#there are some people in my neighborhood that have been abusing animals for years

[crow97street]

─── ⋆⋅weeping under the willows⋅⋆ ───

synopsis ✦‧₊˚ chan has a bad day and then an even worse day when his mom has another drunk episode

warning/tags ✦‧₊˚ alcohol abuse, drinking, drunk people?, obsessive thoughts, arguing, crying, near panic attacks, mentions of past smoking, hurt/comfort, channie loves bin <3 AGAIN!!, channie and binnie are the cutest besties, highschool AU

notes ✦‧₊˚ hello folks🤗just another projection fic except it’s my daily life😍also yall chan’s mom is the sweetest ever like do not apply this to them at all i’m basically just using chans name

word count ✦‧₊˚ 2,489

song rec for this ;)

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

“See ya hyung!” Jisungs cheerful voice echoes across the open field as Chan leaves school.

“See you Jisung-ah.” Chan hollers back as he slings his backpack onto his other shoulder. School was exhausting, as always. But today was somehow even more terrible than usual.

First, Chan was late to first period and luckily Mrs. Kim let him off with a slap on the wrist. He’s already been late and absent for way too many classes this year so God took his side today it seems.

Secondly, during lunch Chan spent his last few dollars on pineapple juice only to bump into some asshole quarterback, spilling it all over the cafeteria floor. The quarterback then proceeds to laugh at Chan, knock him in the shoulder, and run off. Chan wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, scream, or all of the above. Unfortunately Chan was forced to choose a fourth unlisted option: stay silent, clean up his emptied drink bottle and spill, then walk to his friends table like nothing happened. He’s forced to pick the unlisted fourth option a lot more than he admittedly wants to.

Finally, to top the day off with a big dollop of whip cream and sprinkles! Chan was skateboarding home, like he always fucking does every single goddamn day without issue, and he fucking crashed. Into someone’s dog. Truly today must have been some sort of fucking trial God decided to face him with. He’s just about to fail said trial if he doesn’t catch a break today, of course the dog had to be one of those small fragile little pussy dogs that scream bloody murder if you lightly graze their paw.

So that made for quite the scene when he ran his fucking skateboard into it. But he managed to escape by apologizing twelve hundred times to the dogs owner and offering to pay any vet bills that he definitely cannot afford. Thankfully the owner forgave him and he hightailed it out of there like something was chasing him, perhaps the clouding doom of debt and guilt was what made his foot push off the ground just a tad bit harder. Nonetheless Chan is home, and he is safe from the claustrophobic creatures that are other humans. Sometimes Chan wishes he were an animal, maybe a hawk? He could fly anywhere he wanted and doesn’t have to talk to anyone. Or maybe a wolf? More social with their packs and whatnot. Chan giggles to himself at the ridiuclous imagery of his friend group as a wolf pack. They unofficially-officially labeled their group the stray kids. Based off all of their similar backgrounds of dirty suburban neighborhoods and dysfunctional parents that fall into either the drunk line, or the drug line. Or maybe they throw in a plot twist and they fall into the narcissistic victim blaming parent. Anywho Chan is just happy to be fucking home.

He lets out a big sigh and allows his backpack to slide off his frame landing on the carpet with a loud ‘thunk’.

“Well fuck.” Chan just stands in the middle of his room trying to reel in his racing and screaming mind. After recollecting his humanity, he immediately begins stripping all his clothing off leaving himself in just his boxers and socks before flopping onto his bed bouncing a bit as he lands. He cannot wait to pass out, wake up at some ungodly hour of the night in a cold sweat from another very uncalled for nightmare, and stay up until he leaves for school to do it all again. Shit. His life sucks.

Chan moves his eyes from the chipped paint on his wall to his alarm clock, it reads 4:35. Huh. Enough time to visit his favorite place. Now, Chan’s favorite place is a bit.. strange, to be a favorite place. But people just don’t understand the tranquility of it all. Chan let’s out a humorous breath. Maybe the photography students would.

He counts down 10 seconds in his head before standing up in one fluid motion at 1, stumbling a little as his vision goes black from going too fast. He makes a face at the sweatpants lying on his floor before deciding fuck it and throwing them on along with a sleeveless loose top. He shakes his head and grabs his phone skipping down the stairs. As he rounds the corner silently he spots his mom pouring wine into her glass. Ah of course, well, good thing he’ll be gone most of the night and he’ll come home to her asleep in her bed and he can escape whatever shit she wants to spew to him that night.

Chan races out the front door after grabbing an apple tossing it in his hand. He shuts the door silently and slides his arm underneath the bar below his skateboard throwing it into the ground and hopping on. At least at the end of the day he’s got his skateboard. He glances down at the board fondly before pushing off again. Hyunjin painted the bottom of the board for him for his birthday many years ago and the paints only chipped and faded the smallest amount. He likes to tell everyone it’s Hyunjin’s magical being that kept the paint so pristine. He asked him to paint a weeping willow tree with blood on the ends of the leaves. Hyunjin gave him a questioning glance at the time of the request but painted it nontheless. Chan had been in love with it ever since and doesn’t go anywhere without his baby.

Chan smiles lightly as he reaches his spot and hops off the board ascending the overgrown hill. He reaches the tree and sighs. It’s a large weeping willow with its leaves touching the ground. Someone planted it years ago and anyone who comes across it has just labeled it as some sacred thing, which, yeah that makes Chan happy this tree is special. Chan continues his journey forward and swoops under the leaves and into the little cove the leaves provide. There’s an old ratty blanket and a basket of just random various items and Chan makes his way over. He put this blanket down when he was 7 years old and here it is still standing after 10 years. Even when it rained the blanket never took much damage due to the leaves acting as a shield.

Chan drops his body onto the dirty blanket letting out a loud groan. He gazes up into the heart of the tree admiring its beauty for awhile. He would never get sick of this place, when he had nobody he always had his weeping willow. Chan reached up and his hand came away wet. Oh. He’s crying. Chan never really cried, even as a child he’d just laugh off everything or put on a brave face, his body just never felt the need to expel tears. Seems today hit him harder than he thought, seeing as his vision is blurring and his chest is getting tighter. Fucking hell can he get his act together? This is stupid. Chan grunts and wipes his face with a frustrated groan - his groan was shaky and unstable but he won’t ever admit that.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Chan laughs at himself and sits up scrubbing his face and looking over into his bin of supplies. There’s a multitude of things in there ranging from an old american spirit box of cigarettes Chan smoked when he was younger - he pretty much quit, his life sucked enough there was no need to make it worse by giving himself some form of cancer - to an old wiltered flower that a small bunny delivered to him one day. He was 13 years old and his mom had one of her first drunk episodes, he didn’t know how to feel or how to handle the feelings he received from the way his mother acted that night. He felt like he was looking into the eyes of someone else, someone who wasn’t his mother. He even had bruised knees from falling onto the ground as he ran to this tree. A small white bunny appeared that evening and in it’s mouth was a tiny pink tulip, Chan smiled and accepted the flower as the bunny scampered off. Chan will never forget the tiny bunny that helped him that day.

Chan shakes his head once more to clear his thoughts, damn he was really just reliving everything tonight wasn’t he. At this point he’s posing the question is the tree weeping or is he? Chan shakes his head at his absolute corny inner monologue. He lets his mind go numb for awhile.

A leaf lands on his face and he blinks a few times before lifting his wrist. 9:57 his watch blinks at him. Oh. Oh. Chan’s eyes widen comically before he jumps onto his feet. He stumbles and races down the hill after grabbing his skateboard and taking off.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

The glow of his window shines brightly in the dim nightlife of the neighborhood. Chan glances at the front door. It’s definitely locked, his mom always locks it when she heads to bed. She never checks in on Chan anymore. He sighs and begins climbing the tree next to his window. He lands onto the short overhang roof and climbs into his window.

Chan strips down again and falls onto his bed. He feels sleep tug at his eyes until a loud crash outside his door jerks him back awake. Chan feels a cold sharpness grow and grow inside of his chest at the noise. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. His mom was supposed to be asleep. Chan feels himself begin to tremble. He stands apprehensively and walks in slow motion to his bedroom door. It feels like the entire world has stopped and surrounded Chan to watch as his trembling fingers reach out for the knob. He decides to rip the bandaid off and flings the door open in one swift motion.

He’s greeted by his mom picking up books she scattered onto the floor. She smiles at him.

“Hey sweetie.” She speaks softly. Chan knows better.

“Hey mom, what did you do?” Chan hesitantly replies. Why is this affecting him so much? He’s done this so many times why is he even trembling? Chan internally groans at his betraying body.

His mom just laughs a bit and continues to pick up the books before standing. Inching closer to Chan.

“Where were you honey?” Chan could smell the familiar scent of alcohol across the room. He felt nauseous.

“Uh, just took my skateboard out.” Chan learned the trick was to be as vague as possible in situations like this. Don’t give her too many details to use against him later.

“Why aren’t you ever home anymore?” Her mood immediately darkens at the question.

“Just been um, busy, you know. With homework and hanging out with my friends.” Chan feels the crack of his dry throat as he swallows.

Chan feels his heart begin to beat faster under her gaze. He can’t pinpoint her emotion and it’s freaking him out a little.

“Oh. I see.” She sighs out. “It’s all my fault then.” Chan’s jaw opens at the sudden switch of her tone. Accusatory to, victimized? Chan feels fury ignite like a flame in his chest. He pushes it down with a shaky exhale.

“No, not your fault, just busy.” He gives her a lame excuse knowing she won’t listen to him anyway.

“So I don’t mean anything to you? You're too busy for me now, is that it?” She raises her voice slightly but it sounds like screaming to Chan’s ears. He feels dizzy.

“No, mom, I just told you school has been hard.” School has been totally fine. He doesn’t care though, he’ll do anything to escape this.

“Christopher, I am your mother.” She fixes him with a stern gaze and Chan feels himself crumble right back into his eight year old self.

“O-Okay mom I’m sorry, I’ll make more time for you.” Chan rushes it out of his mouth in one large exhale bringing his arms up to wrap around himself. A pathetic self soothing tactic he began doing.

Her expression instantly changes and she nods with a smile.

“Goodnight Chris.” She turns and heads into her bedroom as if nothing happened at all. Chan stands there for a few seconds before racing into his room, closing the door. He trips and falls onto his carpet floor with blurry vision. His chest grows tighter and tighter until he grips onto his shirt with white knuckles gasping for air.

His vision sways and black dots line his peripheral but he blindly reaches for his phone on his bed. His fingers find the object and he immediately taps the contact bringing the phone to his ear.

Ringing.

…

Ringing.

…

Ring-

“Hyung?” Changbin’s soothing voice echoes out the speaker of his phone. Chan’s entire body slacks.

“C-Changbin can you, um, can you c-come over?” Chan internally curses himself for stuttering and trembling like an idiot. But ultimately he’s too exhausted to care.

“Yeah of course, Channie-hyung what happened?” Changbin’s voice carries ounces of worry in it and Chan can hear the jingle of keys.

“Just please come.” Chan ends the call and drops his phone, wrapping his arms around himself again. He curls into the smallest ball he can and tries to fight the panic growing.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

He doesn’t know how long he sits there breathing in and out until he hears his window slide up. He snaps his head to the source of the noise and sees Changbin climbing in carefully. Changbin’s eyes find Chan’s sorrowful ones and his whole body deflates with sadness.

“Come here hyung.” Changbin opens his arms and sits on the rough carpet. Chan scrambles and falls as he rushes into Changbin’s arms. He shoves his head into the crook of Changbin’s neck and wraps his arms around his torso with a vice grip.

“Shh it’s okay, I’m here.” Changbin keeps his voice low and soft and Chan is insanely grateful for the small gesture. He snuggles in closer and allows his tears to soak into Changbin’s soft polyester t-shirt.

“Your mom again?” Changbin sighs out reaching a hand up to brush through Chan’s unruly curls.

“Mm-h-hm.” Chan releases a terrible shaky hum and nods his head slowly against Changbin.

“Oh, channie.” He squeezes Chan tighter and rests his cheek atop his bed of curls. The nickname always eases Chan a bit, it helps him let go and receive comfort more than an honorific would. Chan sniffles and feels his eyes grow heavy.

“Sleep channie, it’s alright I’ll be here.” Chan allows his eyes to close at Changbin’s words. His pulse slows and his breathing comes easier.

He drifts off to thoughts of how much he loves his best friend and the buzz of his old fan.

[almost-peterparker]

Possible

Chapter 1

Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x reader

A/N: This will probably be on the longer side, I've been posting it on a03 as well.

Summary: //TW// abuse, strong language, violence, gore, etc. Also, the plot is going to be based on the manga! (Y/n) (L/n) was a relatively anti-social twenty-one-year-old. She had no real family, and she was really only close to one person, that person being Mara Kline. They were so close, in fact, that they did everything together. They would shop together, eat together, and most importantly (for Mara anyway), they watched Black Butler together. The two girls owned an apartment together, making this moderately easy. Mara had a very large hyper fixation on the anime, she was quite literally obsessed. One day, the two of them are riding around in Mara's vehicle. Mara, not paying quite as much attention as she should have been, allowed the two of them to get hit by another car. (Y/n) could have never imagined that this accident would cause the two of them to wake up in a familiar, yet unfamiliar setting. Nor could she have foreseen how it would change her life.

Word Count: 5475

Your eyes snap open as your alarm clock screams at you to get up after hitting snooze multiple times. Though, that wasn't what caused you to open your eyes. You had felt a weight on your bed. And as you squint through the sun's blinding rays, you can make out a silhouette. Mara is hovering over you holding a pillow as if she was going to smother you in your sleep, her dark hair dangling and framing her face as she eyed you. Her golden eyes were wide, apparently, she hadn't expected you to wake up before she ended your life. You groggily grab the pillow next to you, and you swing it blindly in the direction that you believe her to be in. You successfully nail her in the face with your pillow. You hear an "Oof!" as she backs away from your half-awake form. You sit up from your bed stiffly like a vampire from its coffin as you glare in her direction.

"Mara?" You question.

"Yes, (Y/n)?" She responds as if she had been doing nothing wrong.

"What the fuck?" You say as you finally blink the sleep from your eyes, staring at her. You can virtually see a halo over her head. "Well, you wouldn't quit hitting snooze on your alarms so, I only saw one reasonable solution." She smiles at you innocently. "Your reasonable solution was to just smother me in my sleep?" Your eyes narrow in her direction as she grins in response. 

This was the dynamic of your friendship. You could remember meeting Mara like it was yesterday. You had grown up in a pretty broken neighborhood, not many "good guys", so to speak. You weren't so good either. Whereas Mara was more fortunate and grew up pretty happy.

You had only met Mara about two years beforehand. The two of you met under some rather, unfavorable conditions. You grew up in a pretty shitty home, your father was a wanted murderer. Your parents were very neglectful; thus, you were always forced to sneak out of the house just to be free of them. By the age of seven, you became a great pickpocket due to your parents' neglect. You were rarely caught. Almost. The few times you had been caught ended up pretty ugly, you would end up being assaulted whether it be verbal or physical. You would acquire bruises and sometimes worse from the people you'd steal from. Worse treatment could be expected after your parents would find out. This worsened their neglect towards you as you essentially grew up without any form of love. You had plenty of scars and mental scars that you had acquired from your childhood. Though, you really just viewed them as growth points now. All of those experiences led you to the place in life that you were currently living in.

By the age of sixteen, you ran away. You began your own form of living. At this point, you were virtually undetected, you could steal from almost anyone and they never even noticed. You had become a great thief, so then, you can imagine how great you were by the age of eighteen. You were virtually undetectable now. And not to toot your own horn but, you were also considered quite the escape artist now if you ever were caught. You can get out of almost any situation now. 

But, back to Mara, the two of you still went to the same school but you were hardly ever present. You saw no point in attending. Though, your thievery was actually how you ran into Mara. As mentioned, she grew up rather well, meaning, she grew up with semi-wealthy parents who were never home. This naturally made her one of your targets at some point. She had just been jubilantly walking down the street, listening to music as she went. Though, she had been taking a different route home than normal, why? Her justification was a shrug and a simple 'I was bored, duh.' Anyhow, you had seen her inattentively making her way down the street. Mara was a very beautiful bronze-skinned woman, as aforementioned, she also had dark hair and golden eyes. She got quite a bit of attention.

Anyways, you'd noticed how well she was dressed and some of the items she had with her, as she went by, you also eyeballed a rather expensive necklace dangling from her pocket. Why? Again, the response to this after you'd asked her was a shrug, she said a guy she didn't much care for gave it to her, so she didn't care for it much either. This resulted in you snatching it from her pocket. But Mara was incredibly aware as she felt the weight of the necklace leaves her pocket. Though she didn't care for the necklace, she would be damned if she would allow someone to take something of hers. So, you briskly made your way down the street, not running, so as not to draw attention to yourself. Instead of calling for help a few minutes later as people typically did, you heard footsteps approaching you quickly. You spared a glance over your shoulder to see Mara charging full speed in your direction. You underestimated how fast this damn girl could run as you took off too. Mara was very well-versed in cardio and long-distance running.

You, however, were not.

Meaning, she caught up to you and practically tackled you to the ground. At the time, you'd been wearing baggy clothing and a hood over your head to make it incredibly difficult for others to determine your gender. Which seemed pretty important. Anyways, she had tackled you and flipped you over. You had expected her to start pummeling you the second she flipped you due to her weirdly strong nature. That wasn't the case because as soon as she pulled off your hood, she recognized you. "Hey...you're that girl from school. Don't we have a few classes together?"  So instead of calling the cops on you, like she probably should've, she told you that she wouldn't call them on one condition. That being that you had to tell her why you stole from others. Since you'd have rather not had the cops up in your business, you gave her a brief rundown, minus all the abuse and such. Anyway, this encounter somehow allowed the two of you to become friends. You believe it was because (F/n) pitied you, she disagrees though, she said she was just interested in you. 

This leads you to the point you're currently at, in your shared apartment as you glare at your friend for trying to assassinate you in your sleep over alarms.

You shake your head as you slide out of bed. "I was getting to it." You grumble as Mara just shakes her head, "You were not, you always say that. Anyways, you remember what today is, right?" She beams. "Of course, how could I forget?" You say while quirking a brow, "It's your birthday." That's right, it was Mara's birthday, meaning that she was now the same age as you. The two of you had roughly, a six-month age gap. So, nothing too large. "Meaning?" Mara questions excitedly.

"Meaning that just like the past two of your birthdays that I have spent with you, you're going to subject me to watching as much Black Butler as we can within a few hours while you fawn over Baldroy. Then, I'm going to take you to an anime merch store so you can find something either Black Butler related or just anime-related in general, that you absolutely need to have. So, then you can remind me that it is, in fact, your birthday so I can buy it for you." You state, smiling at her. The both of you only worked part-time due to Mara's parents literally paying for your apartment and virtually any essentials that either of you would need. So, your money was pretty much just "spending money", as Mara says.

She nods her head enthusiastically, you never understood how she could be so excited about doing the same thing that she does almost every day. You mentally shrug, not caring very much as long as she is happy. She quickly begins to move around your room, which was her preferred place to binge anime for some reason, as she sets things up for the two of you. As she was doing this, you went into the kitchen and proceeded to make yourself a bowl of cereal. When you arrived back at your room, the first episode was already on and paused. You walk in and you sit down next to her. She quickly, and rather excitedly hits play. You had watched this series enough times to practically be able to quote it. But who were you to deny (F/n) of this joy? As soon as Sebastian had started speaking on the screen, Mara said, "Hey, did you know that Sebastian's name is extremely similar to Sebastien Michaelis's, he was a French author from the 1600s who wrote a classification of demons in Hell." She always had some sort of fun fact for you as you watched.

After watching for about three hours, you had just finished the episode "His Butler, at the Funeral", Mara decided that was enough for the moment. She always hated seeing Madam Red die, it was one of her least favorite Black Butler moments. She rolls over on her bed and huffs before groaning. This causes you to raise an eyebrow at her. "What?" 

This causes her to turn to look at you, "They always kill my favorite characters." She says as she pouts. "Mara, you've seen the anime more times than I can count, you knew she died."

"I know...It's just sad. She didn't deserve it."

You shrug, "Well that's what happens when you start murdering people."

"She had a reason though!" Mara whined.

"Not a very good one, in my opinion. Now then," you say as you rise to your feet, "It's about midday now, do you want to go shopping? On our way back, we can get you a cake."

"Ice cream cake?" She asks as if you didn't already know that she wanted an ice cream cake rather than a regular cake.

"Yes. I will get you an ice cream cake, Mara." You respond while ushering her out of your room so that she can get changed.

The two of you get changed into more presentable clothing and then convene in the living room. "Oh! I wanna drive!" Mara smiles. "It's your birthday, shouldn't I be the one driving? You, letting you relax and such?" You respond, to which she replies with a shrug. "I just want to, you always drive. My birthday, my rules." She says grinning. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, "Whatever you say dude." 

You follow Mara out to her vehicle, she drives a black, 2011 Mustang. You loved her Mustang. It was just…nice. The two of you usually just shared her vehicle as well, other than work, you guys usually just traveled together. She hopped in the driver's seat, and she waited for you to follow suit. You climbed into the passenger seat and threw your seat belt on. “Alright, off we go,” Mara says, reversing. She whips her car out of the parking lot and drives down the street. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, Mara drives like she is absolutely fucking crazy. It's a wonder that she has never gotten either of you killed. Hence why you typically choose to drive. It was better for your health. 

After a seemingly endless, dangerous drive to the mall, the two of you managed to make it in one piece. Mara pulled the Mustang into the mall's parking lot. After parking the car, the two of you proceeded to get out and walk into the mall. Mara was already vibrating with excitement. You always saved plenty of money for her birthdays. In your mind, it was somewhat like repaying her for pulling you onto this new path of life that you walked. Mara and you began to bounce between all the anime shops. She was like a kid in a candy store, her eyes were practically glowing. She ended up purchasing a Demon Slayer poster, a tiny Itadori Yuji plush from Jujutsu Kaisen, and she had somehow managed to find a Baldroy Figure. He was holding a flame thrower and grinning with a closed-eyed smile. If there was something that anyone needed to know about Mara, it was that she adored Baldroy. He was by far her favorite character. You thought it was cute. You, personally, didn't really have a character preference when it came to Black Butler. You loved the servants. But you could see the pros and cons of almost every other character and therefore chose to remain neutral with your character opinion. Now, you love anime too. You just couldn't say you love it as much as your friend here does.

After a while of walking, the two of you stopped to have a bite to eat at the food court, you chose to get Chinese. After eating, Mara demanded that you read the fortune from your cookie out loud to her. Her request caused you to roll your eyes, but she reminded you that it was her birthday and she deserved 'princess-like treatment.' You broke the cookie and skimmed it before reading it aloud, "'A life-changing event will occur soon and you will reap fruit from it.' There, happy now?"  She nods before also reading hers out loud, "'Land is always in the mind of flying birds.' I don't even know what that means." Mara mutters. "It means you never realize what you miss until you're flying away for it. Kind of like how your parents go on trips all the time but then complain that they miss home," You shrug, "They're all just generic fortunes anyways. I don't believe they have much relevance." 

After you both finished eating you decided it was time to make your way back home. Not before stopping to pick up the ice cream cake, you had ordered from a local shop first. Heading out of the mall, the two of you got back into Mara's car and after a short trip, you had arrived at the cake shop. You directed Mara to stay in her vehicle whilst you went in to grab the cake. You actually knew the owner of the shop fairly well, he was around your age, maybe a few years older. His name was Santos, a very tall, friendly man with quite a passion for baking. 

You went into the shop, making small talk with Santos for a few minutes before he made his way back to the shop's freezer to grab your cake. After a moment, he walks back to the register, setting the beautifully decorated cake down. You paid for the cake, thanking him before heading back out to Mara's car. 

She seems very delighted after seeing the cake. "It's so pretty! He always does such a great job!" She praised the baker. You agreed. Then, the two of you began your journey back to your shared apartment. As you approached a stoplight, the two of you had heard sirens, you really thought nothing of it. Again, you still lived somewhat close to a bad neighborhood. The light shifted from red to green. Mara, not thinking anything of it, drove forward, again, she is kind of a reckless driver. She pulled forward very quickly, your gaze quickly turned out the passenger window as you heard the sirens blaring again. However, now they sounded too close. As you turn your head you see a large red truck absolutely flying in your direction. You could now see where the sirens were coming from, your eyes widened in horror as you watched the truck approach you way too quickly. Before you could even utter anything, the large truck slammed into your side of the vehicle. This caused Mara's Mustang to actually roll due to the force and speed that came at it. Glass and pieces of the car flew everywhere, and you felt several pieces fly into you. You, somehow still conscious but very much in pain, looked down to see a large piece of glass embedded in your chest. That was the last thing you saw before the Mustang landed its final roll leaving the two of you suspended upside down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look around, only to see darkness. It felt almost as if you were floating. It was an endless void. Then suddenly, you can hear a multifarious voice whisper in your ear. 

"...gift...life..."

This left you confused, as you couldn't make anything else out of it. But as suddenly as you heard it, it was gone. After what seemed like a few more minutes, you suddenly see a very bright light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt like your head was splitting, causing you to groan, immediately registering the hard ground underneath you. You felt as if you didn't even have the energy to open your eyes. Therefore, you simply lay as you were for a moment. That was until you heard a very familiar voice groan as well. Mara. Suddenly, memories of the crash that you'd endured flash through your mind. Your eyes snap open, and you immediately sit up, looking down at your chest to see a fairly long vertical scar. "What's...going on...?" You mutter to yourself. "(Y/n)...?" You can hear Mara's question; you look around the room you're in only to realize you are in a cell... What the fuck? You see Mara lying across the cell from you. "Mara..." you say as you attempt to make your way to her only to realize that it feels like your body is made of Jell-O. She looks up after hearing your voice. She blinks a few times, apparently wondering the same thing as you.

"Mara?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"Why on god's glorious green planet are we in what really looks like a jail cell?"

"I would really like to give you an answer to that one. But unfortunately, I'm at a loss."

After a few minutes, you realize you can actually feel your limbs now. You stand and stretch, "You remember what happened too, right? I'm not crazy?" You turn towards your friend. She hesitantly nods, "No I definitely remember my beautiful baby flipping. I also distinctly remember bashing my head in. when it happened." This causes you to nod, "I had a huge ass piece of glass that went right into my chest, and now..." You paused momentarily, looking back down at your chest, "It's like it happened but...it didn't? I clearly gained a scar from it." You looked back to Mara, approaching her. "You say you hit your head, right?" You asked, to which she nodded. You move her hair to the side as you see a scar that honestly kind of looks like Tanjirou's scar. "Dude, you kind of look like a whole ass main character right now." You say, examining the newfound scar. It seemed that there were no other new scars that had appeared either. "Oh my god! (Y/n)!" Mara exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" You asked, startled. "We never got to eat my cake!"

You sigh rather loudly, "That is definitely not what you should be focused on right now."

"So how are we here then?" Mara questions after regaining composure over the lost treat. "Well, let's think logically here." You say, thinking of any possible way that you could be here.

"There is no logic in this situation (Y/n)." Mara deadpans. "Apparently we should be dead but yet here we sit in a prison cell! You don't think that..." She pauses, trailing her words. "Oh my god (Y/n), we're in Hell!" She jumps up, clinging to you and immediately wailing. It's honestly comical. Mara continues, "I thought you would end up here because you're an asshole but...me?! I'm too pretty for hell!" 

You swear that in this moment she almost looks like an anime character. Something was obviously super fucked up here. "What do you mean that you thought I would end up here?!" You exclaim, immediately shoving off your distressed friend.

Apparently, the two of you screaming at each other was considered obnoxious. You soon heard footsteps. A bearded man approached your cell, "Shut up you lot! You'll be interrogated soon enough." You noticed that the man was wearing a very old-fashioned policeman's outfit. Like the weird tall hat, the button-down jacket, and all. You also noted the strong seemingly British accent he had. Mara's sobbing was immediately halted and with that, he walked away. 

You slowly turned to her; she did the same. "What the actual fuck...!" You whisper-yelled. "He was dressed like an old cop dude!" Mara whisper-shouted back.  You both stared at each other for a moment, absolutely perplexed.  As you sat in silence, you heard another pair of footsteps approaching your cell. Scratch that, it sounded like at least two people walking. The two of you locked eyes and stayed silent. After a moment, two guards showed up. They unlocked your cell, immediately putting cuffs on you. This caused you to huff and roll your eyes. You definitely did not like being handcuffed and could easily get out of them. But you knew Mara couldn't, so you decided to play nice and just follow the apparent officers. "Hey, why are we under arrest?! We were never given our rights or a cause!" Mara exclaimed. The officers just acted as if she wasn't even speaking. This caused Mara to grumble something about 'shitheads' under her breath. They led the two of you into a relatively large room with a wooden table in the middle. There were three chairs currently set up, two on the side closest to you and adjacent one on the other two. The officers had the two of you sit in the two chairs and gave no instruction other than to wait because whoever you were apparently going to be talking to was due to arrive soon. 

After they left the room Mara turned to you, "So, does this bring back any fond memories?" She asked with a shit-eating smile on her face. "Oh ha. Ha. Good one Mara, you're really a comedic genius, ya know?" You said with a flat voice and no expression on your face. This made her laugh, it's crazy how even in the worst situations, the two of you couldn't be serious at all. "So, I know you can get out of cuffs, why didn't you? You could have totally kicked those guys asses." 

You shrug in response, "I'd have to leave your ass behind and if I ever came back for you, I would have never heard the end of it." Before Mara could even give some sort of a response back, the two of you could hear keys being inserted into the door that you'd previously entered through. The two of you stared at each other before slowly turning to the door. 

"Right this way sir, they're in here." You heard one of the officers say. You saw the door open, and the officer let the guy he was talking to in. Your jaw nearly hit the floor. You whipped around to Mara to see the actual stars in her eyes. You knew this place was off! Other than the obvious dying and awakening here, this place seemed strange. The Officer let in someone who looked dead onto Ciel Phantomhive. He was adorned in his top hat and his overcoat cape thing. Right behind him, his stoic butler. And may I just say DAMN. There was literally no reasonable explanation for what you were witnessing right now. This had to be some sort of a joke. But how could it be when you had felt yourself die?

The Ciel doppelgänger took a seat across from Mara and yourself as the officer left the room. You were honestly surprised Mara hadn't said anything yet, glancing at her, she seemed speechless. She probably couldn't think of anything to say. That's rare. You remained quiet as the kid's cyan eye scrutinized the two of you. You glanced at the butler behind him, seeing that he was indeed doing the same. You broke the silence after a moment, "So, uh, what the fuck is going on?" The boy and his butler looked taken aback by your language for a moment before doppelgänger Ciel responded, "Who are you and where do you come from?" 

Your eyebrows rose for a moment. You then narrow your eyes at the kid, "Uh-uh short stuff, I asked you a question first, you snooze you lose." This caused the boy to glare at you, not liking the perfectly suited nickname that was acquired. "I'm interrogating you; I'll be asking the questions." 

Mara piped up, "Well, she did ask first. She can be pretty persistent; I promise it's just safer if you answer her first. Trust me." "Ciel" glanced at his butler before he resumed glaring back at you. "The two of you are suspected of being foreign spies. You were discovered in an alleyway in London. You were speaking incoherently, and the authorities were called on you. You were assessed based on your clothing and the strange flat glass boxes found on you. They were assumed to be weapons and you were assumed to be foreign spies. Thus, we were called. I am Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen's Guard Dog. This is my butler, Sebastian Michaelis."

Flat glass boxes...? Oh my god, your phones. No way. 

"Now I've answered your question, you're required to answer mine."  You looked at Mara, wide-eyed. She looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel. "Um okay, but you probably won't believe us, we're-" You were cut off by Mara. "HOLY SHIT! ARE YOU REALLY CIEL PHANTOMHIVE?? THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!"

This elicited a sigh from you, it was only a matter of time. She had been a ticking bomb since they'd walked in. "E-excuse me?" Ciel was taken aback by her sudden yelling. Sebastian seemed to feel similarly. You maneuvered your hands out of the cuffs you were wearing, unlocking with ease. You hadn't even realized you'd done it. You quickly slapped a hand on Mara's mouth, preventing any more shrieking.  Sighing again, you spoke, "See, I was getting to that part."

"How did you-" Ciel questioned astonished as he saw your currently free hands, Sebastian having his eyebrows raised as well. You cut him off by holding up a finger, "I'm gonna give you the run down, it's gonna sound crazy but at this point, I feel like I am. My name is (Y/n) (L/n) and my friend, Mara Kline, and I are seemingly from a universe that you don't technically exist in. You guys are fiction. Our universe or time period or whatever, I don't know, I'm not a scientist, is at least 120 years ahead of this one as well. We were in a fatal accident, at least that's how we remember it. We both remember dying. Then, like magic, poof! We wake up in the jail cell those assholes housed us in." You tried to make it as short and sweet as you possibly could. 

Ciel was silent, eye widened. He looked at his butler, Sebastian seemed fairly surprised as well, he looked like he wanted to say something. "Young master, if I may?" He asked for permission. Ciel nodded. "What evidence do you have to support this statement?" 

This caused you to quirk a brow as you locked eyes with the butler. "Really? The outfits aren't a giveaway? Neither are the accents and terminology that we've been using?" You heard Mara's muffled speaking coming from under your hand now as well. You turn towards Mara, "Alright, Mara, I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth now. No screaming, you got it?" You felt her nod in response. You slowly remove your hand. She takes a breath, "First of all, I can't believe I'm meeting you guys! It's a dream come true!" She exclaims while smiling, "Secondly, you mentioned, 'strange flat glass boxes', correct?" Ciel nodded in response. "Well, those will have all the proof you need. They're not weapons, they're our cell phones."

Ciel's brows furrowed as he looked at his butler, who also looked confused. "What is a... cell phone?" Ciel questions. "Well, the technical term is a mobile or portable phone. It enables a user to communicate almost anywhere in the world. They could be considered similar to how you use letters." You answer matter-of-factly. They still seemed lost. Mara sighed, having calmed, "Do you know where they are?"

"Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord." 

Sebastian pulled out your phones from one of his pockets before handing them to you. Mara attempted to grab hers, but she was still unfortunately handcuffed. She pouted. This left you to show your phone to the boy and his butler. They were astonished as soon as you'd turned it on. You explained a few simple concepts to them while allowing them to see and hold the device, proving that it wasn't a threat. 

They seemed content after a few minutes. Well, as content as anyone could be in their situation. Sebastian's eyes went down to your uncuffed wrists, and he said, "By the way, Miss, (Y/n), was it? Pray tell, how did you manage to get your handcuffs off?" 

"Oh right! That reminds me," You turned toward Mara, seemingly pulling the handcuff key from thin air, "Let me help you." You unlocked Mara's cuffs, and she immediately pocketed her phone, grateful they didn't see hers due to the amount of Black Butler content on it. Ciel, again, looked shocked, "How did you acquire that key." You shrug, "No one really pays enough attention." You responded. Mara grinned in response, "Who knew that your skills would help us one day?" 

That definitely piqued the Earl's interest. "Skills?" He inquired. "Oh, it's nothing." You respond. "Nothing?" Mara chimed, "Ol' (Y/n) here is a professional thief." This caused you to sigh and drag a hand down your face. 

"Mara?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?" 

"Remember when I had a conversation with you explicitly saying that you probably shouldn't just tell people that?" 

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Ciel had been having a silent conversation with his butler while your banter was occurring. He cleared his throat, causing the two of you to look at him. "I have decided that since the two of you are, in fact, not from this time period, nor this universe, you will be coming back to my manor with me." Mara almost lost it. She was pretty much bouncing in place. You sighed. 

"(Y/n), you will now be my 'self-defense' personal trainer from now on. Somewhat of a guard. If you can escape that easily while also being undetected, I want you to be with Sebastian and me on cases. And you, Mara, what can you do?" Ciel quirked his brow. Mara grinned, "I can cook really well!" You nodded in agreement to her statement. "Is that so?" Ciel asked, "Very well, you'll be assistant to the head chef."

Her eyes almost blew out of the socket. She'd be working with Bard. She looked at you, grinning and vibrating in place. 

"Good luck." You laughed at her condition while the other two looked rather concerned.

After this, Ciel asked what you knew about them. Mara and you had decided that it would be safer to not tell them that you knew everything that would happen if this world followed the anime. "Well, we know that Sebastian and you have a contract and that he's a demon," Mara stated, shrugging. Ciel nodded and then made sure that neither of you was going to spill that as soon as he took you away from here. You swore that you wouldn't, of course.

Ciel then ordered Sebastian to go inform the officers of what would be happening and for him to fetch the carriage. It took about twenty minutes but, you were finally able to leave. You stepped outside and took in your surroundings. Everything was vastly different from what you were used to. Sebastian assisted Ciel and Mara into the carriage, this nearly caused her to faint, of course. He offered you his hand, with his fake little closed-eyed smile. You had always found it slightly unnerving. You declined his offer and just hopped up into the carriage, taking your seat next to Mara. Your rejection had caused the butler's eyebrows to rise, but nothing more. He closed the door and then you were off. After about ten minutes, you were out.

You were awoken by Sebastian opening the door to the carriage. Also, Mara shaking you and completely freaking out. You looked to where she was looking, and your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. The manor was huge! Mara jumped out of the carriage before Sebastian could assist her, followed by you. You stood in awe as you took in the scenery. You couldn't help but think about how beautiful it was. Your thoughts were quickly broken by Sebastian, however. "Lady Mara, Lady (Y/n)."

"Welcome to the Phantomhive Manor."

[serpentooth]

𝐈   𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓   𝐌𝐘   𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓   𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄    [   ...   ] and  now  i  moan,  and  now  i  holler,  she'll  never  know,  just  what  i  found .

                little  fish,  big  fish,  swimming  in  the  water,                  come  back  here,  man,  gimme  my  daughter.

FULL NAME     .   amber ava aster      ALIAS(ES)  /  NICKNAMES     .    abby , darling amber   AGE     .   thirty-eight   GENDER  +  PRONOUNS     .   cis  woman,  she / cunt , i meant  her     SPECIES     .  empty. previously human OCCUPATION . councilwoman DATE OF BIRTH . january 10th RELATIONSHIP STATUS . married CHILDREN . jade ( 8 years old ) FAMILY . two sisters , one older ( 39 ) and one younger ( 35 ) HAIR COLOR . blonde EYE COLOR . blue HEIGHT . 165 cm SCENT . ylang ylang, white musk, sandalwood CHARACTER PARALLELS . amma crellin ( sharp objects ) , goneril ( king lear )

tw  :  general  caution  when  it  comes  to  mentions  of  emotional  abuse  and  strange  little  tidbits. 

ONE  FOR  SORROW,  TWO  FOR  JOY,  three  for  a  girl,  tell  a  secret  that's  never  been  told.  middle  child  and  second  daughter  out  of  three,  amber  was  born  and  raised  in  the  city  of  blackwater.  the  asters  are  rather  well-known  to  those  native  to  the  city  and  have  owned  a  sprawling  estate  in  the  canyon  heights  neighborhood  for  more  than  a  dozen  decades.

one  made  of  kindness,  the  other  of  something  cruel,  the  oldest  to  balance  between  the  two.  three  golden  manes,  three  different  heads,  forever  bound  to  thee.  here's  the  thing  about  asters.  they're  known  for  their  women.  amber  and  her  two  sisters,  close  in  age  and  appearance,  but  not  nature,  spent  most  of  their  childhood  in  an  almost  inseparable  state.  the  oldest  one  took  it  upon  herself  to  watch  over  her  two  sisters,  the  youngest  one  was  always  weak-willed,  bending  like  a  willow  at  everyone's  whim,  and  amber,  darling  amber,  always  projected  an  image  that  was  faux.  of  the  three,  amber  was  the  favored  one,  but  something  always  felt  a  little  off.  was  it  the  way  she  clenched  her  lips  when  she  smiled  or  shook  your  hand  just  a  little  too  hard?  one  could  never  tell.

all  of  this  to  say...  something  was  always  wrong  with  amber,  even  long  before  she  became  an  empty.  a  cluster  of  contradictions,  a  picture-perfect  daughter  at  home  and  before  adults,  but  a  vile  girl  in  the  presence  of  her  peers  and  sisters.  it's  the  latter  of  the  two  that  know  this  better  /  were  even  familiar  with  some  of  amber's  strange  hobbies  and  obsessions,  one  of  which  included  collecting  teeth,  both  of  animals  and  people.  uncaring  but  awfully  ambitious,  she  grew  up  to  be  rather  voracious  and  susceptible  to  the  allure  of  avarice.

near  the  end  of  her  twenties,  she  left  blackwater  in  pursuit  of  something  better,  bigger,  brighter,  settling  in  washington.  there  she  met  and  married  her  current  husband  and  had  a  daughter.  a  daughter  has  a  daughter  who  has  a  daughter.  this  is  why  eve  bit  the  apple.

but  none  of  it  was  enough.  no,  not  quite.  back  home  once  more,  all  alone,  with  her  husband  and  daughter  states  away,  she  did  the  one  thing  most  dare  not  to  speak  of.  then  comes  a  pause.  interlude.  seven  years  of  delight.  the  only  whispers  that  reach  blackwater  are  of  her  success.

several  months  ago,  she  finally  returned,  under  the  guise  and  pretense  of  helping  her  youngest  sister,  but  wink  wonk,  we  all  know  it's  because  the  riverman  beckons  her.  however,  that  isn't  to  say  that  her  youngest  sister  doesn't  need  help.  she  inherited  the  aster  family  house,  but  has  over  the  last  several  years,  faced  quite  a  few  troubles,  given  her  ill-fitted  and  overly  caring  personality.  something,  something,  one  of  us  drinks  the  poison,  but  all  three  must  suffer.

currently,  she  works  as  a  councilwoman,  which  is  a  far  cry  form  her  government  job  back  in  washington,  but  it's  still  better  than  most  others.

things  are  definitely  complicated  because  now  she  wants  her  husband  to  also  make  a  deal  and  make  their  lives  easier  once  more,  so  that  they  can  be  evil  and  irredeemable  together,  but  quite  a  few  things  are  at  stake,  and  despite  having  no  soul,  she  does  want  the  best  for  her  daughter.

i'd  really  love  to  see  her  sisters,  they're  such  an  integral  part  of  amber's  narrative,  especially  since  all  three  of  them  are  just  children  weaned  on  poison  and  emotional  abuse,  so  i'll  definitely  write  up  a  little  wc  for  them,  and  the  same  goes  for  her  husband  (  but  before  that,  if  anyone's  interested,  hmu  ).  that  aside,  since  she  was  born  and  raised  in  blackwater,  she's  probably  well-familiar  with  other  natives  of  the  city,  and  currently,  she's  also  a  councilwoman,  so  you're  bound  to  run  into  her.  some  potential  connections  i  could  also  see  include  people  around  her  age  who  went  to  school  with  her,  maybe  got  a  taste  of  her  wickedness  or  something,  or  perhaps,  people  who  helped  her  sister(s)  after  she  left  town  and  now  she  kind  of  has  to  be  grateful.  ofc,  anything  and  everything  else!

[tieflingkisser]

Just Like That: Life and Death in Gaza

When Israel occupied Gaza in 1967, it hollowed out the economy to make us dependent. Most Gazans could either work in Israel or not at all. I remember my father waking up at 2 in the morning to a catch a bus into Israel for work. He wouldn't return until 7 in the evening. He did this every day, despite having to endure humiliations from his boss and from Israeli soldiers at the checkpoints. There was no Hamas then. But the spirit which feeds it sprung from the degradation and physical abuse men like my father went through. Israeli soldiers would sometimes detain Palestinian laborers for hours, or order them to strip naked, just for their amusement. My mother was always worried for my father's safety. She spent her evenings by the window, awaiting his return. My father shared a story when I was about 5 that I can never forget. His Israeli boss told him, "God created only Israelis as humans; the rest of the world were animals, created to serve them. But the early Israelis were disgusted with the animals, so they asked God to transform them into human-like beings. And that's how you all came to be." It seems many in Israel still don't view Palestinians as fully human. In October 2023, Israel's defense minister Yoav Gallant ordered a "complete siege" on Gaza: "no electricity, no food, no water, no fuel." "We are fighting human animals," he said, "and we are acting accordingly."

[...]

I was 12 when the borders were sealed. I remember my father collecting firewood every morning so he could make food for us. The siege sent us back hundreds of years. But we still had television, to remind us how others lived. Almost all the factories in Gaza closed. Farmers stopped working for lack of fuel, fertilizer, and spare parts. My father, still driving his taxi to support us, resorted to vegetable oil for gas. Israeli technicians calculated the minimum number of calories we needed to survive, and only that much food was allowed in. On Dec. 27, 2008, Israel launched its first major assault on Gaza. I was in the ninth grade, waiting nervously for an exam. I had not studied much and was worried about how it would go. Suddenly, I heard loud explosions outside the school. My first thought was, It's Yawm al-Qiyamah. Judgment Day. I heard screams and saw fire and smoke in the sky. I had never been so close to a bombing. As I ran home, I saw corpses in the streets, blood everywhere. In the end, 1,400 Palestinians were killed in that war. Five thousand more were injured. And 60,000 homes were damaged or destroyed. When the bombardment ceased, after three weeks, we tried to pick up the pieces of our lives. But then, in 2012, another war. About a hundred people killed in just over a week. And in 2014, they came again. This one lasted 51 days. The bombing was everywhere and did not stop. This time, my family did not escape. My brother was killed, along with six of my friends. He was my closest companion. We grew up together, and now I was 19, and he was gone. Just like that. My last memory of him is his face covered in blood. As for my friends, they were buried under the rubble for eight days. When their bodies were eventually retrieved, during a "humanitarian pause," they had already begun to decompose.

[...]

In 2023, Gaza entered its 17th year under Israeli blockade. There was no hope of relief. Then Hamas launched an attack that reportedly killed 1,200 Israelis, and Israel retaliated with its most devastating assault on Gaza yet. I had settled in London after studying in the U.K. on a scholarship, but was on holiday in Turkey when the bombing started. Unlike in 2008, 2012, and 2014, I was away from my family during a war. I worried about them constantly. Most of my relatives gathered at my father's place in Deir al-Balah. It was in a residential neighborhood, with no military installations or warehouses nearby. If anywhere was safe, we thought, it's there. I called them every day, asking how they were. "We're fine, we're OK." They were running out of food and water, though. "The situation is very difficult," they admitted—"but we're together. Together, we'll be OK." They were asleep when, on Oct. 22, at 5 in the morning, some Israeli pilot dropped a bomb on our house. Just like that. My family wiped out. My father, Nasri Alnaouq, aged 75. My sister Walaa, 36, and her children: Raghd, 13; Eslam, 12; Sara, 9; and Abdullah, 6. My sister Alaa, 35, and her children: Eslam, 13; Dima, 12; Tala, 8; Noor, 4; and Nasmah, 2. My sister Aya, 33, and her children: Malak, 12; Mohammed, 9; and Tamim, 6. My oldest brother, Muhammad, 35, and his children: Bakr, 11, and Basema, 9. And Mahmoud, 25, a human rights activist who had just been admitted to a master's program in Australia. My little brother. Why was my family eliminated? There was no reason. Were militants there? No. Were rockets there? No. They turned my home into ash and vaporized the life from those people because they were Palestinian. Because the occupation decreed that a decent life is not for us, and if we demand it, then life is not for us. Many of my relatives were left for days under the rubble. One family member went to my home to recover the pieces. He put these remains that were once my nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters in a trash bag and gave it to my sister. Just like that. For me, and my surviving family, this is an epic tragedy. It is also an epic tragedy for the world. Because what the world let happen to Gaza, in 2023 and before 2023, is a stain that can never be removed.

[exrayspex]

finally put my foot down and told my parents I refuse to do anything with firefly outside the house/yard anymore.

she was attacked by another dog while on a walk years ago, and has been aggressive towards other dogs and sometimes people since. she's dangerous. my dad insists that it's fine bc "she's a good dog" and he "can just hold her back with her harness."

but what if he can't! she's yanked the leash so hard she crashed him to the ground and he hit his head so hard he was concussed! what if he can't hang on next time? what if I couldn't hang on if I was taking her to the vet or kennel for them? or if whoever else has her can't hang on? she dragged my mom down a hill once!

she's so dangerous, and it's just a matter of time before she manages to attack another dog or person. that person or dog will be hurt, and she will be euthanized for it so she can't do it again. i've told my parents this repeatedly, i've begged them and begged them to get a trainer and work with her.

but my dad didn't listen to the trainer they had a very brief consult with ages ago, and said that the trainer "didn't know anything that we don't already know." (lie!!) my mom is pretty sure it's bc the trainer was a woman and he is a misogynist who hates being told what to do, especially by women.

she's looked for dog trainers in the area who are men, since maybe he'd listen to them, but the only ones around either have been accused or charged with animal abuse, or are partners with those guys. so my mom has given up.

but god you can't just let her be that dangerous, and continue to walk her around the neighborhood and take her to the vet and the kennel like everything is fine when it's not! she NEEDS to be worked with extensively! you can't just give up!

anyway, they left for a road trip today and I had to drop her off at the kennel. she lunged and snarled at a little puppy that came in as she was being dropped off, and had to be held back more than once.

and i'm done. I've avoided taking her anywhere as much as I can without outright refusing to do it at all up until now, but now I'm outright refusing. I won't be the one to bring a dangerous dog places like that, even if it's just necessary places like the vet and kennel. The danger is obviously the worst thing, but it's embarrassing too. I told them I was done, and will be done, until they actually get a trainer and work with her until she's safe to take places. she may not be a bad dog, but the refusal to train her is terrible, dangerous, negligent dog ownership. Just not taking her places outside the neighborhood/vet/kennel isn't enough.

the worst part is I'm 99% sure they still won't do anything about it. I've been begging, and demanding, and pleading, and telling them her life and others could be at stake, and begging some more. for years. but he doesn't care and she won't accept that this is a MAKE HIM or LEAVE HIM type scenario. I've suggested rehoming her to people who will train her to be safe, too, but they're just offended by it.

it's so frustrating. there are dogs and people she's fine with, and dogs and people she wants to attack on sight. I think that gives them a false sense that it's fine, bc it isn't constant. but it's not fine! it's dangerous!

[nightmare-dreamt]

Gosh I really loved your account its very good writing and so detailed!

Well anyway let's cut to the chase I would like a matchup

Fandoms:welcome home spy family dangarompa

My appearance: I have long curly brown hair, brown eyes, I'm chubby and I'm a girl, my skin color is white, height 5'0

My sign is Pisces, and I'm infp and I'm Brazilian, I'm from the Gothic subculture

Sexuality: pansexual

Favorite colors: black, pink, purple

Age: 15 years old

My personality: I tend to make a lot of jokes and be sarcastic even at inappropriate times it's not on purpose and it's just my way of dealing with life situations I'm quite shy at first but when I get intimate I become much louder and talking about being loud I talk too loud and laugh too loud, I'm the type of person who often thinks too much before doing something and I also often do things without thinking which ends up causing me to get hurt there was even one time I ended up in the hospital because of it ,I like to be kind and polite to people but I will also treat people the same way they treat me if the person is kind to me I will be kind to them but if the person is cold to me then I will be cold to them no matter whoever the person is, I have some anger issues and I get irritated very easily so I end up being rude and talking a lot louder (and also because of these anger issues I can end up getting into some fights) I know this is a problem so I'm trying to deal with it, I'm the therapist friend I don't mind people venting to me even if I don't know the person and it's very likely that I hug the person to make them feel better since for me hugs always make things better ( but I won't hug the person if they don't feel comfortable) and as much as I can deal with other people's emotions I don't know how to deal with my own emotions and I have difficulties to vent in a healthy way that does not harm me, I I'm also a bit lazy and introverted I like to go out for fun but I need to have some time alone (it's practically a necessity), I've never been in a romantic relationship and if someone showed any interest in me it's very likely that I wouldn't I would know very well how to react and I would probably be very shy even though I don't like it but if I've been dating the person for a while I wouldn't be so shy anymore and I wouldn't have a problem flirting all the time or being bolder.

Love language: physical touch and quality time, and compliments

I like: food (mainly sweets), music (I like all musical genres), drawing, reading books, anything in the horror genre (books, movies, cartoons, etc……) animals or anything let it be cute, see criminal cases on youtube, my independence

I hate: mistreatment of animals, mathematics, clichéd and stereotyped horror movies that force me to do something I don't want to, any kind of prejudice (racism, homophobia, machismo, etc…), child abuse.

Matchup for Star!

A/n: Thank you for the request and I am deeply sorry to day that the dangaronpa part I hard written got DELETED. If you want I can do another one, but for now enjoy your match up!

Welcome Home: Julie Joyful

When moving into the neighborhood, you weren't expecting everyone to be so friendly towards you and so communicative asking so many questions. She was asking the most, very curious about the new neighbor, wanting to know everything about you. You were shy at first to them, making very little conversation with them, but the more you hung out with her your true colors showed and she loved both sides of you.

When the two of you met, her first thought was doing your hair and styling it into different things, but she truly fell for you when you agreed to let her do those things. Many days are spent with her just doing your hair and putting it into various styles.

One of her clients disappeared out of nowhere and she doesn't know why and it's been bringing her down as of lately, but when her lovely girlfriend appears ready to comfort her. The two of you spend hours together, cuddling and talking about your guy's days trying to make the blonde go back to her old self.

She's definitely a big fan of outdoor dates and spending time in the sun, but she's a even bigger fan of dates indoors where it's just the two of you being able to sit close together with no one else around.

Spy X Family: Yor Forger

When Yor heard one of your jokes, you were shocked not actually meaning to say something like that, but you were even more shocked when she laughed. You now make all sorts of jokes with her, some that get people to turn their heads with a questionable look, but she always laughs at them and that makes you happy.

You remember when Yor had gotten a job offering and the two of you moved in with the Forger family, it was definitely something at first. You were babysitting Anya when a bunch of people rushed in taking the two of you, but it wasn't long before your loving wife came and got the two of you

There have been times when people snap at the people they care for and it's normal, but there's also always pain and sadness when it happens. When you Snapped at Yor, you immediately realized your mistake and apologized profusely for not meaning to have done such a thing, but she didn't react angrily and instead patted your head telling you to let all of your emotions out.

[cerberusseraphim]

1/10/2024, 3 AM - 4 AM

im not entirely sure where to start.

as the first blog post, i feel like i should be organizing this better by giving a run down of my situation, but im not sure i have the full energy to do so. i can try.

im being abused. verbally, but im not unused to other kinds. Mammon is my older brother. i loved him once, but i dont anymore. as a child he raped and beat me, and i was always competing to be loved along side him. i lost, and my father has clearly chosen the son he prefers. im unsure of how this makes me feel anymore.

ever since i was home from the hospital i was apparently being sexually abused by my older sister. im unsure of how i feel about this as well. i guess it makes sense.

my doctor says i have CPTSD i think. i have voices in my head sometimes. used to think i was multiple people. im not unsure im not. i miss the others in my head, they've been really quiet for almost a year. i think they might be scared. i am too. im chronically depressed due to my circumstances and im unsure on how to get out.

i was raised to believe the world was out to get me. ive yet to shake this feeling. i was raised by my father mostly, who is a hyper paranoid man with untreated PTSD. unfortunately this means i get to suffer too. i am an adult, but getting any sort of job means i have to ask permission from my dad. he is unhappy with most jobs i apply for, only telling me he doesnt approve after i get a interview due to him not liking any area we live in as a place to work. we live in an area that has plenty of diversity, so you can imagine what he actually means when he says "these are bad neighborhoods". this is not an unsubstantiated claim, believe me.

i want my family to love me. they will never. i dont know how i feel about this. part of me doesnt care anymore. part of me mourns.

as i write this, im in another tense situation. i live with Mammon and my father. mother is dead, sister ran away to destroy other lives. i live in a one bedroom appartment with both of them. once upon a time, Mammon had a girlfriend who he lived with. she cheated, kicking him out and she keeps my cat due to my cowardly father getting a house that specifically forbids cats for his own ease of getting to work faster. i am heartbroken to be without my cat, but happy he does not live in these conditions.

the tense situation. my bad for going on a tangent.

Mammon is drunk. he is hardly ever not. he is a coward as my father is, he cannot feel his emotions so he drinks them away. it does not work. instead, it shows how much of a cruel animal he is. he is an angry man, and when he wants to drink he does not care who it disrupts. he abuses who he wants, he drinks as much as he wants with what little money he has, he claims he pays all the bills (he does not. father does. he just helps with a hundred or so bucks here and there) and therefore its his right to use me as a punching bag.

he paces the house and mumbles cruel words about me when he thinks i cannot hear. i can. he eavesdrops on my conversations with my friends, and attempts to meddle with my relationships based on the small amount of information he heard. he has lied to my father and has claimed to say terrible things to them- he has done no such thing. he lies to me and says they told him they all hate me and think im pathetic for everything. they do not know my brother, nor want to.

i keep going on side tangents in some attempt to give you context to my situation, im sorry.

Mammon has been drunk almost every night or early morning over the past 5 days. this is not uncommon. it disrupts my sleep schedule, when i try to have one. but last bender he did he grabbed at me- it should be mentioned all of these benders end in verbal abuse. occasionally he leaves me alone, but the anticipation for the abuse kills me just as much. anyway. he grabbed the hood i wore and ripped it off my head, grabbing a bunch of my hair in the process. it hurt. i should have hit him. when he does it again, i swore to myself id really hurt him. like, pick up a chair and beat him type hurt him. i dont want to be a violent person but no one else has beat the shit out of him for his attitude so i suppose i have to one day.

i have scary intrusive thoughts where im forced to kill him. i believe one day he is going to rape me again, then attempt to kill me in the process. i am scared then i will be forced to kill him. im scared i will enjoy it.

i hate Mammon, and i do think ill only feel safe when he one day dies. but i dont want to kill him. i want to hurt him and have him live to remember, but i dont want to kill. i am not capable of taking a life. even his.

i think somewhere inside i still love my big brother. i dont think thats whats stopping me from killing him, i cant kill because i refuse to- that includes killing myself.

anyway. he now wanders around wasting groceries in the kitchen. he tries to cook while drunk. only half of it ends up in the pot, the rest on the floor and walls. the food is only ever edible to him, but nothing else. its a miracle he doesnt puke it up.

the idea of food waste drives me insane. i hate it. he embodies all that i hate.

i wish i could heal from my trauma, ive been ready to begin the healing process. if only my brother would disappear, i could be some sort of healthy again.

[learningfromlosing]

I'm so hot and cold when it comes to animals like I have my cat right I've had her for almost 5 years I got her when she was 8 weeks and she's my fucking ride or die of course I could just go on and on about how much I love her but... It took a while like??? I hated her as a kitten???? SO FAST!!! SO DARK!!! she would attack my feet at night when her and i lived alone in a studio and it'd be so dark I couldn't see her she'd just scare the shit out of me constantly but we bonded you know same thing that happened with my dog! Got him as a puppy about 3 months and he's almost 3 now and I love him so death! He's so sweet and kind and gentle and so protective he's perfect for me..... But it took a while!!!! He was such a needy little jumpy shit when he was a baby! So much energy!!! So many bites!!! And the potty training??? 😧 Oh my god .. I mean ? And he had brought fleas back from Ohio with him and infested my cat and took forever to get them all gone and it took forever to get it all situated but now he's my best friend you know? And now ..... We've just decided to take in this very very pregnant young cat who was a stray in our neighborhood who would always come by. And time went by and she had her babies! 7 healthy babies!!!! They're so cute and adorable!!!! .... But they're starting to scream.... And shit so much the mama can't keep up anymore... They all need a litter box... All 9 cats.... They all need food now.... And 8 of them scream.... Yes 7 kittens screaming... But they learned it from their mom... Who screams... Who herself in her own right is only barely even a year old probably. But oh my god... I am getting so fucking sick of these fucking cats.... And the stress theyre putting on MY CAT! MY BABY!! Hissing at HER!! :0 the audacity! And her not liking the kittens! Ugh makes me feel so bad for her. She had to go through getting a dog and now a new cat and her kittens! And the kittens won't shut uppppp and they are getting smelly!!! And now we gotta take them in to the vet to get their shots soon and all their fucking tags and shit ughghghgh 😤 .... But then I was thinking of selling them (since I googled it and they say people should ask for at least some money so you know the people getting the kittens actually want them and won't abuse them or sell them to a company) and I literally was getting emotional..... We've named all them and they all have personalities it's been over a month now so their eyes are open and they're running around and eating wet cat food from the cans and using a kitten litter box and I just cant bear to think about parting with them 😧😧

[tfc2211]

The thread...

Updated info on the wrongfully euthanized squirrel Peanut, & raccoon Fred…

Some ridiculous judge DID sign a warrant. For a squirrel? On a called -in “complaint” by this photog Monica Keasler to the DEC, for unknown reasons. The woman proceeded to brag on her now deleted FB account - she’s also ditched IG & Linked In because people found out who she is.

Reviewing facts, it’s a pathetic case of government waste, overreach, & misuse of resources.

These people rescued & raised Peanut as an orphaned kit. They had him for 7 years. The man created an animal rescue sanctuary as a result, and had allll the app. process done, & it was SIGNED. The only thing waiting on approval was an enclosure. This animal was not capable of wild survival. They tried that initially, but Peanut came back with injuries. Some rescued wildlife is not releasable - this is exactly why rehab sanctuaries will keep select animals after rehab capability is maxed. A few potential reasons: Missing limbs Birds with lack of flight Loss of vision or hearing Predators unable to hunt sufficiently Prey unable to evade predators Failure to thrive due to health deficits Captivity-raised lack of survival instincts Conditions requiring ongoing medication This RAID involved making the victims sit outside their home for 5 hours while these maniacs tore up everything. They were denied the right to call legal counsel. Feds went thru closets, leaving a complete mess. They broke soap bottles in the bathroom. They took apart the man’s TOILET upon escorting him before he could use it because apparently there could be some important squirrel propaganda hidden in there (I’m assuming in the tank). 😒 Please make it make sense. They further questioned his wife’s immigration status (Germany), in spite of her having all necessary docs & ID. Because these psychos descended unannounced & hunted down these ordinarily docile rescues in their normally peaceful home, somebody supposedly got bitten. They used that as justification for killing them to examine brain tissue for signs of rabies. (Let’s be clear… they were observed putting on gloves. Was anyone ACTUALLY bitten?) What’s really going on here? We all want to know. If you are thinking, “It’s just a squirrel “, look at your pets. Do it right now. Why do you think you are exempt from over-reach like this, & what’s different from your dog or cat?

WHAT???

I am a feline rescuer. I’ve also rescued other animals to either be rehab-released, or homed as appropriate. I have been doing this most of my life, in fact. Birds, including a baby hummingbird once. Rabbits. Lizards. Snakes. Dogs. What’s the difference, I ask you. This is NOT about permits. He had the paperwork. Signed. It was in final process. Why do Feds have the time & resources for one MF squirrel that’s not bothering anybody? If they need something to do, I have a few suggestions. Some legit tasks first… and a couple of impolite instructions after that. I usually try to avoid posting things that end up in the political arena, but here we are. This is as far as I’m concerned a bipartisan concern anyway, so today I am speaking up. NONE of us should be ok with this type of abusive home invasion. Do you want to be treated like a criminal, like a drug dealer, on your own property.. when you have done nothing harmful to anyone? I’m absolutely certain that I don’t. AS a rescuer MYSELF, this hits hard. I’ve had tragic abuses committed by other organizations that I had to then correct & be the responsible party - costing me hundreds in the aftermath, plus deciding under duress of the situation to adopt as a result. Over the lifetime of a pet, that’s thousands. I continue to do this, in spite of not having a donation for it in 4 years. So to me, it’s an important issue. We talk all the time about being responsible citizens, but when it comes to actually demonstrating it, who steps up? In my neighborhood, it’s just me. Out of pocket.

So YEAH… #JusticeForPeanut

Read whole thread on X if you want your head to explode over this whole thing and what they went through. Just insanity.

[xtruss]

Tranq Dope: Animal Sedative Mixed With Fentanyl Brings Fresh Horror to U.S. Drug Zones

A veterinary tranquilizer called xylazine is infiltrating street drugs, deepening addiction, baffling law enforcement and causing wounds so severe that some result in amputation.

— By Jan Hoffman | January 7, 2023 | The New York Times

PHILADELPHIA — Over a matter of weeks, Tracey McCann watched in horror as the bruises she was accustomed to getting from injecting fentanyl began hardening into an armor of crusty, blackened tissue. Something must have gotten into the supply.

Switching corner dealers didn’t help. People were saying that everyone’s dope was being cut with something that was causing gruesome, painful wounds.

“I’d wake up in the morning crying because my arms were dying,” Ms. McCann, 39, said.

In her shattered Philadelphia neighborhood, and increasingly in drug hot zones around the country, an animal tranquilizer called xylazine — known by street names like “tranq,” “tranq dope” and “zombie drug” — is being used to bulk up illicit fentanyl, making its impact even more devastating.

Xylazine causes wounds that erupt with a scaly dead tissue called eschar; untreated, they can lead to amputation. It induces a blackout stupor for hours, rendering users vulnerable to rape and robbery. When people come to, the high from the fentanyl has long since faded and they immediately crave more. Because xylazine is a sedative and not an opioid, it resists standard opioid overdose reversal treatments.

More than 90 percent of Philadelphia’s lab-tested dope samples were positive for xylazine, according to the most recent data.

“It’s too late for Philly,” said Shawn Westfahl, an outreach worker with Prevention Point Philadelphia, a 30-year-old health services center in Kensington, the neighborhood at the epicenter of the city’s drug trade. “Philly’s supply is saturated. If other places around the country have a choice to avoid it, they need to hear our story.”

A study published in June detected xylazine in the drug supply in 36 states and the District of Columbia. In New York City, xylazine has been found in 25 percent of drug samples, though health officials say the actual saturation is certainly greater. In November, the Food and Drug Administration issued a nationwide four-page xylazine alert to clinicians.

Left: Tracey McCann is in recovery from tranq dope at a treatment center near St. Louis. “I’d wake up in the morning crying because my arms were dying,” she said. Credit...Neeta Satam for The New York Times Right: Ms. McCann shows a photo of herself last summer shortly before she fled Kensington, when she weighed only about 90 pounds. Credit...Neeta Satam for The New York Times Bottom: Shawn Westfahl, center left, attended to a man who Mr. Westfahl believed had just injected tranq dope, in the Kensington section of Philadelphia. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

In December, the Office of National Drug Control Policy said it was tracking the spread closely, and the journal Pediatrics published an analysis of three cases of xylazine ingestion by toddlers.

But xylazine’s true prevalence is unknown. Hospitals don’t test for it. Some state medical examiners don’t routinely do so, either.

The drug exists in a legal gray zone. Approved 50 years ago by the F.D.A. as a veterinarian-prescribed analgesic, it is not listed as a controlled substance for animals or humans and so is not subject to strict monitoring. Thus, it has not been on the radar of federal law enforcement for diversion or abuse.

As with many trapped by tranq, Ms. McCann’s hellish descent began with prescription opioids. In 2009, when she was 27, she developed a dependence on painkillers prescribed after a severe car crash. A boyfriend she met at one of her six stays in rehab introduced her to heroin. Cheaper and more potent fentanyl elbowed heroin off the streets. Then, as the Covid-19 pandemic descended in 2020, tranq stormed Philadelphia.

Last July, she was evicted from her room in Kensington. “I was sleeping on the sidewalks crying every night, knowing that I was better than that,” Ms. McCann said. Someone next to her got shot. A man tried to rape her, but she defended herself with a box cutter. On the hot summer streets, she saw people whose tranq wounds were covered with fleas and maggots.

Even so, she said, “I could not pull myself away from that drug.”

‘Self-destruction At Its Finest’

On a recent chilly afternoon, hundreds of people filled the streets surrounding Prevention Point, carrying used syringes to exchange for sterile ones. Some then made their way to the center’s wound care clinic, which has seen a 313 percent rise in visits over the past three years, largely because of tranq.

Brooke Peder, a 38-year-old tattoo artist nicknamed the Hood Grandma, rolled her wheelchair to the exchange check-in and handed over a gallon container filled with syringes. Her mother, sister and wife died of overdoses. Just over a year ago, her right leg had to be amputated because of an infection from a tranq wound that bore into the bone.

Ms. Peder, who has been using drugs in Kensington for 13 years, said she was eager to warn about tranq, especially to newbies arriving in the neighborhood, lured by its decades-old reputation as a drug marketplace. They come from all over the country. Many arrive with money and pay locals to seek out drugs, until they turn into locals themselves, she said.

She unrolled a bandage from elbow to palm. Beneath patches of blackened tissue, exposed white tendons and pus, the sheared flesh was hot and red. To stave off xylazine’s excruciating withdrawal, she said, she injects tranq dope several times a day. Fearful that injecting in a fresh site could create a new wound, she reluctantly shoots into her festering forearm.

Left: At an office at Prevention Point, Ms. Peder changed the dressing on her arm. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times Right: An encampment in the Kensington neighborhood. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times Bottom: Used needles, Narcan sprays and abandoned belongings on Kensington Avenue. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

“The tranq dope literally eats your flesh,” she said. “It’s self-destruction at its finest.”

Tranq dope is an ever-fluctuating blend of xylazine, a sedative, and usually an opioid, with each type of drug binding to different brain receptors. While there is ample research on opioids, there is almost none on xylazine in humans. Though it has been detected in fatal overdoses where opioids were present, its direct correlation with fatality is undetermined.

Xylazine was developed in 1962 as an anesthetic for veterinary procedures. Trials in humans were shut down because the drug led to respiratory depression and low blood pressure. Its use as an addictive substitute for heroin most likely started in the 2000s: In 2011, a study observed that people in farming areas of Puerto Rico were injecting “anestesia de caballo” (horse anesthesia) and developing severe skin ulcers.

In Kensington, which has a substantial Puerto Rican population, the drug was found in 2006. But it wasn’t until about 2018 that tranq use began escalating there and then throughout the Northeast. Some epidemiologists theorize that during the pandemic, bottles of domestic xylazine, purchased online with a veterinary prescription or diverted from veterinary supply chains, became popular as a cheap, easy opioid filler.

Unsuspecting Kensington customers saw an advantage to the new mix: A bag of heroin ran about $10, tranq dope $5.

But costs accrued. Kim Barauskas, 53, wondered why, after shooting up, she was falling over, waking up later and then immediately feeling that “we’re all sick again and need to get another shot.”

“Most people tell me, ‘I wish I could find dope that didn’t have xylazine,’” said Dr. Joseph D’Orazio, an expert in toxicology and addiction medicine at Temple University Hospital in Philadelphia, which treats dozens of xylazine users daily. “But what gets put out there on the street is what people have to use.”

Reversing an overdose where xylazine was involved is tricky. A dose of the overdose-halting medicine naloxone, which blocks or reverses opioids’ effect on brain receptors, will address the fentanyl but still won’t rouse a victim sedated with xylazine. Desperate rescuers may try a second or third dose. But too much naloxone can put someone into withdrawal, vomiting and writhing.

Responders are advised to check whether the person is breathing, protect the head and airways, apply one dose of naloxone and call for backup.

Even when opioid withdrawal is contained, the harsh xylazine withdrawal continues. People keep using tranq dope for fear of “getting sick”: migraines, double vision, nausea, numbness in fingers and toes, sweats and body-rattling anxiety. There is no medical protocol yet for managing it; Dr. D’Orazio typically uses anti-anxiety drugs to treat the patient’s symptoms.

Kim Barauskas said that right after she accidentally injected tranq into an artery, she felt like her hands had been dipped in acid. Her fingertips may need to be amputated. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

Doctors are perplexed by how xylazine causes wounds so extreme that they initially resemble chemical burns. They may not even appear at injection sites, but often on shins and forearms.

Ms. McCann’s tranq-scorched forearms reeked, oozed, itched and seared. Washing them regularly was nearly impossible, with public restrooms her only source of clean water.

She finally made her way to Prevention Point’s wound care clinic, where nurses debrided sores, dispensed antibiotic ointment and supplies and taught her how to change bandages. Using toenail clippers and alcohol wipes, she meticulously trimmed the eschar.

One day in August, she caught a glimpse of herself: Normally weighing 150 pounds, she was down to 90. “I thought, I either need to do a lethal shot of xylazine or get the hell out of Kensington,” she said.

The only person who would let her use a cellphone was a guy whose arm and leg had been amputated because of his tranq wounds. He was still injecting into his leg stump.

She made her decision.

Now in her fifth month of sobriety at an intensive outpatient program near St. Louis and at a healthy weight, Ms. McCann is both stunned by and proud of her progress. From wrist to elbow, her meandering pink and purple scars are a road map of being lost and found. “People out here might think my arms look really ugly, but they aren’t familiar with tranq wounds yet,” she said. “To me, my arms look really beautiful now.”

Ms. McCann is now in her fifth month of sobriety and back to a healthy weight. Credit...Neeta Satam for The New York Times

A Revival

One afternoon, Mr. Westfahl, who coordinates Prevention Point’s overdose prevention team, walked along Kensington Avenue, handing out free nasal spray doses of Narcan, the opioid overdose reversal medication. He and another outreach worker visited encampments of people on the street, some shooting up tranq dope openly, as local residents and shop workers scurried by in the accumulating darkness. People slumped against parking meters and in doorways, heads lolling, necks twisting. Three huddled around a small bonfire, burning a blanket for fuel.

Within 45 minutes, the two men had given away more than 100 doses of Narcan. They hung blue opioid reversal kits on street poles for anyone to grab, filled with disposable gloves, Narcan and plastic mouth guards for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Already overwhelmed by fentanyl, social welfare organizations, public health officials and clinics are in the early throes of figuring out how to withstand tranq. At least one state, Florida, has listed xylazine as a controlled substance. A comparable federal scheduling would prompt much stricter monitoring of prescriptions and suppliers of the drug, including in online transactions.

An official with the Drug Enforcement Administration who declined to be named said that the agency had been in contact with the F.D.A. and looks forward “to the completion of its scientific and medical evaluation and scheduling recommendation.”

Mr. Westfahl, right, and Carlos Del Valle walked around the Kensington neighborhood handing out Narcan and directing people to wound care and needle exchange clinics. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

Sara Wallace-Keeshen, right, and Kristi Petrillo-Straub, Prevention Point nurses, put together wound care kits for patients. They dress casually rather than in hospital scrubs, hoping to appear nonjudgmental and approachable. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

Some public health experts, noting that tighter controls on diverted prescription painkillers contributed to the rise of illicit fentanyl, questioned whether scheduling xylazine would alleviate its attendant problems, especially if more support programs are not forthcoming.

For now, the practical goal is to minimize xylazine’s damage by educating those who could be exposed, urging them not to use alone. Many leaders in the so-called harm reduction movement are pressing for supervised injection sites, where people can use in safer conditions and even have their drugs tested. Only two exist in the United States, both in New York City, where in 10 minutes people can learn whether their drugs include xylazine.

The Philadelphia health department has also been reaching out to clinicians who work with tranq patients, and Dr. D’Orazio has been lecturing widely about how to manage cases.

But a longstanding obstacle to progress is shame. People who use drugs often feel too mortified by their wounds to come in from the shadows to get help at emergency rooms.

That shame can be perpetuated by health care workers, who may dismiss these patients’ agonizing withdrawal as mere drug-seeking behavior. “Stigma is so deeply entrenched within hospital culture,” said Sara Wallace-Keeshen, a Prevention Point nurse who wears casual clothes rather than medical scrubs, hoping to appear nonjudgmental and welcoming.

Narcan kits and missing person signs are common sights in Kensington. Credit...Hilary Swift for The New York Times

Mr. Westfahl continued his journey down Kensington Avenue. Suddenly, at the intersection of Kensington and Allegheny, shouts went up from a gathering crowd: “Get the Narcan!”

A man was splayed out on the sidewalk, unconscious.

Announcing that he had first-aid training, Mr. Westfahl asked people to hold off on Narcan. He pulled on disposable gloves, checked the man’s pulse and opened his mouth to make sure it was free of food, syringe caps — anything he could choke on. Mr. Westfahl tilted the head back to check breathing and keep the airway open. Then, making a fist, he rolled his knuckles briskly up and down the man’s chest in a sternum rub; the surprising pain can jolt someone awake. The man began to come to, stupefied.

Mr. Westfahl and some onlookers hoisted him gently. Still heavily sedated, he lurched in the freezing wind, pants drooping. On either side, two women slipped their hands inside his open, flapping jacket.

They were fumbling for his zipper, which they secured to keep him warm. Then, arms around him, holding him up, the three headed back down Kensington Avenue.

— Hilary Swift contributed reporting. Jan Hoffman writes about behavioral health and health law. Her wide-ranging subjects include opioids, tribes, reproductive rights, adolescent mental health and vaccine hesitancy.

[simplyghosting]

Listen, listen, I am a very patient and tolerant person when it comes to what people can say or do to me, but if I see anyone abusing animals, I am this close to going absolutely ballistic at any point in time

[sidney-latrobe]

since she’s been around and in the bad parts of the neighborhood and she misses fez and wants to get back together with him but then she sees faye and it’s just a wtf type of moment/moment of confusion ? i’m picturing a multitude of sass, jealous, and angst since the reader and fez always been really okay even if they weren’t together. i hope this makes sense. thank you so much in advance! i love your work.

There was another similar request, but I'm just going to answer one.

Summary: You grew up in Fezco's neighborhood and went to high school with him. At some point, you started going out, but it didn't work, and Fezco broke up with you. You missed him and wanted to check up on him, trying to see if maybe there's a chance for you two to work things through and get back together, but then, you met Faye.

Content Warning: Jealous Reader, Sassy Reader, Angst, Strong Language, First-Person-POV Reader

Word Count: 2.028

Personal Note: Hey, thank you so much for requesting this. It's true, I haven't really dived into the whole angst and jealousy section of my writing yet, and I'm a little scared it's not as good as you hope. Anyway, thanks for liking the content I post. Don't @ me because of the ending. I know it's not the best :)

Life was not kind. It wasn't meant to be. Take a look at the animal kingdom; only the strongest survived. If you are too slow, you get eaten. Too visible, you'll get eaten. Too big, you'll get eaten. In Charles Darwin's Theory of Evolution, he describes how organisms evolve over generations through the inheritance of physical or behavioral traits. The theory starts with the premise that there is variation in traits within a population, such as a beak shape in one of the Galapagos finches Darwin studied.

According to the theory, individuals with traits that enable them to adapt to their environments will help them survive and have more offspring, which will inherit those traits. Individuals with less adaptive traits will less frequently stay to pass them on. Over time, the traits that enable species to survive and reproduce will become more frequent in the population, and the people will change or evolve.

Let's assume we can apply this theory to our society; everyone has different traits. Even in a community that wants you to be confident about your flaws and embrace them, we're still divided. Some are fortunate and grow up in a stable home, inherit their parents' money at thirty, and continue to sell what the family had been trading for over a hundred years. Other's came from nothing and built a life for themselves, lived the American Dream, some might say.

But some climb the ladder and get dragged down by forces beyond their control.

What about these people?

Was it fair their parents abused them?

Was it fair he got raped at the age of eight by his uncle?

Was it fair she was drugged and sold into slavery?

Was it fair or perhaps necessary for these people to experience this kind of trauma, this pain and hurt to become ... stronger? More adaptable to our world? If these people learn anything, no one helps you, that you are always alone and you can trust no one.

—

I was created in the womb of a drug addict, and my mother's mother was a prostitute. I was supposed to struggle from a young age, but I was temporarily saved by a lesbian couple that adopted me.

My mothers raised me in East Highland. They tried to buy a house on the east side of town-owned by Cal Jacobs, a well-known contractor, but the downpayment was beyond their price limit, so they settled for an apartment in the west.

It was a bad neighborhood; it was the sort of place where you could not walk around by yourself as soon as the sunset (no matter your gender, unless you packed a gun), and you were on a first-name basis with your weekly mugger.

One of our neighbors used to be a tall, blonde lady who always wore bright suits and heels, carrying a gun in her purse. I liked her. Whenever my parents couldn't watch me, they brought me to Marie. She allowed me to sit in front of the TV and eat cereal for dinner. Sometimes, she would shout things into her phone that I didn't understand and take off with two of three revolvers in her purse, but I didn't worry about it. I felt safe with her.

Then, around my tenth or eleventh birthday, I met Marie's grandson, Fezco. He had a brutal blue eye and was somewhat awkward around me as if he had never been around another kid his age, which, sadly, was the truth.

Fezco was the son of a strip club owner, and his mother was a stripper he had never met. I doubt he wanted to. From what I was told and overheard, he lived with his abusive father and worked in the strip club to earn his living. I don't know what sort of work he did there, and to be honest, he scared me sometimes. He was very intuitive that brain of his always scheming. Once, I stormed into his apartment to ask if he wanted to hang out, and I had startled him. It was the first and last time he pulled a gun on me.

He didn't like to be alone with me, and it had bothered me so much that I locked us in a cabinet and swallowed the keys. That day, our friendship began, and I got punched by a man for the first time but unfortunately, not last time.

Though we were close, Fezco and his grandmother tried to keep their illegal business away from me as long as possible. She didn't want the responsibility of another ruined future on her hands and my mothers, well, they were decent people living in the wrong neighborhood.

Fezco grew up too fast. His grandmother became sick, and he was forced to take care of her, his younger brother Ashtray and run a drug-dealing business from a young age. I offered him my help, but he never accepted. He didn't like to be a victim.

At the age of fourteen, my uncle died. My mother took his loss hard; they were twins. Quickly, she became depressed, never leaving the house, and used self-inflicted pain as a sort of escape. Seven months after my uncle's funeral, I found her body in the bathroom. She had overdosed and died from a seizure. I don't remember much of the day, but I do recall that it had been a warm day with fantastic weather that lured you outside and spread happiness.

I never dealt with my mother's death as I probably should have. My mother, who had been sexually assaulted a year later by her boss, quit her job and took off one day without telling me. I was sixteen.

Fezco and Ashtray took me in, and to no one's surprise, Fezco and I slept together only a month later. I thought he saw me as a younger sister and still did even after having sex a couple of times. I didn't know I loved him as much as he must have loved me until he remembered my birthday and tried to bake a cake. It tasted horrible and was hard as a rock, but I ate it all, throwing it up later because it gave me food poisoning, but I was never happier.

Our joy, however, was not destined to last. After graduating from high school, Fez and I got accepted to the local community college. Fezco dropped out of school after only a few months. He never told me why, but I suspected it had something to do with his criminal business. Knowing he didn't trust me enough after all these years pained me. We had a massive argument that night, and I moved out the next day.

Though we were no longer together, I remained in contact with him—for Ashtray, he was my godson after all.

—

Ashtray's birthday was coming up—even if it may not be his actual birthday, Marie had decided that the day his mother abandoned him at her apartment should be replaced with better memories. Although I haven't lived with him for over a year, we still called and texted regularly.

I placed the wrapped gift onto the passenger seat before starting my car's engine, waiting for the motor to finish howling before I shifted gears and drove from my apartment complex parking lot. The drive toward the shop was short. Although I still lived in the same town, I haven't heard any gossip about Fezco. A friend of mine mentioned his name once, and I had almost strangled them just to find out she visited his shop to buy weed.

After a short fifteen-minute drive, I pulled up to his shop. It looked just as it had done a year ago, and a slight grin curved my lips. Though it was just a place, I missed it.

I stepped out of the car and took the present from the passenger seat before heading inside. Fezco sat next to the counter, smoking a cigarette as he always did. He lifted his gaze, and the cigarette almost dropped from his lips as he stared at me dumbfounded.

"Y/N?" asked Fezco, jumping from the counter.

"Hey," I said and allowed the smile he ignited to take over my face.

Fezco had remained the same. His hair was cut short, but his long and thick lashes still made me envious. He took a step forward and embraced me briefly. After smelling him, I had to swallow hard to clear my brain; he smelt fantastic.

"What you doing here?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"I wanted to give Ashtray his present —"

"Hey, can I—oh, hey. I'm Faye."

I glanced behind him, and the smile vanished from my face as fast as it came. Behind Fezco stood a tall, thin blonde woman. She wore risky cut-off shorts and a top that didn't need to leave anything to the imagination because it covered practically nothing. She was pretty, stunning. My eyes flickered between her and Fezco, and I hoped he would say something, anything to put the worries inside my head to rest, but Fezco remained silent as if he didn't know how to explain why she was here.

"Who's this?" I asked, my tone harsher than I hoped it would be.

Fezco glanced from Faye to me and muttered, "Oh, she, uh, she's staying with me for a while."

Faye turned and took a seat on the cooler. I almost let out a growl as I saw her perky butt cheeks. She wasn't the kind of girl Fezco dated, she couldn't be, but to be honest, he didn't date anyone besides me. The stranger smiled at me, and I gave her a mere glare.

"Y/N?" said Fezco, concern tugging at his brows. "You alright?"

There was a scream from deep within that almost forced its way from my mouth; it was as if my terrified soul had unleashed a demon. All I felt was anger; all I felt was that I didn't want to imagine what she was to him. Yet these filthy imagines flashed in my mind, and these fists clenched, and my teeth lock up once the sound is out. I'm just gonna have to walk away for a while, see this "elephant" from a few miles away, figure it out.

"Yeah," I spat. "Didn't know you were running a charity for homeless addicts now."

Fezco ran a hand over his face, "It's not like that, Y/N."

"So, you're not fucking this bitch?"

"No! Why the fuck would I fuck her?"

Though I was relieved, the anger controlled me still. "Why would you let her live with you?"

"Because she murdered someone and is hiding from the police, and her boyfriend asked me for a favor because I owed him!"

Oh.

"God damn, Y/N. Faye, could you just fuck off for a second." The blonde left. "What's wrong with you?"

"I just … I was wrong, sorry."

"You jealous?"

"NO!"

"Come on, Y/N. Don't lied to me."

"I'm not jealous. I just … didn't think he moved on so quickly."

"We've been broken up for over a year."

"So? Doesn't mean I don't miss you!"

Now I had done it. I lost my temper. Fezco took a deep breath before he leaned against the fridge next to me.

"I missed you too."

Please like, comment, reblog, or follow if you like the content I post. Go check out my other works for Fezco here.

[libraford]

OK so a brief rundown of each because theres a whole sit com happening here.

Zoning drama:

My neighborhood is home to a handful of unused plots of land that were going to be used as cul-de-sacs in the 80s before the developer ran out of money and it got taken by overgrowth. One of them got bought out by a different developer who wants to put in an old folks home but it has to be rezoned as commercial, city approved it. The neighborhood is PISSED in a very specific nimby way and put up all these signs on protest.

I've been a real pill about it because first it was 'save our parks!' Its not a park or I would have to maintain it as a parks employee. 'Save our nature preserve!' Not a nature preserve. Only nature preserve is tge one where they found tge body. 'Save our wetlands.' Not a wetland. Yalls move.

I keep asking them: what's wrong with having an old folks home nearby? They're great neighbors- they don't party, they're in bed by 9, and having a medical facility nearby means they have to reinforce the power grid. Only downside is mildly increased traffic, and the facility only houses like 32 people.

"Well, imagine your quiet little neighborhood is suddenly overrun by tge bright lights and loud sirens of emergency vehicles."

I live on the east end, Pam, right by the fire station, and BOTH my neighbors had multiple age-related emergencies in the past two years- face it Pam, the neighborhood is ageing.

But because my Facebook profile wasn't updated and says I still live in one of tge nearby cities, they've all decided that I was paid by the facility to silence them. Like if I was a paid actor do you thin I'd be living on the rental end of tge street, Pam?

Absolutely wild.

Roosters:

I wrote a longer bit about this when it happened, but over tge summer I worked for tge parks here. One day I was out on my rounds and saw two roosters in one of my parks. Called animal control and they did nothing. Got ahold of a local rescue and she captured the big one but tge little one got away.

Next Sunday I'm doing rounds again and I see a domestic pigeon at our shelter and she's clearly associating hands with food, so she's starving. Rescue lady can't come right away, we lock tge bird in the janitor closet.

She calls when she's nearby and we drop everything to get them together. Unfortunately this means interrupting a birthday party to free tge bird, upsetting one older lady who had opinions about birds and diseases.

Rescue lady tells me to keep an eye out for tge little bantam rooster that got away and I'm like yeah sure but there's coyotes here tgat bird is probably dead.

TWO WEEKS LATER I'm driving down tge road where they're gonna put tge old folks home and I think I see a crow, but it's not moving like a crow.

It's the fuckjng rooster, still fucking alive and living off of clover.

Long story short, we got all the birds and I got beef with tge head of animal control.

Psychic: tw domestic abuse, murder

OK so when i first moved here a woman went missing and her husband was leading the search. This was right before the pandemic and then continued during the pandemic, so there were some barriers causing the investigation to come to a halt.

We pretty much figured she was dead. And anyone who knew her according to my friend would tell you it was her husband because he was an abusive asshole to her and their kids. But tgere was no body, so there was no evidence.

Police don't employ psychics normally, they contact them when they're at a dead end. Enter Barb, local psychic medium and vodka aunt.

Barb tells them 'what you seek is at the beginning.'

So they go back to the house and search tge nature preserve behind the property and guess what- body. Strangled with an extension cord.

Find the murder weapon in their house, husband tries to cover it up as a suicide and he hid the body out of shame, then the kids finally spoke up and now he's in jail.

At least, this is details according to my friend who knows Barb and apparently she's very smug about solving the murder case kind of sort of.

And that's a summary of rumors and things that may or may not be happening jn my township.

Love small town drama. The Starbuck's near me closes down early because they can't keep staff (local dude keeps saying 'its because they unionized frowny face' and I'm like... if the manager is a piece of shite then the union didn't cause the walk-out, darlin') and someone was asking the facebook group where to get a cup of coffee.

Someone said, emphatically, 'Don't go to (local joint.)'

Local joint in question being very much a queer positive environment and specifically where all the queers hang out.

'Ok, why?'

'Neither me nor my friends go there and haven't since 2020 because they asked me to keep my mask on while all the other restaurants had lifted the mask rules and that was the final straw.'

... well.

....makes me wonder what the other straws were.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/15/22

CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT

listening

watched gilda (1946), very no thoughts head empty with regards to rita hayworth. the nice restored version is right on tubi for free??? this slow version of Put The Blame On Mame has been stuck in my head for several days, even though it's not her voice in the movie but Anita Ellis'.

the comment like "this is the only time Gilda isn't vamping!" you fool she's just vamping LESS. she is still performing, it's just not for anyone who controls her livelihood. GOD she's hot.

how'd i find this: wanted to watch a noir, didn't jive with anything on kanopy, saw this on tubi and went "oh right ive been meaning to watch that".

-

reading

fallow week

-

watching

you know how i almost exclusively watch one-season cancelled anime? im watching GANGSTA. from 2015.

bodyguard nic and former client worick (who looks very much like geralt thewitcher) rescue a prostitute from a really unpleasant situation and engineer a scenario in which she gets to kill her abuser (good), do not take advantage of her as she crashes on their couch and becomes their receptionist (also good) figures out how to be a person again and goes through some PTSD (surprisingly good treatment bc this could have gone So Bad), but this is a very tits-out, ass-out show (less enjoyable). let her wear something that covers the bottom of her ass please.

more of the below screenshots please and thank you. the tight closeup reminds me of moro, one of the big white wolves in princess mononoke.

there are not a lot of things this anime does very well. i mostly watched it because i couldn't be bothered to get up and move my cat off my legs. anime news network remarked (on the manga) "a languid execution of a promising story" and i largely agree. fun character designs, stylish action sequences, a fun look at all the other odd jobs these "handymen" get up to in their neighborhood in between their own occasional prostitution and more frequent wet work. a little thin on actual plot or character progression, it's uncomfortably between a slice of life and something with more traditional pacing and doesn't really do either thing well. im perfectly happy to watch things unfold in this city with an unusual ruling structure, but many people do die every other episode and that's really getting in the way of me learning about the no-go zone they live in.

one of the leads, nic, is deaf and the sign language is well done, but the lip reading isn't. even with people i know very well i find lip reading useful about 40% of the time and even then it's not full sentences or full words, but parts of words i didn't catch. many mouth sounds look the same!

how'd i find this: wanted to watch some anime while i did some very tedious personal data entry, it's free on tubi and there are only 13 episodes bc the studio went bankrupt in the middle of making this show.

-

playing

did you know if you are wearing an underwater suit such as the nuka-girl rocketsuit, the fourth f/allout game will go "oh okay" and let you use totally submerged crafting stations? such as this one in thicket excavations

-

making

less of a making and more of a driving? the evil lair has acquired a new receptionist. she is five and a half pounds, probably not quite a year old, and is on medical leave recovering from surgery but we expect she'll fit right in and take all the admin duties over very soon.

infinite and forever thanks to @itsybitsydragon who did all the hard work of actually catching the beast and taking her to the shelter. it took her about twenty hours to decide oh okay im never going outside again if i can help it :)

she's a mysterious delight bc she doesn't seem to have a real concept of what a house or furniture is, or what toys are, but DOES just want to be curry combed with the hard bristly side of the pet brush forever and ever and ever amen. i look forward to getting to know her better and im sure she'll have a long and prosperous career here in the evil lair, which has a lot of room for upward growth and rewards initiative, such as biting and biting and biting.

[sideblogformindtrash]

Cw: pet whump, panic attacks mentioned, nightmares, therapy

The therapist shakes her legs softly, writing something down on her clipboard as June relates to her yet another tale of terrible nightmares. 

She's been great, and patient, and each passing day, he fears will be the moment she tells them that she can no longer help him. 

This room has become too important of a space for him to lose now, safe with the succulent plants all over the shelves, the books, a big window, too high on the building to be visible for anyone outside, but giving them a clear sight of the neighborhood.

"...I'm… not sure if it feels worse that I'm alone when I wake up… or not" he admits.

Feels like he should be able to handle this by now, having been lonely for such a long time, on the darkest of the woods.

On his city apartment, there are no lonely trees to cast monstrous shadows, no wolves barking in the night, no soft cry in the basement. 

He longs for that, as sick as it was, because the sounds of a busy mainstreet, parties and nosy neighbours all sound more agressive and unreal to him. 

"Maybe you should adopt a pet" she suggests lifting her eyes from the clipboard "They are no replacement for human company, but they help with loneliness. If you get a cat or a dog, we can even look into options of getting them trained to help you with your panic attacks"

He toys with the hem of his shirt. Animals are better than people. It 's… true. 

"What if I can't take care of them?" 

Again she smiles, trustingly. She's put so much faith in them, that June is getting scared of disappointed her, like he has everyone else. 

"Well… I think you'll do just fine. Besides… animals make themselves heard. It's a good motivation to get up every morning, caring for a beloved company"

He tries to envision his life with a pet. Maybe yeah, it would be easier to get out of bed if he had a cat meowing at his year at six am because it's hungry. He smiles a little, and when he realizes it, he hides it. 

-

He goes to the shop, if only to tell his therapist that he did. 

It's immediately overwhelming. The strong smell of pet food, clinking toys, extreme colors everywhere. The forest has very little space for bright yellows, strong pinks and dark blues. 

He does his best to ignore that, quickly escaping into the back of the store.

The sight of cages wouldn't be welcomed usually, but .. it's way easier to deal with it when they are filled with cute little animals. 

He goes, one by one, checking cats and dogs and even a rabbit. Yet, he isn't prepared for what he sees in the last cage.

A person. 

Dressed in frilly clothes, with sweet, doe eyes and a collar, and a price tag on the cage. 

Yeah. 

June's heard about it.

These Pets were not a thing, when he was taken. But those were long years, and lots of things can happen

He knew there had been some resistance at first, but with the Pets appearing on tv and celebrities getting them, they started to slowly grow in popularity. 

Enough that when he was rescued, they thought he was one, and he was taken to a shelter, until they found out just how long it had been.

Then… suddenly, he became a much more interesting case, because pet abuse… was becoming normal. But a boy kidnapped by a murderer. 

He gets emails from true crimes fans every other week. 

June walks closer to the cage, and the pet locks eyes with him. He approaches the bars, much like the others, putting his head against the bars to ask for caresses. 

June can't bring themselves to. 

"Will you be my new master?" He giggles. 

It's a very convincing plea and smile.

But June is good at seeing the darkness in people, and this boy has a lot of it, locked behind the sweet eyes. 

He almost wants to tear him open, just to watch it spill. Because as he said… he would be the master. 

"...Ah, these are really popular nowadays" 

June nearly jumps, turning around to see a clerk with their customer service smile. 

He immediately shifts feeling small as scared as if… as if they could just tell what lies inside him, too. 

"...Can I help?" The clerk ends up asking as June tries to recollect. 

"I'm looking for… a… cat… that can… be… therapy pet" he whispers, fighting against his words . He must have sounded so stupid, but the clerk nods, understanding. 

"Well. Cats are hard to train" he gestures to the cage again "You'd better with this guy here… or a dog, I suppose"

June shakes his head. After all of that… he's no fan of dogs. 

"Cat" he repeats again. 

"...We can even call the company. They offer to add in the training for a fee" the clerk says, and June isn't sure if he didn't hear… or didn't care. He keeps going on about it, until June feels .. cornered, overwhelmed, almost panicked. And the pet stares, with doe like eyes. 

-

Next week, he tells their therapist about the new pet. And that he indeed is sleeping better. She seems proud and happy, writing down on her clipboard. 

He doesn't mention what kind of pet that is. June wonders how she would react. 

[nonegenderleftpain]

hey, only asking what is wrong with letting your cat out for the day? like if you don't force your cat out and as long as you know where your cat is and u safely get it inside before dark what is the issue?

There's a lot of issues, and I'm low on spoons at the moment so apologize for the tone in advance -

If your cat is outside unsupervised, you absolutely cannot know where it is. Cats are hunters, apex predators, that can and will roam for miles if you leave them out. Every minute your cat is outside unsupervised, they are in danger of poison, cars, predators, feral cats and people who like to kill cats for fun. They are smart enough to kill species into extinction (there have been roughly 63 extinctions in recent years if my memory serves, don't quote me on the numbers - do some research on it), and are invasive species everywhere in the world because we have domesticated them and sharpened their hunting skills as play behaviors because they're cute. They're very much not cute to the small mammals, birds and reptiles that cats kill for fun while wandering outdoors unsupervised.

And that doesn't even cover disease. Toxoplasmosis is a disease carried by cats that will guarantee death for almost every small animal a cat so much as scratches while infected, and they get it by catching it outdoors. They also run the risk of catching FIV and catching/carrying things like the bird flu, which is spiking right now and leading to the euthanization of entire *flocks* of fowl. Indoors, cats run no risk of ticks, fleas, worms and disease.

And all of the excuses people make for letting cats roam are based on false information. Cats are terrible mousers, because they kill for fun and are just as likely to leave mice alive than they are to kill them. Rat terriers were bred for that purpose. They are not wild animals that need to be outdoors, they are domestic animals that sleep 18 hours a day and are more than content to claim a house as a territory and play with their toys. They are not smart enough to know to avoid cars, and they ARE smart enough to learn to hunt even with a bell around their neck. And it bears repeating because people try to find excuses for it - cats are invasive species EVERYWHERE on the planet. They are not the same as their wild counterparts. We domesticated them, and by introducing them to wild ecosystems we have contributed to the annihilation of countless animals that are not equipped to deal with an invasive predator.

If domestic cats were the same size as dogs, they would never be allowed to roam freely. It's not legal to let your dog roam the neighborhood to kill things and get hurt, and it should be illegal to let your cat roam, too. If you care about your pets, you should want them near you, not left to fend for themselves in a world not meant for them. Outdoor cats live ridiculously short lives compared to their indoor counterparts, and yes that includes indoor/outdoor cats.

Cats don't belong outside. They belong inside where they can be safe, cared for, well fed and healthy. I consider those who let their cat out unsupervised as animal neglecters at best and abusers at worst. If you can't take care of your pet properly, you shouldn't have one. I love cats more than just about anything, and I want to know with 100% certainty that my babies are safe and warm and healthy, and I cannot wrap my mind around cat owners that think letting them just run free is good husbandry.

Again, apologies for the flat tone - I am not trying to come across as aggressive, I am just having a very low spoons day. I didn't want to lose your ask in my notifications by waiting until I had a better tone regulation day so I decided to answer it now. I hope this was educational, and please do more research into everything here. I know there are vets and vet techs here on Tumblr that have talked about this at length, like @drferox and @talesfromtreatment. Hit up their blogs, do some research, and keep your kitties inside where they belong. They'll thank you and live longer for it.