he tries to work however he can to protect people from corrupt systems and offer them second chances wherever he can bc that's who batman is at his core - batman is not a punisher he is a protector and he should never be pushed into a role of the punisher bc he's not edgy enough

also bitches are so hard acting like they would kill every villain cause rip to batman but I'm different, y'all are too scared to tell the waitress your order is wrong shut the fuck up lmao the closest any of y'all have been to being batman is getting your ass beat behind the club on a saturday by brenda in her boohoo jumpsuit

[lochsides]

Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.