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taviokapudding · 4 months

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In regards to being asked about the black company, Nijisanji, their allegations to having ties to Israeli money, and #SinkTheYacht

I'm disappointed in

seeing folks punish all Niji EN livers by collectively unsubbing when "sinking the yacht" would be more effective by reaching out to AnyColor Inc shareholders and partners about Nijisanji's admission of management & livers bullying and listing all the public facts surrounding why Selen was fired. The summary of facts are that Nijisanji has bullies in their team, has done nothing to remove said bullies, and they chose a sudden termination to hide the fact they let a liver attempt suicide from said bullies and didn't inform the public about it.

So I understand why people are unsubbing as a whole- why many creators, artists, and third parties have made it public they will no longer make, support, or sponsor Nijisanji.

But priority 1 is not mass unsubbing- that's what Nijisanji wants. They are made up of known bullies and they are now manipulating the public into being bullies. Instead of spreading the word to mass unsub- I encourage everyone stop spending money on official merch, do not collab with any AnyColor Inc management, and not buy stocks connected directly to all AnyColor Inc nor their shareholders.

But why am I discussing this?

Why should non-vtuber fans care?

What I'm about to discuss now is an ongoing allegation that makes all the know facts even worse. If you support Palestine, you especially need to know about this ongoing allegation:

On Feb 5, ITOCHU Corp announced they would end their contract with an Israeli Defense Firm that they started March 2023- around the same time Nijisanji EN would annouced the termination without informing Selen (now Doki) that she was terminated. ITOCHU is a known shareholder of AnyColor Inc and does has the power to ask for public distractions. They are a monster firm among Japanese companies.

I cannot endorse #SinkTheYacht knowing Nijisanji livers are some of the worst collectively and consistently paid company VTubers in the industry, but if folks want to boycott AnyColor Inc's ceo, owners, shareholders, and management for their associations and ties to indirectly causing an ongoing genocide- then I support you. Sony Group Corp Japan, Bilibili Inc, & FreakOut Holdings Inc are a few shareholders that you can file public complaints towards about AnyColor's behavior and be wary of when choosing vtubers, streamers, youtubers, etc to support. But again ITOCHU and AnyColor's relationship is an allegation and speculation.

In my opinion

From an outsider perspective I believe an investigation into Nijisanji as a whole should've happened last year when so many people left or appeared to have left from management based pressure.

But as someone who holds many of the remaining livers with respect (and is a Kyomie) if indeed Nijisanji EN is telling the truth about livers and management bullying + doing nothing to stop it, then yes- every person responsible for ongoing bullying of at least 3 years should be terminated and black listed from the vtubing industry.

That all being said (if my gut is right) and none/the majority of the EN livers are not bullies then I also believe all currently contracted EN livers should be allowed to press charges aganist Nijisanji EN & AnyColor Inc for

1. Public defamation on an international scale due to the termination wording

2. Cuts to their already weird pay caused by the company's annoucements on Feb 5 & 6 2024

3. All documented mismanagement and bullying they've reported since being employed that led to emotional, physical, and financial losses

4. Losses to old and new merch sales the same week of Feb 5, 2024

The wording of the termination of Selen Tatsuki should be headed as a warning to an ongoing and well publicly documented management issues with AnyColor Inc and all their branches. If you're a vtuber who has or is planning to join Nijisanji EN- please get an attorney or lawyer if you choose to audition or are currently work for AnyColor Inc who's familiar with your nation's laws and Japan's laws. And remember to everyone, it takes hard work but being indie is possible- you don't need a company.

Thank you for reading this whole post and all fans please make the decisions and adjustments accordingly in regards to not #Sink TheYacht in such a fucking stupid fashion- don't be like the bullies who are managing your favorites. And god speed to all the EN Livers at KuroColor Inc who may end up seeing this on your private accounts- please know your fans will support you no matter what decisions you make but they hate your company and management for treating you like shit behind closed doors and out in the public. And if any of you do listen to my advice and find a legal expert to help you out, don't tell your management nor coworkers/friends/family, doubly if you don't have a copy of your most recent contract renewal/contract. Alright? Snakes can pass for tall grass, you need to be prepared to get bitten by the most unsuspecting blades when navigating your rights as a contracted streamer, entertainer, and employee.

#mun post #sinktheyacht #sink the yacht #nijisanji en #anycolor inc #anycolor #black company #nijisanji #ok now stop fucking asking me about my tweets thank you #also stan doki

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chanelfunnell · 1 year

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Tiny mail box

A) I have no photo of Tazer from skating party than I reblogged ..I don't search it and no more photos seen there is one photo of geeky Tazer for you.

B) Stroke's daughter looks quite a mischievous ball of energy at least..Montreal Canadians' are keen to sing often their karaoke but it's horror..Also once drunk Kaner and Crosby lol. Not for Christmas parties

C) she wants to know Pens Wags' sector because she wants to track Kathy Leutner as Crosby's partner at Winter Classics. I doubt Ash Mrs Troll will travel down from Canada.

M was removed by Camilla and urged by Zelensky who tried to train with other actor involved with Royal Marine Reserve Zelensky run off from army recruitment and trashes former boxing champion Klitschko Kyiv Mayor doing not enough but he does not lift the finger and a coward to face even a dialogue so trying to be a macho with the balls in the media like UK fatto who is called apparently Boris Johnson. It is not about the war and countries but fat Johnson (his liver. Markle and Patel are M's trolls and after her address and movements across UK for their espionage about M and army) is a chum of Zelensky. Zelensky gets bs about M who said something what he does not like and he dislikes his own people from fattie who posed in the army tank but run to hide into the fridge facing UK journos that he courts often lol. M has found UK article about poor us no house Norwich and Xmas but their Christmas is in January. M is very smart about spotting bs and trap and Z PR run new PR in Czechia where M was just born about other Ukrainian lady. Mother of 4 like Julie Petry here, a supermom and self made biz girl like M who has own house...it is not about Ukraine. It is about his bs taking it from coke fattie and his Cray coke crew how M is in Czechia (no she lives in UK and anybody knows where) and Z's attitude to troll Klitschko and others so her. He has found Kate does not hold power. M does and she does not eat all his manipulations such as UK PM Sunak who started to pose in the soup kitchen what M has on her old FB Marketa Windsors. Very goody goody. M lives in Stanmore close to UK army and NATO HQs. Royals have more houses and it is known that she has a software cloud company in Manchester and she has rented her second apartment in Liverpool. She said it. She posted it but that UK fattie with their former female PM as ministers were often in Liverpool.., Manchester. M runs IT biz, no looting or lobbying UK assets. That's what Johnson and his lover, Patel do and M holds army regrets. They even sold multiple times US UK special forces and operations by ,leaving it at the bus stop, or recently all data to Chinese. Patel., The author of racist card with deluded post signs sold UK biometrics apparently. She is behind the damage of UK police. Z is close ally of fat Johnson with his crazies and he had huge monologues on the day when Fattie left PM office. Z uses often pre recorded videos and put claws into a lady who is Windsor royal born and at her own merit and will not be bullied bcs one fattie with his crew made from her fake ,poor girl, lol. Z has no input in centres but Klitschko is bad.They stalk her bcs her army links and they sell UK to the highest bidders. Plus on coke and not just at Pam's seat in the countryside so denial of facts. There is Grinch Camilla shaming young girls. So M and I don't support self made or working girls. Their bodies,virtues, lives and no way any peep show filming and spreading it..not as a woman about a woman. I think it's good to stand up and bullies try to pick up the most vulnerable (or looking so) victim and it back fired or they have big issues and try to prove themselves as sexier or more masculine action hero's or police girl boss by screaming on staff and chasing old ladies in covid while they partied and not arrested yet. Lets start 2023 without M, her cray family and any trolls and cray fans of Crosby.it is like a real athlete and big mouth noisy person trolling anything behind the screen what's wrong on the game and how to do it but never trying skates etc on lol...the top in their own world, in reality cowards ,inept. UK ex homeland woman's work with UK cops, chasing the softest targets to make stats but burglaries and rape is ignored so looting if not by politicians. Try US abortion clinics and gun totting protesters, not standing peacefully or arresting black UK marine without investigation speeding crap bout him to his commanders

#jonathan toews #Brandon hagel #dylan strome #chicago blackhawks #vitali klitschko #kathy leutner #Winter classics #Nhl #Ice hockey

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slashhinginghasher · 4 years

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You, 87 years ago: (I seriously have an entire childhood planned out for Jesse based on nothing but that 2-second flashback in L2R2, but that’s a beast for a different post.) Us, checking watch: Is it time for this post yet??

How To Raise A Serial Killer

Paul Cromeans was a mean son of a bitch. Anyone in town would attest to that. He was drunk more often than he was sober and liked to talk with his fists. Rumor had it he’d beaten his wife to death and hidden her body in the swamp. Other folks said that was stupid, that she’d just gotten tired of being a punching bag and high-tailed it out of there. Whatever the truth was, she’d vanished seemingly overnight, leaving Paul behind with their infant son. When little Jesse was old enough to ask about his mother, Paul - who would never accept the consequences of his actions - told the boy that she’d been a gold-digging whore who ran off with a richer man.

He blamed the specter of his wife for all the woes in his life. When the windows leaked during hurricane season, it was because she had never taken good care of the house. When it became clear that Jesse would never talk, it was because she smoked and drank while she was pregnant. When he turned his fists on his son, it was because she had left him a lonely and desolate man instead of supporting him the way a wife should.

***

Paul worked nights cleaning the county funeral home. The pay wasn’t much: it was enough for Paul’s drinks and his smokes and to keep the bank away from their doorstep, but not enough for childcare. When Jesse grew out of his infant cuteness and the neighborhood ladies would no longer watch him for free, Paul started bringing him to work with him. He’d sit the boy on a chair in the foyer with strict instructions not to move, and shake him awake hours later when it was time to go home.

Jesse listened, at first. The funeral home was scary in the dark, the proprietor looked old and mean, and there were probably ghosts. He’d huddle in whatever chair his father plunked him down in, refusing to even let his feet touch the floor. But as time passed, he got older, braver, and more bored, and started to explore the shadowy depths of the building. One night, venturing deeper than he’d dared before, he’d stumbled upon the proprietor working over one of the deceased. It was a young woman, grey-skinned and nude on the metal table. Jesse froze in the doorway.

It was the first dead human he’d seen, and the first naked woman. He was eight years old.

He must have made some sort of noise, because the proprietor looked up from his work and beckoned Jesse inside. The boy obeyed, more afraid of angering the old man than he was of the corpse.

“Go on, then,” the proprietor ordered in his smoker’s rasp. “Touch her.” Jesse didn’t move. The proprietor scoffed at the boy’s hesitation and grabbed his hand, forcing him to touch the dead woman’s foot. Jesse cringed, half-expecting the body to move, but it remained as cold and still as the dead animals he sometimes found on the side of the road.

“See?” the proprietor said. “Ain’t nothing to be afraid of. She’s just meat.”

Shortly after that, Paul started leaving Jesse home alone when he went to work. Jesse didn’t think it had anything to do with the body, but he was too scared to ask.

***

School was hard. Not because Jesse was stupid - he wasn’t - but because he was smart and no one else knew it. His classmates pushed him around and called him names because his clothes were shabby and his daddy had punched Mark’s daddy at the bar last weekend and he physically couldn’t tell them to stop. Teachers ignored him because he couldn’t talk. When he did well on tests, they accused him of cheating, so he stopped trying. He still listened to their lessons, because they were interesting, but he sat in the back of the classroom and doodled skulls and broken stick figures in the margins of his worksheets.

His only friend was the old, kindly school librarian who let him eat lunch among the shelves. She had managed to dig up a book about sign language, and sat with him patiently as he signed the alphabet over and over with clumsy fingers. But she died of a heart attack when Jesse was ten, and her replacement wasn’t anywhere as sympathetic, and he was forced to return to the cruel company of his peers. He stole the sign language book from the library out of spite and practiced signing in the dirty mirror at home.

***

Jesse’s relationship with his father was rocky. Paul was often too drunk to read the notes Jesse wrote, and he refused to waste his time learning how to wave his hands around like a “fuckin’ fairy.” This communicative gap made even the most basic interactions more difficult than they should have been.

Their only common ground was hunting, where Jesse proved to be a natural. When Paul was in a rare good mood, he’d brag to the other men at the bar about how his boy could sneak close enough to a deer to slap it on the rump if he had half a mind to. And if Jesse seemed to prefer gutting the carcasses over shooting, well. Every man should know how to butcher his own kill.

***

Jesse had his first major growth spurt when he was fourteen, and entered high school a lanky, gangling giant of a boy. The physical bullying stopped, his sheer size enough to deter most people, but the name-calling grew worse, more targeted. The teachers saw his size and his silence and assumed he was some kind of idiot. He started walking with a hunch, wishing he could shrink down and disappear into the crowd.

High school was also where Jesse first noticed Lindsey Forrester. She had hair like corn silk, a smile like a movie star’s, and the bluest eyes you ever did see. Compared to the dead woman from the funeral home and the crinkled pictures in Paul’s Playboys, Lindsey was like a ray of sunshine. Jesse was pretty sure that even if he could talk, he’d never be able to form a sentence around her. Even though he was pushing 6’4”, she made him feel three inches tall. She didn’t make fun of him, but she didn’t talk to him, either. She was the only one whose attention he would have welcomed, and she didn’t even notice him.

So it was something of a shock when she asked him out in 11th grade. He said yes, naturally, and was even able to make her laugh through the awkwardness after she asked for his phone number out of habit. (It was the only time his muteness ever came in handy; he would’ve been mortified to admit his house didn’t have a phone.) He skipped class on Friday to scrub his father’s dirty old car to spotlessness, and stole Paul’s only nice shirt from the closet after he passed out drunk.

Jesse waited outside the diner for three hours before he accepted that Lindsey wasn’t going to show up. Come Monday, everyone was sneaking glances at him and snickering behind their hands. On Tuesday, Lindsey announced that she and Mark were dating.

He started to understand why his father spoke so harshly about his mother.

***

Paul’s liver gave up the ghost the summer after Jesse graduated high school, dragging the rest of Paul along with it. The coroner didn’t even bother with an autopsy; everyone knew Paul Cromeans would drink himself to death one day. No one expected Jesse to mourn, and he didn’t. He chose the cheapest burial option, turned the ramshackle house over to the bank, and left town with nothing but his hunting knife and his father’s beat up car.

It was fortunate they hadn’t run a toxicology panel on Paul.

***

Jesse returned to town only once, the year he turned 21.

No one knew where he’d gotten the money from. Rumor had it he was running drugs for the cartel in Miami. Other folks said that was stupid, that he’d just gotten lucky or maybe found a job with one of the new tech companies that were popping up everywhere. Whatever the method, Jesse Cromeans rolled into town with a new car, new tattoos, and a pair of designer sunglasses, and bought his childhood home back from the bank. Cash.

He’d filled out, too, his muscles drawing admiring looks from the girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day at school. Including Lindsey Forrester.

“I never got to tell you how sorry I was about your dad,” she murmured as she straddled him in the backseat. “You left town so fast, I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” She and Mark were set to be married the following spring. Her engagement ring was currently somewhere under Jesse’s passenger seat.

“I was such an idiot for standing you up in high school,” she sighed as they shared a cigarette afterwards. “It was a bet, but I totally would’ve shown up if I’d known this was how things would turn out.”

“How much did you win?” Jesse asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “It was just a stupid dare between stupid kids.”

“Now that’s a damn shame.”

“Why?” Lindsey giggled, trying and failing to blow a smoke ring.

“Because that means you died for nothing.”

***

The last thing Jesse did was burn his old house to the ground. He didn’t add Lindsey to the growing collection in his glove box. She wasn’t worth the tape.

#jesse cromeans #chromeskull #laid to rest #my writing #it is very important that everyone knows I pulled this ENTIRELY out of my ass #zero percent based in canon except for the two-second flashback of a kid touching a cadaver in L2R2

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stanbillyhargrove · 4 years

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Ghosts chp 20

Ally's Story

T/W: sexual assault, eating disorder

Ally's story is NOT nice, it's based off Cat's story from Demons but without the support system that Cat had

Katrina's POV

Ally was perched on the end of my bed, watching as I changed the bandages on my stomach. I taped sterile white gauze to my skin and eased myself back onto the bed with a groan.

"You've been hanging around a lot," I mumbled.

"Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"No! Wait, stay. Please, I like the company. I just mean, I hadn't seen you in a long time."

"When he's around we can't get close to you," she explained, "he keeps us away. But he's weak right now."

She sat back against the wall with a sigh, eyeing me after catching me staring at her, "what?"

"What's your story, Ally? What happened to you?"

She held her arms up so I could see the two long cuts that ran down her forearms, "isn't it obvious?"

"That's not your story, not all of it."

She dropped her arms into her lap, "you don't have to pretend to care. I'm already dead."

I stretched my hand across the bed, reaching for her, "I do care."

Her eyes were teary when she met my gaze, her jaw tight, but she still moved closer to take my hand.

"Mommy, Daddy's home," I announced.

She shook her head, "no, sweetie, he's not off work for a couple hours."

But then, a few minutes later, he walked through the door. Sent home early because of the blizzard sweeping through town. My mother brushed it off, saying I must have seen his car even though I was playing nowhere near the windows at the time.

That feeling, that sense of knowing, it never went away. As I got older, I realized it wasn't normal to know when someone was getting close. It wasn't normal to turn around and yell out your friends names when they were trying to sneak up on you. I started losing friends fast, nobody wanted to be associated with the outcast. The chubby cheeked weirdo that gave everyone the heebie jeebies.

I was twelve when the bullying shifted from my weirdness to my weight. The rest of my classmates had shed their baby fat and were lean where I still had a layer of pudge. That's when everything started to turn for the worst. Boys who knew I was crushing on them would sneer and laugh to their friends when I passed them. They'd pretend to like me outside of school just to turn around and shun me once in a group of classmates. Girls looked down on me, snickered when they saw me eating lunch.

Comments started coming from my family through the years too. Things like, 'haven't you eaten enough?' 'You know, everything you put on has to come off.' 'A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.' And, 'do you think you need seconds?'

My mom too, liked to tell me how little she weighed as a teenager. Joked about how her and her friends would compare thigh gaps like it was no big deal. She complained about how much she weighed now that she'd had me even though she still looked like she could be whisked away by a strong breeze. She thought she was helping by telling me maybe I'd have more friends, maybe boys would like me if I lost some weight.

At fifteen I found a website filled with pages and pages of wispy girls who's bones stuck through their skin. Girls who bragged that they had to wear children's clothes because nothing else fit, bragged about the amount of exercise they'd done that day. They shared tips and tricks to curb your hunger, told you if you followed all the rules you too could be beautiful, weightless, like them.

By sixteen, I was one of them. Comparing each days food and exercise with a group of people like me. I finally found my people, my sisters, the ethereal Wintergirls. I fed exclusively off people's compliments and they loved to tell me how much better I looked now. My mom praised my hard work, indulged my diet coke addiction. She was proud to have created a Wintergirl in her image.

Nobody in those groups liked to talk about the negatives. They didn't warn me that becoming one of them wouldn't be glamorous. That it meant constantly freezing, that your body starts growing more hair to keep you warm, that the hair on your head will get thin and lifeless, your nails turn blue and even a light brush will leave bruises on your skin. They didn't tell me that no matter what goals you hit, there would always be another. I wasn't prepared for my life to become consumed by numbers. How many sit ups, how many inches, tracking weight down in a notebook and sobbing if was more than last time. They didn't mention that I'd still hate myself no matter what.

I started swallowing handfuls of pills, secretly hoping that this time it would be enough to poison my liver. I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't know that I want to die. I want to be normal, to eat and not hate myself, but that's not who I am anymore.

I kept waking up, forced to struggle through another day. Started drowning myself in alcohol every night and on the weekends, trying to find something to make me feel again. Some of the more popular girls started talking to me, asking for the secret on how to look as good as I do now, inviting me to parties hoping to get me to spill. I went to the parties but not to spill my secrets. I went for the free alcohol and eventually the drugs that the boys brought.

I had found my usual party group, the people who carried baggies of various things in their pockets. Accepted a baggie from a baby faced jock who smiled when he passed it to me.

"It'll be fun," he whispered in my ear, "trust me."

I looked at the pills for a moment before tossing them into my mouth and taking a swig of my drink to swallow them down.

"Good girl," he praised.

He didn't leave my side, didn't let me leave his sight. He was always there with an arm around me even though I didn't know him. Tempting me with tinted eyes.

This doesn't feel right.

I should have known better.

After a while, I started to feel weird. My limbs felt too heavy to move and I thought I was going to pass out. I leaned heavy into the boys side, not trusting my legs to keep me up anymore.

"It just hit you, didn't it?" He asked, holding me up.

My tongue felt too thick to move, to protest, when he picked me up. Threw me over his broad shoulder and took me back to his house.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothed.

I struggled to cry out, to push his hands away but he was so much bigger than me, had layers of muscle where I had only bone. His hands were too rough when he grabbed, when he held my wrists in one hand and undressed me with the other.

I tried again to move my legs, to fight him, but nothing worked.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'll make you feel good."

The room faded in and out through eyes blurry with tears. I could feel him. Everywhere. Every inch of me consumed by his warmth. The moments where I could almost grasp clarity were filled with pain.

He wiped a tear from my cheek, his touch tender now when he whispered, "I know you're into it...God, you feel so good."

I didn't wake up again until sometime in the morning. The sun had barely kissed the sky, just enough that the room I was in wasn't pitch black anymore. Just enough light to see that the sheets I was wrapped in were blue, not white. Just enough light to know I didn't know where I was. It took me a moment to realize there was someone else in the bed with me, a large arm wrapped loose around my waist. Tanned skin tight around broad shoulders that I might have felt safe in before. I screwed my eyes shut tight, hoping this was a horrible nightmare. But, when I opened them I was still here. The dark bruises in the shape of his fingers still stuck on my skin, the pain was still there.

I slid out of the bed, biting the inside of my cheek and praying that I could get out of here without him waking up. Apparently the universe thought I deserved this small favor because I was able to find my stuff, get dressed and slip out of his house without anyone seeing me.

Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket to figure out where I was. I was an hour's walk away from home. By the time I got home...I'd have to get ready for school right away. I sent out a quick text to my group for someone to bring me something strong to get me through the day and started my long walk of shame.

I did the best I could to hide all the bruises under my clothes before going to school. Long sleeves pulled down into my fists, dark leggings, I even layered on a shirt with the tallest neckline I could find. Hid the red circles around my eyes under dark makeup and called it good enough.

I disappeared into the crowd at school, slinking from shadow to shadow like I was hiding from a spotlight. Thankfully, someone answered my text and slipped a baggy into my pocket during a quick hug. I wasted no time swallowing the pills, didn't even question it. I just needed everything to stop.

I only got through my first class without seeing him.

I was at my locker when suddenly I was picked up and spun around. I was too shocked to do anything more than shriek. Hit the ground and spun around to find myself face to face with that same boy. The star of the football team, he was all broad shoulders and a soft, innocent face. He came from money and everybody loved him because of it. But, of course, they didn't know what really lied behind that sweet face.

"Hey babe," he cooed, "missed you this morning. You could have stayed, I would have driven you home."

The breath rushed from my lungs and I was reliving flashes of memories from the night before. Once again trying and failing to fight back. Hearing his voice in my ear.

"Hey, Bryce!" Another jock clapped him on the shoulder, "introduce us to your girlfriend!"

"I..your...what?" I stammered.

"Guys, Ally...Ally, guys," he beamed, pulling me into his side.

The group of them said their hellos, and then quickly disappeared to their own lockers. I shoved him as hard as I could, but I barely moved him an inch. He still had a smile on his face even though his eyebrows had knit with confusion.

"Your girlfriend?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah? I assumed, after last night, y'know?"

"You assumed!"

He lifted his hands defensively, "take it easy, don't need to shout."

I spun and stalked away from him, to a quieter, more secluded corner of the school to try and calm my nerves.

He followed me, practically purring, "trying to find somewhere private for us?"

I stopped, dumbfounded, giving him time to come up behind me and plant a kiss to my neck.

I recoiled, shoving Bryce away and shouting, "get off me!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You gave it up so easy last night and now you're gunna act like a prude?"

"I...I didn't give anything! You took! You drugged me, carried me home when I couldn't walk and had sex with me when I couldn't say no! You raped me!"

"Babe," he started, "come on-"

"No! Don't fucking call me babe, I don't even know you! I'm not your girlfriend! I'm your victim!"

He got in my face, close enough I could feel the heat from his skin, and growled, "fuck you. We could have been something, y'know? I could have given you everything. You asked for the drugs, remember? You're just a fucking whore, using men to get what you want and then dropping them. You wait, I will fucking destroy you."

By the afternoon, everybody had seen the pictures he took of me unconscious and were calling me a whore. Calling me a skeleton, ugly, a tease, a user. Nobody could believe I didn't want it. 'Look at him,' they'd say, 'he's gorgeous. How could you not want him?' Or, 'I'd give anything to have him even look at me and you're complaining?'

It only took a couple days before someone approached me outside of my class. Asked if I'd sleep with him if he gave me something.

"Are you serious? You think I'm a prostitute or something? Try being a gentleman and asking a girl on a date, you'd have a better chance."

His eyebrows raised, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Not now I don't, shitdick," I scoffed, pushing my way into class.

Later that day, people were saying I'd slept with him anyway.

This went on for months. People would approach me asking for sex and when I turned them down, they made up a story and spread it around.

There was one boy...I thought he was different. He said all he wanted was to take me on a date, for me to give him a chance. So I did. I let him take me out for a coffee since I didn't eat in front of anyone. We actually had a good time, he made me laugh for the first time in a long time. For a minute, I felt like maybe I could see a way out of the dark.

Then, our way out of the cafe, I thought I saw a glimpse of Bryce but when I looked again, I didn't see him.

He drove us away from the city, to a secluded area where it was just the two of us. We sat in the back of his car, talking for a while until he brought me close and kissed me. Fingers started to tug at clothing, pulling a noise of protest from my throat.

"I took you out," he murmured, "now be a good girl for me."

I let my mind go blank, let him take what he wanted. Saw Bryce in his place and let a few tears fall silently.

I realized that no matter how good I thought things could be, no matter what I do, Bryce would still be on top of me and I still wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd always be there, sneering that he'd destroy me.

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was the hardest.

I felt like I had started dying the night Bryce took me home. Like everything since then had to have been a fever dream caused by cells deteriorating. Last night had nailed that feeling home. That I was already dead, just stuck in hell.

I showed up at school to see a snickering crowd in front of my locker. 'Whore' was painted across the door along with 'Liar' and 'Dirty Slut'.

Standing at the front of the crowd with a wicked grin on his face was Bryce and the rest of the football team.

He invaded my space, my senses, the heat radiating from his skin threatening to burn me up. The heady cologne he wore, a toxic gas that stole oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with poison.

His voice, low and husky in my ear when he sneered, "nobody believes you. Nobody cares about you. I bet nobody would even care if you were gone," he pulled away just enough to look into my eye, "I win."

I was holding back tears as I tried to retreat from the school, walking as fast as I could to escape the laughter when my arm was caught in someone's hand. I looked up at the girl who grabbed me and recognized her from some of my classes. We weren't really friends but we were close enough to know each other.

"You okay?"

I faked a smile, tried to ignore my voice cracking, "awesome...I'm awesome."

"Hey, screw those assholes, Ally."

I knew she was trying to help, that she thought her words would be enough to break through months of abuse hurled my way.

They weren't.

My shoulders slumped, "haven't you heard? I already did."

I slipped between her fingers and didn't look back.

"Whatever happened to chivalry?" Ally sighed, leaning against the wall next to me, "romance? I always wanted a relationship like in those cheesy old movies. You know, where the love interest makes some grand gesture to say they love you? That's what I dreamed of."

I wiped the tears from my face, "Ally.."

She smiled sadly at me, "I always thought I'd find the one when I became perfect. That if I could just be good enough...but that never happened, perfect never came."

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #tw rape #tw ed content

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simkjrs · 4 years

Text

fic: see you in the dark

chapter ii: remember to be conPSIentious of your powers!

saiki kusuo no psi nan x worm | saiki kusuo & taylor hebert | 3k

------

It turns out that Hebert can look after herself, and bugs are a terrifying weapon. I stopped watching after she started going for the privates. It seems that for all the mythos that surrounds him, Lung is still weak in all the normal places.

It sure takes some guts to aim for the crotch of the most notorious gang member in the city, Hebert. I underestimated you.

The next school day, Hebert shows up barely any worse for wear. Good for her. There she goes back to her locker with her head down. There goes one of the bullies trying to trip her. You know she took down a notorious gang leader this weekend? Just what do you think you’re going to achieve? She could crush you in an instant.

... Well, it’s not as funny when I have to hear her thinking like that all day.

She’s so responsible about using her powers it’s honestly depressing. She refuses to use her abilities against any of her bullies because it would be unfair, and it’s wrong to use your powers like that, or something. It’s really not, Hebert. I use my powers for personal gain all the time. You should do something about the “Trio” already so I can stop tying their shoelaces together when they try to approach.

Hebert closes her locker door and raises her head as I’m walking. We make eye contact. Hey. Are you okay? That’s an impressively dead look on your face. Your eyes are almost as dull as mine. — Nevermind, they’ve brightened the tiniest bit. Why.

“Good morning, Saiki.”

Good morning. I nod cordially at her. Social interaction of the day achieved, I continue walking to the next classroom.

— Tch, those annoyances are approaching again.

Not that it’s my business, since Hebert seems determined to handle the situation by herself, but the universe ought to give her a break. She just took down a notorious gang leader. Give her some breathing room. I’ll just backtrack a few steps and tap Hebert on the shoulder.

Hebert blinks at me. “What is it?”

I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, turn, and walk away down the hall. After a moment of hesitation she follows me down the corridor, just in time to avoid Barnes and her cronies spotting us by the lockers.

Stop being perceptive. I forgot you could keep an eye out on everything with your bugs. Tch, it goes to show I shouldn’t poke my nose in where I’m not needed. Now I have to come up with an excuse.

I turn around to face Hebert.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a piece of paper, etching onto it with thoughtography as I do. Hebert unfolds it, eyes flicking across the page.

“You want to study together this weekend?”

<Is he serious?> You don’t have to sound so disbelieving. Just say no if you don’t want to. That would be more convenient for me, too, since this is just a random excuse. <Do we even share any classes besides Parahuman Studies? What’s he getting out of this?> Absolutely nothing, so it’s okay to turn me down. <He doesn’t feel sorry for me, does he?> Anyone normal would feel sorry for you if they saw what a daily ordeal your school life is. Don’t take it so personally. — Actually, feel free to. Hurry up and say no already. <I don’t need his pity. If he feels sorry for me, then he should help me do something about the Trio.> See? There you go.

<But I shouldn’t burn any bridges unnecessarily. He’s the only one to reach out to me after Emma started her bullying campaign.> Wait, no. Stop being reasonable. Go back to the prideful paranoia. You’re not doing me any favors, here. <Besides, it’s possible he just wants a friend, too.> Absolutely not, who do you think I am?

“Okay, that’s fine.” <If he wants to hang out, I guess it couldn’t hurt.> “Where do you want to meet?”

What did I just say.

Good grief.

I indicate with pen on paper that I would like to meet at the public library on Saturday. She asks if 2pm is fine, and if it’s okay for her to leave early, because she has business to take care of. By which she means parahuman business. I really don’t want to hear what bad ideas she’s going to get up to, so let’s just move the conversation along for now.

“Okay,” says Hebert. “What’s your phone number? I’ll call you if anything comes up.” <Like if I have to go out in costume earlier than anticipated.>

Ugh. This is why you shouldn’t have said yes, Hebert. I write on the paper.

“You don’t have a phone?” <Huh. Didn’t think there was anyone in the same boat as me.> “That’s fine. A landline is okay too.”

Damn it.

“You don’t have one of those either?” <What kind of place is he living in…?>

Please don’t start questioning my living conditions. I’ll just write something down to alleviate her concerns.

“Oh, an apartment without a landline?” <And no cellphone on top of that. It must be hard.> No, it’s perfectly fine. I don’t want anyone contacting me. “Then I’ll email you if anything comes up. Is that fine?”

I nod.

“Alright. I have to get to class now, but thanks, Saiki. I’ll see you in Parahuman Studies.”

<It’s strange that he doesn’t have any kind of phone at all, though. Is everything okay financially? His clothes seem fine, but you never know…>

What a pain. Looks like I’ll have to take additional steps to integrate into this world, so I won’t draw suspicion so easily. Acquiring fake IDs was already annoying enough, and now this too?

You may be wondering why I procured myself some ID papers. It’s because I needed it to register for school. But why would an esper like myself bother enrolling in school again, when no one in this universe had to know I existed?

It’s true, I could have had complete freedom of time if I hadn’t committed to school. But you can only read books alone in your house for so long before you start to get bored. It was nice to have a few weeks by myself, but it felt weird not having a school routine.

Going to school keeps me somewhat occupied and reminds me what it’s like to have people around. To be clear, I didn’t register for school because I wanted company. I’m already so different from normal human beings that spending time with humans doesn’t mean anything. It’s like asking if you’d prefer spending time with a monkey in the next room over or not. I’m just here because I’m bored and I like to stick to my habits.

School comes with its own share of annoyances, although they’re much more serious than the gag series I’ve spent most of my life living. It’s none of my business, but if things keep being this bothersome, I might have to do something about it soon.

Hopefully Kuusuke will hurry up and find me soon so I can stop getting dragged into the circumstances of this world.

——

Hebert isn’t in Parahuman Studies. It only takes a quick skim of the minds near me to find out why.

“Oh, Saiki, it looks like Hebert ditched you today. Too bad. She’s such a horrible partner to work with, isn’t she?” Your words wouldn’t be the least bit convincing even if I didn’t know you were the one who made her upset enough to leave campus, Barnes. “If you want, you can sit with us to work.”

She smiles at me in what she thinks is a charming manner. I can’t tell, since right now she just looks to me like a diagram of the human muscular structure you’d find in a medical book. <Take the hint. Taylor isn’t worth your time.> What does that make you. Chopped liver? <I wouldn’t pay attention to him if not for the fact that he’s Taylor’s assigned partner. If I can lure him away from her, she’ll be devastated. We could even keep him in the group afterwards. I mean, once you look past those weird green glasses, even though he seems plain at first glance, he’s got a nice face.> No thanks. <It’d be better if he didn’t have such a blank expression all the time, though.>

Get a full load of my blank expression, then.

Took you long enough to notice.

“It’s rude not to respond,” Barnes says.

I stare dispassionately at Barnes until she shifts uncomfortably. <Maybe Sophia was right.> “What, can you not speak or something?”

Sure, let’s go with that setting. I give her a disdainful look. Obviously.

<Why are you looking at me like that?! I’m one of the most popular, pretty girls in the school!> Is that so? I couldn’t tell from how rotten your inner self is. “Sorry, I didn’t realize,” Barnes says faux-apologetically. “How was I supposed to know if you didn’t even make an effort to tell me, though? Can’t you write, at least?”

How annoying.

“Did you just click your tongue at me?”

I’m hurt you would ever accuse me of such a thing. I write in my notebook and slide it across the desk towards her.

“You’re not interested in working with anyone? But you’re working with Hebert.”

Flat stare.

“--Oh, she was assigned to you. Right.”

<Hey, doesn’t that mean this guy is a total loner-type? Come to think of it, he didn’t do anything the other day when we were confronting Taylor, either.> Confronting? Is that what you call it? <All he did was look annoyed when we started talking to him. Ahaha, what a piece of work. He doesn’t care about Taylor at all.> I don’t want to hear that from you. <I don’t even have to do anything and he’ll leave her alone, too. But still…>

“My friends and I can still help you finish your work more quickly, though. Then you’ll have more time to yourself in class.”

<...It’ll be more satisfying if I’m the one behind it.>

How unpleasant. I emphatically tap the word “anyone” written on the page.

“Come on, you can’t go through school without making friends with anyone.” Try me. “It’s better to choose your friends early. You don’t want to get caught up by the wrong crowd.” Somehow, I don’t think your crowd is the right one, either.

Thanks for your concern, I write, but I can take care of myself.

Barnes purses her lips. “Well, if you’re sure,” she says in a tone of voice that clearly says she doesn’t believe me. “But the invitation is open if you ever change your mind, ‘kay?”

She smiles at me before making her way back to her group of friends.

<Let’s see if we can’t arrange for him to learn what this school is like…>

What are you, a delinquent gang leader? I never thought I’d miss the days of PK Academy, but it would be so much less troublesome if the worst personality anyone here had was being a tad too obsessed with romance.

Not that it matters. Whatever Barnes tries, it’s not like there’s anything in this world that could touch me.

——

Because Barnes and her coterie were laughing about it in their heads all period, it’s easy to find the dumpster in the back of the school where they tossed Hebert’s backpack.

It stinks out here, and Hebert’s textbooks are all ripped up. Her art project is smashed to pieces, too. Barnes sure didn’t hold back.

The backpack and textbooks are easy enough to restore to their original state. The art project is a different matter. Checking it with my psychometry, it seems Hebert didn’t finish it until late last night. My restoration ability only reverts an object to its state from twenty four hours before; if I turn back the clock on the art project right now, it’ll be restored to a state from before she completed it. I’ll have to wait to restore it until later tonight.

So here I am, lying on my bed with Hebert’s stuff tossed by all my books. What to do. I could drop it off outside her house, but if I do it anonymously it’ll raise all kinds of questions and if I do it in person I’ll have to explain how I knew where she lives. I could just hand it off to her at school, but…

I have a sudden, horrible vision of Hebert thinking that we’re friends, and immediately reject that path. Absolutely not.

I’ll just put her backpack in her locker so she’ll find it before class. That’ll also raise all kinds of questions, but way less than finding it outside her house.

Now, as for the other problem…

Barnes and her friends are popular, and they’ve got plenty of people who are willing to do them a favor. Annoyingly enough, Barnes’ network has talked about me enough in front of the right people that in a couple days, the ABB members at Winslow will start trying to recruit me. What a pain. And I’ve put in so much effort to fly below their radar, too.

It’d be easy to rebuff any attempt to recruit me, but that would just attract attention. Worse, if I show my skill, that might be even more motivation for them to keep trying. I’ll have to think of a way to avert the recruitment without making myself stand out.

That’s a problem for later, though. Right now, I’m more irritated that Barnes has caused this much of a problem for me, just because she wants to get at Hebert. Since recruitment usually starts off with friendly overtures, all she has to do is swoop in and pretend I’m solidly part of her friend group already to ward off any recruitment attempts, and then they’ll usually leave well enough alone. And then I’ll be so grateful for her help saving me from the big, bad ABB that I’ll actually consider her a friend… Not.

If she’d left me alone, I might not have done anything, but I won’t hold back now that she’s getting me involved.

Time to take her down.

——

The reason Barnes can get away with what she does is because of Shadow Stalker’s influence with the school administration. That means to dismantle the power structure, I have to knock Hess down.

First, let’s use thoughtography to create photos of the worst moments of bullying I’ve seen, with my clairvoyance or otherwise. Here’s one of Hess stomping on Hebert’s backpack. One of her pouring juice on Hebert with Barnes. One of… you know what, describing this is just depressing. The readers don't want to slog through a litany of events that'll make them lose faith in humanity. Just trust that I’ve captured some truly unpleasant moments.

Second, I’ll use my clairvoyance to look around in the school office for the budget records, and copy them down with thoughtography, too. Hm, quite a difference between what they’re actually doing and what they’ve reported. I’m sure the PRT will be delighted to learn this.

Third, I’ll make a map of Hess’ stashes of definitely not approved crossbow ammo, discovered when I used clairvoyance on her the other day. That won’t be enough evidence by itself, but if I attach a list of victims, locations, and times, hopefully the PRT will be competent enough to put the pieces together. It’s not an exhaustive list, just what I learned from using psychometry on the bolts in her stash, but it should be enough.

Fourth, a list of things they should check: Hebert’s stint in the hospital, the communications between Hess’ handler and the school administration, Hess’ phone, and the unpleasant emails that Hebert gets every now and then.

And a note on top: Your Ward is misbehaving. Clean up your mess.

Yep. That is a nice, succinct message that will get my point across with absolutely no problems.

As if.

This is one of the most annoying aspects of this world: the sheer paranoia around parahumans. Back in my original universe, people ignore strange happenings more easily, because they don’t believe in powers. Here, though? Powers are real and a fact of life. If I tried to use my hypnosis or mind control powers here, one of those “Thinker” parahumans would probably notice right away. No matter how I send this packet of information to the PRT, they’ll definitely suspect parahuman involvement, since quite a lot of this information should have been secure. They’ll be paranoid for days. They might even take my note as a threat.

Oh well, it’s not my problem. As long as I deliver it cleverly, they won’t be able to trace anything back to me, and I don’t plan on getting involved with them again after this either. If they spend a few months paranoid about a possible new threat, that has nothing to do with me.

So how to make sure that the PRT properly pays attention to this information when I deliver it? If I send it through the official channels, who knows how long it will take, and if I’m not lucky it’ll get lost or Hess’ handler will manage to bury it before it goes anywhere. On the other hand, I’d rather not deliver it directly to the heroes, either.

Let’s just do it like this then.

Altogether, the worth of these papers is about four dollars. So is this keychain I picked up from the side of the street. I’ll just turn invisible and go to the Boardwalk and toss this keychain over to the PRT headquarters floating in the bay, and then I can use my apport ability to exchange the keychain for the papers so that the papers arrive properly at their front doorstep. It’ll arrive with enough dramatic flair to make sure it doesn’t get written off, and I don’t have to interact with anyone. Perfect.

I toss the keychain across the water, but when I check with my clairvoyance, I see the keychain sinking down in the water instead of safely landed on the doorstep of the PRT like I intended. I didn’t throw with enough force? Damn, I can’t use my telekinesis to retrieve the keychain either, because I can’t use any powers besides telepathy while I’m invisible. I’ll have to look for something nearby.

There, a cheap ring being sold at a street stall. My apologies to the vendor, I’m taking this. Back to the beach. This time, I’ll throw with a little more force—

CRACK. BOOM.

I stare at the fading afterimage of a now-broken forcefield.

Shit.

Nothing for it now. I dash back home as fast as I can, and as soon as my invisibility wears off I exchange the packet of papers with the ring.

The ring appears in my hand, no problem. There, delivery successful. Err. Looking with my clairvoyance, it seems that the papers are half-embedded in the wall of the headquarters where the ring had previously buried itself inches deep. My bad. The forcefield breaking is my fault, so I’ll take responsibility. I’ll just fix it with my restoration ability…

Ah, wait, but restoring an object also restores everything it touches. If I restore the headquarters now, my delivery will go back to being blank pieces of paper, and it’ll all have been for nothing. Damn it, I should’ve fixed the forcefield before apporting my delivery over… although that would have required me to wait for my invisibility to wear off at the Boardwalk. Maybe I can exchange the papers and the ring quickly, restore everything, and then exchange them back? — No good, people are coming to investigate the papers already. If I apport right in front of them it might just make them panic more.

Good grief. I’ve made quite a mess for myself.

I’ll just have to make sure to fix the forcefield tomorrow… I’m sure it’s fine… They can live without their forcefield for twenty-four hours…

Oh, would you look at that, it’s just about time to restore Hebert’s art project. I’ll just go do that and put everything back in her locker.

Well, as long as that works out, hopefully today won’t be a lost cause.

#saiki kusuo no psi nan #worm web serial #crossover #simk writes #see you in the dark

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mrmallard · 3 years

Text

I made this huge set of posts in a forum thread about alcoholism yesterday. I'm gonna post it here for posterity. The spacing is gonna be off and I'm not gonna fix it, because this is a post of massive proportions.

It should go without saying, but - CW: alcohol

It's basically my history with alcoholism. I'm trying to be as objective about it as possible, but it's gonna inherently be biased due to my perspective on the matter.

This is the most up to date account of my alcoholism, from when I started drinking to the last time I drank. If you want an insight into the process of alcoholism from someone who considers themselves to be an alcoholic, you might get something from this post.

The topic title was "shit, alcoholism seems like it'd be really easy to slip into". The rest of the post is my response to that idea.

Yeah, it is. I f***ed up my health recently from drinking because I let it get out of hand.

There's a lot that went into my alcoholism. Bad role models, s***ty home life, and eventually the feeling that I was outgrowing the people around me despite the good things they'd done for me. I hated who I was when I was sober, so I would drink to the point of getting blackout drunk so I wouldn't have to deal with that.

The situation at home that I lived with for years was that I felt like an unwelcome guest. I spent a lot of time living at home with my mum and her partner, and her partner's a s***ty old drunk with his own baggage. He gives me the creeps, and he goes on these long benders where he's either elated and being a f***ing nuisance, or he's screaming swear words in the back room and calling me the c-word and the like. The entire time I was in this environment, I would be within earshot as he called me a lazy little s*** and made jokes about me being slow and lazy because I would do everything in my power not to speak with him or be around him. This, along with a tumultuous school life, meant I didn't go out at all or have many friends - so I'd be stuck listening to that sort of thing.

So when I turned 18 and school ended, and by some miracle had made friends in the last couple years, I would spend most of my time at a friend's house. Over the last 7 years since school ended, I probably spent more time at his place than I've spent at my home - we hung out, we had a similar sense of humour and we would party.

I know pretty much my entire social circle through this guy. I wouldn't have made such good friends with the other guys from high school without being so close to this guy. And over the years, he's taken care of me in some really shameful moments, where I really didn't deserve any sympathy. I was really socially stunted, so being around people who were more bold and outgoing would help me develop social skills, and in return I would supplement his social skills. At best, it was a symbiotic relationship - I wouldn't have been able to survive in a social setting without that help.

So what does this have to do with my alcoholism?

I wanted to elaborate on this relationship because it's complicated, and that has informed my alcoholism. I have no doubt that having an alcoholic parent and a severely alcoholic step-parent had an impact on my drinking, and I drank liberally around friends because I felt comfortable and safe in their company and I wanted to cut loose. But s*** changed, and I began to stagnate.

My self-worth was tied closely to my friends. I believed that I could only survive on the goodwill of others - if I were to diverge and assert my own tastes, I would either create friction or be ignored, and either of those would damage the relationships I had with others. I began to come into my own and step out of the shadows, but it felt like when I would try to express myself, I would be overshadowed again - like I would be put back into the supplementary role I'd been playing for years at this point. I felt like I had no stake in conversations, because people would talk over me. I felt too self-conscious recommending songs to put on, and my best friend was one of the people who would basically control the flow of music all night - he'd let you put stuff on, it was on his phone and he was cool with whatever, but he tended to have final say and he'd get less tactful the drunker he got.

In response to this lack of control, I think I began to drink more to mask my negative emotions and to numb myself to be okay with this. I internalized the idea that my contributions were cringy or not as enjoyable as everyone else's, and I would only insist on sharing when I was really drunk or when the situation allowed enough flexibility for me to share my own stuff with people. But I would drink so much because in my mind, I was only relaxed enough to be casual when I was drunk. I felt better being social when I was drunk, and being social when I was sober was incredibly anxious.

So my self-worth was tied to my friends and how they reacted to me. I felt ignored and small when I was sober, but I felt at ease when I was drunk. So my self-worth came to be connected to whether I was drinking or not.

Over time, things changed. Friends from high school started getting married and having kids. Everyone in my friend group, barring my best friend, found an SO and settled down. I'd always spent the most time with my best friend because he was easy to speak to - we were thick as thieves. But over time, I realised that I wanted to spend time with other friends as well as my best friend. So we would end up at one of our mutual friend's place, partying and having fun. We'd spend time with a mother of 4 who'd shacked up with a relative of a friend who was dad #4 - small town, very esoteric relationships, but he was a good guy. I realised that my drinking was getting out of hand, and I didn't have an exit strategy. I was usually the only person getting drunk in a group, and when we would hang out with other people, there'd usually be reservations about whether I could drink or not. I couldn't be in a social situation without being drunk.

And then 2020 started.

Keep in mind - 2020 wasn't just the pandemic year. It was the year that Australia became devastated by the worst bushfires in recorded history. Those fires started in June of 2019, started to make the news around September and became a national crisis in December. January was when we had one of the worst heatwaves in living memory, and subsequently had some of the worst bushfires days in living memory. I was lucky enough to live in a town that wasn't so affected, but throughout January and February, our air was so polluted I couldn't see to the end of my street. I woke up one morning choking on bushfire smoke, and I had to sit on the floor of my bathroom with a cloth around my mouth and nose to breathe properly. I was checking the bushfire reports daily to see if my dad was gonna be okay in northern NSW - at one point, if his town went up in flames, the only escape he had was to go west towards the Northern Territory and South Australia through a thin corridor between two separate, massive bushfires. I was stressed.

It was around December or January where I picked up a nasty habit. I would leave my best friend's place at 9pm on Thursdays - we'd usually chill until 11 - and go to the local drive-thru bottleshop before they closed at 10. I'd buy enough alcohol to get blackout drunk, and I'd sit at my kitchen table and drink until I fell asleep. And then I would only spend time with people if I could drink - I would usually be the only one drinking. It only got worse during the pandemic - I was getting blackout drunk 3-4 days a week at the height of the pandemic, mostly at my kitchen table.

And then, one day in October, I bought a box of mixed alcohol and took it to my friend's house. I necked a 200ml bottle of salted caramel Kahlua. And my hands started buzzing with static.

You know when you get pins and needles? It was like that, but I could still feel my hands. They just tingled for hours on end - they were still tingling at 5am.

I went and got a blood test, and they measured the liver enzymes in my blood. My understanding is that the borderline acceptable amount of enzymes they could have found was 40 per sample of blood. They found 169 liver enzymes.

I had to get sober. But remember - my self-worth was tied to how drunk I was. I hated who I was when I was sober, and the only way I could be comfortable in my own skin around other people was if I was drunk.

My last drink was around December 17th, 2020. I've been sober for nearly 3 months now. And I've stopped hanging out with my best friend.

I owe my best friend a lot. That made it harder to stop spending time with him. But I realised how unhappy I was when I was around him.

Whenever I'm being spoken over nowadays - it's him speaking over me. Aspects of his personality annoy the f*** out of me, like when he sings the same chorus or lyric from a song over and over all day, every day, for weeks. I never liked it when he would like touch my shoulder or anything - I didn't like when anyone would touch me because of the bullying I went through, but well into adulthood, I didn't want my best friend touching me. I'm so touch-starved, but between being touch-starved and hugging my friend, I'd rather be touch-starved. I shrugged off facetious comments because it was the nature of our friendship for me to cop a joke from time to time - I only recently started replying in kind, and I think my comfort in being nasty like that is affecting my relationships with others.

These are aspects of his personality that people like him for. That people respond positively to. Where I'm the outlier. They aren't negative aspects necessarily. But I hate them.

And having gotten sober, and subsequently had to cope with the effects of sobriety, I came to the conclusion that I hadn't liked my friend for a long time. For all that he had done for me over the years, for all the things he had done for me to help me fit in and feel included, I couldn't get past his faults. Being around this guy was like being nails on a chalkboard, and I think I've known for years. Being drunk helped me cope with the aspects of his personality I couldn't stand.

He means well, and I believe he's meant well most of the time we've been friends. There have been times where he's been spiteful and made joke after joke about the same s***ty thing at my expense, but there have been times where I've been a real f***ing menace and he took care of me when I was too drunk and belligerent to take care of myself. But I can't keep being friends with someone out of obligation, because it's the status quo and because it makes him feel better.

I think what really kicked this off was remembering all the times someone had asked me "why do you let him treat you like that? Why don't you get him back for it?" And the thing is, I didn't want to be mean back. I didn't want to make jokes about his high-strung mother - who he would explicitly make uncomfortable for his own amusement, and because he knew it made me squirm when he would be s***ty towards her. I didn't want to make jokes about his alcoholic father. But I learned to indulge in it, and now I feel gross about it.

I didn't get him back for the longest time because my self-worth was tied to how people reacted to me. If he makes a joke about f***ing my mother and people laugh, that's a positive reaction despite being sick of that f***ing joke about him becoming my stepfather for the 50th time. When he would harp on something I said and turn it into a running joke, it's positive attention despite how bad it feels. If I speak up about it, I'm just gonna come across as a tightass and people will double down on it. And the fact is that because I was bullied during school, because I went through a decade of feeling like s***, I didn't want to make anyone else feel as bad as I ever did.

That's not to say that my mean streak was directly tied to how I was treated by my best friend. I got way meaner about certain people. I was a backstabber, if the person was disliked by our wider group. I was two-faced if it was entertaining. And I really f***ing regret that.

I wanted people to like me, and the only time I felt loose and casual enough to feel comfortable in my own skin was when I was drunk. So when I began to grow out of how my best friend treated me, I would drink more to thicken my skin and deal with it. And then it got bad enough that I would confront him about it and he'd apologize and make a conscious effort to not go there. But the fact that he made that accommodation made me feel even worse, especially when I noticed him stopping himself from doing something that bothered me. And that's just the s*** that was hurtful, that was reasonable to ask him to stop. I couldn't stand his constant f***ing singing by the end, and that's just a casual innocuous habit that makes him happy y'know.

I only came to this conclusion once I had stopped drinking. Being around him while I've been sober has been so f***ing uncomfortable. I clench my jaw and I want to be as far away from him as possible. He recently rested a hand in my shoulder in a good faith sort of way, and I shifted my entire body to get away from him. I have this primal revulsion to being around him, because I realise how unhappy I feel when I spend time around him.

Things didn't used to be like this. My feelings towards my best friend changed over time - and they should, because people change as they grow up and mature. But I was maintaining a status quo by drinking, and the only way I've been able to cope with sobriety is by spending the least amount of time with him as humanely possible.

The connecting thread throughout my stint with alcoholism has been comfort. I feel comfortable around my friends, and drinking loosened me up and made me more receptive to being around people. Then, as they came to know me, I began to feel a disconnect between our personalities - and the best way to bridge that gap and maintain a sense of goodwill with them was to drink. Then I became dependant on alcohol during a time of crisis and stress - I severely disliked who I was when I wasn't inebriated, and I had no choice but to live with the hellish reality of once-in-a-lifetime bushfires and a global pandemic, so I made a conscious choice to get blackout drunk as often as I could during a time where social norms were degrading. And then I drank my way into a health problem.

It is very easy to lose your sense of self and neglect your own personal growth due to alcohol. You want to feel comfortable, safe and loved, but you don't develop enough as a person to find those things in your day to day life - you get a taste of how that feels when you're really vibing on your alcohol of choice, but it's fleeting and it comes with a physical, financial and metaphorical cost.

We all need comfort, and we all need to cut loose sometimes. It can be hard to find release without something to take the edge off. But you're right about it being easy to slip into alcoholism, because when you've spent your entire life feeling alienated and downcast and you find something that helps you talk to people and make real connections slightly outside of your usual wheelhouse, it feels like a f***ing godsend. It makes you re-evaluate whether you deserved to get bullied for reasons outside of your comprehension, and the answer tends to be "no, I didn't, because I'm f***ing awesome". But that's the alcohol talking - you're the same person as always the next morning, and the next morning after your next drink. And I think we all know it's the alcohol talking. I don't know anyone who drank themselves into loving themselves.

To move forward, we need to feel like we're f***ing awesome when we're not drinking. And the process of getting to that place is a lot of hard work, compassion and personal understanding, whereas it might be a bottle of gin away to feel like that for a night. I'm getting there after three months sober - and sobriety only clicked after 2 months of sobriety, to the day almost. But it's still a process I'm going through. To be honest, I'm going through a rough patch at the moment.

But yeah. Alcoholism is very easy to slip into

#alcoholism #cw: alcohol #cw: alcoholism

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daxicab · 4 years

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Chapters: 22/63 Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Rating: Mature (18+) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Reno (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Original Character(s) - Character, Reno, Tifa Lockhart, Cloud Strife, Rude, Elena, Denzel, Tseng, Zack Fair, Rufus Shinra, Aerith Gainsborough, Genesis Rhapsodos Additional Tags: Additional Warnings In Author's Note

Season 1 is finished with 22 Chapters!

Chapter 1 is below. Reader-insert version can be found here.

There is an empty desk in front of Alexis. There is the noise of high schoolers chatting, but it sounds like her head is in a fishbowl. Everyone's faces are blurry as Alexis looks around, then her focus returns to the desk in front of hers. It takes a while for her to remember that a boy sits there. He is usually late for class, explaining why it remains empty. As if on queue, the door swings open, and a young man walks in. Alexis is not sure when the teacher started teaching, but she goes quiet as the kid enters. Tilting her head, Alexis can vaguely make out his face. He pulls the black beanie further down his head, covering his hair entirely. There is an injury on his eye, or at least there was until she looks at him again. The classroom is eerily silent, but Alexis is sure people are moving their mouths. The chair in front of her desk slides out. Looking up at the boy, his eyes make contact with hers. They are such a beautiful color, though Alexis is not sure why she thinks that. She cannot precisely tell what color they are.

Suddenly the school bell rings, and Alexis finds herself in front of her locker. Groaning, she realizes vaguely what is happening. It is another dream of her past, something that is frequently occurring now. Annoyed, Alexis lets the dream carry on though she knows she will wake up in confusion with no answers to a lot of questions. Alexis packs her school bag for the weekend and head outside, the trip being much shorter than it really was in reality. Going towards the bike rack, she unlocks the bike and decides to walk it to the sidewalk. Everything begins to have a sense of deja vu, and Alexis somewhat remembers this day. After leaving the school grounds, a car drives by. It almost drowns out the cry of pain followed by the sound of metal being struck against something. Moving towards the sound and peaking around the building corner, Alexis sees a member of the football team pick up the kid that was late by his shirt collar. There is no feeling of fear, but she remembers the horror of seeing the blood drip from the young man's lip, the eye already turning red.

"Trying to hide from us, slum rat? Shouldn't be trying to cover up that hair either. Only an idiot would color it that way to get attention," the boy that grips her classmate by the collar. When he doesn't get a response, he throws him on the ground and kicks Alexis's classmate in the ribs.

Before his lackeys join in, she finds herself shouting, "Stop!"

The gang turns on Alexis, all of them grinning. All of these boys look the same, their faces existing, yet she cannot discern any features. As she backs up, her back hits the wall, and suddenly she is cornered. They yell at her, calling her names that she cannot remember, but she remembers the fear. As soon as the boy raises his hand to slap her, he stops. Alexis remembers a shout, and she hears it, but again everything is muddled. Behind the bullies, she sees her classmate standing up, face covered in scratches. Suddenly he is taller, a darker face, and carrying a weapon like a pipe. He clubs one of the kids–no an adult now in the head. Alexis shakes her head, knowing that this was not the memory and try to focus back on the dream. As soon as her focus returns on the three bullies and her classmate, back to normal, Alexis hears someone clear their throat, and she looks behind her–the wall suddenly is gone. Lane, dressed as a Turk, stands behind her and causes the bullies to scatter. As soon as he approaches, Alexis is dragged away, and she turns to look at who or what is pulling her and stares into two split red eyes.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Bolting upright, Alexis looks around and slams her hand down on the alarm. Taking deep breaths, she slowly calms herself. Groaning, she throws herself back down, head bouncing lightly on the pillows. The dreams are already becoming fleeting memories. By the end of the day, she is only going to remember bits and pieces. Running a hand through her hair, she stares at the time and rolls out of bed. The bathroom is so far away, but Alexis shuffles towards it. Deciding a hot shower should help finish calming the nerves, she steps into the shower and lets the water pour on her head, massaging her scalp.

After the shower, she gets her wait-staff clothes on and fixes her hair up. When entering the living room, she notices that Lane is missing. Saying a small prayer for him, she walks outside, hoping he is simply on another search for answers. Tilting her head, she stares at the gloomy sky, made even darker with Midgar's remains blocking the real horizon. Another rainy day. After a little sigh, Alexis walks to her small car and gets in.

The drive to work seems to get busier and busier as the years go by. Edge reminds her of the rise and fall of Shinra Electric Power Company. Some WRO soldiers pass by her, and she notices their presence has increased as well. Seemingly privately funded, the organization rose from Shinra's ashes almost quite literally. The funding seemed to be timely and generous as well.

As if someone is trying to make amends, she thinks with a smirk. Though it was never released on who funds WRO, only a few people still have that sort of money. The flames of the rumor spread even faster as Shinra employees quickly joined WRO.

Upon reaching the bar, Alexis gets out of the car only to feel the light touch of rain. Then the skies open up.

"Crap," she says, running into the building. It was not fast enough as her clothes are soaked, making her both exceedingly uncomfortable and cold.

"Aw, come here," the bar owner says and drags her down a hallway. The woman gives Alexis a sympathetic smile that reaches her red eyes, then speaks, "Change into the spare uniform and take some time to get yourself together. Once you feel better, you can get to work. Okay? Take your time."

She gives her a small pat on the head and rushes out, her long black hair framing her turn. Looking down at the clean uniform, Alexis lets out a heavy sigh. Hopefully, this is not the start of a really horrible day.

The end of the world did not change anyone. People are still as rude and mean as ever. You'd think you'd be a little more grateful after surviving like how many crises? I lost count.

Unfortunately, she is right in her assumption about the day, the spare uniform does not last long. A small child decides the white front needs to be red like his fruit punch. Of course, the parents only give a half-hearted apology, do not chastise the child, or pay much attention to him. The next customer that Alexis serves is already intoxicated and demands more wine. She denies him the request and insists on buying something to eat instead, hoping to help the man sober up and maybe save his liver. However, this causes him to make a scene that involves her. The insults, plus the embarrassment from the entire diner staring at Alexis, brings a knot in her throat, and she prays no tears to start forming. The owner, Tifa, promptly handles the guest, but the damage is done, and waiting on the tables is now that much more awkward. It is a long nine-hour shift, especially when she realizes it has only been two hours into it. By the fourth hour, Alexis decides that once she gets home, she will plop down on the couch and gorge on whatever ice cream remains in the fridge. Maybe indulge and watch a horror movie. A sigh leaves her mouth as she silently hopes Lane is home. Perhaps the two can finally play this mysterious "Monopoly" game he mentioned last time he was home.

It does not help that her dream keeps popping up. Well, really, it is only the last image from the dream–the two snake-like eyes. It makes her shudder. Alexis feels as if there is a shadow watching her from her peripherals. However, every time she looks, there is nothing there. Tifa catches Alexis, making a worried face several times throughout the night. Towards the end of the night, Tifa finally asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alexis answers, several times, not wanting this caring woman to worry about her more than she probably already is. Alexis is sure once she gets home, she will be much, much better.

At the end of the night, the tips are low, and business is hindered by the rain. After helping Tifa clean up and saying goodnight to her, Alexis walks outside and immediately groans. It is still raining, making her rush to the car and almost slip on the way there. With no defense against the rain, Alexis is once again soaked to the bone. In the car, she decides to wait it out a little, hoping the massive rainband will pass soon. Once it lightens up, she pulls out and drives home. Unfortunately, the reprieve is a fluke, and the rain pours down with a vengeance. Slowing down, Alexis put the wipers on the fastest speed, but the visibility is no more than five feet. It is going to be a nerve-wracking drive home, but the storm might not worsen. Alexis decides to look for a safe place to pull over before someone gets hurt.

As soon as the thought leaves her head, someone steps backward in front of her car. Alexis tries to slam on the brakes to no avail. Even at a low speed, the vehicle hydroplanes directly towards the pedestrian. They look at her right before the impact, and Alexis notices the familiar face. She lets out a scream as soon as the car hits the man. SHIT!

The man rolls over the hood, his shoulder ramming into the windshield, cracking it slightly. When the car does come to a stop, he slides off the hood. Gripping the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles are white, and she tries to calm down. The adrenaline is coursing through her, but Alexis remains frozen in the seat. Swallowing hard, she gets out and makes her way to the front of the car. Kneeling down, she recognizes the black suit, and her blood runs cold when she looks at the owner's face. The hair is dark due to blood and the rain, but the familiar pair of red marks give him away.

"Oh, gods. Oh no. Oh fuck," Alexis says in terror. I just killed a Turk. Not only a Turk but RENO of the Turks. No criminal record until now. Now I'm a murderer, a Turk-killer! I don't even hate Shinra enough to kill them! They were patrons of Tifa's bar, and now they are going to hunt me down and kill me. This is it. Life is over.

Stress overwhelms Alexis, and she begins to cry. It muffles the sound of footsteps, and Alexis jumps when someone speaks.

"Holy shit, you just saved my life," the man says, gripping his shoulder. He tries to hide the gun behind his back, but Alexis notices it. He gives her a friendly smile and walks closer. "Just walk away, lady, and no one will know you killed the Turk bastard."

Neither of them notices the pair of eyes staring the criminal. The man walks closer. "Thanks, again, I'll take the car and get out of here. You better start running now."

A metal ball pegs the man in the chest. A current of electricity runs through him, making him twitch violently before falling over. Covering her mouth, she looks away from the convulsing body on the ground. Alexis notices the Turk grinning while still lying on the street. "Gotcha, asshole…" he says weakly before passing out.

Staring at Reno, Alexis finds herself breathing heavily because now there are two bodies are lying near her. One dead, one probably not dead, but at the same time, is no longer moving. Squatting down, she places a hand on his chest and feels it slowly rise and fall. When she pulls her hand away, she gags when it is covered in blood. That is when she realizes how injured the man is. Staring at the other guy, Alexis groans and decides to drag Reno into the car. Someone else can deal with the random dead man on the side of the road.

Getting a full-grown man into her car is much easier said than done. Alexis ends up dropping him in the back seats causing him to groan in pain, and she panics. Hurriedly, Alexis slams the door shut and gets in the driver's seat before he sees her. The problem is, Alexis does not want to go to the hospital. Even if the Turks are not the most well-liked group of people, they have been helping out more with the public than they were five years ago. Alexis will more than likely have to explain to many people why she is covered in Turk blood, with a Turk body in the back of her not Turk car, while she also does not work for Rufus Shinra and his Turks. Shaking her head, the only reasonable place to go is home, where she has materia and medical supplies. When he wakes up, he can take himself to the hospital after explaining that everything was a total accident.

"Or he dies in my room because this is a stupid idea, he could have internal bleeding," Alexis says to herself. Still, the hospital is a bit of a drive away, and with today's track record, she does not want to risk it. At least if he dies in her room surrounded by medical supplies, it might be obvious she tried to save him. Right.

Alexis also hopes that Lane is not home and does not come back tonight, after all.

As she reaches the apartment complex, she gets the Turk out of the car, hitting his head on the frame. He groans, and Alexis flinches when his eyes weakly glare at her. Surprisingly he does not fight her as she walks him into the complex and into the elevator to her floor. Getting him into her apartment is harder as the Turk goes unconscious in the elevator, forcing her to drag him to the door. Once inside, Alexis catches her breath, then drags him to her bedroom. There is no way she is getting him onto the bed without a lot of effort. So, she gently lays him on the floor and places a pillow under his head. The bloodstains are more visible on his skin and clothes, even after the rain washed some of it away. Looking him over, her eyes land on the two red tattoos, and she absentmindedly runs a finger over one of them, causing his cheek to twitch. Shaking her head, Alexis opens his shirt up to see the bruises from the collision and figures there has to be a broken rib. Suddenly he starts shivering, and she realizes just how cold it is. Jumping up, she rushes to the linen closet and pulls out heavy blankets. Hurrying back to him, she lays them over his body, then runs to the bathroom. Digging through the medicine cabinet, Alexis gathers various medical supplies and a cure materia.

"Okay, Cure can't repair all the major damage or wake him up, but it should take care of some of the injuries and lessen the serious ones," she says to herself. "Sorry, Reno. I don't have enough power to use it a lot…can maybe get off a Cura without passing out."

Nodding, she steps out of the bathroom and feels the cold metal press against her throat, a static shock zapping her throat, and she freezes in place.

#final fantasy vii #the turks #reno of the turks #reno x oc #reno x reader #ff7 turks #ff7 #ff7r #final fantasy 7 #ff7 reno

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absoluteketo-blog · 5 years

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original-character-archives · 7 years

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((EvangelionunitKenway was nice enough to draw him for me!))

Name: Spiro Marcello Siena-Vasilakis Aka: Reggie Vasilakis Age & Date of birth: He was born in Crete, Greece on December 16th, 2000. He is 36 years old Species: Human but a Cybernetically Enhanced Human. Gender: Cis Male Orientation: Heterosexual Fandom/Original: He is my original character and Eko’s partner in crime.

Warnings: Bullying, PTSD, War, Amputation.

Biography: Using IVF treatments, Reggie’s mother, Maria gave birth to him at the age of 50. She loved her little boy so much that she didn’t realize that she was feeding him too much and he was an obese child. When he was in school he was picked on because of his weight and he was constantly teased about his mother being old. It got so bad that he asked her to stop following him to the bus stop. She respected his wishes and she stopped following him.

By the time he turned 25, his mothers health was failing and he chose to skip college so that he could take care of her. He had always wanted to be a soldier, so he tried enlisting in the Greek and Italian armies, but his weight would hold him back. Not knowing what else to do, he took a job as a security guard and he helped to pay for his mother’s continual care. He got a tip from a friend that a company known as Strafe Light was looking for bodyguards and he knew that they paid well. Reggie agreed and he met with a representative of the Strafe Light company. They immediately accepted him into their group and as a bonus they paid for all of Maria’s medical bills.

The Strafe Light company was fascinating because of their training. They taught Reggie how to use combat weapons, tactical gear and even things like heavy army machinery. Their training was so rigorous that he ended up losing 171lbs, but because he was a stress eater, this was a hard thing to accept.

After all of his training, he eventually learned that Strafe Light was a company that had bodyguards for government officials worldwide. He was going to be sent on his first mission in the Middle East and he was excited. He was exemplar at his job, and he didn’t care if he had to be a bully to get things done. Some of the guys that he was working for heard of a company that was paying more for their services but Spiro didn’t care. He continued to work with Strafe Light until a faithful day in Uzbekistan.

His company was enlisted to protect a commander who was lazy with his job. Spiro felt that he could do better than him, but because those were his orders, he kept quiet. One night they were ambushed and to keep them from following him, Reggie rigged up a bomb, but the explosion was too big. Most of his men died and he was gravely injured.

He woke up in a special hospital where he learned that he had lost his limbs and part of his eyesight. Strafe Light was letting him go because they saw him as a liability, and this made him mad. In the hospital, he regained as much of his health and strength back as he could, but he was sick with worry. He hadn’t seen his mother in a while and he was worried that they would do something to her.

Years passed and Reggie was still recuperating. As he was in bed, he was approached by some men who said that they worked for the D.I.R.E Company. They were the rival to Strafe Light, and they loved his current resume. They offered to help him and anyone that he was close to for them to have his services. He agreed and the D.I.R.E company put his mother into the best care home. He eventually he learned that the D.I.R.E Company was currently creating a new line of robotics that could help different people in many ways. Reggie was curious, so he asked if they could possibly help someone who had injuries like him. He challenged them to make him a set of prosthetics that would allow him to get back to what he was doing, and they accepted the challenge.

They soon fitted him with the newest carbon fiber limbs that their company could create. They also fixed his eyesight, giving him eyes that were fit for his job. It took two years to get use to these new parts, but soon he was back to his regular self. Reggie liked the D.I.R.E company and he offered to work as a soldier for them.

On a particularly risky mission in Indonesia, Reggie was having a tough time. The humidity of the city was messing with the function of his arms, but there was nobody there to repair them for him. Being overconfident as usual, he decided to go on his mission anyway. He was tasked with taking out the leader of a Drug cartel by sniping his target. He was ready to take his shot when his arm locked up and this caused him to accidentally shoot the Drug leaders brother instead. The leader managed to run and Reggie returned to his base, where he did his own repairs. Two days later he got word that the entire Cartel, including the leader was wiped out by someone who chose a violent method. He was also informed that he was being stalked by someone who saw him. Reggie decided to confront this stalker in a alleyway. He waited for him, not realizing that this stalker was freakishly fast, and he was nearly killed. Instead of killing him right there, the Stalker asked to talk to him. He learned that his name was Eko and that he was going to kill the Cartel brother, but Reggie took it for him. He had nothing to do, and he wanted to join him. Reggie objected because he had no idea who he was, but after seeing how he fought and how fast he was, he agreed.

He learned that Eko was pretty trustworthy and that it was good to have someone who was looking after his back. They’ve been working together for 10 years and they are great friends.

Appearance: Reggie is a handsome man with distinctive hazel eyes. He is 6'3 and about 356lbs because of his enhancements. He has angular features, a handsome jawline and straight white teeth. He’s usually seen with 5 o'clock shadow or stubble on his face. His skin is olive to deep tan, and due to the stress of his job his hair is starting to grey early. Aside from his human parts, his legs and arms are prosthetics. They are made out of magnesium, steel, and carbon so their undersides are black while the top coating is silver. In his own words, he is 20 percent “organic”, and the rest of him is robotic. Most of the time he is seen wearing a tank top and cargo jeans but he is always wearing a chain with a cross on it along his belt. A thing that people do not notice is that his eyes are enhanced too which is why they seem to look a bit odd on him.

Personality: Reggie as a man who is very materialistic. He tends to take the jobs that pay the most, even if they mean that he must put his life in more danger. He comes off as sarcastic, Cocky and Overconfident at times. This contrasts with Eko’s personality, which probably explains why they get along so well sometimes.

He tends to keep things to himself because he’s not really a people person. Growing up he was picked on, so he’s kind of got a tough exterior. If someone is in his way, then he will get rid of them. He finds the company of other people tiring and he would rather be on a mission than hanging out with people that he barely knows. He loves his mother, but he figures that the more he has separated her from his life then the safer she will be.

Favourite & Least Favourite things Favorites: Eko, Upgrading his weapons, Humvees, and Guns. Least Favorites: EMP’s, magnets, and Eko sometimes.

Strengths and Weaknesses: Physical strengths: His arms, legs, and skeleton have been replaced with combat type cybernetics and prosthetics. His prosthetics help him with his job. They can mute his steps, he has a Tactical shield (That he chooses not to use), magnetic grips, a grappling hook that is located in his right wrist. He has enhanced strength to the point where he can shove a car out of the way of he needs to and he can carry vehicle mounted weapons with ease. Strengths: He has a strong mentality and he can think during the most dire of situations. He is a mercenary but he has his own sets of morals. He doesn’t do anything overtly violent or cruel to the people that he fights.

Weaknesses: He really loves money. He gets contracts based on how much they can give him and as Eko explained to him, “he’s going to get killed one day because of that”. He buys the most expensive weapons and tech just to show off to people and whatnot.

Additional notes: 7 Facts about Reggie! 1. He doesn’t like kids either because they ask too many questions. He won’t harm them though. 2. He also really hates Mihajlo Raznatovic because he thinks that there is something seriously wrong with him. He states that “Someone that big and good-looking should not be as crazy as he is because it’s wrong”. 3. He sleeps for about 3 hours each day. 4. He does pay Eko, but he’s not sure what he uses his money for. 5. His cybernetic parts are bulletproof and waterproof, but he never takes on water based missions. 6. He sends his mom postcards of the places that he goes to. 7. The only human parts of him are his brain, lungs, heart, liver, spine and reproductive organs. Anything else is cybernetic.

Please specify if you would like fan art of your character? - Oh yeah, that would be really awesome!

#original #abuse #murder #death #body horror #gore #submission #omg wow #yokaigemini

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abbyfdenton · 6 years

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Late Night Jokes Packet

I submitted a packet to one of those late night writing fellowships. Nothing’s gonna come of it, so here, if future submittees want to compare their packet to some random asshole’s work:

Topical Monologue Jokes

Pharmacy giant CVS recently finalized its purchase of health insurer Aetna, a deal that entered negotiations two months ago, making this the fastest anyone has bought anything at a CVS.

A drunk man took the Internet by storm when he entered a Waffle House late at night and found the staff asleep. He helped himself to the kitchen to cook himself dinner and, like far too many Waffle House patrons, forgot to tip.

Facebook has announced an instant messenger app just for kids under 13. In other news, former Alabama Senator Roy Moore was spotted registering a new Facebook account.

Some cinema owners, desperate to pry moviegoers away from Netflix, have been releasing fake snow and gusts of wind at pivotal points in the movie Coco. I guess they're trying to attract the pivotal longshoreman demographic. We've tried immersive movies for years. In the sixties theaters had electrified seats and scratch-and-sniff cards. More recently, the 3-hour runtime of Justice League made you feel like you'd been stuffed in a dark hole after getting all your bones broken. Chief of Imax Richard Gelfond was skeptical of these techniques and said, "The great revolution will be in virtual reality and augmented reality. Perhaps there’s a dinosaur in a movie and you see them sitting next to you.” (This actual quote is probably goofy enough to get a response, but if not:) I like to imagine Gelfond's dream project, about a wise-cracking, movie-watching dinosaur.

On Sunday the scheduled demolition of the Pontiac Silverdome, once home of the Detroit Lions and the Detroit Pistons, completely failed to trigger an implosion, making the Pontiac Silverdome Detroit's most intact building. Onlookers hoping to see a Detroit landmark fall to ruin were disappointed to learn they'd picked the wrong scheduled demolition that day.

Phone giant Apple recently broke with Dialog, the company making its microchips, and decided to start manufacturing their own. Amish experts were brought in to assist with the production of Apple chips.

In Pittsburgh a cow has now escaped from a live Nativity display twice, both times found walking along a major highway, away from the Nativity and... towards a mall, which I think is more than a little heavy-handed. The Baby Jesus remains at large.

A surgeon in the U.K. pled guilty to burning his initials onto patients' livers while he performed organ transplants. A gruesome case, but if you really want gruesome – how did they check the livers? Generally, you put your initials on rocks, or trees – things you know will last a long time, right? I say, this just proves he was confident.

A Connecticut town councilman recently resigned after a political opponent discovered that he'd spent years under a penname writing furry erotica. You'd think the giant mascot suit would have given him away. (Super an image of a guy in a furry mascot suit in the middle of a city council meeting) “Will the terrifying dog-man from Bridgeport yield the floor?” Meanwhile in the furry community a respected writer faced censure from his peers when it came to light he had been participating in degenerate human society. (Super the legend: FOUR LEGS GOOD, TWO LEGS BAD)

Meanwhile a town in Ireland recently complained that fumes from a nearby factory producing Viagra were affecting local dogs in, uh, a Viagarrific way. A Connecticut town councilman was quoted as asking, “Where was this?”

The UK has begun punishing people who have used Bitcoin to launder money. It took five years to reach that point for a product with the slogan “Bitcoin: We're for Doing Crimes.”

A New York woman was accused of funneling Bitcoins to ISIS. The Bitcoins totalled a US value of over sixteen thousand dollars... No, just under eight thousand... No, right around fifty-seven thousand dollars.

A report recently asserted that the computer farms processing Bitcoin use more electricity per day than the entire country of Denmark. Many people are saying this proves Bitcoin is a force for global evil, but have we considered that Denmark just doesn't use enough electricity? They let the wind do all their milling. It's a waste of perfectly good wind.

Australia recently voted to legalize gay marriage, which is wonderful news for everybody, especially for my side business selling young people excuses not to commit. (Super an appropriate fake business logo, perhaps of a blue footprint. SLOGAN: Cold Feet? De-Devote.) Notably 80% of the Australian voting public voted in the gay marriage referendum. 80%. In America we're lucky if 80% of the public can spell gay marriage referendum.

A prosecutor in a Chinese mortgage fraud scandal was quoted today as saying, “If everyone is doing it, you can't put them all in jail.” Michael Flynn was quoted as saying, “Bullshit!”

President Donald Trump recently attracted accusations that he was attempting to ignite more violence in the Middle east today when he referred to Jerusalem as the true capital of Israel. Less clear, however, is whether this is a change in US foreign policy or just a guy who doesn't know the capital of Israel.

Refillable desk bits

The Paris Review of Goosebumps

Two very pretentious figures provide contrasting scholarly reviews of an indefensibly silly kids' book, such as Baby-Sitters Club, Animorphs, etc, starting off debating themes but always devolving into schoolyard slap-fights.

Coming of Age

If a bit is risky or seems like it might not land in front of warm bodies, prep a contingency plan – the stage darkens, the host turns to look off-stage thoughtfully, and a voiceover is delivered by an older, folksier voice than the host about the bit's failure and what we've learned. Think: Stand by Me. “Now, I don't know why I thought they'd go for a photoshop of a dog jet-skiing over some dolphins. I guess back then I was a fool.”

Stuff We Did Before the Internet

In light of the FCC's commitment to rollback net neutrality, the host brings someone out to demonstrate past-times and hobbies people had before the Internet which may return to vogue, such as reading books (which the host tears apart while trying to figure out how to turn them on) or hand-churning butter.

Your Dad Explains the News

The host puts on a bad fake mustache, sits on a chair backwards and has a talk with the audience about something he doesn't understand. He loves comparing things to World War II documentaries, and most stories leave him wondering, “Why are these boys so angry?”

Regular Guys Riding a Bus

Following from the assumption that 90% of all problems would be solved if the rich and powerful had to bump noses with the average joe on public transit, the host conducts a political interview from the back of a city bus. A lot of the fun would come from the inconvenience – stop announcements interrupting the guest mid-sentence, stuff like that. Ideally the host and guest pause to offer seats to new passengers and switch positions as often as possible.

Next Week Tonight

Technically 2 segments:

1. A few predictions of what will happen in the coming week – not out of nowhere, upcoming events, releases, etc. Essentially predict results that are either comically bad or impossibly good. “The running of the bulls in Pamplona will cause an unusual amount of property damage, but the bulls will stick around to help rebuild.”

2. Footage of the previous week's predictions, contrasted with similar or completely dissimilar things that happened. Will tend toward gallows humor.

Segment is presented by the host and a shady gangster figure, whom it is implied extorts and bullies the host for gambling on these future predictions.

Animal House Epilogue

Take a clip from a movie or current events, freeze frame over different significant figures, and caption what happened immediately afterwards. e.g. Han Solo: Recovered from stab wound, now manages a Denny's.

Last-Minute Recast

The host interviews two guests, but gets their names mixed up. When they try to correct him, he laughs and says he's not going to fall for their “prank.” The guests attempt to remain in-character and answer questions on behalf of each other, even launching into convincing and obviously fake anecdotes about working on movies they weren't in, until a “producer” comes out, whispers to the host, and the mix-up is cleared up.

Normie Brewster

Soleil Moon-Frye complains about managing an Old Navy.

The Prophesied Return of Urkel

Jaleel White appears and begins to upstage the host much like how he replaced the original main cast of Family Matters. The jealous host banishes him in increasingly bizarre ways, by calling security, by winning an arm-wrestling match, or through a Charlie Daniels-esque fiddlin' duel. It is implied that Jaleel White is some manner of leprechaun.

#insight

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 7 years

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The Nurse Who Helped Too Much

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/the-nurse-who-helped-too-much/

The Nurse Who Helped Too Much

It might be hard to believe in this day and age of "participatory medicine" and empowered patients — or in any day and age, really — but the fact is that an Arizona-based nurse was fired from her job recently for simply providing a patient too much information on his treatment options.

The nurse's name is Amanda Trujillo, a single mother living in Phoenix, and licensed nurse in Arizona since 2006. She specializes in cardiology, geriatrics, and end of life/palliative care. The supposed sin she committed was setting up a consultation on hospice care for a patient suffering from end-stage liver disease, who was scheduled for surgery. This "interference" angered the patient's physician, who then had Amanda fired and reported her to the Arizona State Board of Nursing, where she is now in danger of losing her nursing license. Fellow health care professionals and patient advocates are flooding the blogosphere in support of her cause!

Envisioning this in "our world" for a moment, imagine that a nurse or diabetes educator gets thrown to the wolves this way just for helping you learn about your alternative choices for dialysis treatment or in-home diabetes care.

"This issue isn't only about Amanda, it's about the American public," writes one prominent nurse-blogger. "The health care industry is trying to bully nurses into not talking about abuses in the system and they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. We will not be silenced. Strong patient advocacy makes for stronger patients who have more control over their own health care decisions. The American public has a right to know."

Apparently the issue was that the patient in question "had no clue about what they were about to participate in when they agreed to get a major invasive surgery," Amanda writes. "When I properly educated the patient using the allowed materials by my employer they became upset that the physician never explained details of the surgery or what had to be done after the surgery (complex lifetime daily self care). The patient also had no idea that they had a choice about whether they had to get the surgery or not or that there were other options. They asked about hospice and comfort care and I educated the patient within my nursing license and the nursing code of ethics."

The primary physician at Banner Del Webb Hospital in Sun City West (where Amanda worked) saw it otherwise, as did the nursing director who eventually fired her. She told Trujillo she had "messed up all the doctors' hard work and planning for the surgery." Thus, the patient-requested hospice care consult was cancelled.

Hospital spokesman Bill Byron says their company policy prevents nurses from ordering a case management consult. "The doctor, ultimately, is the focal point that directs care for patients," he said

As someone concerned with patient advocacy myself (shouldn't we all be?), all that comes to mind here is WTF? Who cares if the doctor or nurse orders the consult, as long as it's in the patient's best interest? This sounds like a case of big swinging doctor egos, if you ask me.

Indeed, the complaint filed with the Arizona State Board of Nursing states that Amanda "exceeded her scope of practice." If the Board finds that this is true, Trujillo could lose her license, and will be unable to work as a nurse. Can you imagine...?

Over at KevinMD, one of the most respected physician blogs, a nurse guest blogger writes: "The issue boils down to whether the health care industry can tolerate highly educated, vocal, critically-thinking, engaged nurse-collaborators who, in the interest of their patients, will constructively work with — and challenge, if necessary — physicians and established treatment plans. Or does the industry just want robots with limited analytical skills who blindly and unthinkingly collect vital signs and carry out physician orders? More importantly, which model presents the best opportunity for excellent patient care?"

Exactly!!

But it gets even more upsetting:

Since her firing in April 2011, Amanda has brought attention to her own case with a letter-writing campaign, and reaching out to other nurses and bloggers.

The Arizona State Board of Nursing has issued a statement claiming that Amanda's campaign to defend herself constitutes "retaliatory behavior" and has therefore ordered a psychiatric evaluation. Can you imagine...? So now they're claiming she's just nuts?

And what's more, the Arizona State Board of Nursing also chose to notify the doctoral program in which Amanda is studying of the investigation — although they waited 10 months to do so. Sources say that is never proper procedure while any investigation is underway.

This whole case has spurred a huge debate about nurses overstepping their bounds, and possible "abuses of power."

But her peers seem to stand in overwhelming support of her, in apparent agreement that the Arizona Board of Nursing "has gone from ridiculous to abusive in the Amanda Trujillo case." They're now charging her with using false credentials because she had added some medical alphabet soup to the end of her personal email signature — albeit with an "S" designating student. In other words, they're pulling out all the stops to disgrace Amanda into silence.

"Let's remember what brought this all on," writes Kim at the popular nursing site Emergiblog. "An informed patient. A change of heart. A fuming physician."

I don't know about you all, but if I were on my death bed and had questions about my care options, I'd want someone like Amanda by my side.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

Type 2 Diabetes Treatment Type 2 Diabetes Diet Diabetes Destroyer Reviews Original Article

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mypuppydogtrainer-blog · 7 years

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Correct the 10 Biggest Mistakes That Even “Trainers” Make Separate the Myths From the Facts!#DogTraining

Just by correcting these ten mistakes and misconceptions, you’ll automatically improve your chances of success to a level matching the top 1% of the most effective dog trainers in the world. You may find this hard to believe, but even experienced trainers make some of these mistakes. Yes. I am referring to professionals who train dogs for a living.

If you really want to cut down on your training time and see a REAL difference in your dog’s training response, busting these myths will be your stepping stone in achieving jaw-dropping results!

Myth #1: Training Ruins a Dog’s Personality and Breaks His Spirit

Dog abuse does that–not proper training combined with dog psychology. When you catch your dog making a mistake, you need to correct it, not punish it. There is a big difference! Hint: A sign of an abusive method is when you or a trainer is yelling, hitting or hanging your poor dog by his feet in order to make him listen or submit. Certain training tools also can be “misused” in the wrong hands.

Myth #2: Train Your Dog with Treats and He Will Eventually Listen to You Just As Well, Even Without Any Tidbits Forever and Ever After

This without a doubt HAS to be the biggest scam in dog training history! Think about it. Would you still work for your company once they stop paying you? Then how could you possibly expect the same level of response from your poor dog, especially once you stop giving him those cookies? You should surprise your dog with treats once in a while, but at the very “end” of your training session and NOT before each command. That is being fair, smart AND practical. Besides, your dog should sit, stay or lie down because you said so and not because he’s going to get a crispy bacon strip. Most of us were raised that way and turned out OK, didn’t we? Wouldn’t you rather rely on your Love, Leadership, Praise and Technique, instead of Hotdogs, Cheese, Biscuit and Dried Liver? Let’s face it, it doesn’t take much talent OR skill to bribe a dog to death and then confuse it with dog training. Everybody knows that’s simply–“bribery!”

Myth #3: Dog Parks Are the Best Place to Get Your Dog Socialized

This is where your dog actually picks up lots of bad habits that aren’t easy to break. These include: barking nonstop for NO reason, tackling and chasing each other, humping constantly, start marking inside your home, and even stealing or guarding toys from other dogs–and maybe even from you. Let’s not forget jumping up on people, on dogs, growling, snapping, lunging and the chance of your dog being bullied by much bigger and stronger dogs. If you happen to own a tough dog, the day will come when your dog will meet his match that challenges yours, causing a very nasty dog fight. Don’t forget that not all of these dogs are going to be healthy, vaccinated or even spayed/neutered. You’ve probably known of someone that didn’t like you for no apparent reason. It is not much different in dog parks. There will be that one dog that will pick on yours and even maul it for no reason just because he felt like it. This results in your dog losing total trust in–YOU–and becoming fearful or even aggressive toward certain breeds, or worse, toward ALL dogs for rest of its life. As you can see, taking your baby to dog parks is a gamble where the odds are strongly against you. So choose wisely!

Myth #4: Don’t Bother Giving Your Dog ANY Commands, Until You Get His Visual Attention by Saying, “Watch Me!” First

Answer this honestly! Would you rather have your dog look at you or actually “listen” to you? I prefer both. But we all know that LISTENING is far more important. Then please don’t slow down your training progress with the annoying, watch me… watch me… watch me… that’s called nagging!!! (Poor men. Now you know what we go through.) You only need your dog’s eyes glued to you if you choose to prepare him for obedience competitions. Speaking from experience, most of you only care for a well-mannered and obedient pet, rather than a super-trained dog that wins you all these titles, ribbons and trophies.

Myth #5: Since “NO” Doesn’t Get Your Dog’s Attention Anymore, Change it to “Eh”, “Eh-eh” or “Shht” Instead

You definitely want your dog to stop whatever it’s doing the second it hears,”NO!” Even if you have been somewhat successful in getting your dog’s attention with strange terms such as: “Eh,” “Eh-eh,” or my favorite of all–“baaaah.” Your friends, relatives, kids, and your neighbors will laugh at you and have a hard time remembering it. Let’s face it. When your dog misbehaves, people naturally tell it–“NO!” They won’t really remember or even care much for any other terms. Sure, Cesar Millan can control dogs with “Shhht” and it works for him. Are you The Dog Whisperer? I didn’t think so! (Hey Cesar. You owe me one bud! )

Myth #6: You Can Solve Your Dog’s Bad Habits, Which Mostly Occur in Your Home, by Joining an Obedience Class

Here is the main problem with dog classes: they are structured to teach your dog the “obedience factor” only! Ask yourself AND the trainer conducting that group class, how are you able to solve my dog’s bad habits that mostly occur in my HOME, by joining your group class that is full of ten more unruly dogs? Can you really help me solve my dog’s potty training, jumping up, play-biting, barking excessively, over-protectiveness, bolting out the door, chasing my cat, counter surfing, separation anxiety and not having manners around my guests, by dragging it every Wednesday night to a group class? So here’s the truth most of these dog schools hide from you: Group-class trainers, no matter how qualified they may be, and no matter how much they are trying to be helpful, when it really comes down to it, they CANNOT help you with these issues. You need that one-on-one attention to accomplish those tasks. Even teaching your dog to Walk on a Loose Leash, Stay, Lie Down and Come to You When Called, are best taught in private or in your home first.

Myth #7: You Can’t Really Teach a Young Pup Under Four Months Old. And If Your Dog Is a Few Years Old, You Are Totally Out of Luck!

No dog is ever too young or too old to learn what is right and what is wrong, what is acceptable and what is not. It doesn’t really matter whether your dog is an eight week old pup or a stubborn eight year old dog. With a “Diverse Method,” all dogs can be trained and learn to follow your rules. For example, bad habits―such as peeing and pooping all over your house, jumping up on your guests, lunging, snapping, running around like a maniac, barking excessively, knocking down your kids, terrorizing the guests and chasing down the mailman, are all unacceptable behavior. I’m sure you agree that there is no excuse or age limit for ANY of these bad habits and with proper guidance and training technique, they can be solved.

Myth #8: All Dogs Can Be Trained with the Same Training Tool

There is no magical tool that works on EVERY dog. Some dogs are just too strong, too big, too fast, too stubborn, and too sneaky for their poor owners. So which training tools do top trainers swear by? The answer may surprise you. But they too rely on whatever tool that works best for them and their dogs. So why should it be any different with you? If the training tool in which you are using at the moment doesn’t seem to get your dog’s attention or match your physical strength, try a different one. Why use what doesn’t work? This is especially important when your dog is faced with hard-to-ignore distractions such as other dogs, your visitors, the mail carrier or around your neighborhood’s cats.

Myth #9: Dogs Were Born to Please

Sorry to burst your bubble, but the majority of our dogs would rather please themselves first. It’s obvious that your dog loves you dearly, but don’t confuse that with “respect” or “obedience.” Also, if all dogs were truly natural PLEASERS, don’t you think there would be NO dog training books, dog trainers, dog behaviorists or even doggie shrinks? Everybody would have a perfect dog with no bad habits and a dog that listens to you AND everyone else, no matter what the circumstances. Hey, he’s a pleaser, isn’t he? I rest my case!

Myth #10: If You Send Your Dog Away to Be Trained, It Will Learn to Listen ONLY to the Trainer and Still Ignore Just Like Before

Here’s how I will bust this myth once and for all! No dog trainer can argue with the fact that all the best-trained dogs you can think of have been trained by an expert first. Dogs for the blind, dogs for the handicap, hunting dogs, and attack-trained police dogs, are just to name a few. Doggie Boot Camp is a wise choice, especially when you travel out of town, have a busy schedule, mother to be, in process of moving, or, if you just prefer the “expert” to do the hardest part and have you do the maintenance. Basically your dog goes to rehab and gets re-trained, next comes the harder part–training YOU!

NOTE: These ten dog training myths have been presented to you in the most condensed way possible. As you read the rest of the book, you’ll learn more about how I back up what I am trying to convey with even more compelling facts. But you don’t have to take my word for it! I want you to research and study all ten of these myths and mistakes for yourself. Watch some dog classes, observe different dog parks, talk to a few dog owners who have actually tried different training methods, and compare this book to other dog training and dog psychology books on the market.

I’m confident the results you’ll get by following the “Diverse Method” taught in this book, will be so convincing, that you’ll agree other methods won’t stand a chance. This is because by being diverse, you are combining the best of every method making yourself highly versatile.

Kevin Salem is considered to be one of the brightest minds in the world of dog training and one of the pioneers in his field. It’s hard to paint Kevin’s image with the same brush as others, as his unique way of thinking, writing, and philosophy truly makes him distinct. If you are a fan of Cesar Millan, it will be difficult not to fall in love with Kevin’s book. You’ll finally be able to put an end to your dog’s: Jumping Up, House-training, Play-biting, Barking, Leash Pulling, Destructiveness, Bolting Out, Over-protectiveness– to complete off-leash response. 10 week old pups to 10 yr old adults, all breeds welcome. Kevin offers Doggie Boot Camp or House Calls Nationwide. Try his book, hire him in person, or see him put his eyebrow raising skills into action by visiting his award-winning web site: http://ift.tt/2j8oRiD

from My Puppy Dog Trainer http://ift.tt/2jT8iv0 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #My Puppy Dog Trainer

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