#•| ⊱✿⊰ |• weed tw •| ⊱✿⊰ |•

[cruising-frog]

tw: mentions of weed/teeth but this is too wild not to share

I Met Human Teeth Guy Again, And Yes, He’s Still Mad That I Had To Call The Cops On Him.

This is 100% real and happened today, June 13th, 2025.

Long story long, I work at a printing and shipping company in a small town, and I run deliveries. I’m dropping off a box of envelopes we’ve printed and tell the guy he needs to sign the invoice. I’m jovial, he’s smiling, and he looks me dead in the eye.

“Do you recognize me?”

Uh…I’ve lived here a LONG time. I know a LOT of people.

I run down the list of people in my head he could be. Cashier? I haven’t been in a store since curbside became a thing. He looks vaguely like the guy who came to Evil Dead rehearsals drunk before the pandemic, but that’s not saying a lot. Probably a person I’ve done a project for at work.

He had a tight smile on his face and his fists were clenched as he offered the invoice back to me, so I assumed I’d had to give him bad news about a package at some point or I’d worked on a funeral poster for him.

“You look vaguely familiar,” I offered, “But I’m not super great with faces.”

“You called the cops on me.”

Holy.

Shit.

“Ah, I see.”

The two clients he was seeing when I walked in looked between the two of us as I snatched the invoice from his hand.

“Have a nice day.”

I book it to my car, because as soon as he said that, I remembered exactly who he was.

Human Teeth Guy.

Rewind to a year or so ago, this guy comes into my work with a box he wants to ship. It’s all normal, our new girl is practicing shipping and helps him out, no problems.

Until a little later when the whole office smells like weed.

PUNGENT. NAUSEATING. IMPROPERLY DISGUISED.

We have signage stating that we can look through suspicious packages. We have a shpiel we go through every time we take in a box.

“Does this contain alcohol, tobacco, firearms, illegal substances, exotic pets, small children, human remains, cash, or gift cards?”

We ask these things for a reason. Some things require special packing, some things you have to have a special license to send. Cash and gift cards aren’t  insurable, so if they get stolen, there’s nothing we can do and I like to let people know.

Marijuana cannot be shipped through USPS. Some people think it’s fine because it’s legal in a lot of places now, but it’s not legal to ship through the post office.

So, I get myself in full view of the security camera and I pop the box to make sure that it’s not just a box that had weed in it at one point. There’s a bunch of random stuff, a shirt, some rolling papers, and a Sour Cream and Onion Pringles can with scotch tape on the lid.

Look, I hate this kind of thing. If you’re going to ship drugs, don’t ship them in something obvious. Peanut butter was classic for a reason.

I pull the tape off, because I have to lay eyes on it, and out plops into my hand a plastic bag filled with nugs…

And a bunch of human teeth.

At first, I thought they were just some weird rocks, I’ve shipped weirder stuff, but the bloodstained roots quickly corrected me.

So, look, I didn’t know what the legality was for shipping teeth at the time. All I knew what that I had a Pringles can FILLED with weed, pillow stuffing, and HUMAN TEETH.

I stopped my search at that point. I wasn’t going to mess with that. We have a pretty robust drug trade in our town, the boss’s rule is that if you find something that you’re not allowed to handle, you call the police to facilitate.

I’m not a fan of getting cops involved, when people try to ship things they’re not allowed to, I typically call them and have them come get their stuff. They’re not usually happy, but they’re happier than if I call the police.

Well, guess who gave us a fake number?

So, I call. I report the human teeth, the drugs, and the other paraphernalia, and I ask if they can deal with it because I certainly don’t want to. They say they’ll send an officer over to pick up the package.

A week passes. No cops. I’ve called twice since then. The place stinks and I have nowhere to put it that won’t spread.

I call again, I say I’ve had it a week, I’m unhappy, send someone to get the box.

“Okay, we have someone on the way.”

Great. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Minutes later, who comes in, scratching himself raw and baring his teeth at my poor girl at the counter, but human teeth guy?

God hates me.

He’s livid. His box was supposed to be there already. Why hasn’t it gotten there? Did we steal it? Did we steal his drugs?

She’s in tears, he sees his box on the holding shelf and starts having a fit.

Why do we still have it?! What the fuck is wrong with us?!

So, since I get to be the one who throws their weight around here, I send her to go calm down and explain.

No, we didn’t send it because it reeked and it was illegal to ship. No, we can’t give you back the package, the police have already been called, no I can’t let you behind the counter to just take it.

The girl who went to the back has called the non-emergency line again to tell them that Human Teeth Guy is here and he’s angry.

The cop is there in two minutes.

Human Teeth Guy is escorted out of the building, snarling and screaming that we have to give him back his stuff.

Cop talks to him outside.

Cop comes back inside.

“You called us about drugs?”

“I called because we can’t legally dispose of his drugs and I couldn’t get ahold of him, but also because there are teeth in the Pringles can.”

“Teeth?”

Cop looks at the teeth.

“Yep, those are human teeth alright.”

Human Teeth Guy didn’t look like he was missing any teeth and these didn’t look or feel fake.

“So…what do you want to do here?”

“I don’t want to cause problems, he didn’t do anything to make me want to press charges of any kind, but he made my employee feel unsafe.”

“Got it. I’ll tell him he’s not allowed back and if he does come back, charges will be pressed.”

I hand the box with all of its contents to the officer.

“Good luck to you.”

Cop leaves. We watch Human Teeth Guy walk away from the building. Cop comes back inside, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“He doesn’t know where he got the teeth from.”

“What?”

“He says he doesn’t know where the teeth are from.”

Cop looks at me.

I look at him.

“If you see him around here, call us, okay?”

And that was the end, or so I thought.

It would hardly be worth commenting on this at all, we have seen a lot of WILD shit come through here, if it weren’t for where I saw him today.

Friends, tumblrs, countryfolks.

HE WORKS AT THE LOCAL FUNERAL HOME.

I guess I know where the teeth came from now.

But I have SO MANY MORE QUESTIONS.

And yeah, he’s still mad at me, which is exciting.

[sexypeople-contests-2025]

Tw: drug use cautionary tale below

Remember kids if you think doing drugs is a good idea, then just know that back when I was using weed all the time I’m about 90% sure that my dealer was lacing it with something because I started getting vivid hallucinations whenever I got high but since they didn’t ask questions and I was a minor I kept buying from them.

People will lace shit and next thing you know you went hard on stuff and you can’t remember the last three days, or you took a whole edible before checking the dosage and next thing you know the lemon pulp and sugar in your lemonade are having a blood feud at the bottom of your cup

I can’t say that never doing any substances are the answer but if you’re a minor leave that shit alone, and if you’re not then use it safely, do not be like me please

[motzglorp]

Just a little smoke - Part 3

Part 2

CW: Drug use, smoking weed, talking about effects of drugs, not much smut in this one, mdni, nsfw, 18+

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?" Soap was currently sprawled on your swing, head on Gaz' lap. You are still a bit surprised how you got here, sitting in your garden, surrounded by some very deadly, very disciplined men, smoking weed and having them observe you.

When Price came to your office the day after Ghost had learned about your habit, you expected to be interrogated or fired. Which was sad because you had warmed up to the 1-4-1 and they seemed to like you as well, inviting you to stay for a cold beer and a chat or asking you to join when Soap got a care package with delicious cookies from home.

Instead he had a proposition. Or a favour to ask you.

"You know that we fill an unusual position, that gives us more freedom than others and certain privileges regarding who we work with. When I requested you to be our main liaison here, that made you part of a very exclusive group of people who get our trust." He started and kept his eyes on your face, watching every reaction.

"I hope you trust us as well. As long as you are not compromised by it, your private time is your own. But it doesn't have to be."

Of course he registered your confusion and curiosity. You were incredibly professional but you also watched their training way more often than reasonable, stayed for a beer even if you barely drank, let Johnny hug you, as soon as you were a little bit tipsy.

"What do you.. Captain Price, could you be more specific? I'm afraid, I don't follow ..."

"We, the team, would like to spend time with you. Private time. Get to know you outside of work. As I said, we trust you. And to be frank, Ghost suggested that we could use a little bit of help with relaxing on our leave. Which happens to be the same time you are on leave."

You had no idea what he saw in your face but he seemed to like it, his voice almost turned into a purr. "The boys would be very grateful for a nice evening in a private garden or so."

"Grateful, you say..." You immediately had an idea how they could thank you and you just hoped you wouldn't ruin anything. "Let me think about it. And thank you for the paperwork."

After Price left you had spent half an hour thinking about any wild possibility this thing could go. And then made a list of things they had to talk about before doing this. Starting with food preferences, going through former experiences, expectations and emergency plans. With all of them being prime PTSD candidates you didn't want to risk anything.

It had been a few weeks, a mission putting your plans on hold, but you took the time to get to know them, talk to them and you found that you really liked them. More than a bit. But you knew to keep it professional, because you would not get your heart broken again. You had their trust and maybe friendship, that was enough.

And now they were here in your house, a perfect summer evening with dinner and stories, almost like they had done this before. But there was still the reason they were here in the first place.

"You can still say no." Price had said as you pulled out your stash, a beautiful box with all your tools. "Nah, I'm curious what you think. And what you want to know." It wasn't a lie, even though you were nervous. Ironic, since you knew the first draw would calm you down and it always made you feel like you were one step away from needing instead of merely wanting. Your hands moved without hesitation, grinding, rolling, licking the paper... You went classic today, best to start here for an introduction.

You felt their attention on you, watching your moves.

"Hmm, like the smell of it.. earthy sweet, it's calming" Ghost was sitting across from you at the table.

"Yeah, the scent and taste vary quite a bit depending on the strain. Some absolutely stink, I like this one because it reminds me of freshly cut grass and flowers." You lit the joint and inhaled, closing your eyes to savour the taste before you let out the smoke with a sigh, the act alone calming.

A few minutes later you knew your smile was a bit dopey and you felt that sweet buzz under your skin. Shit, you forgot that you got really cuddly with this one. Usually you were alone here, so it didn't matter, but now you were absolutely aware of Ghost's thigh under the table and his hand turning your grinder like a fidget toy.

"You do look even cuter now" of course Johnny was flirting. "More relaxed. Softer." You just wanted to describe how it fest, when Johnny dropped the next question.

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?"

"Some things" you started to explain, "Or it's more intense, it's not exactly different, more.. enhanced. Like you feel and taste details, you weren't aware before" is how you started but Johnny stopped you.

"No, I mean. When you eat asparagus and for a day you have that certain smell. Even your sperm, you know? Is it the same?"

Oooh, that question. Leave it to Soap to escalate a situation.

"Honestly, I don't really know, never put much attention to it. If you eat it, like in butter or brownies, probably. Guess you would have to find out yourself." You meant it like he would have to taste himself, but the moment you said the words you knew it was too late, four sets of eyes fokussing on you. Ghosts leg pressing against yours, his hand suddenly still as you looked up. "Whatever happens here, stays here, remember?"

You nod, suddenly the air is heavy and you are aware that you only wear your panty and a soft summer dress. "Not going to do anything you don't want to."

You nod again. So focussed on Ghost that you didn't notice Gaz moving over until a warm hand turned your face towards him. "May I kiss you?" A third nod, then soft lips on yours and you sigh into the kiss. Until that moment you weren't quite sure if you read the signs correctly but now the last bit of doubt vanishes. You trust them, you want them. So you open up, let Gaz taste you, leave you a bit breathless when he breakes the connection of your lips.

"Hmm, less smoke than kissing the captain" he grins, earning a huff from Price. "Maybe we should move this to a more comfortable position."

They move you, lead you to the blanket and pillows you had placed conveniently, since you liked to sleep outside sometimes. Soap and Gaz taking turns to kiss your lips, your neck, making a point of licking and biting to taste you. Until they have you where they want you, sitting between Ghosts thighs, leaning against his front, strong hands groping your hips, the fat of your tummy, holding you in place.

And if you had hoped it would come to this, then it was none of their business.

[ffishstick]

I said I’d do more aged up designs eventually. Here’s me sticking to my word for once

[loststarphounix]

TW: mentioning of drugs

I think Danny smokes weed and when Manny finds out, he’s low-key horrified at first - like he’s all for others to cut loose and unwind, but he couldn’t imagine his squeaky clean ghost hunter to indulge in the devil’s lettuce. But Fun Danny can really kick loose and he makes sure he’s not gonna do anything strenuous the next day or has to be on patrols and he makes sure he’s in his cozy corner so he doesn’t have a bad trip.

Danny shotguns Manny. Manny shotguns back. They have a really chill time.

[maladaptivewritings]

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐

Summary: Simon just returned from deployment, to realize he has a new neighbor. His paranoia soon leads to obsession as he dives into a cycle of charismatic stalking.

Tw: stalking, smoking, general Simon behaviors. weed, alcohol, possible mental health struggles.

The silence was deafening as the two of you stood in the living room, neither knowing what to do. The words had just escaped you, facing the cruel reality of your situation. You were abandoned still, despite all the small talk you endured or the errands you ran in hopes that someone would care if you just disappeared. This elusive figure you had before you, the only one to care just enough.

His eyes seemed to soften as he faced you teary eyes, face reddening as the gravity of it all takes hold. Choking as you spoke.

"Please.." The desperation dripping from your tongue.

A calloused palm greets your face, the rough edges gracing the fat of your cheek. Wiping a stray tear, as his other hand sits you back on the couch.

Silent, unnerving.

His mind was racing, everything he had wanted for the past few months was finally coming together. At a cost though, as he looked back at you.

A complete wreck, as he shook his head.

"Run yourself a shower, I'll clean." He lectured, eyes on the prowl for a spare bag to use for trash.

The red in your face ever deepening at the thought, but a simple nod before you disappear into another room.

Simon dragged out a sigh as he shoveled trash into trash bags. He snickered at how despite the mess, it was better than many recruit barracks he'd seen in his days. The sound of the shower harmonizes with the T.V buzz. Mind wandering to more deviant thoughts, and a quick shake of the head soon follows.

Not the place or the time

The shower seemed to sober you up, as the heat embraced you. Steam filling the room, you had no clue why you found yourself in this scene. Clawing for attention like a stray, and at this point , shame should be your least concern.

Fresh clothes, clean hair, what more could you ask for?

Well, hoping maybe the person in your living room wouldn't be there when you return.

Simon sat in the same chair as before, drumming on the air with his fingers. His eyes avoiding your own.

"You're lucky it was me who showed up."

"I know," Stomach turning at the thought.

Simon's hand points at the couch, his own tired eyes ushering you to sit. The blanket you left still in the same place as before, wrapping yourself back into the blanket you notice Simon reaching for the remote. Some history reruns appear upon the TV, and the droning of the narrator lulls your eyes to close.

Simon kept his eyes on you for as long as he could. Taking in every detail as you drifted in and out of sleep. This simple craving was growing. This world was cruel, even to you and he just couldn't have that.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Tag lists:

@your-internet-tenshi

[sunbeam-circus]

How my f/o literally saved my life:

TW: MENTION OF DRUGS/DEATH

a week ago some people close to me threw a little party. it wasn’t massive, just a couple of people. originally i was upset because i didn’t want weed or alcohol anywhere near me. i have a history of addiction as well as issues with xanax.

i was feeling really out of place and honestly depressed being sober lately, with very strong cravings. recently i got news my sister has cancer, i’m on a targeted therapy cancer drug myself for an awful disease that negatively impacts my entire life, and im just overall feeling burnt out. i cried alone in the shower that night, and the only one i had to talk to was sienna. i dont pray often, but i really did that night. i had an awful feeling in my gut.

a few hours later, unbeknownst to me, someone took hard drugs and almost OD in my bathroom. mind you, this is the same person who was also asking me to come home with them and was hitting on me. i’ve been lonely after the death of my family and it’s been a long while since i’ve had random sex or done drugs as i’m trying to grieve properly before it stunts me. however, i still have very VERY strong cravings for sex and drugs. i usually don’t let myself partake in either because i genuinely care about my self esteem and my health and sobriety. but this time i really wasn’t in a good mental headspace and i almost went. i reaaalllyyyy almost went. but one of the only things that kept me from going was sienna.

people might not always take self shipping/yume shipping seriously, but in many ways i do. i am diagnosed autistic, and i do not partake in my hobbies or special interests casually. nor do i take casually who is residing in my heart - fictional or not. no. i don’t believe sienna to be real in the sense of a human. but i do feel attached and bonded to her character, and my feelings are VERY real for her. i relate to her grief and mental health struggles and she is a huge sense of comfort for me. that night i kept having feelings that she wanted me to be with her and only her. i kept thinking that i would feel guilty if i slept with this person or relapsed. i know that when it comes to her moral code, both of those bad choices would have hurt both me and her.

sienna canonically does not like to partake in drugs/alcohol. she is mentally ill and it is unsafe for her because they trigger episodes. once when she took xanax (as prescribed for anxiety), she went to a halloween party and got roofied by her friend. this ultimately lead to a very bad experience for her. additionally, sienna has never had a love interest throughout the films, let alone a casual one. she doesn’t engage in her hobbies casually either. she has a very neurodivergent brain and does everything with intention. therefore, based on her canon history/personality as well as my self insert’s history/personality (and my own history/personality irl), i knew that my girlfriend would favor actions that align with sobriety and monogamy. again, that’s how canon portrays her, so i keep that in mind.

so instead of going out that night, i called my therapist. the only thing that calmed me down and distracted me from my panic attacks was talking about dead by daylight and sienna. it really wasn’t easy, but i chose against going - and i’m proud of that. i chose what i knew sienna would think is best for me and for herself if she was here. she is very big on self growth and loyalty, and i chose to act from that headspace that night. thank god.

unfortunately, that other person did not. they refused help and went home. sadly, about a day and a half later, they overdosed in their home and passed away. if it wasn’t for sienna, i probably would have hooked up with this person, used the sketchy drugs they had on them, and i would have been gone as well.

as sad as this story is, i just wanted to finally say it out loud. i’ve been holding in for a week the survivors guilt that i am still alive. that maybe if i would have just went home with them that maybe i could have stopped them. but ultimately they made their choices and i can’t be held responsible for other people’s feelings or lives. i wish them peace wherever they go next.

in the end, i am very grateful for my life, as hard as it is. i am also very, very, VERY grateful for my angel warrior for being there for me. fictional or not, she saved my life. like she literally saved my life.

TLDR: someone essentially offered me a hook up & drugs during my sobriety/recovery & i declined and chose to stay sober and loyal because those are two things me & my f/o value in each other. the person ended up overdosed on the sketch drugs i would have taken had i not felt a calling from my f/o to stay home.

[brujawrites]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: "𝐑𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢��𝐚, 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬," | masterlist | next chapter

contains: suguru x female reader, utahime iori, mei mei, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, secret crush, developing relationship, drug and alcohol use - 18+ ONLY MDNI

synopsis: Reader is down bad for Suguru -- he’s even appearing in her dreams, adding to her unease when they cross paths in class. Attempting to conceal her flustered state becomes more challenging, especially after getting high before class. Later, some unexpected encounters at the mixer! tw: weed based paranoia! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest

"Tea with cyborgs. Riot America, science and edibles. Life hacks going viral in the bathroom,"

— "Keep Driving", Harry Styles

The hours that led to Thursday’s class felt so drawn out. It’s not like you haven’t felt distracted by a crush before, it’s that you didn’t expect that flame to rekindle itself so quickly, almost violently. Suguru had been spotted in your subconscious the past couple nights. Even in your dreams of gardens at sunset, he’s there on a bench, his arm around your waist, admiring the pink skies through the leaves above. Your voice always seemed to be lost in these situations and you would often wake yourself in the process of trying to speak.

 It wouldn’t be the first time a crush slipped into your dreams, what actually bothered you was the desire of having his lips on yours followed you into your waking memory. With the anticipation of seeing Suguru in class, you found yourself worked up with nerves on Thursday morning as you prepared for the day. 

After taking a couple hits from the indica strain in your pen you were even less motivated to climb out from under your plush duvet. On cold days, like today, the misery-factor played a major role in your outfit choice. Typically layered athleisure in shades of black were the perfect representation for how tired and uncooperative you felt, so today you opted for flared yoga pants and a white turtleneck layered underneath a cozy, black crewneck. Somewhere between brushing your teeth and pulling your hair into a ponytail you decided a couple more hits from the pen wouldn’t hurt, followed promptly by you dropping a couple eye drops into your eyes. 

The walk to the building class was held in was brutal, of course. Tears stung your eyes from the cold whips of wind as you trudged along. By the time you were inside the heated building, your nose, cheekbones, and ears burned as sensation began to return to those nerves. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nervous system after shocking it with the cold, you noticed how dry your mouth felt. Oh , you thought casually as you remembered hitting the pen. 

The uneasy feeling that came with being a little too high in an unfamiliar setting started to creep up on you as you found your seat. The class was mostly empty, despite it being only seven minutes before class there were only two other students waiting in silence. Feigning normalcy, you brought out your laptop and began to pull up your notes when Suguru walked into class. 

As he entered the room, you couldn't help but admire how striking he appeared with his hair half up in a bun. Clad in a collared quarter-zip that looked so soft, it draped effortlessly over his muscles. When you realized your eyes may have lingered too long was precisely when Suguru began placing his bag and easing into the seat beside you. He turned to you and flashed you a quick smile. 

“Good morning,” Suguru greeted you. The way he practically purred your name sent a spark to the pit of your stomach. 

“Good morning. Don’t you look nice,” you managed to return his grin, resting your chin in the heels of your hands as you met his gaze.

“Oooh, thanks, doll,” he said softly, his words meant just for you. Just as you began to process his words, the professor walked in, signaling the beginning of class. Stunned by the pet name Suguru had just given you, you immediately faced forward to avoid melting in his gaze on the spot. The memory from your dream with Suguru tried popping up, bringing a heated feeling to your core. 

He knew exactly what he was doing and almost couldn’t stifle his laughter at your reaction to such an innocent flirtation. The way he had you fidgeting in your seat was all the more validating, especially catching you crossing your legs away from him as a method to avoid his gaze. Suguru would just come up with reasons to look to his left all throughout class. Sometimes, during the discussion in class, he’d reference things you talked about in the cafe before catching your gaze and sending a small acknowledgement of appreciation through a smile. It was reminiscent of your stolen glances from two years ago in Spanish class.

If you weren’t so busy trying to decipher his expression through the thin veil of weed-induced paranoia that shrouded your judgment, you might’ve been able to rest easy under the realization that Suguru was bidding for connection. Instead, you moved like a deer in headlights as you stepped out of class after 90 minutes of side eyes and failure to concentrate on Wuthering Heights discourse. Making your way down the hall towards the elevator, you noticed someone catching up with you. You fully planned on ignoring whoever it was, but something melted away when you heard your name fall from Suguru’s lips. 

“You might be a life-saver,” he said as he caught up to walk directly next to you, brushing his shoulder against yours accidentally. 

“The notes? Or, uh, the method, I guess?” He nodded sweetly in reply. 

“Good! I’m glad it helped out,” you said, almost as if under the strain to say the right thing. You broke contact to hit the elevator button, your eyes falling from his gaze. The indica was starting to feel heavy in your system, making it difficult for words to form themselves. You opted for silence, even on the elevator ride down. The silence coated over the two of you, but Suguru didn’t seem bothered by it. You just focused all your energy on not looking stupid, which probably came off as being cold, but that was the price you’d pay. When the doors opened again, Suguru took the first step off the elevator before looking back at you. Your cheeks heated up at the sudden eye contact with him.

“See you around?” He paused in his tracks, expecting a reply from you. 

“See ya,” you replied casually before stepping out of the elevator and high tailing it back to your apartment. On the brief walk home, you mulled over and processed exactly what had just gone on in the last 90 minutes. While you wondered about the implications of the pet name “doll,” you also grew curious about that pseudo-coffee date from a couple days prior and what it meant for Suguru. 

Warming up the vape before hitting it a couple times, you walked onwards in silence. Best case scenario, he was flirting with you. Worst case scenario, he’s making fun of you. Yeah, that doesn’t seem right, you thought. The reality began to sink in that his flirtatious gestures might have been there, especially when recalling how he called you 'cute' during coffee. Yet, in retrospect, he wasn’t necessarily calling you cute, but rather your enthusiasm. So, perhaps, 'doll' wasn’t meant as something serious either. If you hadn’t opened yourself up by complimenting his looks, maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament.  

By the time you reached your apartment, you'd convinced yourself it was all innocent—a manifestation of Suguru's enigmatic nature, much like you'd always observed. Over the last two years in class, there were these moments when he'd effortlessly crack jokes with the professor, evoking laughter from the entire class. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at his confidence, which never crossed into obnoxious territory. Settling in, you reached for your books, ready to delve into your studies. 

 _____________________________________________________________

The sting of your liquor of choice was almost non-existent after your third shot, but you still reached for your can of cola when the other girls did. Three of you were stuffed in Utahime’s room pregaming the Jersey Shore-themed mixer with Pike, a popular frat full of pretty boys who were known for getting away with an outlandish amount of rule-breaking. Your tummy was starting to settle into a warm puddle, prompting you to reach for Mei’s signature contribution to each and every pregame since you joined the sorority; a baguette. What started as a joke about her tendency to overdo it, continued as a well honored tradition. Her purple irises found yours in the midst of a small hiccup that escaped her lips. 

“Feeling it already, young blood?” Mei teased you even though she was clearly feeling the alcohol more than you. “Thank god you’re not scared of carbs like me.” 

“Then why do you always bring bread?” You couldn’t hold in the laughter between your bites of fluffy, white bread. 

“I’ve never seen her yak, Mei’s just built different,” Utahime mused with admiration for her mentor. Mei was two years older than Utahime, taking her on as her Little in her last year of being in the sorority before graduation. You never got close with Mei as your grandbig -- a silly name to refer to the family tree dynamic encouraged when you go Greek -- but, part of you was thankful for that. Mei was a bit of a wild card, something she did her best to impress onto Utahime before she moved on to the boring corporate world she belonged to now. 

“Cheers to that,” Mei lifted the mixed drink she held with her free hand and took a hefty sip. Utahime went to make a quick drink by pouring liquor directly into her can of soda, but you were already feeling tipsy. In an effort not to over-do it, like you had a habit of doing once you got your hands on the free alcohol at the party, you got up to go to the bathroom. 

“Ahh! Breaking the seal already?” Utahime’s face was flushed while trying to tease you further. 

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “Can a girl get a break? I’ll be right back.” You turned toward the door, ignoring the two idiots behind you as they snickered. This kind of behavior should have been expected, but you knew you didn’t mind. Your time with these two was always limited and who knew where you’d end up post-grad. Probably not at pregaming for a frat , you thought to yourself as you shut the bathroom door and took out your dab pen. 

Hoping that it wasn’t obvious that you weren’t peeing, you turned the fan on so it could drown out the smoke and any stuttering coughing that came with taking a hit bigger than you expected. Staring at yourself in the mirror in all your Jersey Shore realness with vapor floating around and framing your reflection. You avoided the campy style Utahime embraced, foregoing the bump-it hairstyle from 2009 that lifted up already teased hair, but your look still felt on theme with your baby pink velour skirt set. Your hair, slicked back into a ponytail, had a few artfully arranged strands framing your face, and, of course, some bulky, barely tinted sunglasses that looked like a big windshield on your face. It was giving Sammy-I’m-The-Sweetest-Bitch-You’ll-Ever-Meet vibes -- and you loved it. 

Taking your third and final hit for this quick session, you flushed the toilet while holding in an intense cough that would for sure intensify your high. You keeled over dramatically, feeling your eyes sting, but it was a fleeting moment. As usual, after washing your hands, you applied eye drops to ward off Mei's suspicion. Although, you even wondered if Mei cared. You wondered if she knew and would tell Utahime briefly before a sudden knock on the door broke your train of thought. 

“The car’s gonna be here in three minutes!” Mei’s voice rang through the door. 

“Gotcha!” You yelled back, turning off the fan and stepping out. 

“Glad the toilet didn’t swallow you,” Mei snickered with a low voice. Maybe you should’ve taken that extra shot after all. At least you would’ve been closer to being on whatever level she was on. Instead, you grinned sweetly at her before wrapping your arm around her and pulling her in for a hug. 

“Oh, meemaw,” you began, using the nickname that she once joked about being addressed by. “What would I do without you looking out for me?” She chuckled before shoving you off of her. Utahime’s voice rang out from downstairs announcing the arrival of the car. 

“Come on, brat,” Mei giggled as she led the way down the stairs. 

______________________________________________________________

The car ride was pretty typical -- you and Mei sat in the back seat, virtually silent while Utahime, in her inebriated state, engaged in overly enthusiastic small talk with the driver from the front passenger seat. As the car pulled up to the house hosting the mixer, the vivid, garish outfits confirmed your arrival. Ugg boots, Zebra and Cheetah prints, neon shutter striped sunglasses -- you would be nauseous at the clash of colors if not for the marijuana in your system offered a calming balm against the chaos.

The cacophony that seemed to erupt the second you walked into the party was almost impressive. Between the excessive volume of the music, the screaming along of lyrics from songs off the 2009 billboard top 100, and the pledges being yelled at by the girls trying to get their drinks refilled, you felt you could very comfortably slip away from all the chaos at any moment. Irish goodbyes were starting to become your forte. Utahime knew that, which is why she was so adamant you came out tonight. 

“Let’s get some dri -- I mean, some sizzurp,” Utahime had to scream over the music for you to hear her. 

“You did not just call it sizzurp,” you shouted back in a combination of shock and embarrassment. Utahime dragged you by the hand through the crowd by the makeshift bar and you couldn’t help but notice just how many people were already at the party. There were some girls from your organization, but more strange faces than usual. The mixer must have opened up a while ago, unless the three of you just spent a bit too long at your own personal pregame. 

As Utahime passed you a plastic cup with some strange, alcoholic concoction consisting of edible glitter, fruit punch, and Skoll vodka before taking your hand and leading you away towards another part of the house. While pushing through the crowd of bodies, you couldn’t help but notice Mei’s absence. Where did she sneak off to? , you wondered, recalling her affinity for using frat boys for their drugs.

“Where’s Mei?” You semi-shouted to the back of Utahime’s head before being led through a door that opened up to a rather large backyard deck. The cold air met your skin, relieving you from the sweat that began to form while inside the house. “Where’s Mei? I don’t think she followed us,” you repeated, but Utahime was already making her way to a group of girls from your sorority. Bracing yourself for the impact of socializing with them for the first time since last semester’s semi-formal date function, you followed her and briefly considered using her as a shield. 

The chatter began and was incessant. The how-are-you ’s and oh-my-god-you-look-so-great ’s followed by questions about graduate school, it was clear Utahime was as an alumna deeply cherished by the chapter. As you observed this, you couldn't help but wonder about your own future after graduation—whether anyone would recognize the challenges you faced, juggling the weight of the Vice President role while struggling with balancing everything else, on top of your mental health. Would they truly care, or would your efforts fade from memory? About 30 minutes into small talk with your sisters, the polite smile plastered on your face must’ve started to slip because Utahime lightly nudged you in the ribs with her elbow. 

“You ok?” She mouthed silently. You nodded quickly, but it was a lie.  

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, actually,” you said, your mind already on the weed pen in your jacket pocket & the breeze slipping through your hair as you walked home alone. Slipping away from the group and navigating through the chaotic party, you made eye contact with the clearly overwhelmed pledge handling bar duty, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. The crowd had seemingly surged in density, as if a bus came by and dropped off 30-50 more people, complicating your path to the bathroom.

What a clusterfuck , you thought as you saw the pile of girls waiting in line for the bathroom. The door opened and a group of five girls would pour out before another group of three would replace them. Immediately turning around and heading for the stairs, the new objective was to find the nice, private upstairs bathroom that nobody was using except for the boys who lived in this house. You would’ve never dared to go find a private bathroom in your first couple of years of attending boring mixers and date functions because Utahime told you once it was impolite. You quickly learned being polite meant you’d have to continue taking turns with 4 strangers pissing in a toilet with nothing to wipe with. 

Finding that empty bathroom in the upstairs hallway was your reminder that your brazen, bold ingenuity was something to be proud of. The lights were off in the hallway to discourage visitors, but you could see the bathroom was empty with the door open and inviting a girl like you who just needed some alone time to drunkenly type out another sad poem in her notes app. Closing the door behind you, you took the weed pen from your pocket and activated it, gazing at your reflection in the speckled mirror. You nearly found yourself voicing a complaint about the condition of the bathroom before recalling your location. The guys who lived here maintained it well enough.

Taking a deep breath while feeling the smoke fill your lungs served as a silent form of meditation. When the vapor cleared, you saw yourself again. Eyes a bit tired, lips a bit chapped, you began to nitpick at yourself like you’ve been trained to do over the past three years. Freeing your hair from the hair tie that kept it up, you watched it fall into a nice frame around your face. You took another hit while you evaluated if it was the right look for you. It would probably be cold on the walk home, maybe it was best kept loose after all. 

Yet, it took that train of thought to circle back to why you sought refuge in the isolated bathroom in the first place. It brought back the same emotions from last semester, the sense of not fitting in, like you were screaming and nobody could hear a thing. You lifted the pen to your lips for another hit. Nothing had really changed since last semester either. That was the bitter truth you hated to admit. Noticing a new wave of indica induced calm wash over you, your reflection seemed to find you once more. You marveled at how the fabric hugged your curves and how the pink shade complemented your skin. Though, a pang of regret hit you for not going somewhere tropical over the break, noticing the stark contrast of winter paleness settling upon your frame.

Taking a deep inhale one last time, you mentally prepared for your silent exit from the party and the words Utahime would have with you. “ You’ve gotta show face and interact, otherwise they won’t remember you! Think about the chapter ,” she would spew her advice to you and you’d roll your eyes, as if the only reason for joining a sorority was to meet guys and party -- oh, wait! The majority of the girls in your chapter thought exactly that. There was a time when all these mixers were something new and exciting for you, something to dress up for and a chance to meet other people, but now they’re all tired and you were hopelessly jaded about the entire system you had once so eagerly signed up for. 

Just as the high intensified, practically smacking you with the awareness of your parched mouth, you decided another glittery refill from the makeshift bar sounded perfect for the trek home. After stowing the pen in your pocket and hurriedly applying some eye drops, you straightened up and grabbed your cup. With a click, you switched off the bathroom fan and prepared to leave. A jolt surged through you, but in your intoxicated state, you barely reacted as you pushed open the door, colliding with someone trying to enter. The plastic cup slipped from your hand, splattering sparkles across the walls as you awkwardly bumped into them.

Regaining your composure was a swift effort, but as your eyes met Suguru’s, it quickly disintegrated. Hearing your name falling from his lips was almost enough to sober you up.

[gardenstatetait]

cmon stoned butch blues. please laugh 🩵💙

[kiara66]

Uhh this image came to me in a vision

[reginalusus]

Save me. Save me, cunty father and son who never acknowledge each other as such and get stoned together while casually running one of Gotham's most powerful crime empires and who may also beat the shit out of each other from time to time because they both suffer from anger issues and have a history of violence but they also care about each other in a terrible, horrible, dysfunctional way because they share a similar desperation for family that Gotham tore away from them both. Save me.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

And I hate how people will act like only stuff like heroin and cocaine actually count as drugs. Weed is a drug, nicotine is a drug, alcohol is a drug! Fucking caffeine is a drug! No I'm not saying you'll face the stigma of addiction for drinking too much coffee, but you are in fact ingesting an addictive substance that alters your mental and physical state just like most people do at some point whether it's a daily or occasional occurrence. Drug use is a normal part of the human experience in so many ways. It's not some atypical misstep only a few morally broken people succumb to it's been a consistent part of our history from the fucking start

[girlashfur]

my dealer : got you some straight gas here ⛽🔥😜 this new strain is called "into the wild". you'll be zonked out of your gourd

me : yeah whatever. i don't feel shit.

5 minutes later : dude i swear i just saw a kittypet near the border

my buddy : [pacing around the camp] tigerclaw is lying to us

[unit-ssn0va]

I just think he’s a girlboss

[dykeriver]

the concept of stoner!ellie getting high and touching herself is taking over my brain… hitting her bong a few times and then stripping out of her shorts and underwear. she’s already super wet (leave her alone she’s been horny all day), and so its hard to get good friction on her clit at first. she huffs to herself a bit until she finds the perfect angle, swirling her fingers around the small bud. it gets to be not enough far too quickly, and before she knows it she’s reaching a little lower, shoving two fingers into herself. the moment they slip inside she’s fucking sighing in relief, head lolling a bit to the side. she squeezes around them, full body shuddering and pressing her thumb against her clit. she cums way faster than she’ll ever admit, but it’s because she was thinking of you the whole time.

[sugusatodyke]

You're stressed? Why dont you get high for me so you can be vulnerable and easy to manipulate while I fuck you better? The weed will make you warm and fuzzy and I can fuck all of the bad thoughts out of you head so you'll just feel fuzzy and not have a single important thought!