There are more people with eating disorders than there are with green eyes
You have more chance of surviving certain cancers than you do an eating disorder
Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate out of any psychiatric illness, largely due to heart failure or suicide
Now tell me it’s a lifestyle choice, a diet, “just a phase”.
Y’all better be listening and telling everybody about this. Shit is serious mane.
HOW DO YOU START A RELATIONSHIP?
DO YOU WALK UP TO SOMEONE AND SAY I SHIP US?
HOW DO I FUNCTION IN SOCIETY
Alrighty, here’s part two! I just went ahead and made it a little post-hunt celebration kind of thing. :) Let me know what you think!
And here are the links part one for anyone who wants to read:
“I don’t know about you two,” you started. “But I could seriously go for a drink right about now.”
Dean looked at you in the rear-view mirror. “I don’t know if you should be drinking right now, what with that gash you have.”
“C’mon,” you whined. “It’s just a scratch. Besides, I’ve seen you drink a fifth with much more blood loss.”
“You’re my little sister, (Y/N),” Dean said. “You do as I say, not as I do.”
“Why not, Dean?” Sam said with a shrug. “I could use a beer.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” You said, clapping your brother on the shoulder. “Please, Dean? I’ll do the dishes at the bunker for a week.”
He sighed. “Fine. One drink. But no more, so choose wisely.”
You smiled and reclined against the back seat. “One drink, scout’s honor.”
“Oh come on, (Y/N), that does not count as one drink.” You grinned as the bartender served you your boilermaker — a giant beer with an accompanying shot.
You shrugged. “I think I ordered one boilermaker, if I’m not mistaken.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up.” You grinned and took your shot before moving on to your beer, sipping it slowly. The three of you had pulled into a little bar not far from Bobby’s so that you could get your one celebratory drink and quickly mourn the tragic loss of over four inches of your hair.
“Who wants to play a round of pool with me?” You asked excitedly. The boys agreed, and you played Sam while Dean called dibs on winner. The winner, of course, was Sam. He was obnoxiously good at everything, and even though your own skill at pool was not to be laughed at, Sam had you beat. You watched your brothers as they set up their own round, and you offered to get drinks. They asked for two more beers. You made your way over to the bar and ordered, waiting patiently for the busy bartender to get to your order.
“Hey, little lady.” You looked over in time to see a very cute — albeit pretty drunk — guy lean up next to you at the bar. “I don’t recall ever seeing you around here.”
You smiled. “I’m just passing through.” You glanced over warily at Dean and Sam — they were totally absorbed in their game.
“Well, can I buy you a drink?”
You held up your half full beer. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Look,” he said, dropping his cocky smile. “I’m not trying to be that skeezy guy who hits on you at the bar that you hate — I really just wanted to come over here and talk to you.”
He seemed sincere enough — and really nervous. So you held out your hand. “In that case, hi, I’m (Y/N).”
He smiled, relieved. “I’m Jack.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Man, you wouldn’t believe how nervous I was to come over here and talk to you.”
You felt yourself blush. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah — you’re really pretty.” You giggled. This wasn’t the kind of guy that you’d bring home to Bobby and your brothers, but he was nice — and that was a welcome change from the guys who’d hit on you in the past.
“Hey.” You heard Dean bark from across the bar. You looked over, Dean was staring intently at you and your new friend, and Sam looked like he was trying to keep him from going over to Jack and giving him a piece of his mind. Sam, however, couldn’t stop Dean when he was on the warpath.
Dean came over to you quicker than you would have thought possible, not dropping his gaze as he weaved his way through the crowd, Sam trailing close behind. ‘Oh, great.’ You thought, big brothers to the rescue.
“I think you ought to stop hitting on her before I introduce my fist to your face.” Dean said. Not his best insult, but he was crunched for time.
Jack seemed taken aback. “Who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?”
“Worse. We’re her brothers.” Sam stepped in. Dean and Sam managed to work their way between you and Jack, and now that he was faced with not only a very pissed off Dean — who was very intimidating on his own — but an equally pissed off Sam who stood about a foot taller than him, he looked like he might pee his pants.
“H-hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was with her brothers.”
“Yeah, I bet you didn’t.” Dean snapped, pulling you behind him. You rolled your eyes and continued to sip on your beer. This was pretty standard for you when you went to bars with your brothers.
“Why don’t you run along.” Sam added with a very threatening smile. Jack nodded and scampered off somewhere in the crowd till you lost sight of him.
“That’s it, we’re leaving.” Dean announced, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the bar.
“But I didn’t get to finish my drink,” you whined, looking back at the bar where you’d left it.
“Too bad.” Sam agreed, walking behind you and helping to usher you out.
“I don’t see what the big deal is, it was just a boy.” You grumbled, a little put-out that you’d started to lose count of how many boys Dean and Sam had managed to scare off.
“That was not a boy, (Y/N), that was a grown ass man.” Dean scolded. “You are not allowed to talk to grown ass men.”
You rolled your eyes. “Did it ever strike you that I’m a grown ass woman, Dean?”
“Nope.” He answered automatically. “You’re my little sister, always have been, always will be.” The boys toted you outside and put you in the backseat, taking turns scolding you as you all made the drive back to Bobby’s. You liked seeing the two of them on the same side again — even if it was the ganging up on you side.
By the time you’d gotten back to Bobby’s, they’d managed to cool off, and you’d even forgotten the boy’s name. Bobby welcomed the three of you back with pizza and a bad spaghetti western — and a hug for you. He always gave you a hug and a quick once over to make sure you hadn’t gotten hurt on Sam and Dean’s watch. He gave them a scolding when he saw your hair and the cut on your side, and you felt secretly pleased to see the boys get their own time-out. Then you all piled on Bobby’s couch to watch Clint Eastwood kick some ass and take some names, you sitting between your two brothers.
“Hey, squirt,” Sam said quietly. “You did good today.”
“Yeah, not bad for a girl.” Dean teased. You rolled your eyes and leaned your head against Sam’s shoulder, Dean laying his jacket over you for a makeshift blanket. You knew you’d fall asleep here and that one of your brothers would carry you to bed and tuck you in — and you knew that they would be there in the morning, that they would always be there for you, and you would always be their baby sister.