#sap drug screening

[amhnationwide]

What does it cost for a urine drug screen for S.A.P. program (substance abuse professional)

New Post has been published on https://amhnationwide.com/drug-testing/what-does-it-cost-for-a-urine-drug-screen-for-s-a-p-program-substance-abuse-professional/

What does it cost for a urine drug screen for S.A.P. program (substance abuse professional)

categories: #DrugTesting tags: #DrugTestForSap, #SapDrugScreening, #SubAbuseProfessionalsDrugTest

[tinkerbelle05]

29. “I got you your favorite.” but with superbat

Taglist & Masterlist

“Hey B!” Clark calls out. He was going through this oversized house looking for his husband. He checked the office, the Cave, and even the bedroom. But no Bruce. He was about to give up but then he saw a strange looking lump on the couch in the living room.

He approached it slowly but made his footsteps known. One time, when he first moved in, he walked towards a lump and spooked an assassin who slept with knives. He still was thin scars on his hands. Yes, said assassin was Damian who somehow gotten Kryptonite knives.

Clark slowly pulled the cover back to see Bruce, fast asleep on the couch and curled up into a ball. He looked too adorable for Clark to not snap a picture and make it as screen saver.

Of course the ruffling woke Bruce no matter how gentle Clark was being. Immediately he was alert and trying to get up.

“Clark, is there something wrong? Are the kid okay? Are they-”

“Bruce, Bruce, calm down. Everything’s fine sweets.”

That calms Bruce down enough so he isn't trying to get up. He spots the bags in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this little thing,” he dangles the bag in front of Bruce but pulls back whenever the man makes a grab for it. “You've been working hard on some drug bust so I got you your favorite. But your sleepy so I'll just pop this in the freezer.” He turns away with a smirk on his face.

“No, wait, Clarke,” Bruce grabs and turns him around. “I am never too tired for blueberry ice cream. That is blueberry ice cream, right?”

Clark let's out a gasp, “We’ve been together for how long and you have the nerve, the gall to ask me that?”

Bruce doesn't answer and makes a grab for the bag. “It is blueberry ice cream. And two spoons?” He looks up at Clark.

“Was hopin we could share it together.”

Bruce laughs and tugs on Clark’s hand to follow him to the couch. “Your such a sap sometimes.”

“Yea but you love this sap,”

“Yea, I do,”

BONUS

“Clark what is this photo? Where did you get this?” Bruce shoved Clark’s phone in his face.

“Oh, you don’t like the new screensaver? I think it’s cute.”

“Clark,” Bruce gritted his teeth together, “it is not about liking. It is about how you got it.”

“Well a magician never reveals his secrets Bruce.” Clark deflects the question and continues looking for his glasses.

“You are not a magician though,” Bruce argues. “Now where?”

Clark found his glasses, “I’m late for work, bye and love you.” Clark grabs his phone, plants a kiss on Bruce’s cheek and dashes out the room.

“We are continuing this when you get back. I love you too,” Bruce says in a quiet voice, knowing Clark will hear him.

Taglist is under the cut so you don’t have to click “keep reading”

Taglist: @bruciemilf, @iwantadamusername, @akikkobara, @insanebutteredtoast, @profoundpacmilitaire, @just-a-gal-with-a-boomerang, @mexican-owlgal, @skylions-den, @classybananacoloregg, @queerly-bel0ved, @mysteriesgalplusdamianthings, @adrunkskeletonsduck, @seasonsyeetingsstuff, @truck-kunwillbeourlordandsavior, @iamyouraveragestudent, @home-of-sexual-and-dumb-of-ass, @odd-spooky-rainbows, @thenamessexual-homosexual, @wiboo07, @foulsandwichmusic, @jasontoddispoly, @dimension-hopper, @bittersweetstargazer, @suhnisideup, @thedragonsmaug, @ilike-color, @patron-saintof-sluts, @coffeeandotp, @melonfavor, @impossiblepeacehideout, @evalynanne, @dolliesanddahlias, @kailaaxanle

[no-thoughts-only-soup]

To Secure / Risk It All

Chapter 8

Aka Curt has another panic attack.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

———————————————

It was impossible. It had to be some sort of cruel prank. Because there was no way Chilly Panda was alive.

He wanted to believe she was. That despite all that happened, all evidence saying otherwise, that she had somehow escaped their clutches. Maybe she had somehow called upon her raptors. Maybe she had lived through it, and they hadn’t noticed. Maybe-

“Yeeeaaaaaaas!”

A chorus of cheers erupted throughout the room.

“We’re six now ya’ll!” Den cheered loudly, patting the monitor.

“There is SIX of us and 5 dozen of THEM.” Christian laughed.

Ivan rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t keep a straight face. “Damn, you couldn’t even stay dead?”

- Bitch. -

- 凸(⊙▂⊙✖ ) -

“They couldn’t even kill off Chilly.” Kristine pointed out with a giggle.

“Yeah why the hell did we go through all of that if you’re not even dead?” Christian joked, leaning in closer and tapping on the screen.

Ivan floated next up to him. “Bruh does that mean I died for fucking nothing?”

“Don’t forget Curt having an actual panic attack.” Den pointed over her shoulder at Curt.

At any other time, he would have joined in. Joined in with the laughter. Joined in with the jokes. But it felt like all energy had been sapped away from him, leaving him with just enough to keep standing.

She’s alright. They were still laughing and joking. She isn’t dead. They felt so far away. You didn’t fail her. Everything still felt so heavy.

Den shoved Christian aside. For whatever reason, the action snapped him out of his thoughts. Gathering whatever he still had left, he stepped closer. Kristine took a step aside to let him get closer, and he caught a glimpse of her face.

A smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Was it a pang of guilt? Of remorse for ever helping the Foundation? Was it longing? For being more than a replacement for a lost friend? Was it a feeling of being an outsider? For not being able to understand some of the inside jokes? Or was it a mix of many things?

Curt didn’t know and he chided himself for trying to pry. Those weren’t his feelings to figure out.

“But where are you Chilly? From where are you typing this?”

“Yeah, how the hell do we get out?” Ivan asked.

That was a bit of silence. And finally typing.

- actually… -

Curt felt immense dread in his stomach.

- I’m really dead -

The air around them felt cold. Oppressive.

“Wh-“ Ivan began, but Chilly was already typing again.

- they ran a bunch of tests on me. dunno why and I don’t remember what exactly killed me, but I died. been haunting the facility since -

Curt swallow some spit into his dry throat. “Y-you… they tested you because you’re an SCP like us. To see if you could survive i-if you’re not in a scenario…”

- well clearly not :P -

He couldn’t laugh. He knew she was trying to lighten up the atmosphere, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

He wasn’t alone in that. The closest was a slight, clearly forced smile on some of them.

“So,” Ivan interrupted the silence “are you a ghost like me now?”

- nah it’s different -

- it’s like -

Stop. Backspace.

- well -

Backspace.

- I’m kinda like a more cliché ghost? I can’t talk to u guys outside of this computer, I’m pretty much invisible, I dunno -

Heavy. It felt heavy. The air felt heavy.

A hand grabbed his wrist, grabbing Curt’s attention. He glanced over. Den still had her eyes on the screen, but the hand she had wrapped around his wrist said all that needed to be said. He choose not to address it, letting her keep him grounded.

It allowed him to focus. “Wait, maybe we can fix this. If you join us, maybe you’ll go back to life after we close the scenario.”

“Could work.” Ivan noted. “But we need her body too, right?”

“Chilly, you know what happened to your body?” Den asked her.

Pause.

- not really. I was drugged the fuck up for the whole thing -

No. He refused.

“Kristine,” he turned to her, “do you have any idea where it could be?”

She shifted around a bit, eyes looking in his direction but not really meeting his eyes. “No, I wasn’t allowed near the research stations…”

- curt, arent YOU the b-class? shouldn’t YOU know? -

“Do you think I would ask if I knew!?” He snapped at her, then leaned forward to type at another computer. “Come on, there’s gotta be a way to figure it out…”

The screens flicked from camera to camera, each adding to the growing pit of dread in Curt’s stomach. Every camera he checked, there were armed guards. There had to be something. Anything. They wouldn’t—

“Curt,” Den’s voice called out to him “they probably got rid of her body. I don’t wanna be a downer but—“

“They wouldn’t.” He cut her off. “Her body would be too valuable for that. T-They’d research it…”

“But that’s against the safety rules!” Kristine argued.

“Well clearly Snee doesn’t care about any damn rules!”

Come on, come on! It couldn’t be gone, it should still be there somewhere! He could still fix this, he could-

Christian grabbed his arm. “Dude, stop for a sec.”

Curt pulled his arm back.

“Oi, don’t fucking ignore me.” Christian said, grabbing Curt’s shoulder and forcefully turning him away from the computer. “Listen to me. I know you want to help Chilly, we all do! But we can’t help anyone if we get recaptured. We have to get the hell out!”

“AND LEAVE HER BEHIND!?” Curt roared at him.

Christian flinched from the sudden loud yell, and Curt took the chance to pull his arm away from his grasp. He glared at all of them.

“If we don’t get her out now we may never get that chance again! What the hell is wrong with you guys, am I the only one who fucking cares about her!?”

“Do you?” Christian snapped at him. “Or are you just trying to fix your ‘mistakes’ so you can stop feeling guilty?”

The silence was deafening. A knife wouldn’t be enough to cut through the tension. Everyone’s eyes were on Curt.

He wanted to reply. Make some snapping remark that of course he was doing this for Chilly. That of course he wasn’t doing this for some stupid sense of guilt. For making up to the fact it was his—

But the nasty part within him muted him before he could speak.

He has a point, doesn’t he?

So instead, he turned back to the computer. “…Both. And does it matter, the end result is still the sa—YEOUCH!”

An electric shock went through his hand, not strong enough to numb his arm, but still enough to sting. He shook out his hand. And then he saw Chilly typing.

- curt, leave it. it’s ok -

“Wha- No, its not ok!”

- no really. because, actually… -

There was a long pause.

- I’ve been thinking of taking a break from the group anyways -

He couldn’t breathe.

“Chilly…” Den whispered softly.

- it’s not because of you guys! I dunno how to best explain it, but it’s like, wanting to rediscover myself??? do some soulsearching??? trying to fuck around on my own and seeing what happens? if that makes sense??? -

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s not because of all the bullying?”

The computer vibrated with laughter.

- LMAOOOOO U COULDNT BULLY ME OUT IF YUO TRIED ಥ‿ಥ -

Den grinned and tried to nudge Ivan’s ghostly form. “We’d bully you out first.”

- absolutely (๑´• .̫ •ू`๑) -

- but fr don’t worry about me. ( ͒꒪̛ཅ꒪̛ ͒) if anything I can now go literally fucking anywhere I want and if I wanna be alive again we’ll just infiltrate this bitch -(๑☆‿ ☆#)ᕗ -

Den’s eyes sparkled. “Dude you can haunt a Starbucks.”

- KSNDBKSBSVKSJDBS SCRATCH ALL PLANS IM DOING THAT ⊹⋛⋋( ՞ਊ ՞)⋌⋚⊹ -

As Den, Ivan and Chilly laughed and teased, Curt felt like he was slipping. Everything felt like it was fading away. Their voices felt like they were melting together. The room felt like it was tilting.

No, no, no, he couldn’t fall into another attack now! They were on borrow time, at any moment the guards could barge in and—

But he was losing control. He was losing control. He was losing control. Losing control. Losing control. Control. Control. Control control control control control control control “Hey.” control control control control control control control control control control control control “hey!”

Christian moved into his vision. “Do you need to sit down for a moment?”

Curt stopped, his breath still uneven. His eyes flickered towards the others. They were still talking, but he caught the occasional glances they snuck at him. He stumbled back a little, getting some distance from the situation.

Almost without a single sound, Christian joined him, gently helping him breathe through it. Bit by bit, he pushed down the fear and panic once more.

He was definitely gonna throw up once they got out. If.

No. He steadied himself. We are going to get out. We will get out… or die trying.

And with a last deep breath, he locked eyes with Christian. The question went unspoken, but so did the answer. He stepped forward, interrupting the conversation between the others.

“It won’t be long before Snee finds us. We need a plan, stat.”

Ivan bit his lip. “We can’t get out through any of the exits. Maybe we could try a window.”

“We’d first need to get out of the panic room though.” Den pointed out. “Chilly, are there any guards heading in our direction?”

The computer was still for a moment.

- yeah, there’s a few getting close. doubt y’all are getting out without a fight -

Den crackled her knuckles upon hearing that, but Curt cut her off. “There is no way we can barge through so many. It’s too dangerous.”

“Do we have a choice though?” Ivan questioned.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Kristine suddenly shouted, raising her hand in the air like a desperate student. “If we can pretty much create whatever we want, why don’t we just make a teleporter?”

There was a silence of more than 10 seconds as everyone gaped at her.

Curt sunk to his knees, covering his face with his hands. “OH MY GOOOOOOOD!”

Everyone around him descended into hysterical laughter, Den and Christian even throwing in a “looooser!”, and even Chilly displaying a large L on the screen.

“WHY DIDNT I THINK OF THAT WHYYYYYYYYYY!”

“Ok, ok, I am holding this one against you dude.” Christian laughed.

Curt sighed deeply. “I am so fucking done y’all.

The laughter finally faded enough for Curt to stand up, sigh, and look at Kristine.

“Alright Kristine, how do you wanna do this?”

She thought, but only for a split second. “Can our teleporter be a 2004 Toyota Accord Sedan?”

It immediately prompted another round of giggles and chuckled, and even Curt felt the corners of his mouth move. “Sure, sure. Everyone, stand back a bit.”

Once everyone had made room, Curt spoke: “Alright, so Kristine summons her trusty teleporting 2004 Toyota Sedan…”

The car popped into existence, pushing all of them back even further.

“Shotgun!” Den immediately yelled, followed by Christian pouting over it. Kristine cheered and made her way over to the driver’s seat.

Curt was about to join, but then paused. No. He had to say it. He turned to Chilly instead.

“Chilly,” he began, his heart feeling as heavy as lead “I know I’m not directly responsible for what happened to you. But maybe if I had stepped up sooner, figured it out sooner, then maybe we could have escaped before your death. I’m…” his voice cracked “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t prevent this.”

There was a break in the storm of laughter. All eyes were focused on him and Chilly. Waiting for what she’d say.

And she finally typed.

- BITCH DO YOU NOT THINK I WOULDNT FUCKING HAUNT YOUR ASS IF I BLAMED YOU EVEN A LITTLE???? -

“Wh-“

- CURT FFS HOW LONG HAVE WE KNOWN EACH OTHER??? HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN BULLYING EACH OTHER??? DO U SERIOUSLY NOT THINK I WOULDNT TAKE THIS EXCUSE???? -

“I…I…” he stuttered.

- curt, I don’t blame u for shit so stop being such a sad sack about it -

She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t mad. She could’ve been. She should have been.

But she wasn’t.

- not even I’m blaming you so stop blaming urself already dumbass -

“Chilly…”

He took a deep breath… and smiled. “Thank you.”

Curt suddenly felt something warm against his chest, wrapping itself around him. And even though he knew how stupid he’d look, he hugged back.

It was gone before he knew it, but Christian next to him shifted, grinning ear to ear as held up one crooked arm, akin to how he would sling his arm around his neck. “Girl I better hear on the news how you haunted the White House.”

“You gotta get on an episode of Ghost Hunters.” Den laughed, and then grinned as Chilly’s spirit hugged her next.

When she moved on to Ivan, Curt could finally get a glimpse of her.

She was happy.

Ivan ruffled her head, or at least that’s what he intended, complaining how he was gonna get the full buttmonkey treatment. “Now I don’t got you to divert some of it, they’re all gonna focus on me now.”

And finally, Kristine held up her hand, only a little awkwardly. From the way she beamed, Chilly gave her the high five.

“I’ll bully them in your place.” She proudly vowed.

There was a quick moment of warmth again as she quickly phased through all of them…

And she was gone.

Curt exhaled slowly. And jumped as a loud BANG sounded from the door.

“Ok we gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“Kristine take the wheel!” Den yelled as she jumped into the passenger’s seat, Christian still complaining as he got into the back.

Kristine got into the driver’s seat with a laugh, and Curt went to sit right behind her. Ivan of course couldn’t actually enter the car, but he hang onto the roof anyways.

The door broke down just as Kristine started the car. Curt flipped them off. And a second later, the car and all those inside vanished from the room, and from the facility.

——————————————————-

I was gonna end the chapter somewhere else originally, but I’ve tortured you guys with my absences enough.

Wil edit properly once I got time.

[skarlette1]

Worse Scrapes

Jane Bound, British secret agent Eta, had come through worse scrapes than this. Yes, her cover had been blown. Yes, Irma Blofuq had captured Bound and shackled her in this so-called “conditioning chamber.” For three hours, perhaps more, the subliminal-laden music had played, the scent of trance-enhancing aphrodisiacs heavy in the air, while the screens inside the blindfold had danced with fascinating, will-sapping light shows.

No matter. Bound knew that she was too strong for Blofuq’s brainwashing tricks. She had been using that time to slowly, step-by-step, slip her left hand free of the shackles. Bound was almost free, almost able to slip her hand out and attend to what mattered.

As Bound pulled her left hand out of the shackle, she wondered for a moment why it plunged beneath her panties. Wasn’t she supposed to use her free hand to escape the other shackle?

There will be time for that later, Bound thought in a voice that was more like Blofuq’s than her own. You can do that after you’ve cum a few times.

Driven by the music and the lights and the drugs, Bound’s fingers drove her body into a frenzy of bliss. In the end, this was just one more scrape Jane Bound would need to cum through.

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 2: The Facility

Alien Son - Chapter 2: The Facility

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unbeknownst to him, Cade was a product of an experiment with the goal of raising a super solider. Saved from that fate by his adoptive parents, he is still hunted. Eventually, as it always does, his past catches up with him, though now there’s another plan for him, one he could’ve never imagined.

With the help of friends, Cade must escape his captors again, resuming his life on the run in hopes of finally ending it once and for all, before another generation of his family line has to suffer the consequences.

Rating: 18+ series (explicit content, sensitive topics)

Chapter Word Count: 1,100(ish)

Series Warnings/General Info: Science fiction, mpreg (due to fictional science), violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, friendship (found family), romance (male x female), eventual love scene, violation of autonomy (by the antagonists), cloning, inter-species relationship (sort of - Cade is part human/more human than not), xenophobia, alien super human abilities

�� Don’t like, don’t read or comment! —

xxx

When Cade’s consciousness returned, everything was foggy. He was first aware of the fact he couldn’t open his eyes or move his limbs, which confused him. Why do I feel so heavy?

As his mind began to clear, he realized he was laying on something very firm, a cot maybe. It was a far cry from his well-padded memory foam bed back at the cabin. Where am I?

He forced himself to open his weighted eyelids and was temporarily blinded by the white light hanging over him.

He slowly turned his head and studied the room around him. It was small, maybe fourteen feet by ten feet, and included a toilet and sink in the corner furthest from where he was lying. The room would’ve reminded him of a prison cell if it weren’t for the solid door and white walls. That reminded him more of a room in movie psychiatric hospitals. The walls were bare except for a tiny plastic mirror by the sink and a four by four foot window about six feet off the ground. It appeared to be sealed shut.

He groaned and fought to gain the strength to sit up. Eventually his efforts worked, or the tranquilizer had just worn off. The tranquilizer.

Cade’s eyes widened as it all came back to him. His encounter with the deer, his trash can taking a tumble, and the dart he’d pulled out of his neck.

He bolted up into a stand, immediately having to grab onto the foot of the cot to prevent himself from completely crumpling over. He was still feeble from the drug’s effects, whatever it was. He’d never heard of any drug that could knock a person out cold almost instantly.

With determination he pushed himself back onto his feet and dragged them to the door. He leaned against the door and briefly pressed his forehead to it before banging on it with his left fist.

“Hey!” he yelled. “If anyone is out there, show your face!”

He kept banging until the little energy he had in that moment was sapped. When it was, he slowly dropped to the floor, back against the door, and placed his head in his hands.

He’d been sitting there for a full minute when he heard a loud buzz and the door gave way. A moment later his arms were grabbed by two men in suits and pinned behind his back. Cade tried fighting back, kicking at air as they dragged him out of the room he’d been in, but he was still too weak to break their grip. They pulled him down a hall and a third man standing at the end of it handcuffed him.

“Take him to see Mr. Pena in the conference room,” he ordered the first two men.

They nodded and shoved Cade into a walk, causing him to stumble. He growled a protest at them. “Who are you?”

“Mr. Pena will explain,” the taller of the two men replied.

Cade was led through several corridors, which became less and less sterile looking in appearance and more like a business office until he ultimately reached a large room with a long table and a giant projection screen. He was forced to sit in the chair farthest from the screen and was uncuffed only to be tied down to the chair itself with reinforced iron chains.

Without a word the two men who’d escorted him to the room left Cade behind. He wasn’t alone for long though. Shortly after a graying man of Latin descent wearing a pricy gray suit stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. A woman in a black suit stood post by the outside, watching them through the long window in the door. Cade guessed she was his bodyguard. 

“Cade Dalton,” the man said with a smug smile. “It’s nice to finally catch up with you after all these years.”

Cade had never wanted to punch a person more in his life.

“Let me guess, you’re the boss around here?”

The man nodded. “Name’s Marquis. Marquis Pena. I own Pena Corporations, a medical and military innovation company, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

Cade balled his fists and fought against his constraints as fury boiled up in him. “You murdered my parents!”

“No,” Marquis said firmly. “Your parents got themselves killed. They stole my property. I only did what it took to get it back.”

“Property?” Cade spat in disbelief, fighting his restraints. “You mean me? You think you own me? You don’t!”

“Without me you wouldn’t exist,” Marquis stated, staring him down.

Cade stopped struggling and stared back at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a long story,” Marquis told him. “But you’re not going anywhere soon, so humor me.”

He threw a file on the table in front of Cade and sat down in the seat next to his. “This all started thirty-one years ago with the Alosians.”

“The Alosians?” Cade frowned, confusion in his eyes. “I’ve never heard of those people before.”

“That’s because they weren’t people,” Marquis said matter-of-factly. “They were aliens from the planet Alos.”

Cade snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. Good one, loony bin. Maybe you should rent the white room next to mine, hmm?”

Marquis chuckled. “You have a mouth, son, I’ll give you that. Your strong will reminds me of Mara. She was as tough as nails mentally, if not physically.”

He leaned in closer to Cade to peer into his eyes, to examine them. “You’ve got the same exact fiery colored eyes as her now too. I seem to remember them being a shade lighter when you were first born.”

Cade blinked at him, letting the information sink in. “Mara was my biological mother? You knew her?”

Marquis nodded. “Yes. Did Russell and Amanda never tell you your mother’s name? Can’t say I’m shocked. Did you even know they weren’t your real parents?”

Cade gritted his teeth, trying to rein in his anger. “They told me I was adopted as soon as I could comprehend it. It didn’t matter. They were my real parents.”

“I bet your mother would be so disappointed if she were still alive to hear that,” Marquis said with a broad grin. “Her son having loved two of the people responsible for her imprisonment. That is, if she would’ve cared for you at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Cade hissed. “What did my parents do?”

“Your parents did what they were ordered to do,” Marquis replied. “One of those orders was to help capture and contain the aliens that were among us.”

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

[sapevaluationusa]

Understanding Substance Abuse Evaluation

Introduction:

What is Substance Abuse Evaluation and Why is it Important?

Substance abuse evaluation is a critical diagnostic tool used to identify the presence and extent of an individual’s substance use disorder. This comprehensive assessment plays a vital role in understanding the severity of addiction, the impact on an individual’s life, and the necessary steps towards recovery. The importance of substance abuse evaluation cannot be overstated – it forms the foundation for creating an effective treatment plan tailored to an individual’s unique needs.

The Process of Substance Abuse Evaluation: Steps and Procedures

The process of substance abuse evaluation involves several steps and procedures that provide a holistic understanding of an individual’s substance use. It begins with a thorough interview that explores the individual’s history of substance use, including the types of substances used, duration of use, frequency, and any associated behaviors or consequences.

This is followed by a physical examination to assess the individual’s general health and identify any physical signs of substance abuse or related health issues. Additionally, laboratory tests may be conducted to confirm substance use and understand its impact on the individual’s health.

Psychological evaluations are also integral to the process, focusing on identifying any co-occurring mental health disorders, exploring the individual’s attitudes and perceptions towards substance use, and assessing their readiness for change.

The Role of a Qualified Evaluator in Conducting Substance Abuse Evaluations

A qualified evaluator plays a pivotal role in conducting SAP evaluation near me. This professional, often an addiction counselor or licensed therapist specializing in substance use disorders, is trained to administer and interpret various assessment tools, conduct interviews, and make informed recommendations based on the evaluation results.

The evaluator ensures that the assessment process is conducted in a respectful and non-judgmental manner, creating a safe space for individuals to share openly about their substance use. Their expertise and insights are crucial in formulating an accurate diagnosis and suggesting appropriate treatment options.

The Purpose and Benefits of Substance Abuse Evaluation for Individuals and Treatment Providers

The purpose of a substance abuse evaluation extends beyond diagnosing an addiction. It serves as a valuable source of information that can guide individuals towards recovery and help treatment providers develop personalized treatment plans.

For individuals, the evaluation provides insights into their substance use patterns, triggers, and the impact of substance use on their lives. This understanding can motivate individuals to seek help and commit to a treatment plan.

For treatment providers, the evaluation results offer a detailed understanding of the individual’s substance use, which is crucial for designing a treatment approach that addresses the individual’s specific needs. It also aids in monitoring progress during treatment and making necessary adjustments along the way.

Different Types and Approaches to Substance Abuse Evaluation Methods

There are various types and approaches to substance abuse evaluations, each designed to examine different aspects of substance use disorders. These include:

Screening Tools: These are brief, standardized questionnaires used to identify individuals who may have a substance use disorder. Examples include the Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test (AUDIT) and the Drug Abuse Screening Test (DAST).

Diagnostic Assessments: These comprehensive assessments are used to diagnose substance use disorders based on criteria outlined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5). They involve a thorough interview and may also include physical examinations and laboratory tests.

Risk Assessment: This type of evaluation identifies the individual’s risk factors for substance use and the potential harms associated with their substance use.

Psychosocial Assessment: This evaluates the individual’s psychological wellbeing and social circumstances, exploring how these factors may influence their substance use and recovery process.

Conclusion: The Significance of Substance Abuse Evaluations in Identifying and Treating Addiction Issues

Substance abuse evaluation play a significant role in identifying addiction issues and guiding the treatment process. By offering a comprehensive understanding of an individual’s substance use, these evaluations pave the way for personalized treatment plans that address the unique needs of each individual. They are an essential tool in the journey towards recovery, providing valuable insights and direction for both individuals struggling with substance use disorders and the professionals assisting them.

[winnie4wonders]

You worked hard to obtain your CDLs. You may also be a safety-sensitive employee under the DOT rule 49 CFR Part 40 regarding workplace drug and alcohol testing. Don't let a failed drug screen discourage you. The DOT SAP program is the first step to returning to duty. For your convenience, ALL Evaluations are done ONLINE! All you need is a cell phone, tablet, or computer (with a camera)! Winifred Okafor is a licensed addiction counselor and qualified mental health provider. She is Internationally credentialed and certified DOT SAP. It's never been easier to get started. Request an appointment today! No need to travel to an office, everything is done VIRTUALLY! Get started today! Complete the appointment request form, email info@dotsap.online or call (214)247-6146. If you are an FMCSA Driver, make sure you are registered in the Clearinghouse. Then search for Winifred Okafor to add me as your SAP. (If not, skip this step). You will receive a call and/or email to confirm your request, and to book an appointment. You may also book online! #newstuff #dotsap #dot #usdot #txdot #dotregulated #fmcsa #mandatededucation #dotsapevaluation #sap #truckinglife #uscg #frieghtbroker #dispatcher #owneroperator #transportation #schoolbusdriver #womenintrucking #menintrucking #usatrucker #usa #texas #DOTConsortium #drugtesting #DOTdrugtesting #faceboook #fb #pinterest #instagram #tiktok

[icybreaths]

A hearty laugh came through the speaker.

“¡Amigo mío, están aquí! They just happen to look a little different now!”

In Leo’s mind, he’d abandoned no one! As far as he was concerned, his ‘family’ had come to him and given their bodies up to a greater cause.

Serving him.

“I never let them die. They’re here, they're spry~ And here you come trying to discredit all of my hard work. What a pity...~”

The Sexta could taunt until his heart’s content. Leo had heard it all before. From the rage induced men who fired ceros and screamed in their cages before being ground up into material for his beautiful lions – to the women who begged for his mercy or to get it over with. His favorite.

Leo was a man who loved to relish his hunt. Sap every last drop of willpower out of the body. Bat the morsel around until it simply couldn’t fight back anymore, then savor it, one bite at a time. The best part was keeping them awake for it.

These two mongrels on the screen would be no different than the rest.

If Grimmjow wouldn’t hand what was rightfully his over, then he would take it.

“A very good joke! Fitting of your position. I’ll run that one by our Tres Queen during the next meeting. I am sure you won’t make it, brother, but I will speak in your stead, mm?”

. . .

These lions were a bitch to handle. Impaling them wasn’t enough. Their hierro felt thick as a high level arrancar under her blade, and even when she could cut them the instant regeneration smoothed the wounds over like nothing had happened.

The yawning maw of one the beasts was filled with a massive cluster of ice before it could reach her. The lion behind her swallowed her up a second after.

An uncomfortably tight, wet darkness consumed her. She could barely breathe or move. Judging by the lion’s movement, she assumed it was thrashing about.

Too late to tell the thing she only ever got complaints of how she tasted, huh?

Angling her blade into its fleshy throat, she fired out Hyoumari.

A wide burst of sharp ice jut from the throat of the beast, jerked its head back and nearly off its shoulders. Another burst angled upwards and devoured its face in a gory mess of flesh and ice – ripped the rest of its head off and flung it into the abyss past the pathway’s trim.

A rain of blood painted the white floors and ran off the sides. A bloody, taloned hand clawed at the speckled ground as Jewel drug herself out of the corpse of the creature.

The lion with a mouthful of ice had crunched through it and turned its attention back to her.

Glancing over, she saw the other three lions had targeted Grimmjow, each one trying to take the king for themselves. Two of the monsters were growling at each other as they moved in – each charging a cero -- and the third was already batting and snapping its jaws at him.

Man had his plate full but she didn’t think it was anything he couldn’t handle. He still hadn’t drawn his weapon. She wondered if he would reach that point.

As much as she would have loved to have sat by and admired his kills, she had her own to focus on.

She smeared blood and saliva from her face and launched herself at her next target.

The smoke had filled about half the room at this point. Large as it was, she knew they’d have to make this quick.

As she fought the lion, something smeared in the corner of her vision. When she glanced over it was gone but it became apparent when she looked back at the lion’s face.

The way its face began to contort and almost ripple along the edges -- she knew this sensation from the last time she had been in Leo's maze. The smoke was hallucinogenic.

Great, one of these guys.

“A talker then, you know what that also makes you.” As he rolled his eyes. “A screamer, hiding behind thick walls, bet you're small, like really tiny.”

He held up his hand and pinched his fingers together, like a little ant compared to him, something to crush then without a shadow of a doubt, how he was looking forward to doing that without a doubt.

“Stayed in with the latest news then, right, by hiding out here and letting your brothers and sisters die in your place?” Was that it, hide this out and wait and wait, for the strongest to die.

What a bitch.

“Your domain, maybe you didn’t get the memo, but there is a new king now, and it is me, you don’t get your ass down here, bowing and kissing the ground I walk on, your ass is commiting high treason!” That was how a king spoke, right, that was how a king parted with their words, right, he was not too sure, but it sounded good!

“You are a coward, and a little bitch and if you think I am going to hand her over to you, without you coming to get her, hardly. You know the rules better than anyone else.”

You want something.

Come and get it!

His eyes would narrow, looking ahead for the moment as he would see it for himself, sense it as well, be able to read the movements of the creatures, as she moved before he had the chance to do it himself, out of harm's way of the attack that had been sent right towards them both.

“Coward!”

And worse, he sent more little toys for them to break, as he let her go for the moment and stepped back, well that plan.

Was awful. 

A note to himself going forward, to merely stick to what he knows how to do best and to not change it up again, to not try and think outside the box at all.

“Really.” As he shrugs. “Avoid that?” What did she expect him to do?

Run madly into it and breathe it all within.

Well maybe …

Just to prove how good he was.

Fuck it then, as he still did not go for his sword, he would his his claws, his fangs, his body and he would slaughter these little fuckers here and now and leave them as stains on the ground.

He wanted to play games, then he could throw everything he had at them both and they will rip right through them all and soon, he will have nothing, no one, no little toys to play with, no little traps and mazes, he will be alone and when that happened, when he saw he had nothing left, nowhere to go, no one to use, he would know the simple truth when dealing with the feline killer.

How completly and utterly fucked one could be when they cross him.

[pvlshd]

🍍 🍊 🍒 🍐

🍍  :    how comfortable is my muse in their body ? how do they feel about their height,  weight,  strength,  and body type ? how important is being attractive to them ?

louis has never thought about his physique too much, but he has thought about death. he wonders sometimes about his own relationship with his own mortality. how will he die ? will he be murdered by some crazed fan that thinks they know him through his films or ruined a story they cherished on the page via the screen ? will it be a heart attack by way of his lifestyle: booze, recreational drugs to take the edge off, stress, high blood pressure, too much red meat and cheese. or maybe he'll die like legends, found dead one day shot in the head by a lover wronged. how will he be remembered ? as he is now, looking more or less the same but with more grey in his hair and a lot more lines on his face ? or will the image that might haunt the paramedics that come to take his body away be grotesque. a distended belly, puffed features, knobbly knees, stick-figure legs ?

he is not an energizer bunny by any means and doesn't expect to be, but he doesn't like not having the energy or the will to make his vision come out the right way, it is a dealbreaker for him. if his life is somehow sapping the juice out of his bones, he'll look at his diet, maybe try meditation, go box it out with the punching bag in his personal gym. he doesn't need to feel as strong as a marvel superhero, but strong enough for his weight class will do.

these things inform how he eats, but not always ! he does not have a sweet tooth, he grew out of that in his teens, he likes his carbs and his cheeses and his """robust""" sandwiches, vegetables are rabbit food, unless you know how to cook them into something much heartier. he eats indulgently sometimes and neglects meals at others simply because he is too preoccupied, too obsessed to remember to. he curbs his habits when it occurs to him that maybe the result of high cholesterol or high whatever, wouldn't suit the things he wants to do. it lasts for as long as he's conscious, he'll make better choices, eat conservatively, stop at four martinis, try to get on the treadmill more often. regardless, louis is often pale and gaunt. if he gets some colour, he's been florence, or milan holed up in a friend's house. he likes what he likes, but he is not a foodie per se. the food is there to sustain you, and if you have the means to have it taste good, sure, have it taste fucking good, but that's all it's for.

while being physically attractive to others isn't consciously anywhere on his list, he does have an innate need to be able to recognise himself in the mirror. he has to have the same face, remain at the same size, can't feel too much heavier than he's used to or too much lighter. he dresses for function. he wears nicer things only when there is a need to. otherwise, he'd rather be comfortable, and if other people assess the people they meet according to this, he does not care.

🍒  :    how much does my muse value companionship ? do they constantly keep people around them,  or do they prefer to be alone often ? do they have or desire to have many friends ? do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend ?

a lot of people know louis and louis knows a lot of people. the crew of every set he's worked on, his mentors, his peers. he has a lot of acquaintances and good loyal ones too ! they can almost, be counted as friends. but his inner-life and personal life aren't shared with them so they can't be counted as those true good friends everyone aspires to have. he is okay with that. the companionship he values are the people he calls for input. the ones from brooklyn that will rag on him, that will tell him what's bullshit and what can get by, the people he's known for decades. he likes being around them. he likes having cigars with industry heavyweights that he can actually stand, those guys hold the experiences and stories that he would imbibe through osmosis if he could, it's a source of inspiration. when he is working however, he prefers to be alone. if they are on location and the cast and crew has a day off, if he throws a party, it is something that's heavily planned, and that he is mentally prepared for. mood management is important for louis, the people around him never forget it.

🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall ? are they smarter than the average person,  or less than ? are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school ? are they more street smart or book smart ?

louis is well-read. he counts on his street-smarts from when he was growing up more than his traditional schooling. schools are templated, rigid. encouraging ! sure, but true problem solving happens in the real world, where the stakes are high and there's no safety net. a lot of things are either self taught or observed from the tedious hours spent with various members of the crew from film sets and applied to his own knowledge, his own poetic views, techniques, technical details to supplement and enhance art, rather than things that create obstacles or restrictions. workarounds are a challenge for innovation, not an inconvenience.

[amhnationwide]

Dilute urine drug screen for SAP

New Post has been published on https://amhnationwide.com/drug-testing/dilute-urine-drug-screen-for-sap/

Dilute urine drug screen for SAP

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[solhwellness]

What Effect Does Stress Have on Parenting? | Solh Wellness

In today's world, stress is a common issue. Parenting stress is a new mental health issue for new parents. Parents who are stressed may find it difficult to control their emotions, making them irritable, angry, and unable to interact with their children. Furthermore, they may find it difficult to provide consistent, loving care for their children, which may jeopardise their development and well-being.

Stress can also impair a parent's judgement, leading to rash or dangerous actions like ignoring their children's needs or abusing drugs. Stress can also cause a loss of energy and motivation, making it difficult for parents to spend quality time with their children and maintain a healthy home environment.

The Effects of Stress on Your Children

Both family relationships and individuals are affected by parental stress. Parental stress has a significant impact on how children are raised. As a result, parents may show less affection and responsiveness to their children. Reduced parental ability can have a variety of negative effects on children.

People tend to choose unhealthy comforts to relieve stress, such as overeating ice cream or passing out in front of the television. Children can learn how to deal with stress by watching their parents. It's the same as telling your child that the only ways for him or her to unwind are through food, screens, or other harmful habits.

Unhealthy Family Practices

Stress can have an unnoticed effect on how parents feel and how they relate to their children. For example, financial concerns can completely sap the patience and energy required to be a caring, involved parent. Even when you are with your children, you may not be paying attention to them.

Stress makes it easier to develop bad family habits, such as ordering takeout, because people lack the energy to cook home cooked meals. According to researchers, children of stressed parents eat junk food more frequently, engage in less physical activity, and are more likely to be obese, whether due to health issues, financial difficulties, or other concerns.

Conclusion

Seeking expert advice on how to deal with parental stress can be beneficial. If you are a parent who is experiencing long-term stress and are concerned about how it will affect your child's health, contacting Solh Wellness may be the first step towards dealing with stress properly. Get in touch with us or download the Solh Wellness app. Our counsellors will make certain that you receive the best parenting advice for your particular situation.

[softshuji]

1:25AM | SANZU HARUCHIYO

Title: Little Life

summary: Sanzu wonders if he can fit in your little life. Likes and reblogs appreciated!

cw: afab!reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol and guns, use of petnames (pretty girl, princess,) confessions, mentions of violence and insecurities, Sanzu is beyond whipped.

Sanzu paces, waiting for your call. To and fro, one corner of the room to the other, biting anxiously on his nails, his feet padding across the carpet of the office so much and so often that Rindou is almost worried he’s going to wear down the rug. It’s late and he’s torn between picking up the phone and calling you, or leaving you to enjoy the time you have with your friends.

Precious time that he knows you fight to have amidst the exams, the work, the various stresses of your daily life. He’s seen the tired lines under your eyes that you’ve tried hard to hide with ample amounts of makeup and so he knows you deserve this, deserve to loosen up and relax. Still… It is late.  He’s lost in thought, chewing on his lower lip and staring forlornly at the glass of whisky Rindou has haphazardly left on the table when his phone rings, jolting him out of his reverie.

He fumbles with it, and presses it to his ear, his heart lifting when he sees your name illuminated on the screen. 

‘Haruuuuuuuuuuuu…’ you say into the phone, and he can tell just from the lilt of your voice and the way you drag his name out that you’re smiling. 

He fights to keep the smile off his own face, turning away from Rindou seated on the sofa in the corner. He’s already started looking for his jacket, patting his pockets for his car keys. ‘Ready to go Princess?’ 

‘Mhm,’ you hum, your breath already fogging in the crisp night air. The thrum of the music is quieter now, more of a distant thump than blaring noise but Sanzu can still hear the beat through the phone, hear the hubbub of conversation around you.

‘I’m on my way alright? Just sit tight for me Pretty Girl.’ 

He made a special effort today, kept away from the drugs and the alcohol and even though he practically itched for a pill all day especially when the headache was so painful, throbbing pain in his temples, burning pressure behind his eyelids, he stayed away(mostly). He told himself he had things to do, work to finish and all but threw himself into it, if only to keep himself occupied, keep his hands from shaking with the withdrawal. Even now, the tightness under his skin is unbearable. He flexes his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives, clenching his fists in the hopes that it’ll relieve some of the stiffness. 

‘Since when were you such a sap?’ Rindou said as he left and Sanzu had only thrown up his middle finger in response. 

He sees you waiting outside the bar, puffing your cheeks and watching your breath mist and he almost giggles when he sees you blow a particularly long breath as if you’re a dragon blowing fire.

He remembers a time when it felt wrong, when it felt uncomfortable  and disorientating to be so truly seen by someone. He had always expected the reaction, always expected to be used in some way and thus armed himself with the vitriol he knew would be as good a weapon as a gun. It had taken so long to earn his good graces and there had been nights when you asked yourself if you could stick it out long enough for him to open up to you, if you had it in you to be there when it was so hard and he had been through so much. Were you even equipped to be the person he needed? Was he equipped to be yours?

He pulls up, exiting the car and sidling to the passenger side to let you in. ‘Did you have a good time?

‘I did!’ You clap excitedly as you all but stumble into the car and Sanzu catches a faint whiff of the perfume still clinging to your cold skin. You’re tired, your limbs are sluggish, and when you lean back in the seat, sinking further into your thin coat that does nothing to fight the early spring cold, Sanzu takes off his jacket and puts it over your legs. 

Take that Haitani, he thinks and smirks to himself. 

He starts the car and cranks the heating up, watching your eyes flutter and grow heavy. The drowsiness is pressing on you and if it weren’t for the sound of the engine rolling beneath you, or the momentum as you cruise through the city, you think you’d be asleep already.

He stops just outside your apartment, rushing around to your side to lift you out of the passenger seat. He scoops you up, hugging you close to him and his pink hair tickles your nose when you brush your cheek against his shoulder. You look up at him through your daze, and even though everything is a little blurry, the streetlights a little too sharp, the world moving a little too fast, it feels safe. He feels safe. His mouth is set in a firm line, his brow pinched just a slight. He’s determined to be good, at least for one night. Determined to be good for you, to prove to the voices in his head that he can be, that he’s deserving. 

So no fuck ups tonight Sanzu Haruchiyo, he tells himself.

He nudges the door closed with his hip and hoists you in his arms, so that your face is buried in the crook of his neck, your hot breath kissing his ear. He shudders. The feeling of your arms around him, clutching onto the back of his shirt as you fight to keep your eyes open has his heart hammering so painfully in his chest that it makes his brain fuzzy. He does things extra carefully as he fumbles with the keys to your apartment. He avoids the cracks in the cement, he refuses to take a deep breath just in case the sensation of his chest rising wakes you from your partial slumber. It’s excessive. Just like it was excessive when he brushed his teeth twice before leaving, when he paced when watching the clock, when he had his car deep cleaned so you wouldn’t see the discarded pill bottles, the cigarette butts overflowing in the ashtray, when he asked Koko if he could smell nicotine or smoke from him.

Love… is another type of drug isn’t it?

He kicks off his shoes at your door and pushes it closed with one foot, his jacket still draped on your legs over the skirt that did nothing to protect you from the harsh early spring cold.

You mumble under your breath and Sanzu stops, his hand halfway to the dimmer on the wall.

‘What was that Princess? Do you need something?’ He cranes his neck, ear close to your lips. 

‘I love you Haru,’ you say and it’s so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it at first, almost loses it under the dangerously loud thrum of his heart and the sound of an engine rolling past outside. There is no explosion in his chest, no fireworks. Only the dance of butterflies beating their wings in his blood, the tightening of his throat, the jolt of electricity running along his skin. His heartbeat must be so loud he thinks and you must be able to hear it through his chest. He takes a shuddering breath, watching the wisps of your hair that fall from behind your ear as you slump against him.

‘Sure ya do, you’re only sayin’ that because I picked you up hm?’ He chuckles, and hopes it doesn’t betray the nerves coiling tight in his belly.

You sigh softly but he can tell from the way your lips feel on his neck that you’re smiling against his skin.

His shoulders brush the wall when he slides into your room and carefully places you on the bed, removing your heels and fishing out the painkillers you’re bound to need in the morning. Through your closed curtains, Sanzu can see the bright orange glare of a streetlight as it filters through the gap at the top. He feels…strangely safe and at peace here. In your room, with the curtain closed to the darkness outside, and you nodding off to sleep in your own bed. 

Could he get used to this? Could he one day fit in here in your little space? In the space between that radiated your love, your kindness, the soft comfort of you? Sanzu knew he was all sharp edges and corners, cold hands and nicotine and danger, that being around him meant never living at peace. Had he intruded on your space? Would he ruin it just by existing there?

He pulls the duvet up, tucks it just under your neck, tucking the hair behind your ear with hands that are so gentle and soft that you’d never imagine he could kill people with them. 

‘Sleep well Princess,’ he whispers and kisses your temple, brushing his lips against your skin for the barest of seconds. His lips are soft and even in your partial slumber, you can smell the mint on him, the menthol that you recognize from nicotine substitutes, and your chest lurches. He tried, you think. He did that for you, and your chest fizzles and soars. 

He sees you smile, believing it to be just the result of a good night and the prospect of even better sleep.

He stands, flicks off the lamp on your bedside table and moves to leave, halting at the door with one hand on the doorknob, the light from your hallway casting a shadow on the carpet of your bedroom.

‘I love you too Princess,’ he whispers and of course you don’t hear him, he thinks. He just wanted to say it, just wanted an opportunity to voice what he’s been too afraid to for the last year of his life to the person who has become the centre of his world. He closes the door with a soft click, side stepping the floorboards he knows that creak. 

Little does he know, you heard him. And you knew. 

a/n: my first time writing for Haru! How'd I do? I'll be honest this has been in my docs for like months I should have posted it earlier. I am sorry I am so inconsistent with posting, I always usually finish pieces quickly I'm just slacking with posting lol. And thank you for reading (I love Haru)

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @crown5 @clovcly @oikawascutie @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @anxious-cherry-pie @tetsutits @burnishedcrown

[wildbornsiren]

You want some happy? The first thing that came to mind is Beau becoming Dad!Beau. I'm feral at the very thought!

Love you, Shelly! ❤️

You darling sap. I do so adore you. Beau "Cyclone" Simpson/F!Reader.

"Occasionally this particular procedure can reverse itself, especially if you had it earlier on." The doctor hands over a bundle of paperwork and print-outs. Beau stares at him, mind spinning a mile a minute, a bit wide-eyed, his hand shaking slightly as he reaches for you. "What are the risks?" He finally manages to say. The doctor glances at the computer screen, then back to the two of you. "Admiral, there's no concern for your health, your wife's health or the health of the fetus." He offers a reassuring smile. "In a few months you'll be welcoming a baby into this world."

That was eight months ago. He had doted on you hand and foot, taking you to classes, appointments, more often than not you'd find him squinting at forums on his phone, or behind his desk in the office looking at studies, research and whatever caught his attention. There was a go bag in both of your cars, and a third by the door. ------- "I'm scared." The admission came in the middle of the night. You were awake, it was hard to get comfortable enough to sleep, and the only thing that appealed to you were fruit loops that had been pulverized into dust. He was on his side, his back to you, his voice quiet--small. You licked the dust from your fingers, drying them on the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed. "I am too. But we can do this together." "Isn't that how we got into this?" You smile and shake your head. "You know Beau, when a man and a woman love each other very much." He reaches back, taking your hand, pulling you so gently to him. Chapped lips brush your knuckles. The gesture is soft and sweet and everything he rarely says out loud. ------ The days creep closer to the date on the calendar circled with red. With it, your nerves increase. Beau is constantly at your side, making sure you don’t lift a finger. It would be sweet if you weren’t so tired of everything.  You go into labor three days before the circled date. Beau is calm, stoic, holding your hand as he drives, taking each increasingly painful squeeze from your hand without complaint. He’s with, you every step of the way, a reassuring presence at your side calm and patient as he talks to you. There’s a tenseness to his jaw, worry in his eyes, but whenever you call for him he’s there, wiping sweat from your brow or holding your hand as contractions happen.  That tension eases from his face when he hears the cry of your daughter, and the congratulations of the delivery staff. He leans in, kissing your forehead gently.  “Good job baby.” His voice shakes and you bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing the back of his hand.  “I love you.” You murmur, fuzzy from the pain drugs and exhaustion.  You watch the flurry of activity as your daughter is weighed, measured, wrapped in a swaddling blanket and returned to you. “Beau look at what we made.” You look up at him, and blink. His face is so soft, eyes a bit watery and full of wonder. “We’re so happy to meet you Ellie.”  He drops shakily into the chair at your bedside, exhaling heavily. “She’s perfect.”  “Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes and a lil nose.” You grin at him.  -----  You wake up a few hours later, the seat next to you empty. You can hear the quiet rumble of Beau’s voice, and when you turn to look, you find him by the window. There’s a bundle of pink in his arms, and he’s talking softly to her.  “I’m so glad you’re here baby girl. Your momma did so well keeping you safe and helping you grow.”  You relax against the pillows, watching him as he gently rocks the cooing bundle.  “It’s my turn to keep you safe now. I promise I’ll protect you, and keep you safe. You’re going to grow up so strong, and brave, and smart. And so, so very loved. You know, your momma fixed all my cracks. Showed me that there’s still a lot of good out there.” He points out the window. “I can’t wait to show you everything little one.”  /end

[sapevaluationusa]

Substance Abuse Evaluation: What You Need to Know

Introduction:

What is a Substance Abuse Evaluation and Why is it Important?

A substance abuse evaluation is a critical diagnostic process aimed at assessing an individual’s patterns of drug or alcohol use. It involves a series of assessments and screenings conducted by a trained professional to determine the extent of an individual’s substance use disorder, if any. The importance of this evaluation lies in its ability to identify the presence and severity of addiction, paving the way for effective treatment planning and intervention.

The Process of Substance Abuse Evaluation: Steps and Procedures

The process of a substance abuse evaluation typically involves several steps and procedures. It starts with an initial consultation where the evaluator gathers detailed information about the individual’s substance use history, including the types of substances used, frequency and duration of use, as well as any associated behavioral issues or health complications.

Following the initial consultation, the evaluator may conduct a series of tests, including physical examinations, laboratory tests, and psychological evaluations. These tests are designed to provide a comprehensive understanding of the individual’s health status and mental wellbeing, further informing the evaluation process.

The Importance of Substance Abuse Evaluation in Identifying and Treating Addiction

SAP evaluation play a pivotal role in the identification and treatment of addiction. Through these evaluations, healthcare professionals can gain a detailed understanding of an individual’s substance use, which in turn allows them to develop a personalized treatment plan tailored to the individual’s specific needs and circumstances.

Moreover, regular evaluations can help track the progress of the treatment, allowing for necessary modifications to the treatment plan over time. The benefits of such evaluations are far-reaching, contributing significantly to the success of the recovery journey.

Common Tools and Techniques Used in Substance Abuse Evaluation

Several tools and techniques are commonly used in substance abuse evaluations. These include standardized screening tools like the Alcohol Use Disorders Identification Test (AUDIT) or the Drug Abuse Screening Test (DAST), which help identify potential substance use disorders.

Diagnostic interviews are also frequently used, providing a platform for individuals to discuss their substance use history and experiences in-depth. Additionally, self-report questionnaires offer valuable insights into an individual’s perceptions, attitudes, and behaviors related to substance use.

Understanding the Different Types of Substance Abuse Evaluation: Initial vs. Ongoing Assessments

While all substance abuse evaluations aim to assess an individual’s relationship with drugs or alcohol, there are two main types of evaluations: initial and ongoing assessments.

Initial evaluations are conducted at the outset of the treatment process to establish a baseline understanding of an individual’s substance use. They involve a comprehensive assessment of the individual’s physical, mental, and emotional state, as well as their substance use history.

On the other hand, ongoing assessments are carried out throughout the treatment process to monitor progress and adjust the treatment plan as needed. These evaluations often focus on changes in the individual’s substance use patterns, overall health, and wellbeing.

Finding a Qualified Professional for a Comprehensive Substance Abuse Evaluation

Selecting a qualified professional to conduct a comprehensive substance abuse evaluation is crucial. This ensures that the evaluation process is conducted accurately and professionally, leading to reliable results that can guide effective treatment.

When choosing an evaluator, consider their qualifications, experience, and areas of expertise. It’s essential to find a professional who specializes in addiction and substance use disorders, as they will have the necessary knowledge and skills to conduct a thorough and insightful evaluation.

Conclusion: The Role of Substance Abuse Evaluation in Recovery Journey

In conclusion, substance abuse evaluations play a vital role in the recovery journey. They provide a detailed understanding of an individual’s substance use, inform the development of personalized treatment plans, and enable the monitoring of progress throughout the recovery process. By understanding the process and importance of these evaluations, individuals can be better equipped to navigate their path to recovery.

[nocturne-pisces]

Chum The Waters

Pairing: Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x PlusSize!MafiaDon!Reader

warnings: violence, murder, gore, smut- my warnings are not exhaustive: dead dove, do not eat

a/n: welcome to part one. i've been sitting on this draft for like six months and finally i have dedicated the time to it. thank you to @branded--with--a--j for beta reading.

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It’s visceral.

It always has been.

And Bobby thinks it’s something about that viscera that keeps him coming back for more, thinks it’s something about that sinew and flesh and how easily it rips and tears that makes him crave it like a fucking drug.

The skin on his knuckles is bruised, broken from jagged teeth and protruding bone, but he doesn’t stop. He loves his work, he loves the person he does it for, everything in his life has come up aces and he’s just fucking robbed Vegas.

He grunts as he lands another blow to the man he has chained down. He’s going to kill the guy eventually, but they all talk sooner or later. It’s all about finding that sweet spot of too much pain to stay quiet, right before you get to I give up let me die.

He has to keep them hopeful enough that they’ll survive, that something is still in it for them, keep them delirious enough to believe that he would let them go, so they’ll keep feeding him information that he can give to you.

The man below him grunts as Bobby’s knuckles crunch against his already broken nose.

“C’mon Baizen, you know how to make it stop.” Bobby swings again, Carter’s lip under his fist busting open. His head lolls forward, the flow of blood and saliva falling into his lap.

“I don’t fuckin’ know anything, man,” Carter sobs. He’s lying. Bobby knows he’s lying. Carter knows that Bobby knows he’s lying, but he’s still hanging on to hope that someone is coming for him.

“Your funeral.” Robert fists Carter’s hair, lifting his head so another blow can break his browbone. His goes to rear back and swing again, but stops short when his phone starts ringing a 16-bit version of You Are My Sunshine. He bought it specifically for you.

His thumb smudges blood across the screen as he swipes to answer, bringing it to his ear as Carter spits at his feet. Bobby’s face twists in disgust and he kicks Carter’s chair backward, the thump of his head hitting the concrete floor reverberating off the walls.

“Hey, baby,” he’s breathy from exertion and if you didn’t know for a fact that he was beating information out of another man you might be concerned. Confirmation of his activities coming in the form of Carter’s groan in the background.

“Hi, honey. How’s it going down there?” Your voice is corn syrup through his system, sickly sweet and tree sap slow.

“Pretty boy hasn’t started talkin’ yet, but I still ain’t busted out the tools either.” Carter doesn’t miss Bobby’s arrogance, answering with a choked laugh.

“Fuck you, Pronge,” he calls, blood pooling under his head from his cracked skull.

Bobby sighs, his heavy breath crackling against the receiver.

“He’s just a pusher, sweetheart. Not big enough to rile you up so much. You’ve never let me down and I know you won’t start now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Get what you can and come back to me. And don’t leave a mess!”

The lilt of your laughter echoes through the receiver, his heart skipping a beat or two as the corners of his lips curl skyward. Another soft Yes ma’am uttered before the call ends.

Bobby pockets his phone, the smile falling from his face as he turns back to Carter. He rights the chair he’s tied to and Carter’s head lolls forward, his chin hitting his chest as he fights the spins.

The slide of metal against metal makes Carter look up, his breath coming out in a huff when he sees the curve of the crowbar in Bobby’s hand. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, man.” 

“Not even a little bit. I told you that you knew how to make it stop.” 

Baizen takes shallow breaths in, steels himself for what he knows is coming as Bobby winds himself up like a Yankee’s batter. All Pronge really has to do is swing like he’s going to shatter Carter’s kneecap and the kid breaks. 

“Okay! Okay, okay, I get it. Fuck. Fuck!” Carter knows he’s about to give up his boss, knows he’s about to have to flee the country to be able to keep his ability to walk. Bobby stands there expectantly, twirling the crowbar in his fist.

“A few days ago Rogers got something like four or five trashbags full of fuckin’ body parts. They were all people that worked for him. People that had come through here to make a delivery and never made it back. They have a suspicion that it was Barnes. All the pieces looked like shark feed. So, they’ve called a meeting in Omaha to settle territory lines.”

The corner of Bobby’s mouth tugs up in a smile, the work that he’s had a hand in still unnoticed by mafia Don’s that seem to be unaware of his bosses presence. It was ideal, what you and he wanted, to be invisible until it was too late- and everything seemed to be going just as you’d planned. You were going to be so pleased with him. The thought of your soft smile pointed in his direction makes his cock twitch in his white slacks.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Carter brings Bobby back to the present, where he’s still standing in the dank basement of a meat processing plant interrogating a kid that can’t be any older than 22. He almost feels bad for what he’ll do next, but all is fair in love and war or whatever Shakespeare said.

“It was six bags.” 

“Huh?” Carter’s eyebrows pinch together, the implications of Bobby knowing how many bags of body parts there were taking just a second longer to settle in his brain. “Oh my god, it was-”

“Me, yeah.” Bobby takes lazy steps towards his toolbox, deposits his crowbar before reaching into the second drawer to pull out a sleek black 9mm. He turns and points it directly at Carter’s head, pulling the trigger before the kid can beg for mercy.

His whites are fresh, not a speck of blood to be seen. His hair pulled back into a low ponytail to get his hair out of his face, you always said you didn’t like it when he hid behind his hair. He checks his reflection one more time before he knocks on your office door, your voice answering from the other side and beckoning him in.

Your hand rests in a fluffy head of hair, your personal security sitting cross legged at your feet with his head rested against your thigh. Justin perks up when the office door opens, surveying the person entering for any ill intent. He knows Bobby, has worked with him quite a few times, so it’s not a surprise when he closes his eyes again and rests back against you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you croon, Bobby’s icy exterior melting almost instantly. 

“Hey, boss.” 

“How did it go?” 

Bobby closes the gap between you, makes himself comfortable in the chair in front of your ornate desk. You don’t miss the cologne he put on for this meeting, he always tried so hard to impress you. 

“I have a couple updates for you,” he replies, and you take the opportunity to get Justin’s attention. You hand him your credit card, plant a kiss on his forehead, and tell him to head down to the arcade for a little bit, that you’d text him when you needed him. Justin dismisses himself with a sweet smile only moments later, leaving you alone with Bobby, buzzing to hear the information he pulled out the west coast kid you’d caught.

You stand from your chair, round your desk so you can stand in front of Bobby, close enough to brush the stray hairs from his forehead. He doesn’t understand sometimes how you ended up a Don. How, through all your sunshine and kindness, you came into power over some of the most violent men he’d ever met. The thought of you covered in blood, terrifying and beautiful, stiffens his already aching cock. 

“What do you have for me?” 

Bobby clears his throat, gathering his thoughts through the haze you cause his brain every time you’re this close to him. 

“Rogers got your presents and they think Barnes sent them. They’re planning a meetup in Omaha soon to come to a truce.” 

Your blinding smile thickens that haze, it makes his mouth go dry when you point it at him.

“Oh, that’s perfect, Bobby.” He feels your praise deep in the pit of his stomach, and it’s not hard to see the way he already strains against his pants. “I couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.” 

You bend at the waist to kiss his cheek, a low moan rumbling in his chest when you make contact. You’ve always loved being in the position of power you were, loved how dangerous men prostrated themselves before your feet for the chance to make you happy. 

Bobby was one of those men. 

Smart, cunning, ruthless, and absolutely stupid for you.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replies, his eyes fixated on your knees, the flush of his cheeks sending a throb straight between your thighs. 

“Do you want me to show you how grateful I am?”

Your voice slips a couple octaves lower, slides a few decibels south, and the dumbstruck look on Bobby’s face as his gaze slips up your curves makes your mouth water.

Your voice slips a couple octaves lower, slides a few decibels south, and the dumbstruck look on Bobby’s face as his gaze slips up your curves makes your mouth water.

“You’ve always wanted a taste, haven’t you?”

You step out of your heels, dropping the four inches they added to your height when your feet land back on plush carpet. The tip of your toe coasts up Bobby’s shin, using his knee to push your ass up onto your desk.

Your skirt is tight, but not so tight that you can’t pull it up over the globes of your ass and spread your legs wide. His eyeline moves from your face to the panel of your panties, already glittering with the arousal he’s caused.

His knees hit the floor, in worship or prayer you’re not sure, and his hushed oh my god doesn’t give you further clue. You rest your weight back on your elbow and prop a leg up, hooking a finger into your underwear so you can pull them to the side.

He looks back up at you for permission, the ring of blue circling his blown pupils magnified in his glasses.

Your fingers slip between your folds, the pornographic sound of your slick making Bobby growl with a growing need that he swears is going to consume him whole.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you coo, leaning forward to slide his glasses off his face and set them next to you. “Come get it.”

His vision is fuzzed over but he feels like he could locate the center of your heat by smell alone. He lurches forward, pulls your thighs over his shoulders and feasts on your cunt.

His hungry groans vibrate against your clit, the plush of his bottom lip sealing off for a perfect suction.

“Oh, fuck,” you keen, your hands slipping into the hair he brushed just for you. “That’s it, Bobby. Just like that.”

Your praise only spurs him on, makes him flip his palm up under his chin and work two fingers into your already pulsing pussy. He feels as they get sucked in deeper, and he can’t restrain himself any longer.

The hand not buried two knuckles deep makes quick work of his belt, rips the button open on his slacks and tears down the zipper. He reaches into his boxers and tugs himself in time with your clenching.

His fingers hook up into your silk walls and the brush against your g-spot has your hands curling hard against his scalp, bucking your hips against his mouth and chasing your release. “Shit, Bobby. Right there.”

Bobby tries to time his release with yours, tries so hard to stave himself off until he feels you let go against his face, but he can’t. He spills over his hand like a goddamn teenager at a fucking drive in and his faltering movements have you looking down.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

He should be embarrassed, but he swears if he ever gets the chance to feel you from the inside he wouldn’t be so quick. Your smile down at him is still sweet, even though you’re poking fun, and he takes it as a challenge.

You drag in a gasp when he reattaches himself to your clit, his hands finding a renewed vigor in pushing every button he can find. You drop back against your desk, your knuckles cracking under the hold you have at the edge of the wood.

“Oh, shit. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t have to pull away for you to feel his grunted I won’t against your cunt. Your moans climb in pitch and volume and you fist the hair on either side of his head as you’re shoved over the precipice of your orgasm, his tongue laid flat so you can rut against his face.

He greedily drinks up every drop, the surface beneath your ass dry when he finally gives you reprieve. He stows himself away and shuffles your skirt back down to cover you, making sure your dignity remains intact in case anyone barges in.

It takes a few minutes to recover- for your heart rate to settle and your breathing to even out, but when it does you affectionately fit his glasses back on his face and drop a kiss on his slick stained cheek.

“Thank you, Bobby. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome, boss.”

He looks up at you where the tiniest amount of sweat has beaded against your hairline and thinks that you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You slide off your desk, fit your pumps back onto your feet, and settle back in your desk chair. You scoop your phone from the surface and text Justin that he can come back, getting a singular heart emoji in response.

“Would you mind getting in contact with Barber and letting him know that my patience is waning with those permits?”

“Anything for you,” comes Bobby’s reply, in a love sick tone he hopes isn’t too thick.

“You’re such a sweetheart. What would I do without you?”

It’s that sweet summer smile that makes his heart flutter, the one he’d dismember his own mother to see again.

“I imagine you’d get blood all over those pretty hands.” Bobby doesn’t joke often, so it’s always a treat when he does.

“Well, I’m an incredibly lucky lady to have you taking care of it for me.”

[hoodoo12]

Beetlejuice Squared 1/2

Will Blum is onstage this week as The Ghost with the Most since Alex Brightman is out with COVID. I figured it was time to dust off this old thing . . .

NSFW. Beetlejuice x reader x Beetlejuice. Minor drug use.

Enjoy!

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice!”

You’d called, he arrived. He told you it always gave him a thrill, hearing his name from your mouth, and you socked him in the shoulder for being a sap and maybe a liar, because you were pretty sure he said that to anyone who’d called him up. Still, it was sweet, so you softened it with a kiss on the same spot you’d used your knuckles on and took him to the couch.

The two of you had made out a bit and you lost most of your clothing and he’d dumped his suit jacket and tie, but then you got a text that you couldn’t ignore, and you had to make a phone call. Beetlejuice grumbled and you waved him off, tossing him the TV remote as you left the room to finish talking to your boss about whatever dire emergency couldn’t wait until the weekend was over.

By the time you got back, Beetlejuice had his feet up and was smoking. He’d neglected to rebutton his shirt. As you didn’t keep cigarettes in the house and a distinctively different aroma than tobacco smoke filled the air, you smiled. You sank back down onto the couch and leaned into him.

Leisurely, he passed you the joint. It wasn’t earthly weed; he must have spirited it from the Netherworld. You knew from experience it was potent, and didn’t take too deep a pull on it.

With some documentary about flat-earthers on the TV, you and he passed the joint back and forth. It never got shorter or used up. It made you giggly and easily distracted. It also made you warm; even though you were pressed against his tepid body in only a thin shirt and panties, you didn’t feel the chill. The weed mellowed him too, and although his free hand stroked your upper thigh, he didn’t capitalize on it at the moment. In the back of your fuzzy mind you remembered Netherworld weed had some pretty intense aphrodisiac properties, which meant Beetlejuice was probably looking for some backdoor action and wanted to make sure you were properly relaxed and would be primed for his “sudden” suggestion of anal later.

You half watched the documentary, half scrolled through your phone. You found articles on flat-earthers, which led to articles on space, which led to articles on a red supergiant star that could go supernova any time in the next 100,000 years or so. That caught your eye.

“Look!” you told him, holding your phone up in his face. “It’s your name, I think.”

Beetlejuice squinted at the too close screen you shoved at him.

“Nah,” he replied. “It doesn’t have a ‘j’ in it.”

“No, I think it is!” you insisted. “Let me see . . .”

Quickly you tapped “Betelgeuse pronunciation” into the google search on your phone. There were some linguistics articles that would have been hard to read even if you weren’t stoned; then you found some youtube videos.

You clicked on the first, and a woman’s voice came through the speakers.

“Alpha Orionis has a more common name,” the narration began. “Derived from the Arabic Yad al-Jauzā', the eleventh brightest star in the night sky is Bhe-tle-juz.”

You listened to it again, then repeated it in the same clear monotone the woman had, wrapping your tongue around the slightly different pronunciation.

“Bhe-tle-juz.”

You flicked a 10 second rewind and listened to the voice again.

“Hey babe, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Beetlejuice protested mildly. “I don’t know if it’ll, you know, send me back--”

You ignored him.

“Bhe-tle-juz,” you said again. You liked it; it started with a softer mouthfeel than a hard B.

“--and we haven’t even gotten it on yet, not really!” Beetlejuice continued. A slight note of panic in his voice fought its way through the haze of dope. “Come on, babes, knock it off--”

“Bhe-tle-juz,” you said one last time, with a giggle.

A thin whistling filled the air. It did not hurt your ears, but it didn’t sound right, either. You grimaced and looked up at Beetlejuice to tell him to stop it, but a burst of light erupted in front of you then faded just as quickly as it appeared. You blinked rapidly to restore your burnt out vision, and standing in front of you, between the couch you and Beetlejuice were lounging on and the TV, was Beetlejuice.

⁂

“What the fuck?!” the Beetlejuice you were leaning against exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, half-dislodging you from his side.

You fumbled the joint so you didn’t drop it as you were jostled. “Hey! Watch it, Beej!”

The new Beetlejuice threw his gaze around the room with narrowed eyes and dramatically waved his hand in front of his face.

“Jesus christ,” he coughed. “What’s with all the weed?”

His eyes landed on you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi!” you replied.

Whatever was happening, Beetlejuice’s dope smoothed out all the edges. You pushed yourself off the specter you were leaning on, shoved the still lit joint back into his hand, ignored his protest and his other hand that tried to keep a grip on your shirt, and got off the couch. You took a step towards the newcomer. “Who’re you?”

“I’m the ghost with the most, babydoll,” he replied. It was such a cliché you rolled your eyes, but you also couldn’t help but smile.

This was Beetlejuice, but not quite Beetlejuice. Although dressed in the striped suit you’d come to expect and with the same swept up rat’s nest of hair and scruff on his face, he was taller--much taller!--than the Beetlejuice you’d spent the evening with so far. Made bold by the smoke you had partaken in, you looked him over thoroughly, taking his hand (and finding his nails were solid black); straining on unsteady tip-toes to peer into his face (discovering his eyes were darker amber than the other Beetlejuice’s and his teeth were slightly less sharp).

He seemed as curious about you as you did him, and permitted the inspection with an air of amusement. You kept a hand on him, dragging your fingers lightly over him as you walked in a circle to look at his back. He watched you the entire time with a slight smile on his face, his head rotating completely around to keep track of you.

When you were where you started in front of him again, you left your hand on his chest and said, “Beej--”

“What?” they both answered together.

The new arrival didn’t have the same voice. It was less gravely. Less rough. You liked it. You stared up into his eyes and didn’t turn back to the Beetlejuice on the couch as you continued.

“--is this one of your clones?”

The reaction to the question was immediate, from both of them. Once again they spoke at the same time, over one another.

“The fuck, babe?” the Beetlejuice on the couch spit. “How could you even think that guy was my clones--”

“A clone?” the Beetlejuice in front of you said, offended. “You’ve got your hand on me, do I feel like a fucking clone--”

They both finished at the same time, “--that’s fucking ridiculous!”

The combination of a bottom-of-the-lungs rasp and a smooth voice merging together gave you a shiver.

“No,” you ceded, still looking up at the specter you were next to, “I guess you’re not a clone.”

The new Beetlejuice gave you a wider smile and reached forward to take your waist. His voice dropped a little, like he was talking only loud enough for you to hear. “That’s right, babydoll. Thanks for the invite. So tell me, what’s your pleasure?”

There was a literal growl from Beetlejuice on the couch, and in the next instant, you were yanked away from the other, wrapped up in a tight, protective hug from behind. From over your shoulder, Beetlejuice hissed,

“Back off, asshole!”

The new Beetlejuice held his hands up a moment. “Hey, dick. She called me. Breathers don’t do that unless they want something, and from the state of things here, I think I can guess what that might be.”

Beetlejuice held you against his bare chest tightly and another warning growl slipped past your ear.

Taller Beetlejuice looked over the two of you. “Babydoll, you called my name three times and here I am. For you. What can I do for you? Probably more than he can . . .”

“Hey--” you objected in Beetlejuice’s defense, and the other snorted a laugh.

“He’s gotta use the Netherworld’s primo weed to get you going? That doesn’t seem like a demon who can make things happen without a little outside assistance.”

You felt a little surge of protection for the Beetlejuice you knew best. “The weed was later, after we’d made out. I don’t need it to get hot and bothered, it’s just a bonus.”

The Beetlejuice holding you chuckled. He spun you, unprotesting, on your heel, to face him.

“That’s sweet, babe,” he told you, and lifted the joint held between his first two fingers to his mouth again.

He took a drag and held it in, then tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows at you. Reading his intention, you tilted your head too. With your hands flat on his chest, you stretched towards him until your parted lips were only millimeters away. Beetlejuice breathed a column of smoke directly into your mouth.

You got most of it too, before you smiled and tendrils of the thick smoke escaped. You held it in for a long moment, practically feeling the smoke permeate through your lungs, letting it settle heavily throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips and toes. Finally you let the remainder of it out, smiling languidly at Beetlejuice. Shotgun smoking with him always made you feel warm and mellow. Maybe the smoke picked up something in his lungs that transferred to you? You didn’t know, but it made you feel good.

Your smile was slow and there was a tingle in your extremities and in your groin. You didn’t step away, and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lower lip. Beetlejuice caught you around the waist with one arm as he raised the joint and brought it to his mouth again. You caught him staring directly at the other specter with a smug air and open challenge on his face.

Taller Beetlejuice scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Still doesn’t change the fact she called me.”

“She called me first, asshole!” Beetlejuice said with his arm still around you.

“And then she obviously decided to call someone better!”

The affects of the weed kept you slowed down for a moment, so you didn’t object when Beetlejuice released you and took a step between you and the second Beetlejuice you’d managed to summon into your living room. Still, you said,

“Hey. Beej? Beejes? Beeji? Bees?” Trying to determine the plural of the word struck you as funny, and you cut yourself off with giggling.

“It was a fucking mistake. You’re a fucking second string, honorary mention, cheap knock-off of me--”

“Someone’s got their panties in a twist. Feeling threatened ‘cause you know she’d choose me over you? Chicks like tall guys,” the newer arrival stated dismissively before he addressed you again. “Come on, babydoll, you wanna have some fun with someone who doesn’t need chemical enhancement to show you a good time?”

Beetlejuice responded to that with a snarl, while the other turned back on him with a comment on how he probably couldn’t even get it up at this point.

It slowly dawned in your fuzzy brain that there were two Beetlejuices slowly circling each other like two alpha predators looking for an opportunity to attack. Both of them had red shot through their hair, and there was a faint crackling in the air, like right before a lightening strike.

That cleared your head pretty quickly. The last thing you needed was your house torn apart in some spectral, demonic, dick-measuring contest. Especially when all you’d really wanted to do tonight was get laid.

“Hey,” you said.

They ignored you, focused so tightly on each other.

You cleared your throat and tried again, more loudly. “Hey! Beetlejuice! Bhetlejuz!”

Their full names caught their attention. They both turned to you.

“I called you both here,” you exclaimed boldly, “so that means I get to choose what I want!”

Both Beetlejuices turned to you with dangerously dark expressions, staring at you from beneath their brows, like they both suddenly remembered you were in the room, standing before them scantily clad and looking like prey.

You pushed on. “So I choose both of you. Either you’re in, or you’re out. I’m happy to send either of you away if you can’t play nicely.”

It was a gamble; calling Beetlejuice up gave him power and you truly didn’t have much control over him. Still, you sweetened the deal by casually drawing a hand down your own side and subtly cupping your own breast before letting your hand fall to the hem of your shirt. Coyly, you lifted it a few inches as you cocked a hip.

They both looked much less dangerous with their jaws loosened.

tbc . . .