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#he literally helped during the punishment when i was deprived of food
hearties-circus · 3 years
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4th day in a row of my stepdad giving me food, I did just brush my teeth but I'm not saying no to a slushie
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oftenderweapons · 3 years
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Dirty ABCs | Namjoon and Vixen
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Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen (OC)
Wordcount: 2.1k
Genre: headcanons
Rating: 18+. Minors, do not interact.
This just me having a little bit of fun in between collabs and commissions with an NSFW alphabet, so I can also get to know my characters better (yes, they're just characters. Do not assume the boys like/dislike any of the things I mention). A new drabble should be out soon, but just in case you missed it, here's Jimin's post-Soowoozoo smut! Please, read the trigger warnings carefully 🥺💖
Here's my masterlist! enjoy!!!! 💜✨
Trigger warnings: cumshots, cumeating, creampie, marking, unprotected sex, switch!vixen, switch!joon, daddy!joon, DDLG, lapdance, stripping, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, roleplay, homework within a professorxstudent roleplay, positions (doggy, missionary, reverse cowgirl, bend over), intimacy kink (?), bondage (hands tied, gags), impact play, oral sex, oral fixation, biting, casual mention of foot fetish, food play, choking kink, erotic massage, jealousy (kink), sapiosexuality, size kink, mention of infidelity and sharing partners, mention of outdoor sex, sex toys (dildo, vibrator, manacles, cockring, paddle, buttplug), edging, orgasm denial, orgasm control, overstimulation, BDSM club, uhm...bicuriosity ig?, thickdick!Namjoon, bubblebutt!Vixen impressive sex drive (?)
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Aftercare: Namjoon is the kind of guy who’d gladly collapse in bed after some good, nasty fucking. He puts plenty of energy in it and he isn’t content until he’s barely alive before calling it a night. Yes, both him and Vixen need to force the other into heading to the bathroom and cleaning up before falling asleep. When he goes especially hard on her, aftercare becomes a way to relax for both of them: he needs to pamper her to even things out, and she in return likes spoiling him, giving him cuddles, letting him fall asleep with his head on her chest while she strokes his hair. Yes, his favourite cuddle is her touching his hair and chatting about how they felt during sex.
Body part: He most definitely has a thing for legs, hips and ass. Vixen is all about his chest and arms — but, truth is she’s absolutely crazy about his neck.
Cum: He either cums inside or on Vixen’s ass. No other alternatives for him. He hates cumming in her mouth, mostly because her cunt is soooo much better to him; and then again, that means he can eat her out right after — or mark her up and shove his cum back inside. Vixen is a fan of him cumming inside, she’s pretty much traditional about this.
Dirty secret: Namjoon loves when Vixen doms him. He’d never admit that out loud but he’s praying for her to tie him up and strip for him before performing a lapdance and fucking herself with that glass dildo he bought her… He’ll just wait… hopefully… Vixen wants Namjoon to give her homework on some impossible topic and then punish her for every mistake she makes while he’s dressed in a suit and glasses.
Experience: We know all about Joon’s and Vixen’s bodycount. Joon had four, possibly five partners, one of which broke his heart. He wasn’t entirely vanilla with them, but Vixen is most definitely the spiciest he’s been with — and the most rewarding. Vixen had two partners before Namjoon and her first boyfriend was way more experienced than Namjoon is, but that is not an issue to her. She knows if she ever asked him, they could try out pretty much anything.
Favourite position: Namjoon is mostly about doggy and missionary. Doggy for enthusiastic fucking with that teenage eagerness that characterises them both. Missionary when he needs to make love to her slow and steady — though he admits Vixen on top of him in reverse cowgirl is also a hot topic for him. Vixen likes good old missionary since she likes Namjoon’s body shielding hers. She also enjoys bending over for him — especially on the back of the sofa.
Goofy: neither of them is that goofy when it comes to sex. For them is a moment to get rid of tension and gain more intimacy. It’s a moment of communication and connection, and a very spiritual one at that. There might be little giggles and laughs here and there when they’re in a playful mood, but even then they’re more happy than goofy.
Hair: Namjoon trims his hair slightly, just to keep things neat and tidy. Vixen used to shave at the beginning of their relationship. She waxed a few times, to try something different and to feel Namjoon’s tongue better when he goes down on her. She switched to trimming when she found out Namjoon enjoyed a more natural look.
Intimacy: Nothing isn’t intimate between these two. Brushing their teeth together before going to bed? Religion. Getting dinner ready? A ritual. Making love? Therapy. Fucking like gorillas? Relief. These two share one single soul. They’re each other’s temple, and their bedroom is their church.
Jack off: These two? Masturbation galore. They’re the literal proof that being in a relationship should never stop you from taking care of yourself. They masturbate together while they watch porn, they masturbate to the sight of the other one doing it or just watching them. Namjoon is a huge fan of watching Vixen touch herself. He can do it with his hands tied, untied, or stroking his cock. He really doesn’t care as long as he can watch. Plus the fact that the wall dividing his bedroom from the shower is made of glass really gives him the best view when he has morning wood and Vixen is washing herself. And that goes both ways. She likes watching him while she showers, putting on a bit of a show. Vixen also likes watching Namjoon masturbate, though she prefers putting her hands on him. And Namjoon prefers her hands to his own, especially since she’s so fucking good at that.
Kink: We all know these two are the resident DDLG freaks. Other than that Namjoon suffers from a pretty severe case of voyeurism. On the side, all giving, we have oral fixation, impact play, marking, biting, cumplay and cumeating, and a very mild, very experimental foot fetish. He’s also into roleplay, especially regarding school/university environments. To that, we need to add on Vixen’s end exhibitionism and food play, and then, all giving, choking kink, exhibitionism, bondage and gags, erotic massage.
Location: these two need someplace private, since they can’t get in the mood unless they’re 200% sure they can take their time and relax and be as loud as possible. Namjoon would never stand the idea of them getting caught: he needs to protect Vixen. And Vixen would never try something in public. She knows he’d be too focused on the possible dangers to properly enjoy the experience. That doesn’t mean that they don’t tease each other in public. Vixen likes when they talk dirty in public so once they get home Namjoon rips her clothes off her.
Motivation: Namjoon gets turned on whenever Vixen looks incredibly refined and elegant, completely out of his league. Pair that up with someone flirting with her and he goes out of his way to remind her why she got his ring on her finger ten months after they first met. He also gets hot under the collar when he’s reminded of how fucking smart she is; that makes him both proud and horny. On a baser level, she just needs to grind against his thigh, rub her ass on his crotch, kiss his neck or suck his fingers to make him instantly hard. Vixen gets horny very easily when she sees him exercise power — which happens pretty often with him being the leader. Also watching him tower over someone who isn’t her makes her a little volatile — that’s her daddy, he’s her protector.
No: easy. Sharing. Even simply her moans being overheard by someone would make him nervous. Once he used to share everything about his sex life with his friends, but after he and Vixen got engaged, everything involving her without clothes on became a 100% restricted topic. He still happens to talk about sex with his friends, but he must be in need of desperate help in order to share details. Vixen agrees on sharing being a hard no. She also thinks doing stuff in public is absolutely a hard no: she’s far too attached to her job to risk a scandal ruining it. And of course she would never stand Namjoon’s career and reputation going downhill.
Oral: Both fans, Namjoon both on the giving and receiving side, though he prefers giving by far. Vixen is also a fan of receiving. If Namjoon weren’t so damn intimidating, she would enjoy giving more, too.
Pace: depends on the mood. Playful or angry? Then he’s fucking her like she’s nothing but a cocksleeve, straight up jackhammering his way in. Loving and emotional? Then they’re going slow and steady so they can feel every inch of their flesh meeting and parting and squeezing and squelching and sliding.
Quickie: yes, but not excessively. Vixen can only consider a quickie as a form of foreplay. There’s no way to satisfy her unless at least two rounds are involved. Namjoon is more than happy to take his time with her. If they don’t have that much time, they prefer masturbating together — quick, efficient, delectable.
Risk: No? The only risk he would take would be fucking her out in the open, but someplace where the possibility of getting caught is lower than 0.1%. He’d book super secluded villas for their holidays and fuck her until she’s begging him to give her a break.
Stamina: Namjoon hasn’t got too much stamina and Vixen doesn’t either, they just deprive and tease each other when they want to make it super special, otherwise they would be lazy and take naps in between a round and another. And they can truly deal with that brilliantly since they are great at foreplay and that makes up for their rather weak stamina.
Toy: These two are shameless about their toys. Vixen has a thing for dildos, and Namjoon loves spoiling her with those. She has a couple vibrators too, but she’s not that much of a fan: she has a practical one, when she needs things done quick and easy and another one that looked way too cute for her not to have it. In addition to that, they have manacles, a cockring, a paddle and a quite interesting plug.
Unfair: Being with Namjoon is all about the pleasure. He’d much rather overstimulate Vixen rather than deny her. Also because he has very poor control over his instincts and he can’t deny himself. He would tease, edge or deny Vixen only to punish her and make sure that she actually reads that as a punishment and not as some sick way for her to get exactly what she wants (aka spanks). Vixen is more on the teasing side, and she enjoys controlling Namjoon’s orgasms, but she’s very fair. They like to play dirty, but they make sure everyone gets what they need.
Volume: Namjoon is all about low and deep. His moans, groans, growls and grunts all come in a very quiet, although very eloquent way. He prefers keeping it quiet so it feels more intimate. Vixen on the other hand is very vocal, especially when Namjoon goes down on her or is trying to overstimulate her. She’s still considerate about the people living next door, but at the same time, she has a thing for doing it in the studio so she can be as loud as she wants, much to Namjoon’s — and his private tracks’ — chagrin.
Wild card: if it weren’t for his jealousy and his position, Namjoon would love to fuck Vixen in a room full of strangers, just to show how good he can make her feel, and to enjoy just how deranged she would get once adrenaline started kicking in. Claiming her in a semi-public context would help him sate his possessiveness for a good while. Vixen instead would love to go to a BDSM club with Namjoon and watch scenes from other people — maybe, potentially, join? — she most definitely wishes she had done stuff with a girl before getting with Namjoon.
X-Ray: Namjoon is packed. Length is not exceedingly more than average. But match that with more than impressive girth? That’s a wild ride. It most definitely takes a stretch. Vixen has rather small boobs — but she’s more than stubborn to make up with a full, round bubble butt.
Yearning: at the beginning they go pretty wild. Vixen is used to getting at least an orgasm before falling asleep — every night. Of course that tones down once she gets with Namjoon, especially since she learns to prefer quality over quantity and he refuses to get stuff done in ten minutes. She easily slips into a two to three times a week regimen, but deprive her for longer than ten days and she’ll feel neglected. Of course she’d take care of herself, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t start drifting away as she’d feel emotionally neglected too. Namjoon considers himself happy as long as he can have a full weekend of fucking: he tends to cram all the sex in days where he can relax since during the week he’s often too tense to initiate anything sexual. But he wouldn’t deny it if the fancy struck him.
Zzz: He falls asleep like a bear. He goes positively lethargic the moment he hits the bed after cleaning up. Vixen finds it extremely endearing. She usually takes longer, but not too much. She likes cuddling him while he’s sleeping.
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mintseesaw · 4 years
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love like that
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Prompt: You fainted during your shift in the hospital. And Dr. Min, whom your colleagues have no clue of your relationship with, has to be the one to check up on you. Pairing: doctor!yoongi x doctor!reader Genre: fluff, fluff, lots of fluff, established relationship au, drabble Word count: 1.5k rating: pg-13 Warnings: reader’s disregard of own’s health, imposing of punishment, literal spoon feeding if it makes you cringe lol a/n: something light before I update aurora ;) wrote this in honor of my fave yoongi look so far which is pretty obv on the banner haha
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As you come back to consciousness, your eyes flutter open, only to shut them close at the blinding hospital light pointed directly at your line of vision. The pristine white walls illuminating the ambience of the sickly familiar room only gave you a dizzy spell.
Still dazed with the remnants of being unconscious, you couldn’t seem to find the last bit of your memory and why you’re lying in a bed inside a familiar facility instead of being the one to check the patients up, yourself. With your eyes closed, you heard a familiar voice spoke, breaking the oddly cold silence, “You okay?” “Why am I here?” You manage to ask with your desert dry throat and a pounding head.
“You fainted.” Yoongi responds briefly. Right, you did! When and where did it happen, again?
”That doesn’t mean I have to be here. How long was I out?” “About 6-7 hours. Your blood pressure dropped, so is your blood sugar. You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating?” He answers in his usual thickly low, professional tone. If you only cared to listen closely, you’d notice he sounded like a father scolding his child for skipping proper meals over sweet treats, than a caring boyfriend that he actually is. You also fail to see the way his forehead creases, him sporting a cute pout while he scolds you with his deadly, monotonous tone.
The nurse, who is on the other side of the bed currently administering a vial medication through your IV, didn’t miss the coldness seeping through Dr. Min’s voice as her thumb slowly pushes through the end of the syringe.
However, the proximity between the two doctors picques her curiosity. The terror senior cardiologist and the junior resident are physically too close to only be labeled as mere colleagues. On your second attempt, you squinted your hypersensitive eyes. Blurry sight steadily adjusts to the familiar figure. As your vision becomes clearer, you finally get to see your boyfriend, Dr. Min, clad in his usual knee length white coat. The undone buttons of the white fabric lets you have a glimpse of his inner dress shirt and the black pair of slacks his lean legs adorned.
Your eyes remain glued on him, not minding the faint sting of the thick liquid as it seeps through your veins from the back of your right hand. The intimidating, gorgeous doctor that you luckily call your boyfriend returns the same longing gaze.
Prior to your fainting spell, the last you’ve properly seen and talked him was two days ago, when he had arrived at the hospital which was only an hour left of your shift.
“I didn’t notice, I guess I was just... occupied?”
Unexpectedly, he flicks your forehead which stung more than the medicine flowing through your veins. “Idiot, you almost got yourself killed.”
“Yoongi!” You whimper in protest.
Yoongi crouches his upper body, dipping his head low to soothe the now reddish area on your forehead with the supple pair of his lips.
He would not want to go through that frightening moment, again. He had seen the worst of the worsts, but having to experience the same thing that his previous patients’ families had endured turns out to be his own nightmare.
Yoongi received a call from a junior resident several hours ago. Ironically, your colleague chose to call Dr. Min out of all the cardiologists in the hospital. The junior resident assumed your case isn’t just a mere fainting spell of fatigue.
He rushed his way to the hospital, furiously driving his car like a maniac. How could he not? When your colleague suggested to place you in ICU if your blood pressure continued to drop. With you remaining unconscious, medications and supplemental fluids had to be administered through your IV to help normalize your vital signs. Fortunately, your body has responded with the medications. “You should eat before I leave.” He murmurs, peppering your skin with his warm breaths.
You didn’t respond, having other intentions in your mind. Lightly tilting your head up, you hover his parted lips. From the looks of it, you two seemingly forgot you have other company inside the room. At the unexpected sweet display of affection, the nurse quietly gaped as you both became too outworldly with each other.
“Only if you’ll eat with me.” You propose. Then Yoongi draws back, pulling the retractable board up over the bed as a makeshift table. Swiftly, he places the tray there which carries the hospital prepped meal that includes porridge, soup and side dishes.
The flustered nurse cleared her throat, silently excusing herself to give privacy to the newly discovered love birds.
Yoongi darts his eyes to the female staff who refused to meet his gaze. Adjusting his heavily graded specs on the bridge of his nose, he takes the chair beside the hospital bed.
Having no sense of will to consume food, you unwillingly pull yourself up. Yoongi then hands you a water bottle, which you took in his hand and eagerly chugged down half of its content in no time. But then the unappetizing food in front of you makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust.
Peaking on your left to look for alternative food that is a little appetizing than the ones Yoongi served, you found nothing else. Other than his daily dose of caffeine. You had enough of it for the day, but you‘d rather have another one or anything else other than that meal.
“Can I have some of that?” “What,” Yoongi pauses, only to follow where your gaze has been directed. When he realizes what you were referring to, he sternly objects, “No, not until you’ve completely recovered.”
Pouting in defeat, you silently huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. You really have no full intent of eating the food, but when you meet Yoongi‘s warning peer, you’re forced to mimic his movement as he obtains a spoon.
Holding the silverware between your fingers, you silently watch him scoop a generous portion of porridge in his spoon, thinking he would eat the porridge himself. But he held it forward, near your lips. The slight arching of his eyebrow made you slowly part your own lips, as if he has this mythical power over your body.
I thought I asked him to eat with me? And not make me eat?! You silently complain.
Yoongi didn’t stop pestering you with the porridge, almost force feeding you with his deadly stare. Something that you didn’t want to mess with ever again. However, on the sixth spoon, you finally had the courage to push his arm away, not liking the way it is making your stomach oddly churns.
“You barely touched your soup.” He proceeds to scold you, coaxing you with another spoonful of porridge.
Whining, you shook your head. “No more,” Then you lean your back against the headboard to increase the proximity in between. “Can you release me now? I have to attend to my patients. What about the meeting with my team? Oh God, Professor Kim—”
“You are my patient, baby. You need to be closely monitored until tomorrow. Don’t worry about your shift for now, your superiors will understand.” “But do I have to be here alone for the next 24 hours?” You gloomily asked, sulking. Realizing there’s no way for him to stay with you here considering he has one of most hectic schedules among the senior residents. He chuckles softly, reaching out to smoothen your protruded lips with his thumb. Gone is the terror doctor from the cardiology department.
“I’m afraid so. I would stay here with you if I could. However, I have an operation in about fours hours’ time. But you’ll go home with me tomorrow so I can watch you over.” “Really?” Your eyes instantly light up, loving the idea of you and him sharing an apartment. You considered the thought before, however, you think it’s too soon for you two to live together. And you understand that Yoongi strangely craves the isolation, so you have not brought up the matter. Unless he asks you to. Technically, you’ll only stay with him for a couple of days.
Still, this is a progress. “Hmm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He whispers, taking in the elation dancing in your eyes. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing indefinite paths to the expanse of the soft muscle. “Which reminds me, you won’t be spared with forgiveness this time.”
“W-What?” “Ten,” emphasizing his next word with a slap on the side of your scrub suit clad hip before continuing, “for each round. You like being punished, do you not my love?” You yelp, eyes rounding from shock. “I will make sure you’ll be sore enough, you won’t be able to come to work for a week, baby.” He promises, his orbs growing dark as his mind starts to reel with lewd fantasies of you. His warning alone had you instantly weak in your knees, the familiar heat rapidly spreading in your stomach, and all you could do is fist his white coat, groaning achingly in need.
Yoongi smirks, knowing full well what the sound means, then invades your mouth in a searing kiss.
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mintseesaw © 2020
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mistyeyedbi · 3 years
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RANDOM OC QUESTION FAIRY!! how easy/difficult was it for zuri to make the decision to turn, and was there anything in particular that swayed her choice?
Oooh this is a nice question, thank youuuu! I haven't gone into too much depth when it comes to her turning, but I always knew that it's the bounty that pushed her closer to wanting to turn.
When it was just Murphy they had to look out for, it was easier. She was definitely traumatized by him (she got bitten on the wrist), but she managed to help catch him at the end. But now she has a whole lot of people to look out for, literally anyone could try to cash in on that bounty and she'll be damned if she has to live the rest if her life looking over her shoulder.
So Zuri's definitely leaning towards a yes, but there are two things stopping it from being an easy yes. The hypersenses and the possibility of staying with unit bravo forever (in this point in time its not something she planned on doing, as much as she adores them).
Lol this is getting super long, you've got me ranting! I'm gonna put it under a read more💀
Hypersenses (tw: mentions of food and being starved)
1. She has a weird relationship with food. After what happened during her early childhood (the new nanny's form of punishment was depriving her of meals, and she was stuck with her for a year before she convinced Rebecca that she didn't need one anymore), the thought of not eating and having to learn to control a hunger for blood makes her anxious. I mean this girl always has snacks on her and there's a stash in every room in her apartment (yes, even in the bathroom💀). It's a habit she picked up during the year with her nightmare nanny. To not need to do that anymore is just...unfathomable to her.
(And yeah, if she stayed with the Agency, the blood thing won't be an issue since the vamps get blood packs of some sort, but that hunger doesn't necessarily go away after that. And oh my gosh if she ended up like Nate who didn't get as much blood as the others even though he needed just as much? SHEESH)
2. If you've read enough of my fics, you'll know that Zuri can't stand silence. She likes to be surrounded by sound, whether that's music or the chatter of people. To have that become something that overwhelms her freaks her out. Maybe even more than the food thing does. She likes musicals and concerts and carnivals and packed restaurants (yes, packed restaurants). It helps her live in the moment and gets her out of her head.
If she sticks around Unit Bravo long enough, she'll learn that silence doesn't mean that someone is annoyed she's there or that she's alone, and that being alone doesn't have to be a bad thing (something else she learnt from the nightmare nanny). But that brings us to our next problem doesn't it?
Sticking around isn't her thing.
Staying With Unit Bravo
It's not that she doesn't want to. She does, and that's what scares her. It's only been a few months and she's already so attached to them. The longest time she's stayed with someone is a year, and what is that to an immortal?
She's sure that they're gonna get tired of her. She'll no longer be this new, interesting thing in their lives, she'll just be there. And that rarely ends well.
It's the reason why she doesn't feel angry at Adam when he avoids her after the fireworks thing. It gives him time away from her ("absence makes the heart grow fonder", harder to get tired of someone you miss) and gives her time to think about wtf she's doing lol. That's not to say it didn't sting though, she definitely isn't as bold as she was in book 2 when they're around each other in book 3.
(I have a separate universe where my two detectives Zuri and Lucille are best friends. Lucille (and Tina, actually) is the only person she can stay with for a long time because she's already seen her at her worst. Worst as in back in college when she was Bobby's right hand man and was manipulating people left and right.
She isn't sure if she wants UB to know about that because that isn't who she is anymore. Telling someone about her manipulative past has made them question her in the present. It changed the way the viewed her, knowing that her charm and people skills have been used in a way that hurt people. She doesn't want anyone else siding eyeing her)
I feel like I'm going off topic💀 My point is she doesn't want UB to feel like they're stuck with her for eternity.
So, yeah. She's leaning towards yes but is very conflicted. I think she'll turn a little later on in life. (And if she dies before then? As long as she's not alone when she does, she'll be fine👀)
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xmemeanonx · 4 years
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hey again!! could I request some five x reader of him abusing the reader either verbal or physically (and nsfw if you are comfortable) and him showing the reader who is in charge? thank you!! I love your writing babe!
Thank you so much for blessing me with a request, darling. I was starving! Side note: I will not be writing any NSFW for five. I have stated in my NSFW rules that I will not be writing NSFW for underaged characters. I see five as underaged, and it would make me very uncomfortable to write that type of stuff. I’m not mad at you, dear! I’m saying this for everyone else too! But besides that, enjoy!
Tw: physical abuse, kidnapping, asshole five. DO NOT READ IF WARNINGS OFFEND YOU!
= = =
How long have you’ve been captured here? 3, possibly 4 weeks? You can’t really tell, can you?
You just wanted to see the sun again. To feel it’s warm rays caress your skin, bringing a smile to your face.
But now, you don’t have much to smile for.
A cold floor, a thin blanket, and a psychotic “lover” is all you really have.
A lover. Your lover, that what’s he calls himself. You can’t help but cringe whenever he does. You two were barely even friends, let alone lovers, before he took you.
But that’s not he sees it. And he makes it very clear that his opinion is the only one that matters.
You were so close to gain your freedom back too. But, your lover just couldn’t just let that happen, could he? You guess you’ll just have to settle on imagining the feeling of the warmth of the sun, the warmth of your freedom.
= = =
Hours. For literal hours he has been screaming at you. You’re honestly kinda surprised that he hasn’t passed out yet.
He’s pacing the room, completely tearing up the rug underneath his polished school boy shoes. Why the hell is he even wearing those?
He’s calling you ‘immature’ and ‘selfish,’ not to mention ‘a brat,’ ‘a bitch’ too. Who the hell is he kidding calling you selfish?
After he captured you, he dragged you back to your room by your hair, threateningly to pull it the fuck out. Would be the first time he threatened to harm you to prove a point.
What point? That you belong to him, completely.
= = =
“I just wanted to get some fresh air, Five.” The innocents in your voice only adds to the fire burning inside of him.
Nose flaring, he turns to glare at you. He knows that your lying, so why do you even bother continuing. You don’t love him, he knows that for a fact. So why do you continue to act like you do? To please him? Or to keep yourself safe from his own despair? Honestly, you don’t even really know yourself.
Standing in front of your cowering form, on his bed, he feels his face heating up in anger.
“I can’t believe you. . . .” He hisses out.
You look up at him with fearful eyes. He clenches his jaw, glaring harder. Ungrateful, worthless, selfish. . . . .
“Fiv-“
“I give you my love, my heart, hell even myself, all on a silver platter.” He breathes in sharply, blinking hard, swallowing his want, his need to just scream at you, take you by the head and just-
He tried so hard to hold back, to not hurt you. But then, you had to go and fuck. It. Up!
“Five, pleas-“
The sharp noise of skin on skin fills the air. It’s only when you feel a burning pain on your cheek did you realize. . . that he just. . . . . slapped you.
“YOU DONT EVER SHUT UP DO YOU!?”
Softly cradling your cheek, you stare at the floor. Your feel your nose tingle, and your throat clench. You feel the need to just sob your heart out. It’s all just building up, becoming too much for you to handle.
“(Y/N), look at me when I’m speaking at you.” He spits at you.
You shake your head, whimpering out a weak ‘no.’ You hear him inhale sharply.
“(Y/N). . . . . “ he drags out, making the room hot with tension. “I’m loosing my patien-“
You shoot out of your spot on the bed, bolting for the door, needing get out of the room, to get away from him. To just breathe.
You didn’t even hear him move. . . . Oh yeah, superpowers.
Gripping you by your collar, he smacks you again the door. You feel the hard wood again your skull. All of the different pains mix into one huge burning agony rooted deep inside of you, like a black, dying tree. The strongest root being him, Five.
“Five, I can’t breathe” you wheeze out.
“And I don’t really give a shit, you ungrateful selfish bitch!”
You feel hot tears streaming down your face. You knew he doesn’t care about you already, but hearing it is still hard. It’s all pouring out, from him and you. Rage and sorrow, both melting into a ugly, unforgiving creature. The worst parts of both of you, combining into one.
“Five. . .?” You sob out.
He looks up at you, jaw clenched.
Sobbing, you cry out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. They all fall on deaf ears, only making him madder and madder. He shoves you harder into the door. You sob harder, crying out harder for his forgiveness, for him to just forget about what you did. But he won’t, and neither will you, he’ll make sure of it.
Throwing you one the ground, he hears you hyperventilating on the ground, gripping the rug near his bed. Pathetic, he thinks, stepping on you back, your cry’s music to his ears.
He stops just before you break a rib. You wheeze, trying to crawl away. He grips your hair, pulling you onto the bed.
You wonder if he enjoys seeing you in pain.
Holding onto your hair, he leans close to your face.
Scowling, he whispers, “if you ever, disobey me ever again,” he grips harder, “ you’ll wish you were never born.”
You already do.
“You’ll spend a week in the basement.”
The basement. It was the reason why you tried to escape. You spent an entire week done there. You were starved, deprived of water, sleep, warmth. You wanted to die. Everyday a new “punishment” was inflicted on you. From burning to water boarding. He told you he learned it during his time in The Commission. Whatever the fuck that means.
You nod your head, not wanting to anger him.
He lets go of your head, walking towards his night stand. He pulls two pairs of handcuffs, you let him put them on. Both wrists cuffed to the bed frame, you quietly stare at the ceiling.
He walks toward the door. Grabbing the doorknob, he turns to you, meeting your eyes.
You smile at him, and although he doesn’t return it you, you feel good you did anyway. He has given you another chance. To be good, to join him in his fake little life, his illusion of happiness and love.
To not fuck it up.
= = =
Legit food review. Sorry this took to long.
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dread3r · 4 years
Text
SNOW AND HIS HAND ON THE GAMES
what was particularly interesting to me was what Snow had written to Dr. Gaul on what he loved about the war. As  they say, war is misery but it’s not without it’s charms, that’s just how you know he’s an awful being. 
Any sort of spectacle appealed to me when I was little, I suppose. 
No matter the innovations and changes we see in the 74th and 75th Hunger Games, it is still a symbol and remnant of the war. Literally, the war lives on. 
Snow mentions the uniforms of the soldiers, eventually the tributes had uniforms. The parade the soldiers had eventually was eventually represented in the tribute parade. 
Television special and honoured a dozen or so citizens who’d lost their lives in defense of the the Capitol. 
“She’s trying to figure out who’s left in the Games,” Coriolanus said into the mic that Lepidus had pushed in his face.
“Maybe we should put it up on the scoreboard,” joked Lepidus.
“I’m sure the tributes would find that helpful,” said Coriolanus. “Seriously, that’s a good idea.”
I think this was one of the reasons the canon/the fallen was placed in the Games. Aside from allowing tributes to know who’s dead, it is a reminder of who they’ve lost. The expense of the war. The same way Snow had to witness a photo of his dad on tv and relive every moment with him in his head. 
Soldiers in dress uniforms delivering a commemorative plaque and a basket with a twenty-pound frozen turkey, compliments of the state…The soldiers set the basket on a table in the foyer, read a statement of thanks, and bid them good night. Relief from deprivation.
In the epilogue, Snow mentions that the districts have no stakes in the Games. I think this inspired it. The price of his father’s life was a twenty-pound frozen turkey. The state thanks the victor for his participation in the games, given a title, house, food, and money and may or may not be a prostitute in the Capitol. Just like his experience in the Capitol, when the soldiers thanked him for the death of his father it mirrors how victors are thanked for killing and losing their minds in the games. 
“Right from the beginning. Even before, actually. When the bombing occurred in the arena, it not only took out participants, it changed the landscape,” the dean continued.
“Changed the landscape,” Lucky repeated.
“Yes. Now we have the barricade. The beam. Access to the tunnels. It’s a brand-new arena, and it’s made the tributes behave in a brand-new way,” the dean explained.”
If they weren’t bombed enough, the arena wouldn’t have changed its landscape. The Games would’ve always been what it was.  I guess this could be inspired from Snow’s parsley, specifically the part wherein he wrote resourcefulness. To him, life in the arena should be a mirror to their life during the war. 
What had mattered then, what mattered still, was living without that fear. The deep relief on winning the war, the grim satisfaction of seeing the Capitol’s enemies, who’d treated him so cruelly, who’d cost his family so much, brought to their knees…The security that could only come with power. The ability to control things. Yes, that was what he’d loved best of all.
Of course, control.
“They’re not just to punish the districts, they’re part of the eternal war. Each one is its own battle. One we can hold in the palm of our hand, instead of waging a real war that could get out of our control.”
And the Games live on. 
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Text
A former resident about Eating Recovery Center
Hi! I'm new here. I've procrastinated for ages wrt joining reddit because I generally don't like it very much, but some communities speak to me. This is one of them.
The place I was sent to wasn't as bad as some of what I see here, I think because it was (purportedly) single-issue, rather than "treating" all kinds of teen trouble. They were hand in hand with wilderness camps and boarding schools, though. Their marketing directors - the people who gussy up the website and advertise their 97% parent satisfaction rate - were trained by, and have past experience at, CRC Health. They run Aspen education programs, and a whole bunch of other ones. They regularly sent kids off to wilderness camps or schools after they finished with ERC. It was like the "next step".
The place that I was was called Eating Recovery Center (ERC) and it's located in Denver, CO, although they have off-shoot locations in Texas, California, and more. They do have an adult treatment center as well, but I believe it is less abusive.
The child and adolescent inpatient and residential facility is awful, but incredibly popular. They've spread to something like ten states, luring families in with their garbage website. The whole thing is written like "Parents, you're so stressed, and it's because your child is a Gigantic Problem. We know how hard it is to have horrible kids. Please, send them to us, and we'll rehabilitate them while you get to relax and connect with the fun parts of life, which you haven't been able to do with your lil problem child over here." It's marketing genius. Whenever a kid says "hey, this is abusive", not only do they say that the kid is a dirty liar who just wants to leave, they actually say that this is proof that it's working. Like, "Your child has been taken prisoner by their Evil Disorder. As we cure your child from the Disorder, the Disorder gets scared and lashes out. Your true child is waiting underneath, and they're very excited to be healing. The more that your child fights our program, the closer to recovery they are. Claiming that we are abusive is, in fact, a sign of recovery." That's a summary, but you get the gist. It's like a god damned exorcism.
I was a patient there in 2013, in September. I wasn't there for long, because I made a fuss about their abuse, and I was 18 and they knew they couldn't fully shut me up, so they transferred me to a lower level of care. They did, however, convince my parents (who, to their credit, were just desperate and didn't want me to die; they've since acknowledged that they fucked up) that if I signed myself out of treatment, I should not be allowed home, and should be left to live on the street. The idea, I think, was that this would "shock" me into getting better. Yet they (the RTC staff) also told me that they didn't care if I was any better when I left so long as I followed their rules in the meantime. But, details. So.
They were emotionally and psychologically abusive, as well as neglectful and I'd say perhaps physically. Psychiatrically, too. The shittiest thing they did, in my opinion, was lock my twelve year old friend in isolation for 14 hours as punishment for exercising (I do not know how much she'd been exercising, but since this place considers standing up from a seated position to be 'excessive movement', it was probably nothing - standing up without permission was considered an infraction). She wasn't allowed so much as access to a bathroom, and wound up defecating on herself. Staff didn't see this as a problem. They told her it was her fault, and that she needed to make better choices.
The threat of isolation as a punishment for ignoring behavior warnings (three "redirections" and you're punished) was always there, and this room was called the "quiet room", if I remember correctly. During my stay there, there was one patient who was eleven years old and had some sort of developmental disability, and they kept him in isolation for what I think was days. I remember that he regularly wound up in there and that we could often hear him crying and screaming. How therapeutic /s
Patients were given NG (nasal gastric) tubes if they refused a meal. I had an NG tube put in, which didn't bother me very much, but it made my nose run like no other and made it really hard to swallow solid food. It wouldn't stop dripping during nighttime snack, but we weren't allowed Kleenex or napkins. I asked a staff member for a napkin due to literally not being able to stop the deluge of snot from my nostrils, right, and she kept refusing and said she wouldn't help me until I finished my snack. I kept asking and eventually, she gave me a really bitchy look and threw the napkins at my face. This isn't particularly abusive, I think, because napkins don't hurt, but that's just not the kind of behavior that should be shown by somebody working in a treatment facility. The staff would regularly scream at kids who didn't finish snacks or meals.
I, along with several of the kids, regularly didn't finish meals. And by regularly, I mean over the course of my first day or two, so not much of a precident, imo. This issue was brought up after dinner, when the group gathered for a post-meal check-in. Patients were encouraged to name the patients who were not finishing meals, explain how said patient was bothersome to them, and then the staff would shame the patients who were named, and ask the other patients to help come up with an appropriate "response" (punishment). The staff decided that we should be made to sit at a separate table, in a separate room, during meal times, and not be permitted to speak to each other, nor communicate in any other way. If we made prolonged eye contact or started giggling, we were reprimanded. Talking at meal times was one of the ways that patients coped with having to eat large meals, and it kept morale up, and they took it away as a punishment. It certainly doesn't make anyone eat better. When we had downtime, we were closely monitored so that we never discussed our grievances re: the program, with each other. We managed to anyway, by whispering and speaking as quickly as possible, by writing notes which we then had to dispose of (since they went through all of our belongings and journals, and withheld these things whenever they arbitrarily deemed them inappropriate - my journal was confiscated because I wasn't displaying the proper mindset). But staff were always looming, and it was stressful.
I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure that I wasn't allowed contact with my parents for the first three days of my stay. I could be conflating it with some other hospital or center, but I don't think so. All parents of patients were encouraged to stay in the Denver area for as long as possible, and my parents rented a condo (while also forking out some $30,000 per month) and came in for family therapy a couple of times a week. Family therapy consisted of my "therapist" (she was licensed, but I've no clue how) encouraging my parents to complain about me, and when I said that I didn't like something my parents had done, she just said, "well, I don't think they're doing that. That's not what I see at all. Maybe you should change your behavior/perception/etc." She gave me these ridiculous assignments a few times each week, and I never completed them, because they were stupid and I was on Mission: Get Myself Kicked Out of Here, but I found the way she handled this to be a red flag. She was /so/ disappointed that I hadn't done the assignments, and looked at me all sad, and said "[name], that hurts me. It hurts me when you ignore these things that I've worked so hard on for you. I want to help you. This is hurtful, can you see that?" The fact that she was so manipulative without a single qualm really worries me, because the majority of the patients were younger and less defiant than I was, and bought into all of the brainwashing and manipulation that these people touted.
The majority of them came from abusive homes, but the RTC's whole philosophy is that mental illness treatment has been centered on parental flaws for too long, that parents are perfect, and that kids are bitchy little problems for no good reason. This is a tempting philosophy both for parents like mine who aren't abusive and don't want to be told that they are, and for abusive parents who want to be validated and excused.
Everyone there was deprived of sleep (I used to fall asleep on the concrete floors), water (only one cup with meals), and the right to use the bathroom when we needed to. Staff actually bragged about having had patients pee on the floor before, like this was some kind of accomplishment, not letting children pee.
The psychiatrists would keep children on medications that the children complained about, things that didn't help, and I was personally fine with my meds but I had friends who were being kept on awful medications. They eventually just started doing that thing where they move the pills to that little pocket between their teeth and cheek, swallow the water, pass the "swallowed pills" check, and then spit them out.
Somehow, at one point, the staff got it into their heads that I wasn't changing my underwear every day. I have no clue how this happened, but they implemented a policy where I had to show them my clothes each day so that they could "make sure" I was changing all of them. Like, what? That doesn't even make sense to me, because wtf, but it was just really degrading. This might be slightly TMI, but when I was on my period (and I have endometriosis, so it's really heavy and makes me nearly pass out/vomit when I'm not on 'round the clock birth control), they still wouldn't let me use the bathroom except on Their Schedule. I had to beg to be allowed to use it, and they got so mad at me. Like, sorry? I can't actually do anything about this?? That was really degrading too. As if I wanted to tell a whole bunch of hostile, abusive near-strangers that I'd bled through my clothes again, damn.
I don't remember ever having a phone call. I saw my parents on weekends for an hour, but there wasn't much communication. When they kicked me out of residential and put me in partial hospitalization (a ten-hour-a-day every day outpatient program in a nearby building, also run by them - it was a "step down" thing), they told my parents to never let me have my cell phone for longer than thirty minutes, and to watch me (and its screen) the entire time I had it. To go through all of my electronics and journals to make sure I was Doing It Right. They told my parents that withholding everything I enjoy until I recovered was completely reasonable, and that it was okay (even good) to kick me out on to the street if I was noncompliant. Hilariously, I'd nearly been sold into sex trafficking not two months before I went to ERC, when I was 17, and I'm like, y'all, if you'd kicked me out I'm absolutely sure I would have been trafficked for real. Like, damn, talk about a bad idea. The whole reason I developed the eating disorder, self harm, suicidal behavior etc was because I was sexually abused as a kid, but we weren't ever allowed to discuss anything of any real import in therapy groups, and anyway, I was just A Problem Child, not traumatized /s
To this day, I still can't handle the word "manipulative". I use it very occasionally myself, but for the most part, seeing it used to describe anyone just makes me bristle. Even genuinely manipulative people. I just can't handle it. I was branded as manipulative so many times just for hurting and wanting real help.
I know that most other patients there went through worse things than I did, but I don't know the extent at all. It seemed like the younger the kid, the worse the abuse. Some of the young kids were able to quickly adapt and become The Perfect Patient, but those who didn't, got it bad.
I'm glad that I was relatively lucky (a three month stay, a somewhat less abusive center, being older). But all of these places just piss me off so much. The general public knows nothing about it. I've lurked on this subreddit before and finally decided to bite the bullet and post on it. I know my RTC experience wasn't anywhere close to as bad as it gets, but it still screwed me up for a long time. Luckily, I'm 100% mentally healthy and happy these days, but it took a lot of work and was only ever made worse by ERC and abusive therapists like them.
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jaeminlore · 7 years
Text
Diagnosis // Ji Hansol
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the prompt: in which you wish to gain the attention of the cute receptionist, but you gain the attention of the handsome doctor instead.
words: 4625
category: fluff
author note: idk why my word count has increased lately but it has and that’s why these scenarios have been taking forever to be put out. anyway pls enjoy this scenario and support my tol baby ji hansol, wherever he is :’)
- destinee
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“I’m not joking!” you told your friend as you sat in the passenger seat, your arms wrapped around a trash can.
“I know you aren’t,” she hissed. “That’s what scares me! Why would you put yourself in a dangerous situation just to see the cute receptionist?”
You rolled your eyes, “First of all, it was a joke. I said it would be funny if I got food poisoning from the leftovers in the fridge so I could go to the hospital and see him. I didn’t actually think it would happen! Do you think I want that handsome boy to see me with puke down my shirt?”
Your best friend peaked over at you before grimacing and going back to driving, “You’re an absolute mess. As soon as I drop you off I’ll go get you some clean clothes, okay? For now, just zip up your jacket.”
You did as you were told. “Thanks.”
A sudden pain erupted through your stomach and you groaned as you leaned back into the car seat. “Why would the universe play such a trick on me? I was only joking! I always joke, so why would it use that against me now?”
Your friend laughed, despite your pain, “It is kind of funny, you have to admit.”
“And somehow, I’m not laughing,” you deadpanned.
Your friend pulled up next to the hospital entrance, “Alright, go get yourself signed up and I’ll return with your clothes.”
“Okay,” you were able to say as you left your vomit-filled trash can in your seat. “Just for laughing at me, you can clean this up.”
You laughed at her expression, only to grab your stomach at the pain laughing left you in. If you didn’t go sit down soon you were sure you would fall over from weakness. So, with haste, you made your way inside to the reception area. Ironically, Doyoung was there, handing people forms and telling them where to sit. You hid in the corner and quickly brushed your teeth with your finger, in case there was anything gross in them.
Then you approached the front desk. “Hello. My name is Y/n Y/l/n, and I’m pretty sure I have food poisoning.”
Doyoung tutted sympathetically as he handed you a form. “Fill this out and then bring it back to me and we’ll get you back as soon as we can. Okay?”
“Okay,” you said, accepting the form and struggling not to puke right on the spot. Not even your crush himself could stop food poisoning from coming over you.
You walked slowly to one of the empty chairs, away from everyone else, and began to fill out your form. The sooner you could fill it out, the sooner you could get a room and lie down.
Your limbs were shaky as you filled it out, but you managed. Then you handed it back to Doyoung, barely caring what he thought as your stomach was in so much pain. You cradled your chin in your hand when you sat down again, eyes closed, hoping for it all to be over.
-
Hansol came out of the operating room in just his light blue scrubs. His white coat had been discarded sometime during the surgery, and he had forgotten to put it back on. He was in a rush, for that was his last surgery patient of the day. Now he was being called to the ER to help out the doctors there, as they were short-handed.
He arrived in under two minutes, hair slightly disheveled and surgical mask still over his face as he approached Doyoung.
The younger boy laughed and pulled the mask down. “Honestly, you’re so scatterbrained. How did anyone give you a medical degree.”
Hansol scowled as he looked over one of the forms, “I worked eight years for that degree, thank you very much.”
Doyoung held his hands up, “Someone’s snappy. When’s the last time you slept?”
Hansol stopped looking at the form, instead looking up to try and remember his last slumber. “I had a nap yesterday, if that counts.”
Doyoung shook his head disapprovingly, “You’re working yourself too hard.”
“I know, but Doctor Kang was out with a fever and I told him to stay home and that I’d take all of his surgeries.”
“That is so dangerous,” Doyoung said. He sighed, “Well, it’s just a few check ups, then you can go home and sleep for a few hours before starting all over again. And you better not stay up watching anime like I know you like to do,” he chided.
Hansol’s cheeks turned pink as he walked away with the form. He looked at the form once again before shouting, “Y/l/n? Y/n Y/l/n?”
“That’s me,” your voice was groggy and seemingly done with life as you answered.
Hansol knew it had to be the sleep-deprivation, because he thought you were cute. Not that you weren’t, originally. However, in the late hours of the day, your hair was tangled, there were bags under your eyes, and there was also a questionable substance on one of your shoes. Still, he could tell you were pretty.
He smiled comfortingly at you, “Hey, how are you?”
You looked at him for a moment and simply blinked, replying, “If I don’t sit down soon I’m going to puke all over your scrubs.”
Hansol nodded, “Fair enough. Let’s get you to a room.”
He grabbed your arm to steady you, and lead to the closest hospital room. “Take a seat on the bed for me and I’ll just do a routine check up real quick.”
“Your forms says you have food poisoning?” Hansol asked. His mask had been put back on and he was now checking your blood pressure.
You nodded, holding your stomach, “I ate some questionable leftovers in the fridge and I’m being punished by the universe.”
Hansol laughed, his entire body feeling less sleepy as he talked with you. “Well, you have a pretty high fever. I’ll keep you overnight and then you’ll probably be okay to go home. I’m also gonna put you on some fluids that will hopefully flush everything out sooner.”
“Thanks, Doctor Ji.”
“Call me Hansol.”
-
Hansol had to be the chillest doctor you had ever met. You literally had to tell him about your extreme bowel movements and projectile vomiting and he didn’t flinch once. It was like he didn’t even care. He just wrote everything down on his board and nodded along as you explained all seven layers of hell those leftovers had put you through.
“This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, hiding your face behind your hair.
Hansol laughed, so you looked up to see him grinning at you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotten a lot of patients like you. Luckily, everything has calmed down throughout your body, it seems…”
Hansol clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he shook his head, “You know, you could probably leave tomorrow afternoon if you want. I wouldn’t eat anything until then, though. That way nothing is triggered again and we can let everything settle.”
The door to your room burst open, and your friend ran in with a duffle bag under her arm, “Sorry I took so long! I smuggled in my laptop so we can watch Friends all night… hey, Doc!” She smiled as she noticed Hansol sitting on your bed, talking with you. Subtly, she hid the laptop behind her back.
Hansol turned to her, “Hello. I’m assuming you’re Y/n’s friend. By the way, I don’t think it’s illegal to watch Netflix in a hospital.”
Your friend blushed, “Well, I didn’t know. I’m Y/f/n, and you are?”
Hansol accepted the handshake your friend gave to him. “Doctor Ji. I’ll be helping Y/n for tonight and tomorrow.”
“Oh? Then I’ll be seeing more of you?” your friend flirted with Hansol, her eyes sparkling.
For some reason, you didn’t really like it. Usually, you were okay with her harmless flirting. Her flirting with Hansol, however, didn’t sit well with you, and it definitely wasn’t the food poisoning. “Hey, Y/f/n, why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I feel bad for all the trouble over caused you.”
“It’s no big deal!” She waved you away with her hands. “I want to take care of you!”
Hansol laughed then. “I can do that. It’s my job, after all.”
“I insist!” Your friend grabbed Hansol’s arm and ushered him out, “I mean, if you’re done with checking up and everything, why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
Before you knew it, Hansol was being pushed out of the room by your very persuasive friend.
As soon as the door was closed, Y/f/n ran to your bedside with an excited look on her face, “He’s hot!”
You thought back to the tall man in scrubs. “I guess he was handsome. His lips were nice.”
“Yeah, they were,” your friend said enthusiastically. “Imagine kissing his lips.”
You cringed, “He wouldn’t want to kiss me in this state. I’m gross.”
“Good,” she giggled, “because I want to be the one to kiss him.”
You shoved her shoulder, “Stop thinking inappropriate thoughts about my doctor!”
“I’m not!” she said. “Besides, didn’t you like Doyoung just an hour ago?”
“I still like him,” you argued. “I just think it’s weird that you’re trying to hit on my doctor.”
She rolled her eyes. “When do you get out of this place, anyway?”
“Tomorrow,” you answered. “Now are we going to watch Friends or did you kick Hansol out for no reason?”
“Hansol?” She rose her eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips.
“Oh just start the show already!”
-
The next morning, Hansol woke you up by accidentally swinging the door too far and causing it to bang against the wall. You opened your eyes slightly to see him walking in, a cup of coffee in his hand. This time he wore purple scrubs. “How are you today?”
You answered, “I actually feel pretty good. My stomach doesn’t hurt anymore and I’m hungry.”
Hansol nodded and wrote your words down on his board. He felt almost disheartened to discharge you. After all, he had been hoping to spend more time with you. However, he was too afraid to ask for you number. So, he did the only thing he could think of that would keep you two together for awhile longer. He pretended you were still sick.
As he checked your temperature, he sighed, “You know, you’ve still got that fever so I might need to keep you here a bit longer. I’ll discharge you tomorrow night.”
“Really?” you asked. “I don’t feel like I have a fever.”
You reached up to touch your forehead, but Hansol stopped you by grabbing your hand.
“What are you doing?” you asked him as his slender fingers held your wrist firmly.
“Uh…” Hansol licked his lips nervously and let go of you. He turned away and tugged on his earlobe distractedly. “Sorry.”
You watched him for a moment, letting out a short laugh at his nervous tick. It was cute. Your doctor was cute, albeit awkward and a little strange.
Restlessness settled in your stomach, as well as hunger. “Hansol? Do you think I can walk down to the cafeteria to eat something?”
“Sure,” Hansol said, letting go of his ear and clamping his hands behind his back. “I’ll walk you.”
He quickly came to your bedside and grabbed your elbow to help you up.
With a stumble, you managed to get onto you feet. “Um, can you hand me that hoodie over there?” You pointed to the hoodie your friend had left for you, out of reach, in one of the visitor’s chairs. Hansol grabbed the hoodie and brought it over, “Here. Raise your arms.”
You obeyed, raising your arms slightly with a confused pout. “Why?”
Hansol pulled your arms into the individual sleeves before answering, “Well, you’re sick so it’s best not to strain yourself.”
You snorted, your voice muffled as it was still covered by the heavy fabric of your hoodie. “I’m not that sick, Doctor.”
You pulled the neckline down over your head, surprised to see Hansol’s smiling face. He reached forward and pulled your hair out from under the hoodie, untangling a few strands during the process.
You looked down in an effort to hide your rosy cheeks. “Hansol? Shouldn’t we go?”
Hansol cleared his throat, “Right. Let’s go.”
-
The two of you walked down the hallway, piling onto the elevator with a few doctors, all wearing similar scrubs to Hansol.
Hansol greeted each of them, and you could tell by their returns that they all respected him immensely. You looked up and studied the tall doctor. Why did he seem so confident when talking to his fellow employees? As the elevator went down, he talked with the other men and women in his practice, answering their questions with his own personal opinions.
You looked down at your clasped hands and smiled to yourself. There was somehing oddly comforting about listening to him speak within his element. There wasn’t a speck of doubt in his speech, only an assured tone. You were almost disappointed when the elevator doors opened, and Hansol bid everyone goodbye.
“The cafeteria’s this way, Y/n,” he told you, placing his hand at the space between your shoulder blades and pushing you gently into the direction he was referring to.
“Thanks,” you mumbled.
Hansol smiled down at you, “No problem. Now tell me, what do you do?”
“Me?” you asked, confused as to why he cared enough to ask. “Well, I’m a student right now. After this semester I’ll be the official holder of a teaching degree.”
“Really? That’s great!” Hansol said. “What age group do you want teach for?”
“Mostly second and third graders. I’m hoping to be accepted into a school by the fall.” you said, fueled by Hansol’s encouragement.
You looked around as you walked, and suddenly realized that the two of you would have to pass the receptionist’s desk on your way to the cafeteria. You blanched in discomfort and ran behind Hansol, clinging to the back of his scrubs as you peaked out from behind him.
You were in your rattiest sweatpants and a hoodie that did nothing for your figure. Not to mention your hair, which looked like an actual birds nest atop your head, was in full display for everyone to see.
Hansol tried to turn around to look at you, but you stayed hidden behind his back, following his movements.
“What are you doing?”
“Hiding,” you whispered.
“Why?” he chose to whisper as well, playing along with an amused smile on his face.
“I don’t want Doyoung to see me like this!” you hissed. “Now keep walking and block me from his view, please.”
Hansol respected your wishes and used his tall body to cover your smaller frame. Inside, however, he felt a sting of discouragement.
Of course you would have a crush on Doyoung. You couldn’t fall for him, the awkward doctor. He probably came off as weird to you.
“We’re here!” you suddenly cheered, letting your grip on his shirt loosen as you ran to see what was on the menu.
Hansol followed you, a familiar tug in his stomach telling him that he definitely had caught feelings for you. Yet now, he had no idea if he should act on them or not.
-
That night, you showered and dressed in your pajamas. You felt great, and there seemed to be no trace of food poisoning left within you. Still, you hadn’t been discharged from the hospital yet, so you were preparing to go to sleep.
As you were flipping through channels, someone knocked on your door.
“Come in!”
The door opened, and Hansol walked in, carrying two steaming mugs. “I brought hot chocolate.”
You smiled, accepting one of the mugs and watching as he sat down on the chair beside your bed. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
The corners of Hansol’s lips quirked up and he covered his smile by taking a sip of hot cocoa. “Actually, I’m on my break.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, “Shouldn’t you rest on your break?”
“I am resting,” Hansol argued. “I’m hanging out with you.”
You took a sip of the hot cocoa, feeling the warmth of the beverage spread through your body. “Oh. Isn’t that boring? Why would you want to hang out with your patient?”
Hansol shrugged. “I like being around you. So, if you aren’t bothered by it, I want to spend my break with you.”
“Oh.” What did he mean by that? “Then, you can stay.”
“Great!” Hansol said.
“By the way, can you discharge me tonight? I’m not sick anymore.” You looked at Hansol, a hopeful gleam in your eye.
Your doctor only shook his head, “You should stay overnight so I can make sure you’re digesting your food properly. We don’t want to have you throwing up on the way home, do we?”
You groaned, “I guess not… but I really don’t feel sick.”
Hansol shrugged and took another sip of his cocoa. “I don’t make the rules.”
You sighed, ending the conversation. Instead of speaking, you opted for staring at Hansol. Your eyes traced his profile, from his smooth forehead to the cute slope of his nose. You stopped at his lips, thinking your friend was right when she said they looked kissable.
Hansol looked at you then, and instead of turning away, you simply stared into his eyes. They were big and dark, with a softness to them that you hadn’t seen. The color was in likeness to the hot cocoa you were drinking, and you weren’t sure which one warmed you up more: his gaze or the beverage.
“You’re eyes are really pretty,” you said.
“Yeah?” Hansol asked, struggling to hide the wide smile on his face.
“Yeah. They’re warm. They make me feel safe.” Where the courage to say this was coming from, you had no idea. Still, you rolled with it, hoping to clear up whatever you were feeling.
Hansol’s watch beeped and he sighed. “That’s my break. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
“Okay,” you whispered, placing your mug on the nightstand and pulling the covers up to your chin. “Goodnight, Hansol.”
He stopped just before he closed the door to turn back and smile at you, “Sweet dreams, Y/n.”
You waited until the door was closed to lay back on your pillow and sigh. Just this morning you had told him you liked Doyoung. Yet now, your heart was beating for someone else, and you knew exactly who it was.
-
Yuta laughed as he sipped on the convenience store slushy he had made Hansol buy him on the way home. Despite his best friend and roommate working twelve hours a day (and sometimes more), Yuta had no problem asking Hansol to pick him up food on the way home from the hospital. It was something Hansol had gotten used to, so that he didn’t even have to think twice on his way home; he just pulled into the convenience store and picked out whatever Yuta asked him to. In exchange, Yuta listened to Hansol chat about his day. It was something that calmed the older one down so that he could go to sleep.
The two had bonded in school, even though they were both different years and majors. Hansol felt he could tell Yuta everything, and the younger boy would give him sound advice in return. What he did not know, however, was that Yuta made up nearly every piece of advice he had ever given right there on the spot.
“Let me get this straight: you like one of your patients so much you faked a diagnosis just to keep her around, only to find out she likes Doyoung?” Yuta snorted at the woes of his friend.
Hansol rolled his eyes from his slouched position on the couch. “It’s not funny. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well first you need to discharge her. If your supervisor finds out what you did, he’ll fire you. Also, did you ever think that she has to pay for those hospital bills?”
Hansol bit his lip and looked away. “That thought didn’t cross my mind, actually.”
Yuta punched Hansol lightly on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot. Just go up to her tomorrow and tell you that you like her.”
“No way!”
“You do it or I will,” Yuta threatened.
“You don’t even know her room number,” Hansol retorted.
“Are you forgetting that Doyoung, the man with every patient’s name and room number, is my friend as well?”
“You wouldn’t.”
Yuta just smiled and continued to slurp his slushy obnoxiously.
-
The next morning, you woke up early, hoping to be discharged before they could charge you for another day of staying at the hospital. You began to pack your duffle bag absentmindedly, as you were trying to convince your friend over the phone to come pick you up. “Please? I should be allowed to leave today so please come pick me up.”
“Will your hot doctor be there?“ her voice suddenly got more excited.
You sighed and looked around, “He should be, since he’s the one who has to discharge me. He hasn’t been here this morning though, unless he came in while I was taking a shower.”
"I’m coming,“ your friend assured you. "and I’m going to ask out that cute doctor of yours.”
“You don’t have to…” you said, feeling unsettled at the thought of Hansol dating anyone. Sure, you hadn’t spent but two days with the man, but he was special to you. It was something you had only figured out the night before, but it was still real to you. One thing you were certain of is that you did not want your friend asking out Hansol.
-
Yuta walked down the hallway of the hospital, mumbling your room number under his breath as not to forget it. Hansol had refused to confess to you, and since his morning shift was in another part of the hospital, Yuta thought he should pay you a visit. It was all in Hansol’s best interest that you find out about his crush anyway. At least, that’s what Yuta thought.
Upon arriving in front of your room, Yuta saw your friend standing outside, touching up her makeup in front of her compact mirror. Yuta walked up behind her and looked at the small mirror. “How do you girls do your makeup in front of that tiny thing?”
“Ah!” Y/f/n yelled in surprise, accidentally smearing a bit of her mascara. “Look what you did!”
“Sorry,” Yuta said, but the cheeky grin on his face begged to differ. “So, are you Y/n?”
“No.” She glared at him, “I’m her best friend.”
“Oh! Great! You see, I’m Yuta, Hansol’s best friend.”
Y/f/n furrowed her eyebrows, “Hansol, the hot doctor?”
Yuta crinkled his nose. “If you want to put it that way, I guess. Look, I need your help. Hansol really likes Y/n but he won’t confess to her.”
Y/f/n pouted for a second. “Ah, really? I thought I had a chance. Oh well…” She looked at Yuta, “What do you need help with?”
Yuta grinned, “Well, I’m thinking we just lock them in a room together.”
“This room?”
Yuta shook his head, “No, it doesn’t have any locks. We need to get them in the storage closet or something.”
“How do we do that?”
“Leave it to me.”
-
Hansol looked down at his pink scrubs, now soaked with salad dressing, thanks to Yuta.
“Sorry,” Yuta said, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Should we get some paper towels to wipe it off?”
Hansol nodded and looked around the break room they were in. “Oh, it looks like they ran out. I’ll go grab some from the storage closet.”
“I’ll come with you!” Yuta shouted, nearly jumping with the joy of knowing his plan was working.
-
“I really don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” you mumbled, searching the shelves of the storage closet. “We should’ve just asked a nurse for toilet paper.”
Y/f/n was positioned outside of the closet. She said she would be your lookout, in case anything strange went on. You, on the other hand, were trying your hardest to find some toilet paper, as Y/f/n said she really had to use the restroom and the one in your room was out.
You walked towards the back of the closet and looked through the many cardboard boxes, hoping to find what you were looking for and get out. Then, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice and the closet door swinging shut.
You turned around to see Hansol banging against the wall, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “This isn’t funny, Yuta. Let me out!”
"Not until you tell her the truth!“ a voice shouted from the other side of the door.
"The truth?” you inquired. Hansol jumped at your voice and turned around with an awkward smile.
He tugged on his earlobe again in an effort to calm his nerves. “Hello, Y/n. Fancy seeing you here.”
You walked up to him until you were merely inches apart. “What was he talking about?”
Hansol exhaled slowly and averted his eyes. “I may have lied to you about having that fever and also about having to stay overnight last night. I was supposed to discharge you a long time ago, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?” you asked, though something told you that you already knew the answer.
Hansol sighed in defeat. “Because I like you? And look, I know it’s a stupid reason and it’s highly unprofessional, but I was too afraid you’d reject me if I just came out and said it. Then I found out you liked Doyoung and there was no way I was gonna tell you after that. So, I’m really sorry. I’ll pay your extra hospital bills and you can leave.”
“I don’t like Doyoung anymore,” you said in a rush. “Not since yesterday. I think I like you more, Hansol.”
“Really?” His eyes widened in gleeful surprise. “Are you being serious?”
“I am,” you replied, “I like you, Hansol. So maybe we can go for hot cocoa sometime?”
“Okay.” Hansol smiled.
“Great,” you breathed. Then you giggled nervously, “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” Hansol replied. He turned around and twisted the doorknob, cursing under his breath when it opened immediately. “They opened it.”
“I need to talk to Y/f/n about meddling in other people’s lives,” you said as you held your hand out, “Let me put my number into your phone so you can text me when you get off work. I’ll treat you to coffee.”
“Oh, right.” Hansol blushed as he fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. As you put your number in, he continued, “Just so you know, I put your discharge papers on the nightstand in your room on my way over here. Just give them to Doyoung and you’ll be able to go.”
“Yay!” you cheered as you handed him back his phone. “Thank you, Hansol.”
He looked away. “Well, I really have to get back to work, so…”
Before you could comprehend what was happening, Hansol leaned down and swiftly pressed a kiss to your cheek. “See you tonight,” he said in a rush before opening the door and bolting out.
You chuckled and placed your palm over where he had kissed. “See you tonight, Hansol.”
~the end~
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If you are having trouble having a restful break, follow these tips. A sleepless friend of mine recently stole my dream unintentionally. I had never had difficulty falling asleep, but my friend started texting me at 2 a.m. every night to kill time. I leave my cell phone on the light table, so his messages bothered me; even if I left the device in vibration mode, the buzzing and light on the screen woke me up. In the end, I activated the “do not disturb” function, and the phone remained silent and dark when I received messages between 11 p.m. and 8 a.m. Then, I regained to sleep. Cell phone alerts, bathroom visits, and other factors ruin many people's nighttime rest. Experts advise adults to sleep between seven and nine hours each night, but a survey conducted in 2013 by the American Sleep Foundation of the United States in that country and in another five, including Japan and Mexico, indicates that 4 of each 10 people do not sleep what is necessary. In addition to leaving us exhausted, chronic lack of sleep can harm our health. Research shows that adults who do not sleep as necessary are more prone to sedentary lifestyle and obesity, and are at greater risk of diabetes, heart disease, depression and common conditions such as colds. "Sleeping well is essential for physical and mental health," says Neil Stanley, a sleep researcher in Farnborough, England. The following tips can make your sleep quality better: 1. Put your feet up Is your sleep interrupted by urgent visits to the bathroom? You may have a poorly known condition called nocturia, which causes people to wake up from deep sleep two or more times at night with the urge to urinate. About three out of five older adults have nocturia, which is asleep disturber. “Even in people who go back to sleep easily, interruption of rest disrupts the normal sleep cycle and can have an impact on general health: high blood pressure or diabetes. And it can also affect cognitive function, ”says Dr. Philip EV Van Kerrebroeck, professor of urology at the University of Maastricht in the Netherlands. Noctua is not a disease in itself, but a symptom of conditions such as sleep apnea, enlarged prostate in men and low estrogen levels in women . Many people believe that it is a normal part of aging. "With age, there are problems that get worse, but the night is for sleeping, not urinating," says Van Kerrebroeck. Changing some habits could help: don't drink more than two liters of fluids a day, and I reduced the amount at nightfall; avoid caffeine and alcohol before bedtime; if you take diuretics, do it in the morning or early afternoon, not at the end of the day, and raise your legs. If you put your feet up before bedtime, the fluid accumulated around your ankles will reflux into the bloodstream and can remove excess urine in the form of urine while you are awake. If you don't raise your legs or do it right at bedtime, the excess fluid will become urine while you sleep and wake you up during the night. 2. Select the smartphone Studies indicate that up to 60% of adults go to bed with their cell phones, so it is very likely that they spend a long time awake visiting social networks or sending text messages, and the next day they feel sleepy. " We have observed that one application leads to another, and that one is likely to spend more time using the phone than he intended, " says Liese Exelmans, a researcher at the University of Leuven in Belgium. "People over 60 who use the cell phone at night sleep less." These adults are usually "daytime birds" and have a biological tendency to wake up early, either because they need to go to work or to perform other activities. Sleep experts advise not to take cell phones to the bedroom, but that is not realistic because it is usually used as an alarm clock and to be connected with your friends. “Many people feel apart from the real world if they don't have the cell phone in the bedroom, ” says Exelmans. “ That activates hypervigilance. They do not restfully because they expect them to contact them at some time during the night. It is the fear of missing something. ” The blue light emitted by cell phones can also disturb sleep. This light resembles daylight, so before it, the organism does not produce the hormone that induces sleep at night. "The blue light emitted by cell phones inhibits the production of melatonin, and this makes the body stay awake," says Exelmans. Adding an application with a blue light filter to your cell phone can help. "I put the phone in airplane mode, it lowers the screen brightness and volume," suggests Exelmans. "Or delete some applications, such as Facebook or email, so you don't feel tempted to use them." Computers and televisions also emit blue light. It is better not to have these devices in the bedroom, or turn them off two hours before bedtime. And if you wake up in the middle of the night, don't turn on any screen. "Read a book, but not on a tablet," says Exelmans. 3. Yoga numbing The response or relaxation effect has been shown to lower blood pressure levels, reduce stress and promote drowsiness. Maman recommends practicing yoga for 15 or 20 minutes before going to sleep and choosing a lying posture that emphasizes relaxed breathing. "It can have a fairly rapid effect on sleep quality."  4. Try another bed Falling asleep next to a snoring couple can be frustrating and tiring. Research shows that half of the sleep disturbances at night are caused by disturbing bedmates. This can translate into chronic sleep deprivation, depression, coronary heart disease, and relationship problems. "In fact, people who sleep poorly have a higher divorce rate, " says Stanley. “The next day he has more discussions and less likely to make amends because he lacks empathy for that person. It is a potential formula for marital discord. ” A simple solution: sleep in separate rooms. Researchers have confirmed that people rest better when they sleep alone. "Sleeping is the most selfish activity we can do," says Stanley. "If you sleep alone, you don't have to put up with anyone who snores, kicks you and gets up to go to the bathroom or doesn't stop spinning in bed." " Sleeping apart does not mean giving up the other, who will kiss you and hug you and when you say goodnight, instead of turning to the other side of the bed, you will go to the other room," says Stanley. It will not be a punishment. “If it's done with love and you still have privacy, it works.”  5. Control what you committed T do what you eat and drink at night can affect the quality of your sleep. A heavy dinner just before going to sleep can cause heartburn, especially if you eat spicy foods, products with tomatoes or chocolate. The painful and burning symptoms of heartburn can make it hard for you to fall asleep or wake up at midnight. Chronic acidity can be a symptom of gastroesophageal reflux (GERD), which causes serious problems over time. Lying down after eating can exacerbate GERD. Dr. Gary Falk, a gastroenterologist and professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, states "by lying down and going to sleep, we lose the defenses of gravity, saliva and the effect of swallowing." To minimize reflux, do not eat anything two or three hours before going to bed. To keep gravity working in your favor, raise the head of the bed, says Dr. Joseph Ojile, medical director of the Clayton Sleep Institute in Missouri, United States. Alcohol can also cause reflux, but there are other reasons not to drink alcohol at night: it is diuretic, which means you will have to urinate shortly after ingesting it. And some drinks are worse than others. "Beer stimulates urine production," says Van Kerrebroeck.  6.  Dinner with friends If you have a day full of emotions, the health of your dream may be altered. Researchers at the University of Chicago have discovered that many people who can't sleep at night feel isolated from family and friends. These lonely people take longer to fall asleep at night, and are more likely to take more turns in bed in the middle of the night or sleepless hours. The elderly are particularly susceptible to emotional loneliness. "Late maturity contains events such as retirement, the departure of children from home, and potentially the loss of loved ones and widowhood," says psychologist and researcher Joanna McHugh of Trinity College, Dublin. "All these events can increase the feeling of loneliness." Interacting with people significantly during the day can help improve sleep quality. "The link between loneliness and sleep quality is relatively new and little research has been done, so it is difficult to make recommendations," says McHugh. 7. Cool bedroom People sleep better when the room is about 18 degrees, according to research. Our body temperature drops as it is time to go to bed, so if the bedroom is cool, it is easier for our body to adjust efficiently. " For many people, heat is a signal for the brain to stay awake," says Ojile. “When it's hot during the night, it has this constant stimulus that promotes waking state. And there is also a tactile issue, some people fail to fall asleep without being covered at least by a sheet. ”
http://bestofftops.blogspot.com/2019/09/7-secrets-to-sleep-better.html
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seajudge70-blog · 5 years
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Why 'National School Lunch money' is so important to poor kids in Arkansas
I've written about the noise that followed Sen. Alan Clark's introduction of a bill to punish school districts with low reading scores by taking their state "school lunch money." As I explained from the beginning, this isn't food money but money important to help improve the education of the poorest, most at-risk kids in Arkansas. And an educator has stepped forward to explain just how important.
Confusion about the bill, on account of the name of the categorical funding (awarded to schools based on their percentage of poor students qualifying for subsidized lunches), has allowed Clark to dodge the real story — how damaging it would be to require a 70 percent achievement rate on reading scores to qualify for full additional education money. (Clark would take it all after three years of a district's failing to improve. Dozens and dozens of schools don't meet that standard and have struggled to improve under the state's new testing regimen.)
Into the issue steps Glen Fenter, a former community college president who's now superintendent of the Marion School District in a part of the state, the Delta, that knows the needs of poor students and how hard it is to reach them. He wrote to me and we later talked. He said in an initial e-mail:
It would be impossible to overstate the importance of NSL [National School Lunch] funding to our efforts to break the cycle of poverty in our region. I wish that every legislator would take the time to spend just one day in an eastern or southern Arkansas poverty-laced classroom. I am confident that most would have a number of profound epiphanies prior to the conclusion of their day.
Fenter also put together a paper on the subject. I'd recommend it to any legislator  inclined to take away money meant to lift the performance of at-risk students. Yes, the categorical funding program needs some improvement to make sure it's used for what it's intended to do. But the solution is NOT to take it away from those who need it most. I'd particularly urge Fenter's paper on those who are inclined to make complicated decisions about difficult education situations guided by the false god of performance on a single high-stakes test.
Fenter's paper explains the national move to school standards and how the oversimplification of assessing schools to a single letter grade is short on important information, including student demographics. He notes that Arkansas's system accounts for "improvement" of students during the year, as well as a test score. But he notes that even the test-friendly academics at the Walton's "school reform" unit at their Fayetteville university think it could stand improvement. Fenter:
Academic growth is what a student learns from one year to another; however, academic achievement can be an extension of what students come to school with in terms of readiness and home experiences  and certainly represents a huge variable that must be accounted for when properly assigning value to school efforts. 
Alan Clark wants to deprive help based only on the reading score, never mind where those kids started or what impossible situations they might face at home.
The Arkansas school grades, with demographics overlaid, tell the story. The whiter the school the higher the grade. The poorer the school the lower the grade (see chart at top).
There are no A or B-rated high schools in the state with a majority low-income and majority black population, and only four (4) in the entire state of Arkansas received a C rating. All others received a D or F rating
Clearly, children raised in generational poverty can lack intellectual stimulation, emotional support, a literate environment, and physical safety.
Research also concludes that children from single-parent homes have lower graduation rates and lower grade point averages; however, some do go on to have academic success. When controlling for economic and racial differences of the family, students from two-parent homes outperform students from single parent homes across various measures
When Arkansas adopted a grading system in 2015, Fenter writes, schools were assured rewards or penalties wouldn't attach. That's now changed, with substantial rewards for "achievement."
Guess what? The schools with fewer poor students tend to reap greater rewards. Clark's plan would magnify that unfairness.
In Marion, kindergarten students are screened for fundamental skills to identify where instructional support is needed. More than half aren't ready for kindergarten, as measured by the screening. When you start behind, catching up takes a long time. And it gets harder as the student gets older.
This means districts that enroll high numbers of students who start behind are operating at a "distinct disadvantage" when compared to districts with dissimilar demographics, Fenter says.
Any school rating system that does not account for such differences in student population must be categorized as clearly and indefensibly flawed.
Starting behind isn't the only obstacle. Poor kids move a lot. This affects graduation rates and "on-time" credits, both factors in the grading system. Student attendance, another grading factor, is affected by lack of transportation and poor health. There's also a factor for community service in grading schools. Seems benign. Not to Fenter:
Schools are rewarded according to the number of volunteer hours that students earn from 9th to 12th grade. Many students living in poverty must work after school to supplement family income and cannot commit those hours to volunteer work. Moreover, schools in poorer communities may well not have sufficient appropriate placement opportunities for their students and/or the resources to meet the new unfunded staffing requirements of the program.
The Lakeview school decision, which required adequate and equal education, is no longer a source of hope for struggling districts, Fenter writes. The Arkansas Supreme Court's new view of sovereign immunity raises the question of whether another challenge of state funding could even be brought. Many think the time would otherwise be ripe. The legislature regularly falls short in meeting the adequacy standard in financing.
There also has been inconsistent funding for programs that have proven worth in ending the cycle of poverty, Fenter contends.
We have manufactured a strategy to create a testing and grading model that appears to be intentional in efforts to reward schools based primarily on the affluence of their parents and students. 
Fenter has taken his case to education officials. They dismiss him. They think money doesn't count. If only there were enough competition — enough Covenant Keepers charter schools, say (sarcasm about this woebegone school intended) — all would be well. Or so the "reformers" think.
Some arithmetic should help, if facts and not faith mattered. The figures show the poor are getting poorer while the rich prosper.
Fenter sees a return to the conditions that fostered the Lakeview case. The problem now is the fear the Arkansas Supreme Court today would be more responsive to Alan Clark than the thousands of poor kids in Arkansas.
Source: https://www.arktimes.com/ArkansasBlog/archives/2019/02/21/why-national-school-lunch-money-is-so-important-to-poor-kids-in-arkansas
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icechuksblog · 6 years
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A new report published by The Cable details how teachers in the Almajiri schools built by the past administration, engage their students in street begging and leave off the proceeds from the street beggars. The teachers allegedly chain some of the disobedient students on the leg if they refuse to go out begging. Read the shocking report below In Sokoto state, there are 2,000 shoeless boys roaming the streets in tattered clothes. With bowls and dirty ropes suspended around their necks, they move in groups begging for alms. Their teachers, popularly known as mallams, supported by parents and cultural beliefs, encourage them to beg. This does not only deprive them the opportunity of an education, they also become tools in the hands of insurgents. TheCable visited four traditional Almajiri schools in Sokoto and found that the billions of naira spent on integrated Almajiri schools might be going down the drain. AN ENCOUNTER WITH CHILD BEGGARS The sight at an Almajiri school in Gobirawa in Goronyo, a local government area west of Sokoto, would make any rational being emotional. The pupils look a little older than the regular 6-10-year-olds who roam the streets. There is no mistaking the frustration in their eyes. Their legs were clamped together with big iron chains. Upon inquiries, the warder said after the Quranic class, the boys go to beg and are required to give the money to their teachers. He explained that the ones in chain were disobedient. He said they run away with the money meant for their teachers. For few minutes, this reporter scanned the murky room, un-cemented floor, finger print-dirty wall. A boy lying on a blue mat tried to stand but couldn’t. He looked behind and noticed his chain was joined together with another. When he wanted to urinate, he would pee in a sachet of polythene bag, and then throw it outside the room. He looked towards the door for 18 seconds, and with a loud voice, he began to recite the Islamic inscriptions on his wooden plank. The mallam, owner of the school refused to speak further. He also refused to be named. ORIGIN OF ALMAJIRI IN NIGERIA In Nigeria, the Almajiri system of education started in the Kanem-Borno empire during the colonial era. The empire had a large number of rulers widely involved in Quranic literacy. More than 700 years later, the Sokoto caliphate was founded by a revolution. Sokoto caliphate and Borno caliphate started running the Almajiri system together. The year 1904 brought a new twist to the almajiri system as the British invaded the northern part of Nigeria. During the invasion, most traditional rulers were killed and others disposed. The emirs who escaped death lost controls of their territories, this resulted also in the lost of fundamental control of the almajiri. Boko was introduced, boko meaning western education. The British abolished the state funding of almajiri schools. With no support from the community, emirs and government, the system collapsed. The teachers and students had no financial support, so, they turned into alms begging and menial jobs for survival.  ALARMING NUMBER OF OUT-OF-SCHOOL CHILDREN Sokoto, home of the caliphate and the Muslim spiritual leader, is now among states with a huge number of out-school-children who in the name of seeking Islamic education are used as child beggars. With a total population of four million, school-age children population of 1.1 million and school enrollment of 610, 886, it is reported to have a literacy level as low as 15.1 percent, one of the least literate states in the northern geopolitical region of the country. Pupils at Zamuya traditional Almajiri school Under a bamboo tent at Aliu’s compound in Zamuya, boys numbering 190 squatted on their mats with their wooden slate bearing Arabic handwriting on one hand and their ‘tesbah’ (prayer bead) on the other. As this reporter stepped in, they chorused a long, ‘aamin’ to the prayers being offered by their 11-year-old class captain, Sanusi Abdulazeez. It was exactly 3:38 pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The class started around 2 pm, but prior that time, they had left Zamuya (some kilometres from the state capital) at 10am, to beg for food and money. Begging in northern Nigeria started over 1000 years ago, according to Aliu. It is virtually what all Almajiri pupils in traditional Almajiri schools in Sokoto do, even when there is enough food to cater for them. The pupils, parents, and mallams see nothing in begging. They believe it’s a tradition that cannot be changed. TheCable learnt that when the children do not want to beg, the mallams compel them to. Many of the pupils, for the fear of punishment, were nervous to speak when approached. When the reporter wanted to press the shutter of his camera pointed to a group of Almajiri pupils struggling for food, one of them shouted and they all abandoned their rice cake (massa in Hausa), running towards different directions. Part of the money collected from benefactors is used to buy rice cake food. There are thousands of them in the state capital. During break, they go in groups of eight, sometimes nine, and are always accompanied by a rice cake seller. The population at the traditional Almajiri school outnumbers that of the model schools. Boyi Ku: Owner of an Almajiri school ONE MAN STANDS OUT Lying on a mat in an unkempt room, Boyi Ku, an Islamic teacher and owner of Gidan Miye Almajiri school, looks sick and exhausted. In a chat with the reporter, Ku said he doesn’t collect money from the boys but offer them as workers for business individuals who use them as domestic helps. “The pupils are attached to houses. People come to book them to be used as workers in their houses or shops,” he said. “I do it for Allah that’s why I have few children. I only accept the number of pupils I can teach,” Ku said. He added that he does not accept money from the children or their parents. He also allows them to beg to get food and sustain themselves but does not force them. He said he only collects food from the pupils’ parents to feed himself and the children, who eat the food only on days they were not successful getting money. “Other mallams collect the money the children realize from begging. But pupils do not respect mallams who do that,” he said. Almajiri “The pupils are getting 60 percent of food from their parents and 40 percent from begging. Even though the children get 100 percent food, they will still go out and beg. The parents also think they are eating a balanced diet by getting varieties of food from begging,” he said. Many of the children whom TheCable spoke to said they have not seen their parents for months. “If my parents bring enough food for me, I will still go out and beg because it is tradition,” Abdulazeez, a pupil at Zamuya school, told TheCable. NO TO CONVENTIONAL EDUCATION TheCable gathered that parents see western education as evil while pupils say they can’t sacrifice Islamic education, which is their priority. “I am learning a lot of Islam but I can’t speak English,” Abdulazeez says. “I don’t want to learn western education because I will miss Islamic education,” Aminu Dahiri another boy said. When asked why he sent his son to Almajiri school instead of the government’s integrated Almajiri school, Abubakar Muazu, a parent at Zamuya said it is not easy to provide food for his son in the school. He brings food, which he described as “honourable” to his son once every week. “I don’t want conventional system because I do not value it.” However, another parent Ummaru Arzika countered Muazu’s opinion. “It is not that we (parents) don’t value conventional system. It is because it is a belief and tradition which they are not ready to change.” MAKING THE DIFFERENCE At an Almajiri school in Gidan-Miye, in addition to the Islamic knowledge, the boys are taught mathematics and english by a local non-governmental organisation -Alubarika Advocate for Health and Community Development Initiative (AHCDI)- every Thursday and Friday. The pupils are issued certificates at the end of the course after which the successful ones are registered to begin from primary five in one of the three integrated Almajiri model schools in the state. Almajiri Checks show no sign of improvement in learning english and mathematics from the pupils. It also shows there are no significant efforts by the governments in reducing illiteracy in the state since there is no framework to navigate the pupils from the traditional system to the integrated model system. The one built at Gagi in Sokoto is reported to be in a state of disrepair. INTEGRATED ALMAJIRI SCHOOL NOT WORKING In 2012, former President Goodluck Jonathan spent N15 billion on the establishment of 400 Almajiri model schools with the aim of integrating the traditional system of learning Islamic education with western education. The Arabic school, also called tsangaya teaches pupils only Arabic knowledge. The pupils acquire no proficiency in literacy and numeracy- a skill needed for economic leadership, development and global competitiveness. The idea of Jonathan’s government was to set up integrated Almajiri schools to transform into model Almajiri schools. Despite this, a huge number of children are still roaming the streets. The state also built a N70 million Almajiri integrated school at Dange-Shuni. During a visit to the school, the vice-principal refused but he hinted that there is a lack of teachers. This confirms the report from the state ministry of education on lack of teachers in Sokoto schools. In one school with an average of 294 students, there are only six teachers. The feeding programme is also another avenue used to attract pupils to schools. The cooks are eager to prepare lunch. On their part, the pupils wash their coolers and submit them. Almajiri “As a boarding school, we give them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, one of the cooks said.Commenting on begging in the school, the director of Almajiri integrated education, Bello Umar told TheCable there are over 2000 Almajiri children in Sokoto. “Whenever we try to solve the problem (begging), it emerges again. It is pitiful seeing the children begging. It is a bad issue here in Sokoto state,” he said. “We care for our own young boys who are out of school and who leave their houses due to lack of food.” Jabbi Kilgori, state commissioner for basic and secondary education, said in September, the government incorporated 4,000 Quranic schools in the state into the formal education system to boost enrollment. According to the state education sector plan 2011-2020, parents are the major obstacle in achieving education for all (EFA) initiative because they do not cater for their children thus leaving them at the mercy of the society who feeds them from the proceeds of begging. “We can enact a law to reduce it but we cannot ban it at all. But the government can be strong on the law. No movement of the children from one town to another. The state governments can form an agency to always catch the children and arrest mallams who told them to go out and beg. It will reduce the massive influx of children begging,”  Umar said.
http://icechuks2.blogspot.com/2018/07/new-report-shows-how-teachers-in-sokoto.html
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#transformationtuesday
I ate and drank myself through my twenties with great abandon.
It was a life of daily champagne, endless dining out and late nights with tequila literally flowing off the bodies of any bartender willing to let me do body shots. My essentials in the fridge was champagne, chilled tequila and smoked salmon. I owned a restaurant and if you finish work at 11 PM you need to go blow off steam. Anyone who has worked in hospitality will tell you nightmare it is for any kind of healthy lifestyle. The restaurant I owned theoretically could make the healthy options needed, but after running around for 18 hours the only things you want are bad foods.
I did not grow up overweight and trained 3 times a week throughout, but i was never really in any kind of good shape.  My deal with the trainer was that i was willing to ‘give him’ the three hours a week, but the rest of the time was mine. Sport was not my thing, but I remained relatively lean well into my mid to late twenties. This lifestyle of mine  was a recipe for a disaster.
This is my transformation and continuing journey. Every time i take a ‘after’ photo it is an opportunity for a new ‘before’. I strive to beat my best every time. The truth is the battle and victory lies in the two years between these photos. The problem with a transformation photo is it makes progress seem instant. I am sharing below a couple in between photos when i thought i had achieved amazing results only to improve from there.
At 31 I looked at myself in the mirror and the 10 years of debauchery had taken it’s tole. I was fat, clammy and unhappy with myself. I woke up one morning looked myself in the mirror and hated what looked back. I realised I had a choice, accept that fuller figure chap staring back at and learn to love him as he is or change.
The journey to fitness is not one story and it is not done alone. There are many people and places who stand out along the road.
That morning I went to a nearby neighbourhood gym and found the toughest looking Boxing trainer I could find who I knew would take none of my shit and signed up. Mark Bristow is a well-known boxing legend and trainer is South Africa. I put my head down and saw him once a day for one-on-one personal training and then later in the day I saw him and his equally accomplished wife Joanne Bristow for a group class. Twice a day I died. Their philosophy was by no means a gentle one. Boxing fitness, Insanity drills, animal training and bootcamp style drilling in the afternoon and hardcore old school lifting in the morning. There was vomiting, sweat and almost tears. I showed up at this hardcore MMA gym in my electric blue tights and neon tanks day after day and I perspired and pushed my limits. I learnt how to lift and sweat here.
Over the years I have had many personal trainers from Virgin active Worshop in Durban CBD to Virgin Classic Moses Mabhida all with varying degrees of success. I want a trainer that is is more disciplined and knowledgable than me. I need a structured plan with short, medium and long term goals and I need to know that all of this has been taken into account when planning my session. I pay for that hour and I want full attention and focus. I often feel a shift after a few months and I do not know if it is me or the trainer, but a comfort zone develops. The great trainers sense this and switch things up, the not so great ones get comfortable in that zone and I move on. Training is an ongoing and adaptive process and that needs to remain at the edge of your capabilities and that take any weaknesses into account with plans how to improve on them. We employ trainers to keep all of this in account, not to help you count to 10.
I heard rumblings of a new craze called Sweat1000 and it was opening in Umhlanga. I knew i wanted to give this a try and I loved it. Hight Intensity Interval Training at its peak. Subsequently the gym has rebranded and launched as MovementX with different classes. It feels like going out clubbing. Loud music, club lighting and sweaty bodies drives you through that hour class. I enjoy the fact that the music is too loud for any chatterboxes to try and distract you during class and all you can do is focus on what you are busy with. This continues to be one of my favourites and I try and go to at least 3/4 times a week. The owner Annie is an absolute gem and her drive and passion for her brand is the reason for the success they have today.
I had to stay in the middle of nowhere for a year (Ladysmith) and to me, the ultimate city boy i did not know how i would cope. I am used to being a member of at least two gyms (Virgin Active and MovementX) and train often. My facebook searches show some bleak gym options, until Theron found a place called Iron Fury. I looked online and it seemed pretty well setup, I then got hold of the owner and asked what they offered in terms of classes and Personal Training. Natalia explained they had Pilates, Bootcamps or she could fit me in for 3 sessions a week PT. I took it all and so started my first ever Pilates class. What a sanctuary to my sanity this was; Natalia came up with a unique Bootcamp class every day, not once in my year did we do the same class, her sessions were in line with all the current fitness trends and her exercises were well thought out and balanced. The dedication that she showed on a daily basis and the magic she brought to this small town gym would be rival any world class facility. The classes were attended mostly by ladies, but these woman would just demolish whatever was dished out to them, while the men lazily lifted a dumbbell. I showed up week after week in increasing loud neon lycra and had an absolute blast. I cannot sing the praises for this gym or Natalia enough as this was my anchor while staying there.
I have tried many different gyms and regimes over the past two years but the one constant was to never give up and constantly go. Just today, no matter how tired or down i was feeling i promised myself to just attend.
I made I deal with myself; show up for every session. That was it. I did not really focus on results for a year, I focussed only on input. I tried to eat right, train hard. The results came slowly at first and then once i had built up some momentum changes were drastic.
We have such twisted relationships with food where we feel the need to punish ourselves when loosing weight and then there is a food reward or ‘cheat’ meal to look forward to. This kind of thinking is toxic and really is not sustainable in any long term healthy lifestyle. It doesn’t matter so much which eating philosophy you ascribe to, but you have to get basics right and keep your body nourished. Depriving yourself of a very important Macro Nutrient is not a good idea and will lead to anemia and fatigue. Balance in diets, as with life, is the key to long term wellness. Small sustained changes in your diet will yield great long term results.
The question I get asked the most often is what do you take to get results. People want a magic pill, a quick fix, but there isn’t one. Supplements are really one of the last things anybody starting out on a road to health should worry about.
I have had many people join me on this journey and then depart. I listen to their crazy 3 month plans and I try to reason and prescribe balance, but to no avail,  I often join in on the madness, only to see it all fizzle away. I then return to my regime, this is to me a lifestyle, not a quick fix. Going to extremes very seldom works out in the long run. Set realistic goals and work for the progress, not the result. You are after all not an athlete with a specific goal in mind, you want to look better ad feel better for life.
This takes commitment, it takes will power. You must not only want the results, but you must be willing to do what it takes. I will never be as lean and ripped as I would like, because there are things i am not willing to do and I need to function inside a household, but I am willing to work hard and eat relatively well. I have accepted that, partly:)
The thing with a transformation is the difference between before and after is always big, but it is the smaller goals and achievements that drive you. When you first spot those biceps veins or when you develop shoulder definition that is what keeps you going. The days when you are tired, not in the mood and go anyway. These are the things that drive results.
It gave me a sense of purpouse and control in my life while other things spiraled out of control. There is an almost meditative quality to going to Gym daily and pushing your limits. It gives you strength and self confidence to know that small incremental changes do give you results in the longer term. It conditions you to work towards your goals, whatever they may be.
My body is transformed, but more importantly so is my mind. I have my confidence back and through exercise I have learned by working at your goals every single day consistently anything can be achieved.
The past few years I have had interactions with some great world class fitness businesses in kzn and my favourites include:
Nouriti (La Lucia)- Great, simple and Healthy cafe food
Training co (Umhlanga Ridge) – Small, modern Functional Fitness gym for extreme results
MovementX (Umhlanga and Bedfordview) – The masters HIIT workout.
Virgin Active Ballito – One of the better run Virgin Active Clubs in KZN
I Move Fitness (Ballito)- a one stop fitness shop with gym, cafe, dietician, physics and Personal Trainers. This is where I currently train with my
Tree Natural Yoga  (Umhlanga and soon Ballito) – Great yoga classes and health cafe
Health FOOD (Umhlanga) – Daily fresh meals prepared to help you reach your goals
Kym Hirshovitz (Umhlanga) – Professional Sports massage
Bruce Robinson (Durban) – Massage Therapist and Yoga guru
David Cross  (online) – Nutrition and coaching
I am currently focussing on increasing my mobility and flexibility through yoga
  I was a fatty #transformationtuesday I ate and drank myself through my twenties with great abandon. It was a life of daily champagne, endless dining out and late nights with tequila literally flowing off the bodies of any bartender willing to let me do body shots.
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