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[dot-24]

Understanding Drug Testing: A Crucial Element in Substance Abuse Treatment Programs

Hey there! Have you ever wondered why drug testing is such a big deal in substance abuse treatment programs? Now fasten your seatbelts because we're going to dive right into this subject! Drug testing isn't just about catching people in the act – it plays a crucial role in helping individuals recover from substance abuse and reclaim their lives. Let's break it down together.

What's the Buzz About Drug Testing?

Why is Drug Testing Important?

Drug testing isn't just about catching someone using drugs. It's a tool that helps treatment providers understand what's happening in a person's body. By testing for drugs, professionals can tailor treatment plans to meet individual needs. It's like getting a roadmap to guide someone toward recovery.

How Does Drug Testing Work?

Ever wondered how drug tests actually work? Well, there are different methods, including urine, blood, saliva, and hair tests. Each method has its pros and cons, but they all aim to detect the presence of drugs or their metabolites in the body. It's like playing detective to uncover what's going on inside.

The Role of Drug Testing in Treatment Programs

Monitoring Progress

Drug testing isn't a one-time thing – it's an ongoing process throughout treatment. By regularly testing individuals, treatment providers can monitor their progress and make necessary adjustments to their plans. It's like checking the scoreboard to see how far someone has come in their journey to sobriety.

Accountability and Motivation

Knowing that they'll be tested can motivate individuals to stay clean. It's like having a cheering squad rooting for them every step of the way. Plus, it holds them accountable for their actions, helping them stay focused on their recovery goals.

Identifying Relapse Triggers

Relapse is a common challenge in recovery, but drug testing can help identify potential triggers. If someone tests positive for drugs, it's a sign that something isn't working in their treatment plan. Maybe they need additional support or a change in their approach. It's like shining a spotlight on areas that need extra attention.

Building Trust

Believe it or not, drug testing can actually strengthen the trust between individuals and their treatment providers. It shows that providers are invested in their well-being and are committed to helping them succeed. It's like building a strong foundation for a house – without trust, recovery efforts can crumble.

Debunking Common Myths

Myth#1: Drug Testing is Punitive

Some people think drug testing is all about catching individuals in the act and punishing them. But in reality, it's about providing support and guidance on the road to recovery. It's like offering a helping hand to someone who's stumbled along the way.

Myth#2: Drug Testing is 100% Accurate

While drug tests are highly accurate, they're not foolproof. Factors like human error or tampering can affect the results. That's why it's essential to use multiple methods and interpret the findings with caution. It's like double-checking your work to make sure you got it right.

Conclusion: A Tool for Recovery

So, there you have it – the lowdown on drug testing in substance abuse treatment programs. It's not just about catching people using drugs; it's a vital tool for guiding individuals toward recovery. By monitoring progress, fostering accountability, and identifying potential challenges, drug testing plays a crucial role in helping people reclaim their lives from addiction.

[magnimoon]

Chapter 19: A hurt templar - A Cullevelyan fic

You can read it on AO3 as well as the rest of the episodes!

Summary:

Choosing the mages over the templars would bring consequences. Cullen was definetely hurt about his and both him and Bryony need to confront any issues they might have.

The rest of the episode under the cut

“Oh boy, that happened.” Bryony sighed while finishing drinking her third mug. She even thought of drinking alcohol only to forget that awkward moment. No, I mustn’t destroy this place, she thought.

She asked Flyssa to deliver a barrel of grape juice into her cabin so she could drink alone. Now, Bryony was only resting her face over her desk, just… tired of everything.

“What were you thinking. Turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!” Cullen’s words echoed through her head, clearly disapproving her actions.

Josephine throughout the whole meeting was delivering the pros and cons of said alliance, mentioning the meetings Bryony now needed to attend due to her decision. Leliana was the only one supportive of her idea, although she was trying to gather information about the smugglers the Herald had contacted. After all, they needed lyrium to support the mages. But the templars were unhappy about the alliance, and they needed the addictive substance as well. The Orlesian no-

“UGH, it’s too much!” Bryony shut up her thoughts angrily, grabbing her hair while rubbing her forehead on the old table. Too much juice and thoughts only created a lousy headache.

Her return to Haven was too intense for the poor mage. By the time they arrived, word that the Inquisition had allied with the mages was in everyone’s mouth. Some disapproved said decision, others were grateful about it. Others didn’t care much and the rest feared of the consequences. Whatever would happen afterwards, good or bad, well… now is easy to blame someone.

But the templars, oh no, the templars. Those were the worst. She doesn’t hate them at all, but she was considering so badly firing all of them given the attitude they showed her. The level of betrayal they felt was beyond words. Some of them were even gossiping that it was an unavoidable event since the Herald is a mage herself. “They only think about themselves and their kind,” some would whisper. Some, who used to talk to her, gave the cold treatment, even Ostwick soldiers. A minor group were even trying to spat on her due to the audacity to show herself in front of them. The nerve of allying with abominations.

Hadn’t been for Cullen, they would’ve started a riot with the mages right there. But the templars respected the Commander, so they obliged to his orders. Not hers.

Vivienne was also siding with the templars, not very happy about Bryony’s decision. Her words, however, didn’t reflect her emotions. She was already thinking how to contain the situation, which the Inquisition would actually need in case an Abomination runs amok the town.

“However, she didn’t have to be so rude about it!” Bryony yelled while hitting the table with her fist. A small purple spark was released with the impact.

“Do you know how young mages are found? … A teenage boy has a fit, and lighting rips his mother to pieces.” Vivienne’s voice couldn’t escape her head.

Bryony received that comment very personal since it was very similar the way she awoke her magic. That templar probationer didn’t even receive a fatal blow or something that injured him permanently. Yet everyone looked at her as if she had committed the worst sin in her life. Even Hector couldn’t believe was he saw that day.

The humans are angry, the templars are angry, the Chantry is angry, probably Ferelden is angry as well. Only Tevinter could be rejoicing in a huge party right now. No, they would want to conquer Ferelden first.

The only one who was being very supportive right now was Dorian, since he is a fellow mage. And Varric, the dwarf patted her in the back once they were returning to Haven. She assumed that his happiness had to do with Hawke, since she also allied herself with the mages.

But the one that probably she angered the most was Cullen, and that was a heavy blow for her. The Commander tried many times to persuade her about the templars. All was in vain, ever since the beginning she was convinced that the Inquisition should aid the mages. She just didn’t want to be the one making that choice. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, she thought.

Bryony was overthinking the whole situation. No one could blame her, after all the stress she gained from the last meeting, anything put her on edge.

There was a mix of frustration and confusion regarding the ex-templar. She was angry, annoyed that she “maybe” ruined their whole relationship. There were no romantic insinuations between them, or at least that’s what she believes, but the friendship blooming between them just crumbled to the floor. And that’s what confuses her, because she only thinks there’s a platonic feeling between both. But it doesn’t feel friendly, there is something else being denied by the mage. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe there is some opportunity with the Commander.

“I need some air. Maybe I could talk with Dorian, and Solas, and Bull. Maybe fix any grudges between me and Cassandra.” She spoke loudly as a way to silence any other thought regarding an attractive ex-templar. She rose from her chair.

So, before heading out, she washed her face with some hot water she boiled in her chimney (cooled down with a bit of ice magic). Finally, a change of gear, she wanted to try on the new armor made in the morning thanks to the materials found in the future. After arranging herself, Bryony opened the door, heading outside.

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

Maker, I was so unfair towards her. I didn’t mean to… Cullen was overthinking as well.

He acted as if he was reading some reports in the middle of a training session. None of the words written in front of him were actually being comprehended, his eyes only watched scribbles while his mind swirled around the last meeting.

After the news hit Haven about this new alliance, everyone knew the Commander would’ve been displeased. They weren’t wrong. Part of him knew this was bound to happen, she is a mage after all.

However, he should’ve known the level of rejection she was bound to receive from many people in general. The templars in particular weren’t so kind with her. So, it wasn’t necessary to rub more salt on the wound. At least, that’s what the Commander thinks.

Once Bryony arrived at the Chantry, one of the first things he did was criticize her decision. She thought of this alliance as a probation for the mages, which they do deserve; but Cullen’s fear at the minimum chance of possession brought the worst out of him.

The rest of the meeting was awkward at best, torturous at worst. Clearly, Bryony wanted nothing else for the rest of the day, yet the responsibility rested on her shoulders now. Ever since every topic was adjourned, the Herald exited the Chantry without saying anything and decided to spend the rest of the day inside her cabin, as well as the next day. At least her presence could wait for a bit, the Advisors started moving their troops, spies and contacts in order to prepare. Sealing the Breach was a few steps away now. The three of them decided it was for the best giving Bryony some days off.

Cullen’s comments sure didn’t help, but he wasn’t fully responsible of Bryony’s discouragement. The three Advisors now knew about the future she lived through for hours. Nobody in their right state of mind could end sane after seeing their loved ones getting killed or known about their demise in that twisted reality.

Then again, the Commander couldn’t stop blaming himself, he wanted to approach her and encourage her once more. But he feared he might mess it up again. Is not his fault the way he acted; he is a human after all. I need to be better than this, I thought I left the templars and joined the Inquisition to amend myself. He thought.

“Right, thanks, Cassandra. I should get going.” Cullen heard her voice not too far from him.

His eyes tried to find her, no, he knew where she was. Right behind a pile of dummies, boxes and hay, a few meters apart from him. The Seeker always trains there, and she regularly receives Bryony’s visits, right after the Commander was visited first. Cullen sighed a bit disappointed that this time he wasn’t the first one to get talked to. He became aware of this habit thanks to the non-stop gossip of his recruits. It gave him hope that she might feel something for him.

Cullen noticed the Herald leaving her spot, heading probably to the smithy or inside Haven, however their eyes crossed paths. Maybe she tried to glance at him, maybe it was just a coincidence. Once they looked at each other, they remained in silence for a few seconds before Cullen unconsciously made a step towards her. He probably blurted “Herald”, or tried to before his throat dried faster than bandits pickpocketing people on Kirkwall. It would’ve been very uncomfortable if she just left as if seeing nothing. This made Bryony head towards him.

“Hey, I suppose you have something to report.” Bryony started the conversation, a bit farther than usual from him.

“The mages are ready to approach the Breach. I pray this will be enough to close it.” Cullen acted like his usual, formal self. Thinking about work as always, he tried his best to sound normal, not frustrated nor anxious. He wanted to give Bryony a safety sensation, he wasn’t angry anymore, he just didn’t know how to show it.

She sighed, looking tired. “Look, Cullen, I know this wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t happy with how I brought in the mages. Do you have a problem with me as well?” She went straightforward to the confrontation. Her brows were slightly upwards, expressing her concern that this decision would ruin their friendship.

“Of course not!” He sighed as well. He knew he couldn’t avoid this conversation. He began to massage his neck. “I have no intention of endangering your alliance, but I must ensure the safety of those here. That concern extends to the mages. They are putting themselves at risk for the Inquisition, as are you. Any precautions taken are meant to aid you, nothing more. I hope you will accept them as such.” He noticed Bryony’s slight dark circles around her eyes.

“I know, and I’m thankful, Cullen. But I want to know if our… nature…” speaking became troublesome for her, “are we really disgusting that even an alliance is a monumental offense to the rest of Ferelden, or my friends?” Bryony looked at Cullen at the eyes with a desperate tone in her voice.

“It is not, Bryony. It will never be.” He didn’t even hesitate to answer, looking deadly serious at her. He furrowed his brows, not because of anger, he was determined to express his honesty as possible.

The Herald stood speechless, with both eyes open widely. She realized it was the first time, since they met, that he called her by her name.

“I…” Bryony couldn’t say anything. Her eyes fell to the floor, lacking the confidence she had to look at him.

“I… don’t have fond memories due to the mages. I don’t…” his eyes reflected the pain of his memories, squeezing them momentarily. “Perhaps at another time we can address those matters. At least when we are not in public. But those weren’t you, and I believe you won’t become like them. I do not regret my reaction from before, but it doesn’t mean it will compromise anything more.” I won’t compromise my feelings towards you, he wanted to say that. Alas, he answered as polite and professional as possible.

“I understand. I just want to give the mages a chance to prove themselves. If they do head towards possessions, would that mean that I was naïve?”

“No, not at all.” Cullen answered with a small waver at the end.

Both remained in silence. He appreciated her efforts, calling someone naïve for trying to help wouldn’t be too farfetched from the truth. However, Cullen wants to believe that it is possible for her.

“If it helps in anything… I could send a letter to my brother.” Bryony stood in silence, thinking for a while. Her eyes were fixed to the floor, looking for possible solutions. Once her mind clicked, she looked at Cullen once more, not resenting him at all.

“Your brother?” He cleared his throat.

“Yes, Hector. He is still in charge of the Templars on Ostwick. Maybe he could send some of his troops to help us.” She sighed, once more. “I don’t want any misunderstandings between us, Cullen. If I had the option, trust me that I would’ve taken an alliance with both teams. I just don’t know why the Templars suddenly went silent.” Bryony crossed her arms in disappointment, frustrated while remembering Leliana’s last update on the Order. Both ladies had a bad feeling about it.

“You don’t… hate us?” He took a few steps forward, getting close to her. She didn’t step back.

“Of course not! I respect them if anything. They have to deal with a constant addiction through the rest of their lives, deal with the worst of my people, and deal with whatever the Chantry forces them to do. Are they innocent? No, they are not. But that doesn’t mean that there is not a single templar fighting for what is right. Just like us.” Quite the contrary, Bryony, also got closer to him. Even more aggressively, to the point where his armor almost touched her vest. This time, she was the one not hesitating with her answers. There was a passionate tone in her words. Even if she sided with the mages, she was ready to defend the Order and those innocent soldiers in it.

Cullen had to use all of his willpower to restrain himself. He just wanted to take her into her arms, thank her for her trust. But… alas, they are only Commander and Herald. Coworkers if anything. Well, they are friends to his knowledge, but the other recruits training would drop their routine just watch the show, even if it was only a hug. Yeah, just a hug.

The Commander wasn’t ready to admit the complexity of his feelings, of course he wanted more than just a friendly embrace. He wanted to take her in right there, hope that she would reciprocate the gesture. Try to guess the smell of her hair or know how soft her skin is. Due to their current proximity, he could only guess that her cheeks we in fact very delicate and squishy if he holds them in his hands. But the most tempting part had to be her lips. Her creamy, yet slightly pinkish lips were calling him to taste them, claim them as his own if she desired to.

“T-thank you, Herald.” Cold sweat ran from his body while trying to refrain himself, evading her purplish eyes. He didn’t step back, though, he wouldn’t miss this chance to contemplate her this close.

“Hmm? For… what?” Bryony asked, dense and dumb as ever.

For your support… and an excellent view, he thought, not allowing to express his feelings while eyeing the curves on her body. He is a man, after all.

“I should get back to work. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.” Finally, the Commander had to fall back, using the report on his hand as an excuse.

He tried to read those damned scribbles once more, but the letters resembled spirals and wobbly drawing in his mind. It was impossible to concentrate, not for this day. He had to return to his tent and… “think”. Yes, lots of thinking.

“Cullen.” Bryony’s voice was low and soft, this gained the immediate attention of the Commander.

“Yes?” He gazed once more at her eyes. He couldn’t say no to her.

“I do not hate you. I could never.” She frantically smiled, looking a bit nervous.

“I… ah, thank you.” He couldn’t decipher her intentions. So, in his trembling voice, he answered what was possible.

“I should get ready. We need to seal a Breach immediately. I’ll let you guys know when we move. It should be soon.” Bryony meant the Advisors. She waved a goodbye before returning to Haven.

The Herald of Andraste, savior of the mages and possibly the only hope for Ferelden, almost tripped while walking towards the entrance. Meanwhile, the Commander of the Inquisition, survivor of the Kinloch Tower and ex Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, stood dumbfoundedly happy.

For Cullen, Bryony and the word “cute” were synonyms, without doubt. The Commander couldn’t bring himself to admit his crush for the Herald; but he was beginning to believe that maybe… maybe she might. Foolishness could be clouding his judgement, or it was just a naïve hope. It didn’t hurt to feel that way.

However, even if said feelings were to be true, it was probable that he would never make the first move. He is still the Commander, his duty comes first, he can’t afford any emotional luxuries.

At least, both Bryony and Cullen solved their misunderstanding and were willing to help each other. She, on her side, began writing a short letter for Hector, requesting aid from the templars. The answer wouldn’t be received soon, but it was more than enough. Cullen, on his side, continued applying discipline to the Templars. They need to begin accepting their new allies, some might resent him or felt betrayed, but the majority will comply to his will.

Now, they needed only to head towards the Breach. Sealing once and for all the threat. Nothing else could wrong…

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

Previous | Next

[wickedlydirtymen]

This man came to see his son, but he was going to be seeing a lot more than him this trip. Mostly, he'd be seeing the boy's thick cock because he would be damned if he'd let a slut like this escape his grasps. He'd gotten his roommate's father naked, on all fours and choking on his big, thick cock.

There was no shame in the size of his length. It stood at a strong nine and a half inches, and as for thickness, well, it wasn't something many men could handle. This thick assed man was taking it like a pro. His pale, freckled hand pushed hard on the man's had, forcing him to take as much as that mouth would do. Loud, glorious moans and groans of pleasure ripped from his young throat as heard those filthy wet choking sounds erupting from the man. "Yeah, fucking choke on it, bitch."

No one his age approved of his more dominating tone or degrading treatment, but it seemed his new toy was addicted to it. As he kept his fingers locked in his hair, he took in the sight of him. Red faced, saliva dripping, tears running. It made his massive length throb. "Better get used to it, slut. You'll be on my cock when I call, got it?" His chest filled with pride hearing the older man call him daddy. "Daddy's going to fill you up and leave you dripping..." His words a bit sadistic sounding as he leaned in close, growling his desires.

Slapping his raging hard on against that pathetic face, he smeared a mixture of saliva and precum all over it. God, he was a work of art. "That's right, you're just a cock loving faggot who needs a real man to destroy you." The college jock yelled almost a bit too loudly before shoving the head of his cock back in that mouth. "Eat up, pig."

Andy was visiting his son's college. However, upon arriving at his room, he encountered his roommate, Nick. The man was quick to fall for the young stud's charm and flirtation. So there was Andy, both completely naked and with the older man choking on the boy's big cock.

And when Andy said big, it was because it was freaking huge and thick; it even reminded him a little bit of his son's. He could feel the boy's hands pushing his head to shove that huge length all the way down his throat, making Andy choke as the man made the filthiest wet sounds while deep-throating Nick. Hearing him moan was music to his ears, a sign that he was doing a good job. And to hear that word "Slut" if there was one thing Andy loved, it was having young studs like Nick talk dirty to him like that, humiliate and denigrate him.

His face was red from clear shortness of breath; his eyes wet and filled with small tears; saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth; and he gave a big gasp as Nick pulled on his hair. His body instantly began to regain much-needed air, as Andy gasped and coughed a little. “I love it, daddy. You're fucking huge and thick,” Andy replied in a hoarse voice from the treatment his throat had been getting and a completely submissive tone as he moaned like a needy pathetic slut at the way Nick was slamming his fat meat all over his face, smearing saliva and precum all over his face. “Please, daddy. More... I want you to cum in my mouth. Feed me your cum. I need it. I'm a pig faggot who needs the cock of a real man like you, Nick.”

[hairsalon9999]

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[melancholymetropolis]

"Don't forget to breathe, sweetheart," Bakugo said with a slight smirk.

I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I looked at the mirror before us. My skin was damn near purple and my eyes were teary. But, I didn't know whether that came from the restriction of air or the constant pleasure swirling in my body.

The pro-hero's cock filled every crevice of my slick canal and stirred up everyone emotion possible. Happiness. Excitement. Sadness. Rage.

I was supposed to quit. Leave Bakugo Katsuki's insane hero agency for good and take the first plane to the US. The heroes in Japan were simply too overzealous for my liking. The men, in particular, were praised for doing the bare minimum. Like rerouting a train or taking a cat out of a tree. I have seen women heroes break every bone in their bodies to save everyone from a plane crash. I have seen them lose their limbs in the war, while the males barely got any scratches. The new generation of male heroes was more than questionable. Their treatment of the woman heroes has infuriated me to no end and I had about enough of it.

I was going back home to the United States.

I don't know how it happened. One minute I was giving the spiky-haired bastard my two weeks' notice and then his body was on mine. His mouth was kissing my neck and his hands were lifting my skirt. His member was hard and poking my inner thigh, while he ripped open my top.

I kept murmuring how much I hated him and how he made me sick--- just for me to spread my legs and take me like a bitch in heat.

His strong pelvis collided with the soft flesh of my ass, making my entire lower half jiggle. One of his strong arms was positioned at an angle against my chest and torso, while the other gripped the edge of the couch. My fingers wrapped around the back of the couch and my knees were situated on the cushions. My arms were straight and my back was arched. Since Bakugo was standing, it was easy for him to snap his cock into me with little restriction.

The deep power thrusts had already sent me over the edge three (maybe four) times already and I couldn't get enough.

"Please make me cum again, sir," I whined, squeezing my eyes shut. "I am so close. . ."

"What happened to all that 'girlboss-I-hate-you-so-much' bs?" The blonde snickered. "I thought you weren't gonna touch me with a ten-foot poll?"

I sucked in a breath and felt my legs begin to tremble slightly. My mouth fell open as short, hot pants fell from my lips and my nails into the cool leather. My walls clenched the girthy, long member tightly. They were already so sensitive from previous climaxes, meaning they felt every single inch of the throbbing member.

While my eyes started to roll back, I lifted one of my hands from the back of the couch and placed it on my neglected clit. My legs started to shake even more as I rubbed lazy circles against the bud. My walls squeezed and released his member at a rapid rate. Curses fell from my mouth as I felt the orgasm clawing its way out of me.

One of Bakugo's hands fell to my breast. He massaged the mound gently, adding even more pleasure to my overstimulated body. His nibble fingers pulled and tweaked my nipple for a few moments before I felt my whole body freeze. I, suddenly, became hyper-aware of what was happening. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and hear the slutty moans drip from his lips. I could feel his cock twitch within me, indicating that was just as close as I was.

Finally, I could hear him whimper my name over and over again.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" I chanted, breathlessly. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

My legs trembled against the leather couch as juices sprayed from my center. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I started to throw my ass back to meet his thrusts. I screamed his name like it was the word on Earth. I begged him never to stop that god-like penetration and said cringy things like "I love your cock so much".

To which Bakugo said "I think I'm addicted to your pussy" before filling the condom with his seed.

When it was all said and done, we cuddled on the couch and listened to each other's heartbeats. The moon was bright and painted the office a cool blue color. It was quiet, peaceful even. Until---

"I don't want you to leave."

-----------

Did you miss me???

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

i’m in love with a stripper

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: mature warnings: strip club environment, suggestive themes (no actual smut tho) gender neutral stripper!reader x hawks. afab implied but can be read either way.

your job was to look good, feel bad, and entertain. in the most literal sense.

life as an ‘exotic dancer’ wasn’t nearly as glamorous as movies and shit made it out to be. your body ached constantly, you had nearly fought about 4 people in the past two weeks, and you came home in the morning smelling like alcohol and sweat and some random cologne. the pay wasn’t amazing on its own, so you had to rut yourself against old men to pay your rent.

and yet, it was addicting in a way you couldn’t exactly explain. you had wanted to work in the entertainment industry since you were little, a star up on the big screen. this was sort-of similar. you had eyes on you at all times, and it was your job to put on a great show. but instead of red-carpets it was party favors and gross back-room carpeting. 

it was good workout, and you knew you looked good enough to taste, so that was always a plus. tonight, you were all dolled up, one of your more femme looks. your shorts were riding low on your hips, yet still stopped so high on your legs that it could be considered more of a belt than a pair of shorts. your thong straps framed your hips, bright red in comparison to the blue jean shorts. you had a red bikini top on, and a crop top that was yet again just another shred of fabric framing it. your shoes were red and tall enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world. 

you had gotten used to the sashay and drama of all the bullshit presentation, perfected your sultry stare, and polished your pole skills. yes, you could use work. but so could everyone, it was an art that you were still constantly trying to learn more about. 

so as you walked your way out on stage on a busy friday night, you could tell that tonight would be a good tip night. first off, there was MUCH more security than normal, which meant that someone important was probably in attendance for some kind of ‘special night’. they got bachelor parties and birthday parties all the time, but usually they weren’t this… guarded?

 it was strange, but you instead focused on feelings the rhythm in your bones as you strutted your way up to the pole, starting to go into one of your choreographed routines that you knew like the back of your hand. though you supposed you could throw in some more risky moves, for whoever was currently paying for your console gaming subscription. being in the air was always exhilarating, but you were always worried about flashing too much. you knew that it would happen eventually, but you would still prefer for it not to.

you spun too fast on your way down and got that wobbling feeling in your stomach as your heels hit the stage a bit too hard to be ‘graceful’. oh well, you thought as you moved to the more floor-based part of your routine. you brought your hands up, running them over your body and pulling at your crop top, pulling it off and throwing it further back on the stage to be retrieved when you were done with your set. 

you made it slow, teasing, swaying your hips to the beat of the song and running your hands back down, under the strings of your thong to snap them against your hips. it was effective, but it was hard not to wince in annoyance. you were too salty to do this shit. it was a lucky thing that you were so good at acting. you slid further onto your knees, back arched as you looked some random guy that was halfway decent and crawled forward. that was something that always racked in tips. it made folks feel engaged with the whole experience. the guy held up a 20 and you stuck it under your thong strap, moving to collect more of the money that had been thrown at you.

you were honest with yourself when you said you loved the attention that this job brought. there were many people out in the crowd that wanted you, that sat in their chair or stood amongst the sweaty crowd with a white-knucked grip and lust in their eyes, and you ate it up. you loved being wanted, it was one of the worlds wonders. 

eventually, you finished your set, hair tousled from flipping it, back of your knees and your hands sore from gripping the pole, but ultimately you felt invigorated. energized. like someone had wound you up like a toy. and now you had to pounce on someone in hopes of attention and the money you needed to buy that new game you had been saving up for. comical.

you could tell a bunch of the dancers were anticipating the party that was in tonight. it was obvious they were important, and important people had money. so the dancers that weren’t on the stage currently were prowling around the VIP area, looking to advertise themselves.

you decided to do the charity work and tend to the rest of the forgotten crowd. you knew from experience that eventually the richer guests would get tired of giving their money away and eventually leave. and the rest of the crowd was just sitting there, so you slipped your way in to the seats that were closer to the stage (shitty stripper etiquette, but some of thesen dancers were fuckin’ shady sometimes) and found some dude who looked wimpy enough to play the whole deity act with. 

you walked your way around the chair, placing your hands on his shoulders and beginning to rub them, your hand making it’s way down his chest as you whispered a greeting in his ear. you used your other hand to run through his hair, plucking the bill in his hand out of his hand and into your g string on your hip with the rest of them. you moved back around the chair and plopped down on his lap, feigning interest and asking him about his day, making him feel special with the whole shebang. you eventually were able to make quiet some money from that guy, surprisingly. and you left him alone and unsatisfied when the lights dimmed between sets. 

now, to find someone else out of sight of the first guy. you were on your way to do that when something caught your eye. a glimmer of gold, no- not metal, someones eyes. you were momentarily mesmerized before you realized that the person attached to those honey irises was staring at you. at you. from the VIP booth. while you were in the middle of the crowd. you were never flustered, so it was new when you felt a heat in your cheeks. 

you quickly put your act back on, throwing him a wink. he made a ‘come here’ motion with his finger, but you gave him a playful grin and a little teasing wave of dismissal. you had no idea what came over you to do that, but you decided to stick with this little ‘hard-to-get’ persona, and you disappeared into the crowd. 

not 10 minutes later you were grinding on some guy through your shorts, just to work that 50 out of his hand. he was one of the assholes that would promise and never give. it was hypocritical for you to think that way, you supposed, but it was your job. either way, you got it from him by nosing up his neck (too much cologne) and giggling in his ear. and he put the bill in your g-string himself. gross.

you slid away from him between sets like you always did, and once again felt the heat of eyes on you. this was different, however. it wasn’t like the usual eyes on you, the gazes you had grown to crave and expect. this was predatory. you were being watched like a hawk. you spun around to find him staring at you again, this time split off from his little friends and instead sitting in a chair further back from the stage. he gave you a certain look and raised his hand, waving a bill in his hand. like bait! that was hotter than it should have been. 

still, decided to make your way over to him, stopping in front of his chair, towering over him in your platform heels as he sat in the chair. he didn’t seem too physically imposing, but his energy was cockier than shit and you could tell he was bulked up. you usually didn’t fuck with these types, but something about him was just magnetic. it was insane. he leaned back in his chair, obviously insinuating that he wanted the same treatment as the others. you instead took a singular finger and raised his chin up to meet his eyes as they ran you up and down. 

and that was when you realized, under the dim lights, that you were a complete and total idiot. you hadn’t even realize that the man in front of you was hawks, number two pro hero and the man too fast for his own good. you tried not to make a face, but you knew he could most definitely see in your eyes the minute you put the puzzle pieces together. what the fuck was he doing in a place like this?

“what the fuck is someone like you doing in a place like this?” you asked, coming out of your mouth before you could really stop yourself. he only chuckled, grinning as you felt his jaw tense against your finger. the main reason you didn’t recognize him is because there was a lack of giant red wings.

“what anyone else is tryin’ to do. have a good time! it’s my friends birthday, i have a life outside work, you know?” his voice was barely heard over the pounding of the music and the bass rattling under your feet. 

“what about your reputation? i’m surprised there isn’t a line to gag on your dick at this point,” you held no filter in speaking to him. you never had it with anyone else, really, and what was so special about him? he was just another dude in the club, so you did what you always did and slid into his lap, pressing your bodies together in all the ways you knew did the best. you watched something flash in his eyes as he bit his lip for a moment. he looked back up to meet your eyes again.

“well, how long did it take you to recognize me? and you’re sober, aren’t you?” hawks brought a sculpted arm up to wrap around your waist, and you slapped it away as you worked your hips against his to the beat. 

“no comment. and no touching, unless you want to pay for that too.”

“i might just have to. what’s your name, gorgeous?” his face was too smug for a man who could buy the building, yet completely in the the eye of the public had a semi hard-on for a stranger in some daisy dukes. 

“i don’t know, what’s yours?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. you didn’t know his real name, no one did. it was a mystery highly speculated about online, not that you checked or anything. 

“fair enough, fair enough. pick one before i blow a couple hundred on getting free roam to touch you.” he said, rolling his hips up to meet yours. this shocked you, catching your breath, and you knew he had noticed by the shit-eating grin he wore. 

you gave him your stripper name. it was sufficient enough to add another layer of mystery, because even though you were in his lap, you wanted to keep up this game of cat and mouse. predator and prey.

the thought of that made you tingle. you told him your rates, and he forked it over quite a fuckin’ bit. you stood up from where you were sat in his lap (thought the loss was more upsetting than you would care to admit). you took his wrist (his hand was big) and started to drag him back to one of the more secluded areas. 

you had to pass the VIP area to do that, and when you did, you heard a shout. it scared the shit out of you for starters, but hawks seemed to recognize the voice. it was coming from a woman with white hair and rabbit ears, currently cheering hawks on.

“fuckin’ get some, dude!” she said, and her voice was strangely familiar as hawks flashed an award-winning grin and a thumbs up. you winked at her and pulled hawks on with you.

you pulled him into a pseudo-room in the back. not cut off by doors, but isolated and split off by room dividers. you pushed him back onto one of the booth-like seats lining the wall.

the music was quieter back here, and it was easier to hear yourself think. the lights were dim and the bass was still thumping through the floor. there was no one back here, just you and him. 

“ ‘kay, so i’m technically not supposed to let you touch me, but you just paid for my groceries and they don’t really check the cameras here. also, you’re cute.” you rambled off, more genuine and clearer now that the music wasn’t so intense in the middle of the madness. and then, catching the beat, you started your ministrations, rolling your hips against his and hearing his breath catch as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“so i’ve been told,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“don’t let it go to your head, princess.” you said, and he didn’t reply, too focused on oogling you.

his hands came up to hold your waist, and he put his effort into moving along with you, and his grinding did not go unnoticed. or unappreciated, for that matter. with his hips at your waist, he raked his thumbs under your thong straps and snaps them against your hips like you had earlier. it earns a breathy chuckle from you as you watched his pupils pin. you pulled back, standing and watching his face sour as his hands were pulled from your waist. but you decided to give him a little show, just ‘cuz you had a case of the hots for him and the way he was looking at you was much appreciated.

you now stood in front of him, towering above him as you toyed with the waistband of your daisy dukes. he simply bit his lip, practically eye-fucking you. it was exhilarating. you enjoyed the lustful gazes from customers, but this was on a different level. you felt truly alive, and yet like you were melting all the same. your insides felt gooey but you kept your perfected expression hard, movements practiced, sex appeal seasoned to flawlessness. and now you unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down to reveal your bright red thong, hips, legs and torso all one long line. he looked at you like dinner and you were fucking living for it.

you kneeled inbetween his legs, laying your head on one of his thighs in the way you knew drove people crazy.

you heard a small “god damn,” exit his mouth as he looked at you, entranced as you caught his t-shirt on your way up his body with your teeth, pulling it up and dropping it back down, promptly standing up to slide backwards into his lap. you roll your ass where you know it’s appreciated and hear his breathing speed up behind you. you can practically hear his heart pounding to match your own, like a drum to the beat. your body laid down the bass, your eyes were the melody and he was drowning.

and when it was all over, poor guy walked out of the club with his fellow semi-disguised pro-heros with a raging hard on.

and later on, when you were pulling all your money out to count it, you caught a piece of paper rolled up along a $100 bill. it was his number. a pro-hero gave you his number. that was risky, especially in the type of place they were in.

you liked the risk he took. you put his number in your phone. 

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Summary: Yoongi has a shot at playing professional basketball, but an accident on-court throws his future in the air and you have no idea how to comfort him.

Pairing: Yoongi x gender-neutral reader

Genre: Sports AU/Basketball AU, College AU, angst

Prompt: Character A gets emotional easily. Character B does not. A catches B crying alone and realizes that they never learned how to comfort B since they were usually the one getting comforted.

Word Count: 1.3k

Today was the day. Today, the basketball scouts were coming to watch Yoongi’s game. You knew he was going to be scouted. How could he not when he was voted MVP for almost every single game he had played since joining the team (and those few times he hadn’t been was when he was off recovering from a shoulder injury that he still wouldn’t talk about).

But if you were to look at the pair of you, you would have never thought that this was Yoongi’s day. You were practically flying with how much you were bouncing on your tip-toes. You were radiating pure happiness, tears glistening in the corner of your eyes as you thought about how amazing it would be for Yoongi to go pro.

“Would you calm down,” Yoongi drawled from beside you. You were stood beside the player’s bench. You weren’t on the team. You weren’t even close to being on the team. But the coach had long since stopped trying to get you to leave, realising you were actually a lot calmer on the bench than in the crowd (you had a tendency to get a little over-excited).

“It’s not a big deal.” Yoongi finished tying his laces.

“Not a big deal,” You screeched, turning to him with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe he was downplaying this. “This is a massive deal, Yoongi! They’re going to see how amazing you are and they’re going to sign you. This time tomorrow, you’re going to be pro.”

Yoongi didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled his right shoulder before standing and moved onto his stretches.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be best friend with a professional basketball player!” you clapped your hands together, thoughts clouded by seeing Yoongi dressed in the infamous blue, white, and yellow of the Thunders.

“Who’s a professional player?” Dong-min asked as he placed his water bottle down on the bench.

“Yoongi. Today’s his day.”

Dong-min frowned. “Wait, I thought you weren’t playing today?”

Yoongi glanced at you before glaring at Dong-min. “No, coach advised that I shouldn’t play. But my shoulder’s fine.” Yoongi stood from the bench and moved onto his leg warm-ups.

“Wait, your shoulder’s been hurting?” You frowned, all your previous excitement dying upon your lips. You scanned Yoongi to see if he really was still injured, but all you saw was his usual impassiveness as he stared cooly down at you. It had been six months since he was injured, two since he’d been allowed to train again.

“I’m fine,” He said sternly.

“Yoongi,” You began but were quickly cut off by the sound of the coach’s whistle.

Yoongi glanced back at you and said, “Yn, I’m fine.” He moved to join his team, leaving you to wonder if he really was fine.

The roar of the crowd was addictive. The moment the players hit the court, the crowd were buzzing with anticipation. You couldn’t help but push your concern aside as you lost yourself in the moment. Besides, it helped that, despite Dong-min’s concern, Yoongi was playing his usual game. There were no awkward movement, no hesitation in his throws. You wouldn’t have known he was injured unless you had seen him in his sling.

Yoongi was a pro, passing to his team and executing excellent plays like they were second nature. As the game crept towards the end of the first half, Yoongi’s team was in the lead. Still, he didn’t lose his cool. He nodded his head to his beaming teammates, not once letting the scoreboard relax him.

The ball was tossed to Yoongi, who immediately started to dribble it down the court. There were only thirty seconds on the clock and Yoongi had more than enough time to steal one more point. You rose from the bench in anticipation, hands clasped to your mouth as you could barely breathe.

That’s when it happened.

The other team’s defence went to steal the ball but instead barrelled into Yoongi’s right shoulder with enough force to make you wince. Yoongi went down as the ref’s whistle blew to stop the game. The stadium went quiet as the team rushed over to make sure Yoongi was okay. You were frozen. The sounds he was releasing reminded you of a wounded animal. You had never heard such pain coming from him and you didn’t know what to do. Yoongi was strong. When you rushed to hospital after his accident, he hadn’t made a peep. Even when the doctors reset his shoulder, he hadn’t screamed.

All you could do was watch as the medics carried him off on a stretcher.

“You can go after him, you know?” Dong-min said quietly as the team regrouped by the bench, spirits low. You could tear the couch eating out the ref, calling the other teams player reckless.

“Is it bad?” You asked quietly, pleading with your eyes of Dong-min to say no. It felt like this was all your fault. You were so excited to see him play, but if one knock was all it took for Yoongi to be in that much pain…

Dong-min shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to be playing at all,” he confessed.

“What?” You turned on your heel, outraged that Yoongi had kept that from you. You had been best friends for years, you told each other everything. Had he kept his pain from you?

You jogged lightly through the team’s locker rooms, stopping as the medic stepped out of the physician’s room. The medic shook his head at you.

“Who let the damn kid play? He should have been benched.”

“Is he okay?”

“His rotator cuff is torn, what do you think?” The medic moved past you, grumbling about stubborn players not listening to their doctors.

You hesitated at the door. If his rotator cuff was torn, that meant Yoongi was not only was in a great deal of pain, he was going to need surgery to fix it.

“Oh, Yoongi,” You sighed, closing your eyes. You knew his accident was more serious than he let on, but you wanted to believe him when he told you he was okay. Now you couldn’t help but feel like you could have prevented this. If you had made him take you along to doctors appointments, you could have made him follow his treatment. You could have prevented him from playing until his shoulder was fully healed.

You jumped as a large crash sounded from within the room. You rushed to open the door to find Yoongi heaving in the middle of the room, his right arm in a sling and the doctor’s table on its side.

“Yoongi?” You quietly called, approaching him slowly to give him enough time to tell you to stop. You’d never seen him this worked up. This was the guy who rarely showed emotion, who never let things work him up. The most you had ever seen out of him was the time Seoul had the largest snowfall in recorded history and you’d gone sledging. He’d laughed so hard he couldn’t stand.

But this was different.

“Yoongi?” You called again, reaching out to touch his non-injured shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he spat, but you could hear the pain in his voice. You could hear everything you hadn’t been willing to admit since he was hurt.

“It’s okay if you’re not, Yoongi.” You moved slightly to see his face, only to find his silent tears running down his cheeks. His red-rimmed eyes stared at you as if he couldn’t really see you.

In that moment, the best friend you knew and loved was gone.

He shuddered as he tried to catch his breath, his body collapsing in on itself. You barely moved in time to stop him from landing heavily on his knees as you cradled his body to you, making sure not to touch his injured shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair as he buried his head in your neck.

You didn’t know how to comfort him. You knew telling him things were going to get better wouldn’t work. Because this was it. If he’d torn his rotator cuff, no team were going to be willing to sign him. His basketball career was over before it had even started.

And nothing in the world was going to fix that.

So all you could do was hold him, quietly absorbing his pain.

BGW Drabble Master List

Master List

[ryiafaye]

Eating Disorder Questions

1. When did you eating disorder begin?

2012 (I was 17)

2. What is your earliest related memory?

I started a food journal and weighing myself. Didn’t like how high the number was. Before that I had some body image issues related to puberty but ate whatever I wanted.

3. Favorite safe foods?

Non fat yogurt, berries, rice cakes

4. Favorite safe meal?

Coconut milk and low cal cereal (rice crispies or cheerios)

5. How do you handle hard days?

Not sure that this means but when I’m upset I either sleep, watch tv/read, or use harmful behaviors.

6. sw/cw/hw/ugw

147/142/152/ as low as possible but at least 108

7. How do you comfort yourself after a binge?

Purge or fast, I used to also burn myself.

8. What type of ED do you have?

I’ve had anorexia (b/p subtype), bulimia, and BED at different times. Right now mostly restricting and binging/purging occasionally.

9. When did you realize you had an ED?

Not sure but I remember when I started purging I realized it wasn’t just a “diet”.

10. Do you have any recovery tips?

Meal plans (healthy ones preferably made by a dietitian) are great for learning what normal portions are again. For starting recovery: a good pros/cons list and reflecting on everything your ED has taken from you. Also having at least one person to be accountable to, especially a professional if you have access to that.

11. Does anyone know about your ED?

Pretty much all of my friends and family. It’s hard to hide it when you’ve been in treatment so much.

12. What is an embarrassing ED related story you have?

Once when I was drunk with friends (really drunk, like I can barely remember everything) I started feeling nauseous and said in front of everyone “don’t worry, I used to be bulimic” (at the time I still was) then proceeded to purge in the bathroom with the door open. Also multiple occasions of shitting myself due to laxatives (no one knows about that).

13. Longest fast?

41hrs only drinking water and coffee

14. Do you have any other ED communities?

Yes, on Instagram

15. Have you recovered/relapsed before?

Yes, multiple times.

16. Favorite safe outfit?

Leggings and a baggy tshirt or hoodie.

17. Do you smoke?

Yes, nicotine

18. Coffee or tea?

I am a coffee addict but I like tea too

19. Diet soda or energy drinks?

I have never liked soda but I’m currently addicted to energy drinks.

20. Biggest sweet tooth craving/binge food?

Donuts or other pastries

21. Something you want to tell about your ED but you’ve never had the chance.

Not sure...maybe that I feel like I’ll never 100% recover. I’ve told at least one person everything else.

22. Best words of advice/love/experience to other ppl with EDs?

Recovery does get easier, though it sucks at first. Living with an ED isn’t really living, you deserve better. Things really are darker/less enjoyable when you’re sick.

23. Do you have a partner? If so do they know about you ED?

No, I’m single. My last S.O. was a huge cause of a very bad relapse a few years ago and I’m still healing from his abuse.

24. Do you want to recover?

I’ve been actively trying to recover for the last year. I don’t want to lose the life I’ve built for myself in that time, but relapse is so tempting.

25. Do you actually enjoy working out?

I’ve never really liked formal exercise (like things you do at the gym) but there are other things I like doing, mainly caring for and riding horses (I own two horses, help at the barn, and compete). I also like hiking.

26. Do you smoke?

Already asked that

27. If you smoke weed, do you get the munchies?

I only smoke cigarettes and vape

28. What is the thing you miss most that your ED has taken from you?

Finishing college and getting my license as a LVT and my dream job

29. Have you worked on your ED in therapy?

Yes, extensively

30. Have you ever been caught mid ED behavior? (Binging, purging etc)

Not exactly, except purging while inpatient, but I’ve had people question me right after using a behavior.

31. Do you eat healthy or not?

I don’t strictly eat “clean” but I don’t just eat junk. Mostly it’s just the amount of calories something has.

32. Does your ED affect your sex life/sexuality?

When I’ve been underweight my libido decreases which I don’t really mind.

33. What is your favorite unhealthy but safe food?

Low calorie popsicles and certain crackers/chips. I’ll eat anything in small quantities if it fits into my calorie limit.

34. What is one of your most obscure fears brought on by your ED?

Not sure. I used to think people thought I was ugly, now I’m just afraid they think I’m fat.

35. Least favorite part of your body?

Chest, stomach, hips, thighs, cheeks

36. Favorite part of your body?

Eyes, hair, arms, and wrists

37. Do you have a fast metabolism?

I don’t think so, at least not as fast as it used to be.

38. Dumbest weight loss advice you’ve ever gotten.

Not sure, no one has ever given me “advice”, it’s more of what I’ve over heard people saying. I think people that don’t understand that calories in/calories out matters more than what type of food you eat.

39. Do you try to practice body neutrality or positivity? How?

Body neutrality has helped my in the past. Mostly focusing on what my body can do rather than how it looks.

40. How do you handle ED related nausea, fatigue, sickness, weakness?

I avoid a lot of it by eating small amounts throughout the day and not fasting. I used to be able to fast a lot but don’t anymore cause I don’t want to feel like shit at work. Oh and I abuse caffeine to combat fatigue.

41. What was the moment you realized you had an ED?

Already asked

42. What food do you miss the most?

It’s less about the food and more about how I miss being able to eat without feeling guilty.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully  /  that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, November 9

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Duchess Kate sets the record straight on Prince Harry and Meghan Markle 

Page 2: Ben Affleck is wasting away and friends fear he’s taking his new health regimen too far as the six-foot-four star usually weighs 208 pounds but has shriveled to a spindly 165 -- a nutritionist put him on a sensible meal plan but he’s altered it with his own fantastical ideas such as he won’t go near bread and he’s ditched pasta and he’ll eat cantaloupe and blueberries one day and nuts and seeds the next and he’ll only drink boiled water and green tea for 24 hours then break his fast with a small bowl of quinoa -- instead of pumping iron he does exercises using his own body weight like ten-minute planks -- Ben thinks he looks great but his pals fear he’s traded one addiction for another

Page 3: Love-hungry Katie Holmes is thrilled to have a new man in her life but she’s breaking the bank to keep him happy because Katie is picking up the tab wherever she goes with Emilio Vitolo Jr. because it helps her feel she’s in full control of the relationship but Emilio may be taking advantage of Katie’s generosity because Katie has been showering him with designer clothes and jewelry and even paying for a personal trainer to whip him into shape -- Katie enjoys giving her guy things he can appreciate because he’s made her so happy but she may go broke doing it and it’s not like he doesn’t have any money; he’s worth a cool $1.5 million himself

Page 4: CNN rocked by sex scandal -- Jeffrey Toobin’s sleazy sex scandal has rocked CNN but it’s just the latest in a string of scandals at the network 

Page 5: Axed Fox News anchor Ed Henry fought back against his co-worker’s rape charges in a blockbuster lawsuit by handing the court explicit selfies and texts in an attempt to prove their tryst was consensual 

Page 6: Ryan Seacrest is downplaying his latest shocking absence from Live with Kelly and Ryan but the TV dynamo is battling a mystery illness that may force him to sign off for good -- the co-host who is a well known as a workaholic skipped out on the daytime show for the third time this year and used the coronavirus pandemic as his excuse -- Ryan was suffering badly from flu-like symptoms on the weekend before his absences but came back negative for coronavirus however doctors remain baffled by Ryan’s ongoing battles with exhaustion and weight loss and stroke-like symptoms, disgraced perv Bill Cosby’s latest mug shot shows he’s a shriveled shadow of his former self and the fallen funnyman flashed a maniacal grin while refusing to look into the camera in the picture snapped behind bars in September and he’s unshaven and his hair is ratty

Page 7: Lizzo has embarked on a radical vegan diet and extreme exercise program to save her life -- doctor warned the 350-pound singer that her daily intake of 5000 calories a day was a dangerous path to self-destruction and she needed to change her life or lose it and Lizzo finally got the message and is committed to this program but it’s been a living hell for her 

Page 8: After surviving a fiery crash at the Daytona 500 NASCAR hero Ryan Newman is locked in an ugly $50 million divorce showdown with his estranged wife -- Ryan and Kristina Newman split in 2019 after she was caught having an affair with another man and paying her love $450,000 and now Ryan’s lawyers are trying to freeze Kristina who was once referred to as the First Lady of NASCAR out of his fortune -- court papers reveal the two split in July 2019 when Kristina went to live with her boyfriend U.S. Army Captain Joe Schwankhaus who is the Chief Operations Officer of Kristina’s company VRX USA 

Page 9: Ellen DeGeneres debuted a high-flying pompadour hairstyle on her new talk show but the makeover still doesn’t get to the root of her recent problems and although her hair may be rising her show’s ratings are falling 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- pregnant Kelly Rowland, Andy Cohen took his son Benjamin for a stroll in NYC, Will Smith held court in L.A. while shooting King Richard a biopic about the dad of tennis greats Venus Williams and Serena Williams, Angela Bassett caught a drive-in screening of One Night in Miami in L.A. 

Page 11: Grieving Lisa Marie Presley has broken her silence over the suicide of her beloved only son Benjamin Keough saying her heart and soul went with him sharing her heartbreak on what would have been Ben’s 28th birthday and she added she’s dedicating herself to raising Ben’s twin half-sisters and actress sister Riley Keough, Chaka Khan refuses to duo with Ariana Grande again saying she’s not gonna do a song with no heifer -- Chaka and Ariana worked together in 2019 for the Charlie’s Angels soundtrack

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- DWTS pro Emma Slater kept a handle on her coffee while steering her e-bike (picture), it pays to be Brad Pitt’s girlfriend as his new squeeze Nicole Poturalski has doubled her modeling fees, dancing siblings Derek Hough and Julianne Hough are out of step over her sloppy personal life and his hot new judging career because these two were supposed to be the next Donny and Marie Osmond but his solo career is exploding while hers is falling apart, Madonna has always been a big believer in astrology but now she won’t even meet with people if it’s not written in the stars and she’s spending a fortune to have an army of people read her charts 

Page 13: Losing his beloved son to cancer has sparked new fears for fragile Robert Redford because Robert has struggled with his own health over the years and losing his son to bile-duct cancer is extremely worrying; he’s already frail and this has friends fearing the worst, Jeff Bridges is confident he’ll win his battle with lymphoma by coupling medical care with a strict vegan diet and chanting and spiritual healing techniques

Page 14: Convicted wife killer Scott Peterson may soon walk out of prison and grisly photos lawyers say could set him free -- following years of appeals California’s Supreme Court overturned Scott’s death penalty and now another appeal is forcing a lower court to reexamine his conviction for murdering seven months pregnant wife Laci Peterson and their unborn son Conner -- if Scott gets a retrial his legal team will be allowed to introduce new evidence including crime scene pictures that Scott’s former defense attorney said suggests Laci’s disappearance was an abduction by a satanic cult 

Page 15: Former child star Zachery Ty Bryan of Home Improvement was jailed overnight and released on $8500 bail following his bust for a fight with a galpal at an apartment complex in Eugene in Oregon -- the drama comes on the heels of Zachery’s split from wife Carly Matros the mom of his four kids

Page 16: Ryan Reynolds can’t wait to film a new rom-com with close pal Sandra Bullock but it’s causing tension with wife Blake Lively even though Blake trusts Ryan and would never forbid him from taking this part but the idea of him getting cozy with Sandra again still makes her uneasy -- now Ryan and Sandra are signed up to do The Lost City of D and despite Sandra’s denials they ever had a romance Ryan is gushing about them getting back together 

Page 17: Isolated and overlooked Today show host Hoda Kotb is being bullied off the morning show because of tepid ratings and the absence of former sidekick Kathie Lee Gifford and Mean Girls treatment by co-hosts Savannah Guthrie and Jenna Bush Hager have pushed the disillusioned anchor closer to the door -- Hoda recently filled out paperwork to adopt a third child and she’s clearly putting more emphasis on family than her career and it sends the signal she isn’t happy with her role and is not thinking of Today as her top priority, trainwreck Matthew Perry is holed up in his new Pacific Palisades beach pad  pounding out an explosive tell-all and his former Friends are quaking about what secrets he may reveal -- Matthew wants to rush the book out while interest in the Friends reunion special which was postponed by the COVID-19 pandemic remains high -- he knows an uncensored account of his time on Friends and his drug issues would be a bestseller and he intends to blow the lid off his on-set romances and address rumors he and Jennifer Aniston were more than friends 

Page 18: American Life -- her tall tale: I have the longest legs in the world 

Page 19: Jessica Simpson has been flaunting her body after dumping a shocking 100 pounds but buddies worry the drastic drop in size isn’t natural and suspect she’s been taking diet pills again and they’re worried this could escalate into a big issue

Page 20: Devastated Reese Witherspoon was hit with a depressing double whammy -- the death of her dog Pepper from cancer and the delay of her long-awaited sequel Legally Blonde 3, Hollywood Hookups -- John Cena and Shay Shariatzadeh wed, Ashley Hebert and J.P. Rosenbaum split, Cardi B and Offset on again

Page 21: Bruce Willis is back in another Die Hard but this time it’s a commercial for Advance Auto Parts and Die Hard batteries and it’s a clear statement on the state of his career that Bruce has to revisit his amazing past to make a fast buck in the present, Giada De Laurentiis has been given the green light to get married by her 12-year-old daughter Jade -- Giada has dated TV producer Shane Farley for five years and he’s been living with mother and daughter for five months during the pandemic lockdown which gave Jade a firsthand look at what it would be like to have a new daddy and Shane’s passed the test with flying colors 

Page 22: Cover Story -- Prince William’s heartsick wife Kate Middleton is breaking her silence about the royal family’s tumultuous bitter break with Prince Harry and Meghan Markle to set the record straight and save Britain’s monarchy and she’s tired of all the rumors and lies and backbiting and after all the drama and negativity she wants to get the truth out there and end this unprecedented crisis that’s endangering the monarchy’s survival -- friends are trying to convince Kate to do an official sit-down TV interview about what really happened between once-inseparable William and Harry and how Harry and Meghan tore the family apart even before they moved to America but Kate is resisting because she fears that could backfire like Princess Diana’s TV tell-all about her marriage to Prince Charles 25 years ago -- Kate had to turn the other cheek often after Meghan joined the family and she offered to help Meghan adjust to royal life from the start but Meghan rebuffed her and Kate in tired of Meghan painting her as the bad guy especially when it was Meghan’s antics that tore the family apart -- Kate also is upset that Harry and Meghan are portraying themselves as victims of a world that’s against them while she and William take on a phenomenal workload to cover the responsibilities the Sussexes left and losing precious time with their own three children and it’s hard not to be bitter but Kate is trying to take the high road and forgive Meghan and move forward

Page 26: With their marriage hanging by a thread Tori Spelling fears Dean McDermott will cheat on her again while filming a new TV show in Canada for six months; Tori wanted to bring their 5 children to Canada with him but Dean put her off saying it would be too distracting -- she’s been a jittery mess and he can’t stand to look at her and he only took this job because they need the money, Melanie Griffith is frustrated with Chris Martin and wants him to put a ring on her daughter Dakota Johnson’s finger -- the couple have been dating since 2017 and Melanie’s fed up with waiting for Chris to pop the question -- Melanie began to lose her patience after the couple reunited following a split last June when Chris won Dakota back with promises to settle down 

Page 28: COVID Vaccines: What you need to know

Page 32: Miley Cyrus claimed she once spotted a spaceship over Hollywood and even locked eyes with an alien but she also admits she’d bought weed wax from a guy in a van in front of a taco shop, whiny Kris Jenner is blaming social media for killing off Keeping Up with the Kardashians after it helped the reality TV clan make a mint

Page 34: Ozzy Osbourne is terrified a doll has cursed him -- Ozzy told son Jack Osbourne on their Osbournes Want to Believe show that Robert the doll was responsible for his recent bad luck and failing health, Tom Cruise and his Mission: Impossible 7 team caused chaos at an Italian hospital by filming there during the COVID-19 pandemic -- Tom and his crew including 100 security staffers plus trucks and other equipment descended on the Policlinico Umberto I in Rome for a week and legions of fans also flocked to the filming creating even more commotion in the streets outside the hospital and adding to the bedlam the production commandeered an elevator drawing criticism as hospital staff were treating 140 coronavirus patients with 12 in intensive care -- filming was done in an administrative section of the hospital but still sparked an official protest as well as complaints from trade union members

Page 36: Health Watch 

Page 38: Superhero screen pals of Chris Pratt rushed to rescue the actor’s reputation after he was mercilessly dragged into a silly social media meme when a Twitter user posted pictures of Chris Pratt and Chris Pine and Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans captioned with the instruction one has to go but a flood of responses slammed Pratt as the worst Chris causing his Marvel co-stars to prop him up such as Zoe Saldana and Robert Downey Jr. and Mark Ruffalo and Jeremy Renner and Guardians of the Galaxy director James Gunn and Chris Pratt’s wife Katherine Schwarzenegger also bashed the social media bullies, Matthew McConaughey kept saying alright alright alright to making romantic comedies until the day he was so fed up he turned down $14.5 million to do another one -- Matthew revealed in his memoir that he didn’t mind making a string of mindless rom-coms because their paychecks rented the houses on the beach he ran shirtless on but he eventually wanted to try something else so he turned down a big payday so he could get more serious 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Drew Barrymore 

Page 47: Odd List

[ketsuekki]

THE BLOODY WRAITH: JAPAN’S S-RATE BLIGHT!

PROFILE.

NAME: Keumi, Minami // 毛海美波. ALIASES: The Bloody Wraith (alt: The Bloody Onryō, The Bloody Goryō), Leech Bitch. AGE: 25 (as of chapter 296) D.O.B: 22nd of May. BLOOD TYPE: AB negative. GENDER: Cis female. SEXUALITY: Closeted bisexual, heavy preference for women. NOTABLE CONDITIONS: Antisocial Personality Disorder, Sexual Sadism Disorder, Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, anemia (occasional, result of quirk overuse), dyslexia. APPEARANCE: Pallid skin tone. Thick, wavy and short green hair that reaches just past her shoulders. Green eyes with prominent dark circles beneath them. Abnormally sharp canines and two pairs of fangs; one pair beside her canines and one pair below them. Large (large!) breasts with a thin and lithe build. Little muscle. Arms and legs covered in self-harm scars. Has a thin, raised scar across her throat. 187cm tall and weighs 65kg. ETHNICITY: ½ Russian, ½ Japanese. NATIONALITY: Russian (formerly), Japanese. OCCUPATION: freelance photographer, yakuza head, terrorist. AFFILIATIONS: All For One, The League of Villains, Ketsueki-kai.

QUIRK.

Minami’s quirk is “Blood Pump”!! It is an Emitter-type power that has run in the Inoue clan’s ruling branch for over two hundred years, and allows the user to produce and control their own blood. Things such as volume, power and shape can all be changed to the user’s will --- but although the blood can be manipulated into various forms, movements or even pressurised streams, it should be noted they are unable to actually solidify it beyond the consistency of an average clot. 

This quirk uses the holder’s vitality as “fuel” to make and exert control over their blood and is extremely draining; its use must be efficient and tactical to prevent extreme exhaustion or, in some cases, death. Minami can use Blood Pump at her maximum output for roughly twelve minutes before falling into unconsciousness. The blood can not be controlled from more than ten metres away if it isn’t in contact with the user’s body. 

Unless it is being actively suppressed with a nullification quirk or the bearer has run out of stamina, this quirk can be used for the survival of otherwise fatal injuries by compensating for blood loss and, if there’s the skill for it, even ‘manually’ running one’s own circulatory system until proper treatment arrives.

Minami’s unique iteration of this quirk is the result of her parents’ powers combining, allowing others to receive a temporary powerup via consumption; since her blood is saturated with her life force, others can become energized and have their own quirk factors boosted from consuming it. The other quality she inherited from her father’s ability --- Ambrosia --- makes her blood adjust itself to be registered as delicious no matter the person tasting (or smelling) it. It has the potential to be addictive.

BIOGRAPHY.

Minami was born in the slums of Moscow alongside her identical twin Kiseki; their parents were Keumi Rui and Keumi Hanako (nee Inoue). Her childhood was a grim one; her ‘normal’ being outright neglect, left to fend herself and her older sister with zero care from their parents for as long as she could remember --- and, to be honest, she preferred to be her own carer when the alternative was her parent’s abusive teachings. The slightest mistake was punished with the most severe beating in their dingy little excuse of a home, a routine that would leave Minami distorted beyond salvaging for the rest of her life.

The girls had been instructed to hide their quirk the moment it awakened (three years old for Minami, seven for Kiseki). Their mother had run away from her family to elope with her husband, and their quirk was one that would give them away faster than hanging up a banner across their apartment building declaring their identities. The twins complied; Minami simply didn’t dare to disobey her parents, no matter how irrational their orders were, while Kiseki found a twisted satisfaction in the attention that came with being an outlier in a superpower dominated society. But, for all their filial piety, they were still human, and humans make mistakes.

While Minami was as violent as a child could come, she could only get so far with her body --- weak, frail and sickly --- before she began to desire to unleash her quirk to give way to even more absolute victories. Her blood practically boiled beneath her skin in every fight, and the innate desire to bleed grew and grew until she just couldn’t resist slicing herself open any longer. From age seven, she began training her quirk for combat in secret, practicing in alleyways and on drunks and vagabonds. Kiseki declined her offers to spar together, deeming it ‘not worth making her clothes dirty’. In the classroom, she was an absolute terror to both her teachers and her classmates, slowly but surely becoming a queen of bullies as she tormented anyone who slighted (which was any easy thing to achieve, considering a budding sociopath’s definition of ‘insult’ would bend over backwards to somehow place the blame on you) her and Kiseki. 

At age fifteen, Minami used her quirk on another student in her sister’s defence. Word spread of her quirk amongst the community, and she was forced to announce it officially on the quirk register… A register that was quickly brought to the attention of people who had been searching for any listing of a blood-based ability for years. They were rather rare, even now, after all. 

It didn’t take long for the Inoue, a yakuza clan in borderline retirement, to collect their lost daughters. It came as a shock to the twins, who had never once been informed of any family outside their little group of four. Minami and Kiseki were told their parents were forgiven for eloping, that they themselves were to return to Japan and take their proper place as members of the ruling branch. Their parents would remain in Russia as a reward, since they had gone to such lengths to escape there. Predictably, that was a lie: Hanako and Rui were killed before the twins’ plane left the ground.

Kiseki was soon bought by a rising Pro Hero for a quirk marriage. For the family, it was a perfect match; the pro wanted to build a lineage that would aid his prestige, and the Inoue wished to go legitimate, something having connections to a powerful, popular hero would aid... It didn’t go as planned. Refusing to succumb to the fate her own mother escaped, Kiseki rebelled against the arrangement as much as possible, acting out and threatening to tell the media all about the lucky hero’s teenage-purchasing, eugenicist schemes, displeasing her fiancée and her now face saving grandparents. Unchanged from their foregone glory days, the Inoue honour killed the elder twin for ‘disgracing the clan’. Minami was not told of this occurrence, seeing her touch trigger emotional stability but, after becoming suspicious of the sudden radio silence from her beloved sibling, she tortured her cousin into revealing the truth about both her sister and her parents. 

Predictably, Minami murdered the other members of the ruling family in a fit of rage, leaving herself the sole heir to the Inoue at only sixteen. She came to regret being blinded by red almost immediately --- seeing as she failed to get the name of the hero who had helped kill Kiseki before they all kicked the big one. For as much as she now hated them, Minami had to admit they were good, too good, at what they did. She didn’t have the faintest idea on how to track down Kiseki’s fiancée, and the lower branches of the Inoue, her adorable extended family, couldn’t make a dent in her grandparent’s cover ups either. So: Minami did the only logical thing she could think of --- she bribed the erasure of all records of her family’s quirks, anticipating future police investigations, and then proceeded to curb stomp her way through every single hero she could get her hands on, revealing her face to them just before they died to judge their reactions. If they were Kiseki’s fiancée, even the most twisted pro would flinch or… Or something, upon seeing the face of someone they killed, right..?

Her strategy was no better than trying to find a needle in a haystack, and she knew it… But she couldn’t just leave Kiseki’s vengeance unfulfilled. That was simply the kind of person she was; someone who wished to make the people she loved happy, no matter the cost. For the people who were kind to someone as burdensome, as terrible as her… She would show her love by dedicating her everything to them. Even if they were dead, even if it wouldn’t change what happened, Minami would make all those who hurt them pay for it.

At age eighteen, she was approached by a man called All For One (‘what kind of fucking weirdo has three words as a name?’). He claimed to have heard of her troubles through her cousins, and wished to help. Without asking for anything in exchange, he dug up the identity of Kiseki’s fiancée and watched as Minami finally fulfilled her life’s purpose --- and then swiftly swooped in to give her to give her a new role to play as soon as the euphoria faded and the realisation she was once again worthless began to settle in. Grateful and desperate to be used, All For One replaced Kiseki as the holder of her heart. Minami became his servant, first and foremost.

After graduation from high school, she began work as a freelance photographer for the fun of it (and to maintain a civilian persona, she would cry to her amused cousins), grew the Ketsueki-kai’s criminal activities for no reason other than to spite the ghosts of the former ruling family, and brought about whatever bloodshed All For One wished for. Of course, Minami never quite lost her taste for hero killing, and continued to destroy any hero, celebrity, politician or even villain that happened to irritate her. Some bastards needed a good humbling every now and then, right? Wouldn’t want those egos of theirs to kill them before she did! Anyone who posed an obstacle to the Ketsueki-kai met the same fate.

Minami is known to murder a target’s entire household before the target themselves. She won’t refrain from killing witnesses, either --- unless All For One orders her not to. By the present day, she’s built up quite a reputation as an S-rated villain, garnering rather fanatic fans who adore the nightmarish gore she leaves in her wake. Her personal villainy has no true goal --- she simply wishes to chase her desires, Cause Problems On Purpose and earn All For One’s praise. 

If she were to be arrested, Minami would be sent to Tartarus.

[sweetboybucky]

Morning Light

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Surprise surprise - it’s sappy. 

Summary: Bucky learns something new. 

A/N: Wow, it’s been a while. I’m so sorry for being gone so long. I’ve missed you all, but I want to thank everyone for being so patient, supportive and kind these past few months. Life has been kicking me in the guts for a while, but things are starting to look up again. I’m happy to be back. 

This is my piece for the beautiful @barnesrogersvstheworld ‘s 4k challenge, and my prompt was, “For me, there is only you.” This one was heavily inspired by the gorgeous song, “Follow the Sun” by Caroline Pennell. Attie - you asked for soft, sweet Bucky. I hope I delivered. This one is for you, my love. 

*** Familiar notes slip through warm air.

The song is filtered through a golden sunrise. Coaxed from worn, vinyl strings. Drawn through a little ukulele resting in your lap, all light wood and pretty grain and sun yellow accents.

Chords meet ears with measured precision. A practiced elegance you still manage to find in the threadbare sweater you stole from him and the fuzzy socks on your feet, a peaceful kind of grace he’s grown so fond of. Sprawled across the armchair, bathed in early morning light.

Bucky finds himself smiling at the sound.

It catches him every time, the melody he’s heard more times than he can count since first finding you playing in the gray of the compound, the song that drew him to you. Every moment it rings through the apartment brings warmth with it. Chases the cold from the world, from his fevered mind. Paints his world with sunlight.

His heart feels softer as he looks at you, abandoning his book to study the careful way your fingers move against the slim neck. Listen to gentle hum of lyrics he’s long since memorized that you sing under your breath. Trace his gaze over your sweet face.

Steely eyes watch you play for a few more moments. Tongue dragging over full lips, flesh fingers picking at a loose thread in the silky material of the blanket draped over his legs.

And his next words are a surprise even to him, even as his mind works up the courage to say them. The quiet, “Will you teach me?” that falls from his lips making your hands still.

You tilt your head just a little. Smile at him, surprise coloring your voice as you ask, “What?”

He clears his throat, a flicker of anxiety resting in his chest. “Will you teach me to play?”

“Didn’t know you had any interest in music,” you say, more affection than teasing in your tone. It only takes a moment for you to stand. Step over to him, settle next to him on the couch. Curl into his side, ukulele still held tightly in your hands. He tucks you under his arm, brushing his fingers against smooth wood, thin strings.

“Ma always liked it,” he tells you, thankful that the words find a way around the lump forming in his throat. “Becca did, too.” A cool, metal palm settles on the side of your face. Fingertips ghost over your cheekbone, thumb brushing along your lashes as your eyes flutter shut, a content noise pushing past your lips. “And I like that song, love when you play it.”

Something impossibly fond, almost indulgent, settles over your features. Lingers in your eyes as they open to look up at him, in that soft smile stretching across your face.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll teach you.”

Warm lips press to his shoulder. His neck and his jaw. And then you’re nudging him, making him sit up and turn. Moulding your chest to his back, moving the ukulele to his lap and adjusting his grip on it, hands gentle against his own.

Laughter falls from his mouth as you hook your chin over his shoulder, give his neck another kiss. His tone is teasing, fond as he asks, “You give everyone you teach this special treatment?”

Arms squeeze tight around him, your hair tickling the side of his face as you rest your cheek against his.

“Never, Buck. Only you.” He tips his face toward you. Lets his nose run along your hairline, soft and sweet. Chuckles a little when you squeeze him once more, chide with a quick, “Now, quit distracting me.”

The contrast of the instrument and striking metal makes Bucky’s breath catch as he looks back down at the ukulele. But your hands are covering his silver fist soon enough, thumb stroking over the plates in a placating gesture, lips brushing across his jaw as you move his fingers the way you want them. Settle his first and second finger one fret down on the second and third strings, his ring finger finding its place on the third fret of the string between his first two.

It’s a clumsy movement. Awkward positioning with the unforgiving material. And it feels strange.  Wrong. Almost like he should stop, until your other hands guides his right to fall down the strings, breathe life into the chord.

Warmth blooms within him at the sound, familiar and comforting and created by his hand. Like a beautiful, live thing.

“There,” you whisper, and Bucky swears he can hear something like pride lacing your tone. “That’s the first chord, you got it.”

“You make it look so easy,” he tells you, but there’s a smile on his face anyway. One that grows as he turns his head to glance at you, rest his forehead against yours and lean into you a little further.

“You’ll get the hang of it. Already made one chord sound so pretty.”

“Nothing like when you do it,” he murmurs. “Prettiest thing in the world when you play.” And it’s the truth. It’s more real than anything he’s ever felt, the adoration as he listens to your soft voice singing the lyrics, hands drawing music from thin strings.

The answering laugh he gets from you is quiet. Charming in that easy way you always seem to be. “Softie.” Your fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “You wanna learn the other two in the song now?”

It gets easier as he learns the few other chords, settles into the feeling of playing. Feels sweeter when he can string them together, match up the pieces of the melody that led him to you, the notes he’s ingrained in his heart. Even sweeter still when he feels your warm breath on his cheek as you say, “See? Already a pro.”

He huffs a short laugh. Turns until he’s by your side again. Tucks you against his body, beneath the curl of his arm. The ukulele lies still in his lap, fingers following the grain of the light wood.

It’s such a small thing, the weight of the little thing against him. The memory of the notes filling the air fresh in his mind, something he brought to life. Something he could share with you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice more tender than he means it to be, settling his nose in your hair and breathing you in.

“Always,” you answer, pushing further into his side. Pressing up to kiss his lips, lingering and gentle, before resting in the crook of his arm again and looking up at him, saying, “But you better not use your master ukulele skills to impress someone else.”

“Never, darlin’,” he murmurs, the full extent of his conviction carefully hidden. “Never anyone else.” You tip your head into his hand when he rests it in your hair, start to grow heavy and loose against him. “For me,” he whispers, unable to hold the words back, “there is only you.”

He sees the answering flicker of light in your eyes. Affection bubbles through his veins, strong and dizzying. It strikes him in the deepest part of his heart, love smoothing over everything else in his mind.

And with it comes those memories he’s stopped trying to tamp down, bubbling to the surface. The sound of quiet music echoing against pale walls. Flashes of a record player crooning in the living room. A warm embrace, a soft voice in his ear. And then later, much later, small feet standing over his own, laughter and bright eyes staring up at him, adoration flickering through the little face he still remembers more clearly than nearly anything else.

A flare of grief crawls under his skin. Makes him ache for the things he’s lost -

He lets his eyes fall to you again. Catch your gaze, the tender, almost protective expression on your face. Thinks of you all those mornings he needed you most, when the ice crept back under his skin and the dark folded into his mind, as you held him in your arms. Kissed his skin and whispered the lyrics he’s grown so fond of, the song that always brings him back to you  -

But adore the things he’s gained.

“Me too, Buck,” you tell him, gentle but fierce and sure in that way you always are with him. “Never anyone but you.”

He smiles sweet through his soul. “Play it for me again?”

Your laughter is warm and light against his shoulder, expression bright and fond. “Always, you big sap.”

The weight of the ukulele lifts from his lap as you hold it in your arms again. The pads of your fingers are quick to cover the frets, hands pulling an easy timbre into the air. Bucky tucks his arm further around your shoulders. Presses a quick kiss to your hair.

His eyes trace over the shape of you, a blissful smile curling over his lips as morning light dusts across your face, painting your movements in the softest gold.

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[afinepricklypear]

Mother’s Day and Mental Health Awareness Month

**Warning - This post talks about depression, mental disorder, and an attempted suicide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics. The events described here are real and true to the best of my memory.**

I went to make a post May 1st and Tumblr was kind enough to inform me that May is Mental Health Awareness month. It isn’t without irony for me that Mental Health Awareness month occurs the same month as Mother’s Day.

My relationship with my mother is a difficult topic, it’s usually only one I can talk about with my sisters, but it’s this time of year that people most want to talk about moms. When I was younger, I didn’t know what to say when people brought up their moms and mom-like behavior in general, mostly foreign concepts to me. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned I don’t have to say anything at all, like in my work meeting this morning when our supervisor reminded us all to call our mom’s this weekend, you know, “if they’re still alive”, since most of our department are near retiring age, but I don’t always know how to feel. Here comes the guilt: do I call, do I text, do I take the risk that she’ll be in a good mood or will she turn it around, again, like the year I sent her a gift and she used my gesture as ammo to attack my “ungrateful” older sister that’s still trying to untangle her own complicated relationship with our mother. I’m ten again, twelve again, sixteen again, walking on eggshells around a house where the air is so thick with the constant fog of her misery, I can’t see farther than a minute into my future.

There were good moments, of course, like any home. She was always the more encouraging parent when it came to my writing, my father would pick it all apart – in the long run, both approaches helped me become a better writer. There was the time she was given two tickets to see Mama Mia at the casino where she dealt, and she chose to take me. We got dressed up, she leant me this white faux fur jacket and some of her jewelry, curled my hair and did my make-up, she was riding high on her emotions. She took me to a fancy dinner at the Hard Rock Café before the show. We didn’t get spoiled often, and to this day, Mama Mia and ABBA hold a special place in my heart. I always think of her singing along to the radio in the car, she has a nice voice, and maybe in another life, she could’ve been a singer.

There were moments when she was trying to be sweet and it still leaves me with conflicted emotions. Like the time the German shepherd she took off the hands of a coworker who was afraid of him violently attacked me. She bandaged me up, laid in bed with me and comforted me, it’s the most motherly I ever remember her being. She kept the dog for a while after that, I still have scars on both my arms from the attack, I’ll have them the rest of my life, just like my little sister will still have her scars from when it attacked her, and my friend who came to visit will still have the scar it gave her…my older sister was only lucky that it was muzzled when it went for her face. My mother was convinced she had a special connection with this dog, that in his heart of hearts he believed he was protecting her, so I get it, she didn’t want to get rid of something that she felt loved her unconditionally.

Sometimes it’s hard to conjure these kinder memories, they become overwhelmed with the harder, darker ones that feel infinitely more numerous. There are the moments that seem innocuous, when you could say I was acting a spoiled child, like the time I was in middle school and I wanted to keep my hair long, but my mother decided I needed bangs. My dad tried to stop it, but she had made up her mind. I cried and pleaded with her but she commanded the reluctant stylist to chop the hair off. Armed with a brush and blow-dryer, she attempted to show me “it was cute” that night and things escalated to the point my dad and older sister were stepping in, arguing with my mom to let me be. I went back to that same hair stylist with my friend who was getting her hair cut the next day, and the stylist apologized, confessed that she didn’t want to cut my hair, told me it was so healthy and beautiful too, and she felt terrible doing it. Years later, when I was an adult and decided to cut my hair short with sideswept bangs, my mother would throw this memory back in my face, “sure, now you want bangs”, still incapable of understanding that it wasn’t about her, but about me wanting to define my own body and style. She did the same to my older sister in high school, dyed her hair blonde – it took so much bleach to lighten her naturally dark hair color that the hair looked fried afterwards and we were all amazed it didn’t fall out. Never mind that my older sister never wanted blonde hair to begin with, it was antithetical to her personality, and she won’t even go near the hair dye aisle now.

There are the moments where my mom was so unreasonable that everyone felt helpless, like the day I was alone in my room, my sisters in the living room talking and watching television – doing I don’t know what – and my mom was sleeping in her room because she worked graveyard shift at this time. Suddenly, inexplicably, my mom came into my room in a rage, “how dare you call your little sister stupid,” she scolded me, she continued to berate me for being cruel and mean, even as I told her, baffled, I didn’t know what she was talking about, even as my sisters argued with her, “no one called anyone stupid. She wasn’t even in the room with us.” My mother wouldn’t listen, she knew what she heard, she grounded me and, matter settled, left back to bed. My dad got home from work not long after, and I was in my room still bawling, inconsolable and unable to work out what I’d done wrong. He asked my sisters why I was crying and they explained, and, again, my mom comes storming in my room yelling, “how dare you tattle on me to your dad!” I don’t remember much of what happened from there, my dad stepped in, they argued the rest of the night, and he would later assure me I wasn’t grounded. It was the only thing he could undo from that day.

There are other, harder to define moments. The nights my mom would argue with my dad, we’d be in bed, school in the morning, and she’d turn on all our bedroom lights, rip the covers off our beds, and scream at us to get out of her house, that she was putting us all out on the streets and it was our father’s fault. I remember vividly the fight between my parents that happened in the day, everyone awake in the house, I collapsed in the kitchen as my mother ranted that we all hated her so she should leave and we won’t have to deal with her anymore, and I cried and trembled, overwhelmed with the thought, I don’t want anyone to leave, I don’t want to lose my family. I had to get out, so I did, walked right out of the house, not sure where I’d go, and my mother panicked and raced after me, put an arm over my shoulders, coaxed me back to the house. The moment the door closed; she was yelling at us again for not loving her enough and I realized I couldn’t leave, I was trapped. There was the gambling addiction, every Christmas we would be prepared, “mom lost a lot of money at the casino last night, we might not have a Christmas this year” – we had learned not to expect anything anyways and that every gift came with a quid pro quo and years of ‘remember I did this for you’. My older sister and her then-boyfriend, now-husband, watched my mom gamble away more than a month’s mortgage and spend the entire night chasing it back.

I’m thinking about all of this more recently, I think, since I started writing some fanfics for the Bungou Stray Dogs community. One of the main characters of the show is named after and inspired by author, Dazai Osamu, a man that died prematurely from a double suicide. This is treated tongue-and-cheek by the anime and its original manga through Dazai’s many failed suicide attempts and his odd flirtation strategy of asking ladies to commit double suicide with him. I kind of like this approach to the topic, it might on the surface seem insensitive to make a joke of something so serious as depression, but humor can be therapeutic and give us an easier way to broach otherwise difficult subjects.

I was in high school when my older sister and I were allowed to be in on the conversations about my mother’s mental disorder, both undiagnosed and untreated. We’d all speculate, my father and his sister, my mother’s sister, my sisters and I, the favorite theory was bipolar disorder, but we may never know. My mom refused then and refuses to this day to seek help. There were little things about her past before marrying my dad that we were allowed to know as we got older, too. Like, how she’d been put in a hospital that wanted to keep her there for further treatment – they knew something was wrong but didn’t know what, this was during a time when bipolar disorder was unheard of and they called similar diagnoses ‘manic depression’ – and she had to threaten legal action to get released. When she was eighteen, she had married a man knowing he had a terminal illness in order to help him get his green card, he died two years later, and she still considers him the great love of her life. We’re told by the media, movies like A Walk to Remember, that this is romantic, but in reality, it’s an unhealthy fixation on a relationship that was doomed from the start. She idolizes the memory of it, puts it on a pedestal as the standard for all of her other relationships to compare to, but it isn’t realistic. It was a relationship with a known expiration date, it wasn’t a real commitment, nothing had to matter because it would all come to an end soon, and they never reached the hard parts of a marriage – children, growing old, changing bodies, financial struggles, loss and disagreement. She went through a deep depression after he died and it reached a point that her sister had her placed on a suicide watch and thus began her long and sordid history of depression.

There are a lot of fanfics in the BSD community that explore a darker tone to Dazai’s depression, to varying degrees of accuracy. I mostly steer clear of them. There is one writer in the community that I won’t name, they’re an amazing writer with beautiful technical skill, and they do an impeccable job of showing depression exactly as it is for those who live it and those who live with a person that suffers from it. I left a one-word comment on one of their stories, the only positive thing I could say, and I couldn’t write anymore without the comment turning into an emotional lecture, I don’t know that author’s personal emotional state, but I also won’t read any more from them. It wasn’t the accurate depiction of depression that turned me off from the story, but the depiction of Dazai’s depression being known by all the characters in the story, including himself, but he won’t seek treatment for it, and all of the characters are shown to enable his depression and put up with his abuses that stem from his disorder. In the story he was placed in an intimate relationship with the character, Chuuya, and Chuuya is painted as the patron saint of boyfriends, willing to overlook Dazai’s every episode, draw him back from the ledge and bandage up his scars with an endless patience and gentleness. I couldn’t move passed the romanticizing of this relationship dynamic. Chuuya is shown to be noble and celebrated for his self-sacrifice and unconditional love that compels him to stay beside Dazai despite everything Dazai inflicts upon himself and Chuuya, and more importantly, despite Dazai’s refusal to get treatment.  

My mother’s emotional state was constantly our responsibility growing up. She was sad because we didn’t love her. She was angry because we were ungrateful. She was miserable because we couldn’t see all that she did for us. If she hurt us with her words, if she lashed out at us irrationally, it was our fault, because we didn’t do everything right. Never mind that what was right could change within a minute in a day. Too often when someone in your life is suffering from a mental disorder, you’re made to shoulder the blame, either unintentionally by them as they suffer from their illness or intentionally by well-meaning individuals outside of the situation that don’t know better: you just need to give them love. If they take their own life, it’s your fault, you didn’t love them enough.

It was the Friday before Mother’s Day, I was in my early twenties, finishing up my degree in Anthropology (after changing my major, I don’t know how many times). My parents were long since divorced and my mom lived alone in the house where I grew up, still shrouded in all of those dark memories. My mother’s sister had recently left town after a short visit, she had called me a few days earlier to let me know my mother lost her job  that week and was struggling to get out of the depression. In retrospect, she’d been sinking for a while now, after the violent dog and so many other incidents like it left us all with too many scars to overlook and we didn’t know how to walk back into that house, how to feel safe there. She’d covered herself in tattoos, cut her hair short, wore different wigs to work every day, she’d gained a lot of weight and was chain smoking so much there was a permanent haze in the house. None of these things should be thought of as red flags for everyone, it should be taken on an individual basis, but for my mother they were all signs that she was spiraling. She didn’t like who she saw in the mirror and was desperately trying to cover it up, find someone she did like. I had promised her I would come over, make her a dinner for Mother’s Day, and I would take her to see a movie. I was on my phone with my aunt when I pulled up, snowballing ideas for what to do if things got serious and if we needed to think about placing her on a suicide watch, how that would work. I rang the doorbell; it was outside of the gate she put around the front yard for her dogs to go in the front yard.

No answer.

Rang it again.

Still no answer.

She knew I was coming over.

I opened the gate, went to the door, the door was cracked open, my aunt was on the phone in my ear, “what’s going on?” I opened the door fully and my mom’s dogs came to greet me. The house was in disarray, furniture toppled over, papers scattered across the floor, so many of the details are blurred out of memory, I remember distinctly a ceramic statue broken on the floor but I couldn’t tell you what it was a statue of. I could hear a low intermittent moan coming from farther in the house. I followed it down the hall to my mother’s room, into her bathroom, where she was collapsed, naked, on the floor of her shower.

I told my aunt I had to go, I hung up and dialed 911. In the moment, I didn’t know how panicked I really was, my voice unnaturally high, my body warm and shaking and electric with adrenaline. That feeling hits me again, sometimes, when I don’t expect it. There was white like foam around my mother’s mouth, her eyes stared wide and blank at the ceiling, her every breath was that guttural moan as she attempted to draw air in, an autonomic action, she was completely unresponsive. Her body was on autopilot, and so was mine. I’d been rehearsing for a long time what to do in that situation, it’s the only way I made it through everything that needed to be done. I gave the dispatcher the address, answered her questions, “I think she did something to herself but I don’t know what…no, there’s no pills nearby…no, I don’t see anything in the trash…she’s been severely depressed…she has a history of depression…”, between pleading with my mom, “please don’t leave me, please stay with me, mom,” and wrestling her dogs into the front yard and out of the house. The dispatcher told me the ambulance was on its way and asked if I wanted her to stay on the line and I begged her not to hang up, not to leave me with nothing but the moans of my dying mother, she didn’t say anything during that time, was just silently present as I talked to my mom and waited for the paramedics. They couldn’t come in until I got the dogs out back, I cursed and screamed at the unruly mongrels and felt an irrational anger that my mom never got them properly trained.

I took a seat in the kitchen, let the paramedics work and my brain shut down. I called my aunt back, told her what happened. The paramedics came to ask me questions, I tried to answer them but I didn’t know and my aunt was correcting me over the phone, so I handed her over and let her talk to them. They took my mother away to the hospital and I was alone, in that childhood house, that held so many horrible memories of my mother’s untreated disorder, and every aspect of our lives that it colored and perverted. Every Mother’s Day was always fraught with anxiety, I think it was my mother’s least favorite day, her mood was always sour, and no matter what we gave her or tried to do for her, it wasn’t enough. Even the year before, the Mother’s Day when she told us exactly what to get her. She was so happy with her present, a sterling silver ring with our birthstones imbedded that cost us all a pretty penny – I was paying my own way through college, my older sister was paying rent on a Starbucks salary, and my little sister didn’t have a job – but a week later we were ungrateful brats again. There was one Mother’s Day when I was maybe ten or eleven, we’d set her up roses and two cards – one from my father and one from her daughters. I was watching television and waiting for her to come home from work to wish her a happy Mother’s Day. She came in and years of practice had taught me to recognize she was in a dark mood, a cigarette on her lip, her posture tense, muttering under her breath about how nobody loved her, nobody cared. She stalked to the desk, ripped the cards in half without opening them and threw them on the ground in front of me without sparing me one glance or word, and stormed to her room, slammed the door behind her.

We would later find out that my mother drank antifreeze, a method that has about a 5% survival rate. She was in a coma for about a month. It was another few weeks before they took the respirator tube out and her throat recovered enough that she could talk in small sentences, and not without effort and pain. She told us she filled a cup with the antifreeze, showed us with her fingers set apart how high she’d put it in the glass, when she finished, she washed the cup and stuck it in the dishwasher, hiding the evidence. She’d always heard antifreeze was flavorless but it tasted awful – they add flavoring to antifreeze to deter people from accidentally ingesting it. She’d thought it would be quick, but it’s really an excruciatingly painful and long, drawn out way to die. She’d stripped in her deliria and taken a shower because her body felt so awful, feverish and almost on fire, as it was shutting down and her nerves fried from the chemical reaction. I wrestled for a long time with the ethical delimma of my choices in that moment after finding her, and there was a thought that stuck with me through it all: What did I get my mother for Mother’s Day? I saved her life, and it was still the wrong gift.

It isn’t noble or romantic to stay with someone who refuses to get professional treatment for their mental disorder. There is no amount of love or patience or understanding that will heal them. In most situations, the harder and braver thing to do is walk away. None of us is a perfect person and none of us should have to bear the burden of another person’s unwillingness to get help when they need it. It took me a long time to come to terms with the notion that there is no one to blame in this situation. It isn’t my fault that I can’t give my mother the love she craves. It isn’t my mother’s fault that she can’t see the love that her daughters wanted to give her. But it is her responsibility to get help. If she refuses help, no one can force it on her.

It’s been years now since this happened. My mother is now as recovered as she’ll ever be. Her mind isn’t as sharp, and she struggles with controlling her muscles and the devastating damage to her nervous system that will never fully heal. She remains undiagnosed and is not receiving any kind of professional guidance or treatment. There have been new, dark memories, added to the old ones, in those times when we tried to be supportive and “there for her” during her recovery. Episodes that remind us she doesn’t want to change and she never will. So, we keep our interactions to a minimum, answer when she texts, try to help her when she asks for it, check in every so often. She lives on the other side of the country with two cats and goes regularly to the neighborhood karaoke bar. In a weird way, she seems happier with this set up, this distance between her and all of the pain that my sisters and I seemed to bring her, that constant demand for love that we couldn’t fulfill, maybe it really was all our fault and we were the ones to blame, or maybe it’s because I’m not living with her depression anymore.

I don’t know if I’ll call my mother on Mother’s Day, but for anyone else out there with a complicated relationship with their mother, it’s okay if you decide not to call your mother either.

[regencyresource]

( * &. ━ list of slang words from the 1920′s

presenting a long list of slang terms from the “roaring twenties" ! the age of mobsters and jazz ! the time of longing after married women and staring into green-lights to include in your literary ventures ! i claim no ownership for this list, it was sourced HERE.

A

Alderman: A man's pot-belly

Ameche: Telephone 

Ankle: (n) Woman; (v) To walk 

Ab-so-lute-ly: Affirmative, yes 

Absent treatment: Dancing with a timid partner 

Air tight: Very attractive 

Airedale: An unattractive man 

Alarm clock: A chaperone 

All wet: Incorrect 

And how!: I strongly agree! 

Applesauce: Flattery, nonsense, i.e.. "Aw, applesauce!" 

Attaboy!: Well done!; also, Attagirl! 

B

Babe: Woman 

Baby: A person, can be said to either a man or a woman 

Bangtails: Racehorses 

Barber: Talk 

Be on the nut: To be broke 

Bean-shooter: Gun 

Beef: Problem 

Bee's Knees: An extraordinary person, thing or idea

Beezer: Nose 

Behind the eight ball: In a difficult position, in a tight spot 

Bent Cars: Stolen cars 

Big Cheese, Big Shot: The boss, someone of importance and influence 

Big House: Jail 

Big One: Death 

Big Sleep: Death 

Bim: Woman 

Bindle: The bundle in which a hobo carries all his worldly possessions 

Bindle punk or bindle stiff: Chronic wanderers, migratory harvest workers, and lumber jacks

Bing: Jailhouse talk for solitary confinement 

Bird: Man 

Bit: Prison sentence 

Blip off: To kill 

Blow: Leave 

Blow one down: Kill someone 

Blower: Telephone 

Bluenose: A prude

Bo: Pal, buster, fellow 

Boiler: Car 

Boob: Dumb guy 

Boozehound: Drunkard 

Bop: To kill 

Box: A safe or a bar 

Box job: A safecracking 

Brace (somebody): Grab, shake up 

Bracelets: Handcuffs 

Break it up: Stop that, quit the nonsense 

Breeze: To leave, breeze off: get lost 

Broad: Woman 

Bruno: Tough guy, enforcer 

Bucket: Car 

Bulge, The: The advantage 

Bulls: Plainclothes railroad cops; uniformed police; prison guards 

Bum's rush, To get the: To be kicked out 

Bump: Kill 

Bump Gums: To talk about nothing worthwhile 

Bump off: Kill; also, bump-off: a killing 

Burn powder: Fire a gun 

Bus: Big car 

Butter-and-egg-man: The money man, the man with the bankroll, a yokel who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs 

Button: Face, nose, end of jaw 

Button man: Professional killer 

Buttons: Police 

Butts: Cigarettes 

Buzz: Looks person up, comes to persons door 

Buzzer: Policeman's badge 

C

C: $100, a pair of Cs = $200 

Cabbage: Money 

Caboose: Jail 

Call copper: Inform the police 

Can: Jail, Car 

Can house: Bordello 

Can-opener: Safecracker who opens cheap safes 

Canary: Woman singer 

Carry a Torch: Suffering from an unrequited love

Case dough: Nest egg 

Cat: Man 

Cat's Meow: Something splendid or stylish 

Cat's Pajamas: Term of endearment as in "I think you are really really cool"

Century: $100 

Cheaters: Sunglasses 

Cheese it: Put things away, hide 

Chew: Eat 

Chicago lightning: Gunfire 

Chicago overcoat: Coffin 

Chick: Woman 

Chilled off: Killed 

Chin: Conversation; chinning: talking 

Chin music: Punch on the jaw 

Chinese squeeze: Grafting by skimming profits off the top 

Chippy: Woman of easy virtue 

Chisel: To swindle or cheat 

Chiv: Knife, "a stabbing or cutting weapon" 

Chopper squad: Men with machine guns 

Chump: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Clammed: Close-mouthed (clammed up) 

Clean sneak: An escape with no clues left behind 

Clip joint: In some cases, a nightclub where the prices are high and the patrons are fleeced 

Clipped: Shot 

Close your head: Shut up 

Clout: Shoplifter 

Clubhouse: Police station 

Con: Confidence game, swindle 

Conk: Head 

Cool: To knock out 

Cooler: Jail 

Cop: Detective, even a private one 

Copped, to be: Grabbed by the cops 

Copper: Policeman 

Corn: Bourbon ("corn liquor") 

Crab: Figure out 

Crate: Car 

Croak: To kill 

Croaker: Doctor 

Crush: An infatuation 

Crushed out: Escaped (from jail) 

Cut down: Killed 

D

Daisy: None too masculine 

Dame: Woman 

Dance: To be hanged 

Dangle: Leave, get lost 

Daylight, as in "fill him with daylight": Put a hole in, by shooting or stabbing 

Deck, as in "deck of Luckies": Pack of cigarettes 

Derrick: Shoplifter 

Dib: Share (of the proceeds) 

Dick: Detective (usually qualified with "private" if not a policeman) 

Dingus: Thing 

Dip: Pickpocket 

Dip the bill: Have a drink 

Dish: Pretty woman 

Dive: A low-down, cheap sort of place 

Dizzy with a dame, To be: To be deeply in love with a woman 

Do the dance: To be hanged 

Dogs: Feet 

Dope fiend: Drug addict 

Dope peddler: Drug dealer 

Dough: Money 

Drift: Go, leave 

Drill: Shoot 

Drop a dime: Make a phone call, sometimes meaning to the police to inform on someone 

Droppers: Hired killers 

Drum: Speakeasy 

Dry-gulch: Knock out, hit on head after ambushing 

Duck soup: Easy, a piece of cake 

Dummerer: Someone who pretends to be deaf and/or dumb to appear a more deserving beggar 

Dump: Roadhouse, club; or, more generally, any place 

Dust out: Leave, depart 

E

Egg: Man 

Electric cure: Electrocution 

Elephant ears: Police 

F

Fade: Go away, get lost 

Fakeloo artist: Con man 

Fella: A man 

Fin: $5 bill 

Finder: Finger man 

Finger, Put the finger on: Identify 

Flaming Youth: Male counterpart to a flapper

Flapper: A stylish, brash young woman with short skirts and shorter hair

Flat Tire: A dull-witted or disappointing date

Flattie: Flatfoot, cop 

Flimflam: Swindle 

Flippers: Hands 

Flivver: A Ford automobile 

Flogger: Overcoat 

Flop: Go to bed or fallen through, not worked out 

Flophouse: A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms 

Fog: To shoot 

Frail: Woman 

Frau: Wife 

Fry: To be electrocuted 

Fuzz: Police 

G

Gal: Woman 

Gams: A Woman’s Legs 

Gasper: Cigarette 

Gat: Gun 

Get Sore: Get mad 

Getaway sticks: Legs 

Giggle juice: Liquor 

Giggle Water: Liquor 

Gin mill: Bar 

Glad rags: Fancy clothes 

Glaum: Steal 

Goofy: Crazy 

Goog: Black eye 

Goon: Thug 

Gooseberry lay: Stealing clothes from a clothesline 

Gowed-up: On dope, high 

Grab (a little) air: Put your hands up 

Graft: Con jobs or cut of the take 

Grand: $1000 

Grift: Confidence game, swindle 

Grifter: Con man 

Grilled: Questioned 

Gumshoe: Detective 

Gumshoeing: Detective work 

Gun for: Look for, be after 

Guns: Pickpockets, Hoodlums 

Guy: A man 

H

Hack: Taxi 

Half, a: 50 cents 

Hard: Tough 

Harlem Sunset: Some sort fatal injury caused by knife 

Hash House: A cheap restaurant 

Hatchet men: Killers, gunmen 

Have the Bees: To be rich 

Head doctors: Psychiatrists 

Heap: Car 

Heat: Police 

Heater: Gun 

Heebie-Jeebies: The jitters

Heeled: Carrying a gun 

High-Hat: To snub 

High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge 

Highbinders: Corrupt politician or functionary 

Hinky: Suspicious 

Hitting the pipe: Smoking opium 

Hitting on all eight: In good shape, going well 

Hock shop: Pawnshop 

Hogs: Engines 

Hombre: Man, fellow 

Hooch: Liquor 

Hood: Criminal 

Hoofer: Dancer

Hoosegow: Jail 

Horn: Telephone 

Hot: Stolen 

Hotsy-Totsy: Pleasing

House dick: House/hotel detective 

House peeper: House/hotel detective 

Hype: Shortchange artist 

I

Ice : Diamonds 

Ing-bing, as in to throw an: A fit 

Iron: A car 

J

Jack: Money 

Jalopy: An old car

Jam: Trouble, a tight spot 

Jane: A woman 

Java: Coffee 

Jaw: Talk 

Jerking a nod: Nodding 

Jingle-brained: Addled 

Jobbie: Man 

Joe: Coffee, as in "a cup of joe" 

Johns: Police 

Johnson brother: Criminal 

Joint: Place, as in "my joint" 

Juice: Interest on a loanshark's loan 

Jug: Jail 

Jump, The: A hanging 

K

Kale: Money 

Keen: Attractive or appealing

Kick off: Die 

Kiss: To punch 

Kisser: Mouth 

Kitten: Woman 

Knock off: Kill 

L

Lammed off: Ran away, escaped 

Large: $1,000; twenty large would be $20,000 

Law, the: The police 

Lead, "fill ya full of lead": the term used for bullets 

Lead poisoning: To be shot 

Lettuce: Folding money 

Lid: Hat 

Line: Insincere flattery

Lip: (Criminal) lawyer 

Looker: Pretty woman 

Look-out: Outside man 

Lousy with: To have lots of 

M

Mac: A man 

Made: Recognized 

Map: Face 

Marbles: Pearls 

Mark: Sucker, victim of swindle or fixed game 

Maroon: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Meat wagon: Ambulance 

Mickey Finn: A drink drugged with knock-out drops 

Mill: Typewriter 

Mitt: Hand 

Mob: Gang (not necessarily Mafia) 

Mohaska: Gun 

Moll: Girlfriend 

Monicker: Name 

Mouthpiece: Lawyer 

Mugs: Men (especially refers to dumb ones) 

N

Nailed: Caught by the police 

Nevada gas: Cyanide 

Newshawk: Reporter 

Newsie: Newspaper vendor 

Nibble one: To have a drink 

Nicked: Stole 

Nippers: Handcuffs 

Noodle: Head 

Number: A person 

O

Off the track: Said about a person who becomes insanely violent 

Op: Detective 

Orphan paper: Bad checks 

Out on the roof: To drink a lot, to be drunk 

Oyster fruit: Pearls 

P

Packing Heat: Carrying a gun 

Pal: A man 

Palooka: Man, probably not very smart 

Pan: Face 

Paste: Punch 

Patsy: Person who is set up; fool, chump 

Paw: Hand 

Peaching: Informing 

Peeper: Detective 

Peepers: Eyes 

Pen: Penitentiary, jail 

Peterman: Safecracker who uses nitroglycerin 

Piece: Gun 

Pigeon: Stool-pigeon 

Pinch: An arrest, capture 

Pins: Legs 

Pipe: See or notice 

Pipes: Throat 

Plant: Someone on the scene but in hiding, Bury 

Plug: Shoot 

Plugs: People 

Poke: Bankroll, stake 

Pooped: Killed 

Pop: Kill 

Pro skirt: Prostitute 

Puffing: Mugging 

Pug: Pugilist, boxer 

Pump: Heart 

Pump metal: Shoot bullets 

Punk: Hood, thug 

Pushover: A person easily convinced of something

Puss: Face 

Put down: Drink 

Put the screws on: Question, get tough with 

R

Rags: Clothes 

Ranked: Observed, watched, given the once-over 

Rap: Criminal charge 

Rappers: Fakes, set-ups 

Rat: Inform 

Rate: To be good, to count for something 

Rats and mice: Dice, i.e. craps 

Rattler: Train 

Red-light: To eject from a car or train 

Redhot: Some sort of criminal 

Reefers: Marijuana cigarettes 

Rhino: Money 

Right: Adjective indicating quality 

Ringers: Fakes 

Ritzy: Elegant 

Rod: Gun 

Roscoe: Gun 

Rub-out: A killing 

Rube: Bumpkin, easy mark 

Rumble, the: The news 

S

Sap: A dumb guy 

Sap poison: Getting hit with a sap 

Savvy: Get me? Understand? 

Sawbuck: $10 bill (a double sawbuck is a $20 bill) 

Schnozzle: Nose 

Scram out: Leave 

Scratch: Money 

Scratcher: Forger 

Send over: Send to jail 

Shamus: (Private) detective 

Sharper: A swindler or sneaky person 

Sheba: A woman with sex appeal 

Sheik: A man with sex appeal 

Shells: Bullets 

Shiv: Knife 

Shylock: Loanshark 

Shyster: Lawyer 

Sing: Make a confession 

Sister: Woman 

Skate around: To be of easy virtue 

Skid rogue: A bum who can't be trusted 

Skirt: Woman 

Slant, Get a: Take a look 

Sleuth: Detective 

Slug: A bullet or to knock unconscious 

Smoked: Drunk 

Snap a cap: Shout 

Snatch: Kidnap 

Sneeze: Take 

Snitch: An informer, or to inform 

Snooper: Detective 

Speakeasy: An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor 

Spiffy: Looking elegant 

Soak: To pawn 

Sock: Punch 

Soup: Nitroglycerine 

Soup job: To crack a safe using nitroglycerine 

Spill: Talk, inform 

Spinach: Money 

Spitting: Talking 

Square: Honest 

Squeeze: A female companion or girlfriend

Squirt metal: Shoot bullets 

Step off: To be hanged 

Stiff: A corpse 

Sting: Culmination of a con game 

Stool-pigeon: Informer 

Stoolie: Stool-pigeon 

Stuck On: Having a crush on 

Sucker: Someone ripe for a grifter's scam 

Sugar: Money 

Swanky: Ritzy 

Swell: Wonderful 

T

Tail: Shadow or follow 

Take a powder: Leave 

Take on: Eat 

Take for a Ride: Drive off with someone in order to bump them off 

Take the air: Leave 

Take the bounce: To get kicked out 

Take the fall for: Accept punishment for 

That's the crop: That's all of it 

Three-spot: Three-year jail term 

Throw lead: Shoot bullets 

Ticket: P.I. license 

Tiger milk: Some sort of liquor 

Tighten the screws: Put pressure on somebody 

Tin: Badge 

Tip a few: To have a few drinks 

Tomato: Pretty woman 

Tooting the wrong ringer: Asking the wrong person 

Torpedoes: Gunmen 

Trap: Mouth 

Trigger man: Man whose job is to use a gun 

Trouble boys: Gangsters 

Twist: Woman 

Two bits: $25, or 25 cents 

U

Under glass: In jail 

W

Weak sister: A push-over 

Wear iron: Carry a gun 

Wise head: A smart person 

Wooden kimono: A coffin 

Wop: derogatory term for an Italian 

Worker, as in "She sizes up as a worker": A woman who takes a guy for his money 

Wrong gee: Not a good fellow 

Wrong number: Not a good fellow 

Y

Ya Follow: do you understand? 

Yap: Mouth 

Yard: $100 

Yegg: Safecracker who can only open cheap and easy safes 

Z

Zotzed: Killed

Zozzled: Drunk

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Hot take, but... yeah, that makes sense

I mean, we should always do our best to reduce harm where we can, but if it's not our choice whether or not someone must seek treatment for a condition, then it makes sense for it to be not our choice whether or not someone is allowed to hurt themselves.

Like with drugs, where addiction can be incredibly harmful - it's not a new idea that decriminalizing drugs and people with addictions helps lower rates of addiction when implemented properly, so I suppose it can be the same with others.

I guess it probably falls under informed consent - if a person knows what they're doing and understands the consequences, expected or otherwise, there's really no reason we should be taking away their right to choose. People who self harm from mental illness should be offered help, people who are addicted should be offered support, someone who needs an abortion should be offered alternatives by pro-life logic (but we all know how that goes - besides, abortion is usually the safer, less harmful alternative), someone who transitions - well, that's pretty much proven to be harmless and incredibly helpful but they should still be offered support in the case of detransitioning.

All that aside, though, it's not up to us what other people can do with their bodies. I mean, if I got sent to a mental hospital every time i picked my skin, I'd never be able to leave.

As for the 'of sound mind' thing, I think it's vital indeed that we specify that the choice to harm oneself (or "harm" oneself in the case of things that aren't harmful but have been defined as such) is not an indication that someone is of sound mind. I mean, what else are we supposed to do when someone harms themselves than offer support - arrest them? Are we going to arrest everyone that drinks, that cuts/burns, that picks, that pulls hairs, that intentionally triggers themselves? It's kind of ridiculous to think of.

I feel like it's kind of like free speech: the government shouldn't be allowed to regulate what you do with your body any more than what you do with your words. On that note, though, if your "harm"/harm interferes with, say, your ability to work safely at your job, it might be time to switch careers - but it first needs to be proven that it's an issue.

i feel like a lot of people kinda don't realise bodily autonomy also must include the right to harm yourself. yeah genuinely. and it makes no difference whether that harm is likely or unlikely, objectively real or ideologically imagined. if you want the government to define what it'll allow you to do with your own body and enforce what you cannot "for your own good" you are 1) basically begging to live in a police state 2) a huge idiot because it will inevitably bite you in the ass when something you do gets defined as harmful