#drug use/addiction mention

[genderqueerdykes]

i know this won't be available everywhere, but especially if you live in a larger city where a lot of folks are affected by opioid use/addiction, it's a really good idea to ask local pharmacies, and even food banks if they are giving out free narcan (naloxone). this can also be found at certain behavioral health offices as well, my case manager is able to get them for me for free. narcan is a life saving medication that can temporarily halt an opioid (oxycodone, hydrocodone, heroin, fentanyl, codeine, morphine, etc.) overdose while you wait for emergency medical services to arrive.

opioid overdose is distress of the respiratory system, meaning that the person overdosing likely is struggling to, or can't breathe at all. it's very important to watch to see if the person is dealing with labored or shallow breathing.

here the official use guide:

[Image ID start: Two screenshots from the FDA's Narcan (Naloxone HCl) Quick Start Guide infographic. It reads:

"Narcan (Naloxone HCl) Nasal spray quick start guide. Opioid Overdose Response Instructions.

Use NARCAN Nasal Spray (naloxone hydrochloride) for known or suspected opioid overdose in adults and children.

Important: For use in the nose only.

Do not remove or test the NARCAN Nasal Spray until ready to use.

1.) Identify Opioid Overdose and Check for Response Ask the person if they are okay and shout name.

Shake shoulders firmly and rub the middle of their chest.

Check for signs of Opioid Overdose:

Will not wake up or respond to your voice or touch

Breathing is very slow, irregular, or has stopped

Center part of their eye is very small, sometimes called "pinpoint pupils".

Lay the person on their back to receive a dose of NARCAN nasal spray.

2.) Give NARCAN nasal spray

Remove NARCAN nasal spray from the box. Peel back the tab with the circle to open the NARCAN nasal spray.

Hold the NARCAN nasal spray with your thumb at the bottom of the plunger and your first and middle fingers on either side of the nozzle.

Gently insert the tip of the nozzle into either nostril.

Tilt the person's head back and provide support under the neck with your hand. Gently insert the tip of the nozzel into one nostril, until your fingers on either side of the nozzle are against the bottom of the person's nose.

Press the plunger firmly to give the dose of NARCAN nasal spray.

Remove the NARCAN Nasal Spray from the nostril after giving the dose.

3.) Call for emergency medical help, Evaluate, and Support

Get emergency medical help right away.

Move the person on their side (recovery position) after giving NARCAN Nasal Spray

Watch the person closely.

If the person does not respond by waking up, to voice or touch, or breathing normally another dose may be given. NARCAN Nasal Spray may be dosed every 2 - 3 minutes, if available.

Repeat Step 2 using a new NARCAN Nasal Spray to give another dose in the other nostril. If additional NARCAN Nasal Sprays are available, repeat step 2 every 2 to 3 minutes until he person responds or emergency medical help is received.

For more information about NARCAN Nasal Spray go to www.narcannasalspray.com, or call 1-844-4NARCAN (1-844-462-7226)."

End image ID.]

[danneroni]

the end is death

[anotherpapercut]

genuinely so many of you want to be leftist and "punk" and countercultural soooooo bad but you refuse to become comfortable with the concept of people taking drugs for fun because they like it and not because they were somehow tricked or forced into it without knowing what they were getting themselves into

you'll be like "addiction is a disease!!" but think you're better than those degenerate stoners because you only drink energy drinks and white claws and would never touch "illegal drugs"

many if not most drugs CAN be consumed completely safely with almost 0 risk to the user and even if that werent true and all drugs were extremely dangerous you still wouldn't be better than those of us who love doing drugs recreationally

lighten up and grow up. get offline, talk to real adults, and stop being shocked to discover that they enjoy doing stuff that adults do like have sex and do drugs and even listen to rock and roll

[memelovescaps]

Elementary again pulling me in, because that's what it does best.

Where We Belong.

Sherlock & Joan, or Sherlock/Joan, whatever you want to read it. Rated: M. Words: 2 904. Hurt/Comfort. Discussion of cancer. Discussion of drugs. Guilt. Lies. POV Sherlock Holmes. Protective Sherlock Holmes. Hurt Joan Watson.

Set in the last episode S07E13 “Their Last Bow”. Missing scene after Sherlock decides to stay with Watson, and the time-jump of one year later. The reality of Watson's illness suffocates them, Sherlock's guilt eats at him for having been away when he should've been with her. Emotions run high, and Sherlock wants nothing more than to comfort and reassure Watson.

Her skin was cool from the shower, but his touch was warm and steady. She looked away, her gaze darting around the room. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, slowly, gently, the rhythm matching the slow, deep breaths he forced himself to take to keep his voice steady. His eyes sought hers, but she wouldn’t meet them. Not yet.

“It’s alright, Watson. Arthur is safe with Rose, and I won’t leave come morning. Tonight, we can take it slow. Agreed?” he said, his voice low. There was a softness to his tone that surprised even him, a warmth that felt foreign and yet… right. Like an old habit finally remembered.

Watson nodded, her lower lip quivering. He could feel the tremor in her hand now, the faintest shake as the weight of her emotions began to surface. He saw the tears well in her eyes and stepped forward.

His arms easily found their place around her, holding her close, as though they belonged there. He pulled her in, gentle but secure, grounding her as she trembled in his embrace. 

The scent of her washed hair—a hint of something floral—filled his senses, stirring a deep, familiar ache in his heart.

He was home.

A home he had missed without realising just how much.

For three long years, he had delved into work, needing an outlet to forget the fact that he missed her. It had been hard to accept that, regardless of trying to focus on his health and sobriety, without Watson it felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

He threw himself into work, closing case after case. Trying to avoid thinking about her and spiralling out of control.

All the while, he hadn’t been there when she needed him. When she faced life without news from him, not knowing if he was dead or alive. When Arthur came into her world and he welcomed him. Or when her diagnosis came.

He’d fought his own battles, forcing her to face hers alone. Without him.

And he had failed her when it mattered most.

Read on Fanfiction and Wattpad too.

[helluvabossrewrite45]

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite; Opening up at the Bar

From what I seen from hh with how it handles sa topics, it's very...questionable. Now the show hasn't still come out yet so I won't go into detail about it, but with how they use the song 'poison' and behind the scenes of it (viv making a sex joke as marketing the song and the lead storyboard shipping val x angel despite what it's meant to portray in canon) makes it understandable for people to critque the show's portrayal of it. So for here, I want to approach Angel's truama as respectfully as I can with Angel opening up to Husk as it seems to be the same episode where both of them improve their relationship. I hope I'm able to address sa well because I know it's a very delicate topic that shouldn't be written lightly (especially for truama responses like hypersexuality) so if you have any problems with how I written it and how I should change it, please let me know. I will rewrite it until I portray this topic properly and credit you for your critque/help (unless you don't want to)

Content Warning; SA and mention of drug/alcohol addiction

A bar full of bottles and boozes sitting there in windless silence, aching for their next customer. Its emptiness is numbing, the stranded desert of this hotel. Husk, tapping his fingers in rhythm, halts it as though the ticking of a clock stops and sighs in relief, grateful that his work is now done. He takes a bottle of booze, fulfilling its fate as he opens the lid to drain it all down, until he hears the door creaking. 

He groans “Oh it’s you,” as Angel Dust drags himself towards the bar, collapsing his face to the poseur table. “What do you want now? Bar’s gonna close soon. So hurry up.” 

Angel’s face tilts up. “A drink, please.” His voice is soft yet hoarse.

Husk rolls his eyes, wishing for that sweet graveness to enter this bar once again. He goes through his bottles. “Which one?” He asks with a hostile glare.

“Any.”

Angel Dust slowly lifts himself up from the table, staring in discomfort at Husk grabbing a random bottle from his shelf, a sense of dread lingers onto him. 

“Husk…” His voice grows quiet.

“What?”

“I’m…sorry.” His eyes not meeting Husk’s gaze. 

“For what?” He responds snappily, placing one hand to his hip.

“For earlier…” Angel answers, his eyes still refusing to see Husks. “For saying and doing all those weird things to you, I'm sorry.”

His grouchy face still remains. “Whatever,” firmly placing the bottle to the table and swishing it towards Angel. “Don’t do that again.”

“Yeah,” his body tenses, “I hope so…”

Husk brows raised. “Hope so? What do you mean?”

The question hangs on as Angel Dust fiddles their hands, looking down at the wooden dry floor. The room has been fogged in silence as Husk finds himself repeatedly tapping his fingers, wondering when the clock will finally end its grating tick. 

“Well…” His voice quivers, tracing his eyes back to Husks. “I don’t know…”

Husk’s face turned puzzled. “The hell you mean you don't know?!” 

“I-” Angel pauses himself for a moment, “I don't know. I just don’t know.” His face bangs on the table as his arms come to cover.

“Ah well, might just be a you problem then.” He cackles at his own joke, with hollow applause. 

Angel huffs, “That’s what you all think.” His voice became more irritated. 

Husk’s laughter abrupt into cold stillness, his voice freezes with the rest of his body. 

Angel continues, “All of you think i’m just some dirty sex pest, huh? A running sex joke?” Anger starts to rise through his voice, “Even Charlie thinks what I do is just who I am- like I chose this!” He cuts himself off, facing down to the lifeless floor again. “Like I chose this…”

Husk words vanished, his voice having trouble coming out of his mouth. All he could do is stand there, watching Angel Dust ponder through his thoughts. 

“You know I don’t actually like being sexual twenty-four seven? Crazy right?” He formed a smile, though not by sweetness, but by bitterness. “I don’t actually like making endless sex jokes or dirty talk, I don’t actually like to constantly fantasise or masturbate or sleep around with a bunch of nobodies,” bitterness starts to spread through his voice, “and I especially don’t like working in that place!” He holds his breath, exhaling to serene air. “But I do it anyway, no matter how hard I try.” His finger scratched the table harshly with a melancholic frown. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, I didn’t used to be like this, it was only after-” Angel cuts himself off as his body starts trembling. He places a heart on his hand, feeling the rapid sounds of his heartbeat. “After…” He slows himself, unable to muster anything else to speak of. 

His eyes lift to Husk, seeing the statue that he became, his widened pupils not even taking one blink. Angel’s face rose with worry, “Oh uh…sorry.” He murmurs. “Sorry, I’ll just take the booze or-”

“Go on.” Husk's voice comes back again.

“W-what?” He quivers, taken aback by what he heard.

“Go on…” Husk's voice trails off, still a statue of himself.

Angel Dust pursed his lips, facing down once more. “There was a time back then, when I sneaked into a bar for some alcohol, the thing that helped me most when I was alive. There was a really fancy bottle, porcelain white shimmering with bubbles, I couldn’t help myself. I had to have it. Then he caught me, I thought he would kill me. Instead, he made a deal; that if I work in his business, I won’t need to steal anything or even need a place to stay…” He breaks off, his fingers scraping themselves to a shell. “So I worked as one of his sex workers; a stripper for his bars, an actor for his films, anything to do with sex, really. It wasn’t what I was always interested in, but it felt…better? Being more open and honest about myself that I never got to do on earth. That is, until I came back to his home…He told me he wanted to show me something, my ‘reward’...” He holds back on his words, wrapping his arms around in a warm embrace. “After that, I…I don't know, I guess that’s where I started becoming more sexual. It’s like a switch where my mind now constantly thinks about sex, even if it’s not what I want. It’s my poison.” He holds onto his words again, reflecting his thoughts. “Maybe it’s a way of control, to take back what he did to me, not letting him hurt me…but is it any good if you can’t control it yourself?” He finds himself eyeing at the bottle of toxicated liquid. “That’s why I came here, I couldn’t find any drugs. So alcohol will just have to do.”

Husk exhales a quiet breath, with Angel’s words stalling through his mind. He saw Angel reaching for the bottle. “Wait!” He alerts, taking the bottle before Angel could have the chance. Angel looks at him, confound. “Why?” Husk fell silent, wavering on his memory like a lightning struck in a bottle. He places the bottle back to its fateless place and starts rummaging through the tea bags until one reads ‘Black Caravan Tea’. He places the tea bag in a muggy cup and clicks the kettle to brew. Minutes go by as the kettle finally makes its thump, breaking Husks trance as he pours the steamy water onto the cup and gently pushes it over to Angel. “Here” He says softly. “Careful, it’s hot.” Angel slowly directs his eyes to the hot tea, then back to Husk, his mouth making a quiet gasp. “I know it’s not much,” He adds. “But for you, I hope it can be enough.”

Angel dust calmly blows the steam off his tea and takes a sip, warm smoky sweetness filling his mouth in peaceful bliss. He continues sipping it at a slow pace, enjoying each moment with him and his magical tea, transforming his mind to ocean waves, hearing its soothing whooshes and the pleasant echoes of bird’s chirping. After taking one last sip, he notices Husk with his own muggy cup, cooling off the steam before slurping down the whole tea to an empty cup. His grouchy face disappeared, replacing it with a genial smile; friendly and relaxed. Like warming his face with radiant golden sunlight. 

“What’s this?” Angel asks as soon as Husk tastes his last drop.

“Black Caravan.” Husk replies, licking his lips. “My Babushka always makes this tea, saying ‘If you get upset, don’t waste your mouth with vodka, relish it with Caravan.’” He glimpses away from Angel dust, shining a little star in his eyes before glaring at the shelves of bottles and boozes. “Heh, no wonder I hadn’t remembered…” 

Angel snickers. “My Nonno says something similar. He said; ‘You don’t stuff your mouth with alcohol, you stuff it with Frittelie!’” They both chuckle with each other, reminiscing of their old lives before the room went to silence. Both eyes looking away from each other as Angel proceeds to fiddle with his hands and Husk tapping his table, now only slow and with no rhythm. A clock’s final strikes till midnight. “You know,” He spoke solemnly. “After you're done with work and all, instead of finding drugs, you can come straight here to talk or have some tea. Either one or both to get off some steam.” 

Angel glances back to Husk’s sentimental gaze, his eyes lit up. “You’ll…You’ll do that?”

“Yeah.” He responds, keeping his gaze to Angel Dusts. “I’d do. For you…”

Their eyes locked in their gazes, their beating hearts twined to one another. Angel’s eyes turn away from the burning faint shades of pink of his face, looking steadily at the cup. “Yeah,” a small line shaped to a tender smile, “I’d like that.”

[yardsards]

also. amber gris as a character is really important to me as an appalachian.

not just her accent or the specific type of person justin based her off of but like

the feeling of losing someone to addiction/overdose while the government does nothing to help, just criminalizes and stigmatizes and makes things worse. which obviously happens in more places than just around here, but we have one of the highest rates of overdose death in the whole country and that whole set of scenes felt like they were really informed by growing up around that

[rockgodklav]

What's your favourite narcotic?

“I am a law abiding citizen.”

@firstclassattorney

[your-daily-snl]

HBO Mario Kart Trailer, starring a gritty version of Mario (Pedro Pascal) as he travels through a grueling world of mushrooms and racecarts.

Original Air Date: 2023

[izzyspussy]

we went over the 14yr long torture session in my last therapy visit actually, and i told her that toward the end i was fantasizing about and then actively considering walking into traffic because if i got catastrophically injured then they would have to treat my pain. and she told me that's not an uncommon thing for people to do. that she has heard that many times before.

like think about that. we are so moralistic about drug use and have politicized a particular type of medicine so much, and doctors are so uncompassionate toward and even suspicious of patients who are in pain because of it, that it's NOT UNCOMMON for people who are otherwise not suicidal to start completely genuinely longing to get hit by a fucking car just for the chance to be oh so graciously provided the absolute bare fucking minimum of care.

think about how many different things have pain as a symptom. how many things have pain as the only symptom the patient is aware of. how many of them are life or death crises. heart attacks. blood clots. strokes. bleeding ulcers. those are just what i can think of off the top of my fucking head, AND I'M NOT A FUCKING DOCTOR.

what i had, for example, feels exactly like appendicitis. and they left it for fourteen years because my only symptom was excruciating pain and i didn't fit their stupid little (completely unsupported by evidence, btw) diagnostic mnemonic. if it had been appendicitis, or anything else as immediately deadly that "just" hurts, i would have fucking died the same night i got sent home from the emergency room with "medical" "advice" to take some tylenol and rest - for the first time, that is. out of dozens. how many people do die that way?

because addicts are Bad. and because doctors are too arrogant and biased to practice medicine on the basis of evidence and informed consent when the profit model and conservative propaganda make it soooo easy to stay in the good old days of paternalism instead.

[angelphone1]

Hi-lo! I saw your request for requests so I figured I'd send something :D

Maybe whumper and whumpee are partners and whumpee is dealing with an addiction. They tell whumper that they've stopped but now they're just doing it in secret. When whumper catches whumpee they 'punish' whumpee with their addiction somehow.

Feel free to do whatever you want with this prompt!

hiii thank you so much for requesting! i honestly wasn't sure what to do with this prompt but after some deliberation i think maybe i figured out something good? i hope you enjoy :)

WHUMPEE grimaces as the needle goes in. They should be fine; WHUMPER shouldn't be back for another few days at the very least. Enough time for just one needle. Just one little taste. Just one. They said they're off the stuff now, and that's true. This is WHUMPEE's decision; it's not something they need.

WHUMPEE sighs in relief as, blessedly, it kicks in, nearly knocking WHUMPEE unconscious in the process. Like they're floating. Like they're made of warm, warm light. Like nothing else ever matters. It's just presence. Bliss. Pureness.

The high lasts for a while. It's so nice. It's wonderful. It's transcendent. Here, WHUMPEE doesn't have to worry. About anything. If you ask WHUMPEE, right now, if this was worth it, they would say, "Absolutely fucking yes." Absolutely, it was worth it, going behind WHUMPER's back, getting back in touch with DEALER, giving themselves some time to relax. Nothing to worry about. Everything to feel good about. Just bliss.

And then the crash comes; and WHUMPEE is suddenly nothing more than a filthy wretch in filthy clothes, in an apartment that smells like vinegar and vomit, unbelievably thirsty and needing to piss, and dear God, when did they last eat? When did the sky get so dark? When did ---

The door clicks. A key turns. It pushes open, revealing WHUMPER, sighing heavily at the mess and the smell.

WHUMPER: "Whumpee."

WHUMPEE, stammering: "Wh --- wh --- you weren't --- "

WHUMPER: "I'm not supposed to be here. I am supposed to be on vacation right now, with Friend. Yes."

WHUMPEE panics, barely able to form coherent thoughts from their place on the floor.

WHUMPER, pinching the bridge of their nose: "I lied. Just like you lied about quitting." They sigh. "How long has this been going on, Whumpee?"

WHUMPEE: "It was ---"

WHUMPER: "Don't answer that. I already know. You never really quit... God, you're fucking pathetic. I tied myself to a piece of shit, and this is what I get."

WHUMPEE: "I'm not --- just --- "

WHUMPER, exasperated: "Just what? What possible excuse could you have to explain.. this?"

WHUMPEE: "It was --- I only did it just once, just this one time, just because --- it was my choice, it wasn't --- "

WHUMPER, under their breath: "God, I'm just like my fucking mother."

Now, if you had asked WHUMPEE whether or not the high was worth it, they would have said, "Absolutely fucking no." Because it really wasn't. Absolutely not.

WHUMPER walks forward. WHUMPEE scrambles backward, messy and uncoordinated, feeling as if they can feel themselves spilling all over the carpet. WHUMPER picks up the used needle, a small bit of blood on the tip from where it had pierced a vein, the plunger pushed down all the way, a few traces of residue still inside.

WHUMPER: "Fucking incredible. Just fantastic. This is worth more to you than I am, huh? A little bag of black fucking bullshit over me." They mutter more profanities under their breath, continuing to march towards WHUMPEE, who is staring up at them, wide-eyed. Their headache makes it impossible to think straight. Surely WHUMPER isn't going to hurt them, right? There is a cold, cold anger in WHUMPER's eyes, something that must have been building up for a long time now.

WHUMPER grabs WHUMPEE's arm, and stabs the needle in with no regard for location. WHUMPEE cries out, unable to rip their arm out of WHUMPER's cold, hard grip. WHUMPER rips it out and stabs it back in. And again. And again.

WHUMPER, punctating each word with another stab: "Fucking. Useless. Fucking. Bitch." The words devolve into just angry shouting, as WHUMPEE is crying and sobbing from the searing, searing pain. Eventually, the needle breaks, and then the glass shatters, and WHUMPER doesn't stop, until WHUMPEE's arm is absolutely mangled. WHUMPER tosses the remnants aside, wiping their now-bloody hand on their shirt.

WHUMPEE screams, the inferno in their arm a far cry from the sharp prick of the injection, pushing away at WHUMPER with their good arm, left to curl up mewling on the floor, their voice raw and incoherent, disoriented and heavy-headed, like their whole body is made from lead.

In the far, far distance, a phone ringing.

OPERATOR: "911, what is your emergency?"

WHUMPER, out of breath: "Yeah, so, my partner.. nearly overdosed, and we got in a fight, and they.. tore their whole arm to shreds. They.. need an ambulance. It's really bad. Yeah, our address is ... "

WHUMPEE's vision slowly, slowly fades to black.

[mxjackparker]

I remember I was once talking about drug users, in the context of who needs access to tests which determine whether certain drugs have been cut with fentanyl or nitazenes, and one man I was talking to corrected me because I used the phrase "people struggling with addiction". He told me this label was not only stigmatizing, but also inaccurate because not every person using a drug necessarily has either a physical or mental dependency on it. People who are not considered "addicted", even according to the definitions used in medicine, still need access to tests for their drugs. He also pointed out that not all people who are addicted to drugs in some manner are "struggling" with it.

I don't think he has any idea how often I think about that correction. He didn't moderate his tone or worry about embarrassing me; he was harsh in how he said it and did so in front of others. He knew he was right and there was no good reason to coddle my feelings. I appreciate that, because it make me take it seriously and really reflect on it. I already knew that you could use drugs without becoming addicted (I have) and that you could be addicted to something and have that addiction not be a problem (I have had a physical dependency on drugs which were a net positive for me to use). Yet, despite knowing that, when I was doing advocacy work I was defaulting to language with fucked up implications. Partially to seem respectable and partially because I was mentally distancing myself from other drug users.

I was thinking about him again today, and how he's permanently changed the way I speak about drug use when I do activism. He's had a knock-on effect, for every person I reach, and I'm sure he has done the same thing with many other people he's corrected.

Anyway, shout-out to him for his advocacy for drug users!

[annyankers]

I’m once again irrationally mad about how people complain about the magic metaphors in buffy work (the whole dark magic=addiction, wicca = gay shit thing).

Like I cannot express how frustrating it is to see people bitching about how things like Dark Willow “don’t make sense” because “magic/Wicca was a originally metaphor for queerness“ or whatever as tho the first two major episodes in the series where magic was used (1x3 “Witch” and 2x8 “Dark Ages” ) weren’t all about the dark/inappropriate/destructive/abusive use of magic.

People loooooooveeeeee Giles’ past as Ripper and delight over things like “Band Candy” where we see him go Full Ripper but cannot for the life of them seem to remember that we first even LEARNED ABOUT THAT PART OF HIM IN DARK AGES WHERE HE TALKED ABOUT BASICALLY MAGICALLY PARTYING SO HARD HIS FRIEND DIED. THIS IS OUR FIRST MAJOR CHARACTER EPISODE THAT’S GOT MAGIC AS A MAIN FOCAL ELEMENT! THIS IS THE ORIGINAL METAPHOR!

The queerness is still kinda baked in there because of the Ethan Of It All but it’s first and foremost a metaphor about like, all the shit that classically leads to substance abuse and the worst outcomes that can come from it. Willow and Tara are an example of the “good” side of magic ( I’ll say Jenny is also in this section but they do so fucking little w/ her technopagan-ness so). They’re also pretty explicitly said to be “Wiccans” which I also have some issues with because of how Wicca is portrayed/talked about in the show (the Silver RavenWolf energy of it all is so galling). But like, that’s literally a whole fucking different subsection/practice of witchcraft/magic. This is like getting mad at water polo for muddling the metaphor of jet skiing. Like yes, they both are water sports but I think you’ll that they’re not the same fucking one and work completely differently.

Magic is not just 1 set of spells and rituals, it’s a multifaceted, multilayered, multi-pathed thing. With Giles we see how it can go Very Wrong and with Willow and Tara in S4-5 we see how it can go Very Right (and how it can be used to help get the Gay in the show around the Fox Censors). Willow increasingly having issues with magic/substance abuse is NOT a mixed metaphor/bad writing/ruining the gay metaphor and implying gays are bad. It’s USING THE OTHER ALREADY ESTABLISHED MAGIC METAPHOR AS PART OF HER CHARACTER ARC. WILLOW CAN BE QUEER AND ALSO HAVE A SUBSTANCE ABUSE ISSUE! GILES ARGUABLY DID IT FIRST ANYWAY (again, the Ethan Of It All)!

Willow has ALWAYS been insecure, a lil bit of a control freak, someone who wants to be HER REAL SELF and also someone TOTALLY DIFFERENT. Like she wants to be Willow but only if it’s a Willow who’s better/cooler/stronger/prettier etc. Someone who’s not the “pathetic loser” she still sees herself as even in season 6 and hasn’t totally shaken in season 7. These desires both to feel more In Control/Better and Not Yourself are classic reasons people will turn to substance abuse. For Willow is it MUCH easier to do a wizard spell to “fix” a problem than it is to like, fucking confront her issues of self-loathing and self-worth and like.... go to therapy. And that’s what gets her in trouble just like it has for so many others before her. Like in many ways Dark/Addict Willow is like seeing Giles’ Ripper Era live and on screen plus maybe a lil bit on steroids.

Magic can be used as part of more than 1 metaphor and the substance abuse metaphor came first. Stop pretending like it never existed in the show until season 6.

[shmingleping]

Love the sound of the fans going or most especially music ~ $uicideboy$ ~ when that whole hearing thing is happening from iv cola.

[f4t-tr4nny]

I WILL FUCKING KMS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GIMME FUCKING SUBSTANCES AND CUDLES!!! NOW! BEFORE I UNLOAD A GUN INTO MY HEAD

[thecuddlycauldron]

Some harm reduction tips for staying safe in the heat ☀️

With another super hot summer ahead, I wanted to post a few reminders so you can stay safe and hydrated in the sun!

・₊✧ Drink plenty of water throughout the day to prevent dehydration. Try to avoid excessive consumption of alcohol or caffeinated drinks, especially when taking other substances, as they can dehydrate you quicker.

・₊✧ Heat can increase the effects of substances. Use smaller amounts and wait longer between doses to monitor your body's reaction.

・₊✧ Let a trusted friend know your plans, what you're using, and your location. It is always best to never use alone, though!

・₊✧ Give your body time to recover by taking breaks in cool environments and drinking water regularly. Pay extra attention to how you feel. If you start feeling unwell, stop using and find a cool place to rest and hydrate.

・₊✧ Bring items like sunscreen and a hat to protect yourself from the sun. If you go to a safe injection site, needle exchange etc. be sure to pick up some water as well

・₊✧ Different substances can have varied effects on you in the heat. Be aware of how the substance you are using interacts with high temperatures!

Be safe out there ♡

[inner-visionz]

Sherbert (2d x autistic transboy reader)

Warning: drug use, drug addiction, blood, drug mention. Plz don't read if your under 16/17

Chapter 1

I must be the master of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I just moved here not that long ago and this is the second time I've seen a car crash right in front of me. I just want to see my dealer so I can get a few joints and go home, but I see a blue haired boy fly out of the wind shield and smack his head on the curb with a disturbing thud. I hear glass cracking underneath my boots as I run towards him. I don't know what I'm gonna do when I get to him, I'm not in the medical field but my body just instantly reacted. 

I kneel down by his head while trying to avoid shards of glass to study his injuries. It doesn't take me long to notice that he's the same boy I saw in the first crash when they put him in an ambulance. His face has bruises and cuts in a few spots and blood is flowing from his closed eyes. I hear a soft groan come from him so I put his head in my lap to give him a bit of comfort. I'm sure his head is splitting right now. I can't believe I've watched this man completely eat shit twice. He has his lips slightly parted so I can see that he's missing two front teeth. Poor man has been through hell. 

I gently put my hand on his cheek and rub his face with my thumb. He softly groans then slowly starts to open his eyes. My eyes widen in horror as I see two black voids staring up at me. 

"Wow", he mutters with a small smile.

"Dude, are you okay?" I ask in a panicked voice. 

He winces in pain as he wakes up more and starts to feel the effects of going face first into a curb. "Me head hurts..a lot, but your hands and thighs makes it feel better". 

IS THIS DENSE MOTHER FUCKER TRYING TO FLIRT WITH ME AFTER BENG THROWN OUT OF A CAR? 

I roll my eyes. "Maybe I should've just kept walking..anyway let's clean you up a bit yeah? Ya boats a mess". I don't know where the accent or slang came from. All I hear is the accent all day and I do tend to copy unintentionally. I take off my coffin shaped backpack and pull out some wet wipes then start to wipe the blood off his face. 

He tries to chuckle at my horrible accent. "Hey I was being sincere OUCH". He flinches in pain. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to", I apologize. I finish up wiping his face and my hand that I had cupped on his cheek. "Can you stand up? You need to go to the hospital". 

He relaxes a bit and slowly nods. The black eyed man tries to find his feet and stands up slowly. I put everything back in my bag and put it on my back. I stand up and look over him again. I realize I come up to his forehead in my platform boots but without them I'd probably come up to his chin. He stumbles a bit so I hold onto him as support. 

"YOU TWO ARE PERFECT!" I hear an excited and raspy voice call out to us. I look in the direction it came from and see an excited green man jump out of the wrecked car. I immediately take notice of his messed up nose and the upside down cross necklace that bounces around his neck as he comes towards us. I recognize him as the other person involved in the first crash. "Two tall and edgy people as my lead singers? Not to mention a black eyed God, the girls are gonna go crazy for him, ah your name should be 2D because you've got two dents in your head, much better than Stuart". He continues to ramble. 

The busted up man starts to stumble more against me so I sit him back down and turn my attention towards the other one. "You fucking idiot, you put this man through two serious car accidents and look at his face! What the hell are you going on about a band? He needs to see a doctor!". 

He scoffs, "Oh he's fine, look at him!" He motions towards Stuart who's wobbling even though he's sitting down cradling his head in his hands. 

I grab the man by his shirt collar and pull him to me. "Listen here you blithering cunt, you're taking him to the hospital NOW!" I yell. 

"Oi are you single by chance?" He gives me a gross chuckle, but I ignore his question. 

"NOW!"

He holds his hands up to surrender. "Fine, fine! Whatever you say". He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone to call an ambulance. I let him go and let out an angry sigh as I walk over to Stuart. 

I kneel down in front of him and place my hand on his knee. "Hey we have an ambulance coming for you soon okay?" I say gently. 

He looks up at me with pain written all over his face. "Are..you coming with me?" He asks rather pathetically. In fact it's so pathetic I can't say no.

"Yeah, I'll come with you, my name is y/n by the way". 

"Mine is Stuart, but 2D sounds really cool too". 

—-------

At the hospital I found out the green man's name is Murdoc. He kept trying to convince me to join his band but I always protested. 

"Come on lass! Who doesn't want to be in a band?" He pleads.

"I'm not a lass", I inform him and cross my arms. 

Murdoc eyes me up and down with a questioning look, but he lets it go. "Whatever, who am I to judge, but that wasn't a no". 

I sigh in defeat. "Look I'll think about it, will that get you off my ass?" 

Murdoc beams with happiness. "I'll take it!" 

I scoff and go in to check on Stuart. The doctor said he looks okay but they wanted to keep him a bit longer to be sure. They said his eyes will stay that way forever and they gave him some pain meds for his head. Upon entering the room I notice a girl sitting beside him with choppy dark brown hair, thin eyebrows, and red lipstick on. I must have missed her when I was bickering with Murdoc. She notices me and gives me a 'what the hell are you doing here' look. I immediately know from this look that she's the girlfriend. Whatever, I'm not exactly interested in dating at the moment. 

I walk over to stand beside Stuart's bed.  "You feeling any better now?" I ask. 

"Yeah they gave me some painkillers so I'm feeling great now", he smiles at me. "Oh! Paula this is y/n she's the one that helped take care of me when we crashed". 

"He. I'm a boy", I say bluntly as I wait anxiously for their reaction. 

"Oh, you don't look like a-"

"I'm trans let's move on", I cut him off. 

He scratches his head in confusion. "Right, uh he's the one that took care of me". I'm pleasantly surprised at his quick fix to my pronouns. Both of the boys had a better reaction than I expected. They both get an extra 20 points for not being bigots in my book. 

Paula rolls her eyes. "Well whatever you call yourself, I'm his girlfriend so you can leave him to me now". 

I frown a bit in confusion at the sudden rudeness, but I'm not about to argue so I just step out and join Murdoc in the waiting room. He's the last person I want company with but I want to stick around until Stuart gets discharged. Although his girlfriend is here so I guess I could just leave him to grab my stuff and go home. I mentally sigh remembering that he asked me to come with him so no I can't just leave, but I could step out and come back. 

"Hey, I'm gonna step out for a bit. Can I see your phone so I can give you my number?" I ask Murdoc. 

"Of course I'd love to have your number", he winks at me then hands me his phone. I take his phone and put in my number then set my name as 'y/n (back up singer). I send myself a text so I'd have his number then toss his phone back. 

"Text me updates on Stuart and if he asks for me tell him I'll be back", I say as I turn my back to leave. 

"Hey wait does this mean you're in?!" He asks when he takes notice of my name in his phone. 

"Maybe" I say on my way out the door. 

—-----

I make it back to the hospital an hour and a half later after visiting my dealer. I always shove my joints or bag in a zipper pocket I made on the inside of my boots. It's a decent hiding place. 

I waltz back to the waiting room and sit beside Murdoc. "Hey, 'ow's Stuart doing?" Damn the accent came out again. Murdoc looks at me funny then gets really close to my face. Crap he knows and I can't keep a straight face when I'm buzzed. He stares intensely at me which makes me give a big goofy grin. 

He smirks. "Oh you're completely mullered aren't you?" He whispers. 

"Not completely just wee bit buzzed". 

"At least you know how to party, also your accent was terrible". He chuckles. 

"I know..it happens unintentionally, I swear I don't mean to". I ramble. 

Murdoc laughs and ruffles up my hair. "Don't get your knickers in a twist luv, it's alright". I flinch at his touch and move his hand off my head before I got used to the feeling. "Oh? Not a touchy person?" 

"No I am, it's just I'm not used to getting physical affection anymore". I look at the ground awkwardly. "Anyway, is Paula still here? I'd like to check on Stuart". 

"No, she left a bit before you came back", He answers. I nod then walk to Stuart's. I lean against the door frame as I watch him hold a hand held mirror to inspect his new facial features.

"Yeah, they're a bit off putting aren't they?" I state. 

He jumps so bad he almost drops the mirror then snaps his head towards me. "Oh, it's you," he chuckles nervously, "I think they're cool looking, and sorry about Paula earlier". 

I shrug. "It's fine, I don't care that much. She was probably just stressed because her boyfriend is in the hospital, I'd be snappy too", I reassure him with a smile. 

He smiles back at me slightly showing off his two missing teeth. It was cute in a dorky way. "Yeah probably, so Murdoc told me he convinced you to join the band?" 

"He was very convincing when it's all he'd talk about for an hour straight, besides I guess it could be fun". 

—------

About an hour later Stuart got discharged and I invited them to my flat because it wasn't far from the hospital. Stuart looked exhausted and I didn't trust that Murdoc would have a decent place for him to sleep. 

I bring them both inside then show Stuart to my bedroom. I flick on my black light to illuminate my room so Stuart could see where he's walking. My posters and my neon worm on a string wall decorations light up immediately, giving more color to the room. He takes notice of my bed half full of stuffed animals. 

"Never thought you'd have so many cute things based on how dark you dress". He states. 

"Can't be a hard ass all the time", I say as I go over to the bed and move an old, but well taken care of, light multicolored bunny stuffy from the empty side of the bed. I put it on the other side with the rest of the stuffies while making sure it was in a comfortable position. Stuart sits on the other side of the bed once the bunny is moved. I see him give me a gentle smile from the corner of my eye. He reaches out to touch it but I stop him. 

"Please don't touch him", I mumble. 

"I wasn't gonna move..him..I just wanted to see how it felt"

"I get it but please don't, look I'm autistic and that's my comfort item which means nobody is allowed to touch it", I say. 

He gives me a very confused look. "Man you got a shit pick of the draw didn't you? With you being trans and autistic I'd imagine you don't have too many friends". 

My face drops and I look away from him as I awkwardly rub my arm. 

He notices my changed mood and quickly tries to explain himself. "Oh no I just meant that people around here can be dicks. I'm sorry. Um hey my hair grows out blue and now I have no eyeballs or two front teeth so I guess I also got the shit pick so maybe we could be friends?" He rambles. 

I chuckle at his awkward attempt at making me feel better. "Yeah I'd like to be friends...you can feel his ear if you want to". 

"Are you sure?" 

I nod. "You didn't bat an eye when I said I was trans or autistic and you listened when I said dont touch him, so I think I can trust you". 

He smiles then gently puts a long floppy ear between his fingers and rubs the fabric. "He's very soft. I can see why he's comforting, does he have a name?" He asks. The fact that he calls the bunny 'he' and not 'it' makes me a bit more fond of him.

"Sherbert", I mumble a bit embarrassed. 

Stuart chuckles, "That's cute, so you mentioned that I listened to you and that's why you trust me, did other people not listen?" 

"Yeah, I've had three people over and they all purposely picked him up and moved him or pushed him on the floor. They wanted to get a reaction out of me and well they did but it wasn't what they wanted. I busted their faces then dragged them out of my flat, THEN I cried". 

He half smiles at me,"I promise I'd never be mean to Sherbert", he says softly like he's trying to comfort me. 

"Stuart I can't tell if you're being genuine or if you're secretly making fun of me" I say bluntly. 

"I don't want to break your trust luv, it's genuine and if I break that promise you can make me eat a curb again". 

I can't help but laugh. "I'll hold you to it, well I should let you get some sleep, I'll turn off the light so it doesn’t mess with your head". 

He takes one last look around and smiles warmly. "Yeah, thank you for everything today," 

"No problem, goodnight Stuart", I turn off the light and close the door behind me. I go to the living room and find Murdoc examining all of my bat and coffin decor. I take off my boots and get the joints out then I stand on the arm of my couch so I can reach the top of my bookshelf. 

"Ah so you dabble a bit too huh?" I turn my head to see Murdoc talking about my altar that has crystals, candles, a couple crystal pendulums, my tarot deck and a Loki statue. 

"Oh yeah I do some witchcraft", I say as I grab my little metal tin and put all of the joints but one in then put it back. I take off my backpack to grab my red Nokia and cigarettes then place them with the joint on the bay window. 

"Who's the statue of?" He asks. 

"That's Loki he's the god I work with slash worship", I inform him as I open up the side window and sit on the bay window. I light a cigarette and blow the smoke out. "Speaking of which, can you light his candle for me? It's the red one right in front of the statue, there's a lighter right beside it too". 

Murdoc scans my altar real quick before he finds the lighter and tries to light it. He tries to light it a few times but all that comes out is sparks. 

He starts to get frustrated, "Oi I think your lighter is dead". He says. 

I take a drag of my cigarette and shake my head as I go to him. "No that's not the problem," I put the cigarette in my mouth then take the lighter from Murdoc and light it with ease. I light the candle then smirk. "I'm so sorry I dared have someone else light your candle you fussy thing". I watch the flame get bigger and wiggle around then smile. 

"Let me see that lighter again".

I hand it to him and he lights it on the first try. "This is shit".

I chuckle and go back to where I was sitting. "He didn't want you to light his candle, I bought that lighter yesterday so I knew what the issue was", I say as I grab my phone and add Murdoc to my contacts. 

He rolls his eyes. "I guess he is a fussy thing", he mumbles then comes to me and pulls out his own pack of cigarettes, "Care if I join you?". 

I shake my head as I take a drag. "Open the other corner window and take a seat, blow your smoke out the window though. I don't want my place smelling like smoke".  

He nods and opens the window then takes a seat opposite of me. He puts a cigarette in his mouth and tries to light it but his lighter won't light. "You gotta be fucking me UGH". 

I laugh. "I guess Loki didn't like it when you called him fussy". 

"YOU called him fussy!" 

"I'm allowed to, that's how we joke", I chuckle. "Here use mine". I slide my lighter to him.

"Thanks", he says in an aggravated tone and finally lights his cigarette. "You better not make freaky shit happen when I get the band all put together", he slides my lighter back to me and takes a hit. 

"Don't fuck with me and it shouldn't be a problem", I chuckle. 

"Right", he says. 

We sit there in silence as we finish our cigarettes. 

"I was going to offer you a smoke with me after I got done smoking but I'm tired", I say as I put my cigarette out in the ashtray. 

Murdoc does the same. "Yeah I'm pretty tired myself. I'm gonna grab 2D and we'll be out", he says as he stands up and closes the window. 

"He's okay you can leave him", I say as I close mine then put away the joint I left out with the others. 

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

"Yeah I trust him". 

"But you don't trust me to spend the night?" Murdoc asks.

I narrow my eyebrows at him. "I want you to look at Stuart's non-existent eyes and ask me that again". 

He scoffs. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this". He says as he makes his way out the door. 

I sigh in relief to finally have some alone time. However, I decide to enjoy it by falling asleep on the couch.