#500 years ago that doesn't effect you anymore

[oifaaa]

in united states public school we learn about the american revolution and the first three presidents (minus the fact that they had slaves and abused their families bc how dare we portray them as anything but heroes on a pedastal) every year from when we're 8 to when we're 14, we have one year for generalized world history and if you're lucky one year to learn about a very white-centric view of pre-1700's north america and prehistory

Doesn't that get a bit boring? Now I'm thinking about it tho I think I'd say 95% of my history classes would have been modern history basically anything from the industrial revolution onwards like the world wars, the Russian revolution followed by the cold war including modules on the Vietnam war and Korean war, and then obviously American civil rights movement, the Irish famine, Irish war of independence, irish civil war and finally a lot about the troubles - in fact I think the only two times I can remember learning about anything older is in primary we learnt about ancient Egypt and in first year of secondary we learnt about the native Americans

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Vaniteas

I was on a horrible writer's block but here I am, writing fanfic. This is for a special person who yeeted me out of my creative slump LMAO

If you don't know who Vaniteas is, he's a vtuber I follow! A lot of things happened and i'm now writing a fic bout him lol. This is just going to be a short fic... But then you guys know what short is for me :D

An alternative Universe where a Demigod is now living in the modern era as a streamer, turns out has a past he could never take out.

He's an insane man.

Here he is, looking at the screen blink and blur for about ten times before sighing.

He's been streaming for 6 hours at this point. And the fact that he streams 2 hours on the regular, this was a bit of an eye strain at this point.

But he can't. Not yet.

His fingers danced across the keyboards as he tried to defeat Blackgaol Knight in the DLC, trying so hard to defeat the boss but he's about to slam the keyboard from frustration.

Doing an endurance stream while drunk isn't a good idea. But here he is, losing his mind while looking at a screen that almost swam from the lack of other stimulation other than this... Damned game.

Who knew doing a "Every defeat is a drink" stream will be the death of him? Not him, that's for sure.

He taps his finger on the desk, wondering what will happen next after this stream. His eyes flickered to the chat, and saw his regulars beefing on god knows what in the chatbox.

Then, out of nowhere, a raid happened.

He scrambled up, trying to straighten himself and be a bit more sober to greet the people who are now spamming their raid message. The raider, a friend of his, brought new viewers and old to his stream.

"Oh! Thank you for the raid..."

His heart stopped.

Was his eyes still being affected by the liquor, or is he actually seeing things?

An entry. Just the same raid message that he usually sees whenever his friend raids his stream. But the username that accompanied that message was someone he would never, ever forget.

Surely, it was just a coincidence? It was not you. It's impossible. It's been what, over 500 years since he last saw you?

Yeah, just a coincidence, he thought.

Because if it wasn't, he doesn't know what to do.

"Vani! Come on!"

"Wait up!"

A field filled with lush green grass that stretched out of the horizon, a lone cottage in the middle with a stream flowing down from the forest, the wind cold yet comforting, and the sky blue untainted.

It was the picture perfect scene for a picnic.

Vani juggled to balance the picnic basket in his arms, but his lips were stretched to a soft smile as he watched you dance and prance around the field.

This demigod was in love.

At first, it was just a simple curiosity. After all, with you being a witch finding a god to worship was a rare occurrence nowadays. Higher beings like him are trying to find worshippers just to ease their boredom.

So, he decided to bless you a bit. And that was supposed to be all of it.

But why? The fates were playful that day and struck him with a slow burn effect of the cupid's bow. And now, he's hopelessly enamored with your whole existence.

Your delighted face when you looked up at him sent his heart racing a bit. It was truly something he hadn't seen before, even with his previous worshippers.

His relationship with you was promptly a give or take. You do a ritual, he grants you powers to do simple tasks like fire bending to light up torches, cook, or even bless up your luck.

It was not until you laid there, one night on your bed, talking to the air as if talking to him.

"My Lord, why do you think the people hate witchcraft?" You asked, your face pale. "I didn't know I would be kicked out like that two months ago. What about my family? I don't..."

With a sigh, you turned to your side to weep your life that could have been.

His heart ached for you.

Yes, that was one of the reasons why people rarely worship them anymore. The act of witchcraft renders these witches burnt at the stake. Even to those who are not witches, if they were deemed too smart for the people, then they will face the wrath of the fire.

The same fire that Vani nurtures.

"It's unfortunate."

You scrambled up when you heard a voice seep into your mind. It was deep, a bit boyish yet mature.

"H-hello?"

That voice chuckled.

"Hi."

Things escalated quickly at that. You, who was lonely in the small cottage in the middle of the field, now has a friend. Weirdly enough, it's the god you worship and do rituals for.

It didn't take much long for a relationship to nurture when he starts showing up in front of you.

Everyday was filled with laughter, innocence, a budding relationship blossoming from a dire situation. His heart never beats this fast for another being, let alone a human or a worshipper, but here you are. Defying those same principles he held dear.

It was bliss, not until the other gods got hold of his... Escapades.

Things went downhill after that.

They said it was purely coincidence, but Vani swore it wasn't.

A person from a nearby village snooped you out, and has accused you of being a witch.

The worst part is, Vani was away since the gods decided to talk about him and this weird relationship he had with you.

The gods swore they were just scared for Vani.

But Vani never felt fear, until he let out harrowing screams with his fellow gods holding him back from trying to stop the people burning you at the stake.

The fire was angry. Deep harboring rage licked at your skin as you screamed out in pain. Screamed out his name in pain.

You wanted nothing more but to live peacefully.

"NO!"

Your body, which was once whole and filled with love he gave you, is now a pile of ashes and bones.

And as if nothing happened, the people scattered and went on with their lives.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards the stake and knelt at your ashes, desperately grabbing as much as he can and hugging it to his body to feel your warmth. But the warmth he felt was the remaining fire that burnt his skin. But he doesn't care. All he wants is you back again, in his arms, as he whispers his confession to you.

He failed to protect you.

Fate was cruel indeed. 300 years after that incident, another god fell in love with a human. And the others accepted it and decided to welcome this change.

But why only then? Where was their compassion when you were burnt in front of him? Where's the welcoming arms that this couple received when you were in Vani's arms, nothing but bones?

He deeply resented them at that time. And still do but in secret.

He shook his head to focus when he realized that the people were asking in chat if he's okay.

"Oh i'm fine! Don't worry. Something just came up." A smooth lie, he smiles to his audiences and decided to welcome everyone.

"... And hello, y/nTheWitch."

His voice was merely a whisper in the wind when he said that. After all, his heart was beating out of his chest when the familiar formation of the tongue and lips moved to blurt out your name.

A chat from you popped up on his screen and he almost wept then and there.

y/nTheWitch: Hi! I saw your name and was curious since you sound so familiar... I don't know where I heard it though, it's my first time seeing a vtuber.

y/nTheWitch: It's like a sense of deja vu, lol

Vani smiled bitterly. It must be you then, it's impossible that it's not you at all.

"Really? I think I heard of you too. You sound really familiar, and I also kind of have that sense of deja vu. Maybe we knew each other in our past life?" Vani joked, and the chat erupted in jeers thinking it was a pick up line.

It kind of was, but not the intention, really.

He can feel it. The connection with you that was once dull is now a weird numb ache in his meridians. You were alive again, and he hopes that it's you in the chat.

He hopes that it was truly, really you.

So that his past guilt of not protecting you will be lifted.

And the guilt of burning down the whole village who burnt you will also be lifted.

Countless of ashes and bones were scattered in your name.

And he's determined to not let that sacrifice in vain.

"I hope I'll see you next time I stream, y/n."

[poodle-anon]

I have no idea what to put here as a title so I'll just say that @miniscrew-anon inspired me to write a continuation of one of their febuwhump prompt fills and ended up with just shy of 500 words about Champion and the other two Guard Boys waiting around just after the little altercation at the hospital when he first woke up.

enjoy 👀

characters of course belong to @st0rmyskies

Champion studies himself in the hospital bathroom's mirror.

They'd be waiting on clearance to go home for a little while longer, given the… drastic effect of his head injury, so in the meantime, the three former royal guardsmen had a room to themselves.

Champion runs a thoughtful finger down the side of his cheek, before rolling his jaw to watch and feel the scarred skin shift.

"What happened to me?" He reaches up to rub a thumb over his ear, and notes the heart shaped stud in the shell that he doesn't remember getting. It wasn't new.

Sky purses his lips for a beat.

"It's… It's a long story. But the scar is from someone that's not a problem anymore."

Champion's hands return to the edge of the sink to lean on it, turning his head this way and that to see and feel again how the scarred skin looks and feels. His expression seems only curious. 

They'd better not be a problem anymore.

"Why was everyone calling me Wild?"

"That was your nickname. After the accident, you lost your memory and before today, it was like you were a different person. Someone called him Wild Man at some point and he decided he liked it, I guess."

"You remember the accident, right Champion?" Warriors pipes up from the corner.

Champion squints at his reflection, shoulders tensed just slightly. 

"Some. I remember things going wrong, I think an ambulance, but not a lot." He eyes the rest of himself up and down, bandages and scars and all. 

"How long ago was it?" Champion rubs his side, feeling some of his older scars through the fabric. And some newer. Places where he remembered searing pain before he passed out the first time.

"A little less than two years." Sky's answer is maybe quicker than it should have been, he'd done the calculations enough times.

Champion gives him a quick, thoughtful hum. His hand lingers on his ribs, breathing in deeply to feel how the skin flexes below his shirt, and testing how painful the bruising really was beneath it. His pain tolerance had always been high, but it wasn't as if he couldn't feel it at all.

"What's the facial scar?"

Sky pauses again.

"It's…" his stomach works itself into a knot thinking about that night, "There was a fight, and someone held your head to a stove burner…" Sky sucks half a breath through his teeth with a grimace.

Champion is silent for another beat as his eyes are fixed on the mirror. Watching the reflection of himself and the space behind him in equal measure.

He makes another affirmative hum, and rolls his neck with several audible clicks before turning to rest against the tiny bathroom counter with crossed arms.

“Well, at least I’m not dead,” he says plainly, and maybe there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lip.

[tomorrowusa]

Joe Biden's State of the Union Address was more effective than what most people were expecting.

Veteran journalist Jeff Greenfield in the linked article above had a reaction similar to that of other pundits.

Here’s an opening line I did not expect to write an hour or so ago: President Joe Biden gave a pretty good State of the Union address — indeed, one of the better ones I’ve heard.

What made it work was not just that Biden was in a buoyant spirit, with an energy that’s often lacking, but that it was a clearly political speech with a clear political goal: to define Biden as the guy who is on your side, going after the big boys who were flourishing at your expense.

While he didn't say so in so many words, Biden indicated that the era of Reagan-Thatcher unregulated global capitalism is over.

“‘Buy American’ has been the law of the land since 1933,” Biden said. “But for too long, past administrations, Democrat and Republican, have fought to get around it. Not anymore. … On my watch, American roads, bridges and American highways will be made with American products.”

Mention of 1933, the first year of FDR's New Deal, was no accident. Biden is clearly aiming at an update of the Roosevelt-Truman Keynesian form of regulated capitalism whose abandonment in the 1980s led to soaring economic inequality and the departure of tens of millions of manufacturing jobs to other countries.

“I’m a capitalist. But pay your fair share. I think a lot of you at home agree. … Look, the idea that in 2020, 55 of the largest companies in America, the Fortune 500, made $40 billion in profits and paid zero in federal taxes? Zero? Folks, that’s simply not fair.”

Reagan era "trickle down" doesn't work because the mega corporations and filthy rich refuse to trickle. Greed only feeds upon itself.

When and if he kicks off his reelection campaign — and tonight’s speech made the “when” way more likely than the “if” — expect to hear a lot more like this from Biden from now until November 2024.

I still think the conventional wisdom is right — that these moments rarely if ever affect the political terrain. But the president and his team deserve some credit for trying to speak more plainly and clearly to the country.

While Biden may not be our most eloquent politician, he certainly didn't sound mealy-mouthed on Tuesday.

Republicans were not expecting such a forceful performance. The only intelligible comment Trump was able to make about Biden's SOTU speech is that he used the word "folks" too much in it.

[blooming-cecilia]

thinking thinking thinking. about. a corrupted venti.

likeee. what if. like dvalin, he had also gotten poisoned by durin's blood in that battle 500 years ago. and like dvalin, venti also slept to recuperate from the battle and at least try to slow down the corruption for as long as he can

and hes so scared because there's really no known cure for abyssal poision, and if there is one, there's no guarantee that it'll even work on him

he's scared not for himself, he's scared for dvalin and mondstadt. he's scared bc he doesn't want to see his friend suffering from a battle he had asked him to help with

and he's terrified because he doesn't want to see his people cowering in fear when he eventually loses himself and maybe becomes like decarabian, maybe even Worse than he was because who knows what abyssal poision does to you? he could become very unstable and if—when—he loses control of himself, would that also infect his people? what would happen to them? would they also turn into abyssal monsters? what if they'll suffer the same way khaenri'ahn citizens do?

and what if,,, venti wakes up one day to find that dvalin had woken up earlier than him and that the abyss order had already gotten ahold of him and fed more lies to corrupt him.

and yk how, when we first encounter both of them in the woods, venti was trying to establish a connection with dvalin, attempting to cure him but bc we interrupted, he also gets poisioned.

what if sleeping it off did actually help slow down the poision's effects on him but when the connection failed and he got more poision from dvalin, it gave him more And maybe sped up the poision's effects even more.

he's struggling badly trying to control it bc he wants to help cure dvalin first before he has to get away from mondstadt, so that's why he enlists the help of an unknown outlander and some of his own citizens

(this part doesnt really make sense anymore but anyway) by the time they finish helping out dvalin. maybe. it would have been a bit too late for the traveller to even attempt to cure venti,,,

it doesn't make sense bc iirc, both the traveller and the giant tree in windrise seem to have healing/purifying abilities ???? but we ignore whatever there is in canon for the sake of corrupted venti brainrot <3

[olderthannetfic]

unrelated to all the discussions currently going on sorry but

ao3 was built to have a threaded comments section like on LJ, right? and the first users were of LJ era fandom? so why didn't the interactive comment thing become a thing, idgi? i'd assume the first crop of users would have used it and everyone should have been encouraged to do it too in turn? are there secret ao3 cliques of fandom olders where that still happens lol

LJ was before my time but this is one of the feature I always hear and it sounds p great, i would have liked to see it

--

At a guess, we were mostly importing our back catalogues that had had discussion on lists and LJ years ago. Some of us were also very busy building AO3 for a few years.

AO3 didn't get "native" fandoms so to speak until enough years had passed that new big media had come out. The real "home" of a given fandom tends to remain in the places it grew in the first place unless it's so big (HP) that it's everywhere. And even then, the specific flavor that was one place doesn't always make it to another.

I think there's some effect too from a LJ being like a tumblr: it's your personal blog. Meanwhile, AO3 feels a little more official. So maybe it would always have taken a little more to get comments going on AO3. You do see a bit of it in some fandoms. The place the biggest threads happened on LJ tended to be different readers speculating with each other or sharing cultural knowledge on the latest chapter of a long WIP for a popular ship. I've occasionally seen readers talking to each other on AO3, and it tends to either be people going "Wow, someone else likes my obscure thing!" or on the big WIPs in the big fandoms.

You also have to consider the sizes involved: LJ fandom had lurkers, sure, but when you look at the big coms, you see a few thousand people, max, with maybe a hundred actually saying anything. One of the early polls on what to call AO3 had like 500 responses.

Today, AO3 has >4,432,000 users, according to the front page. That's extant accounts.

(Total accounts ever is hard to tell because the numbers don't increment by 1 anymore. It's like 12 million in account ID# but a lot less in total accounts ever.)

Even if we're generous and say 10k active commenters came over from LJ (which I think is pretty high), that would be like 0.2% of AO3 users or something.

Fandom is simply exponentially larger now. It makes it hard for old culture to reach new people.

[hottmessexpresss]

**Trigger Warning** Those who are sensitive to topics such as: drug-use, over-dose, and language/descriptions/scenarios involving drugs and drug activity, please do not continue reading, or read at your own risk**

I remember I was in the parking lot of a 24 hour fitness in Bakersfield, Ca. I remember distinctly feeling like I was wrapped in a warm, weighted blanket. My breathing was shallow, but it felt "nice". I felt as if some large fluffy llama was sitting directly on my chest. Oddly enough, I felt at peace...and I felt very, very, sleepy. I didn't feel scared. I felt "whole" for the first time- I felt...happy.

Unknown time had lapsed and I woke up with vomit all over my shirt. I was dazed and confused, and blisfully unaware of my surroundings. I came to, and the passenger next to me was crying and repeatedly saying, "I don't want to go to jail. I don't want to go to jail."

That was my first and only opiate induced over-dose, and before Narcan has been heavily encouraged and issued. If you think that was enough to scare me, you're dead wrong.

Fast forward 6 years, give or take...and here I am sitting in the hospital watching my husband writhe in pain. He just had a total shoulder replacement surgery for a second time, at 42 years old (that is considered "young" for this type of evasive surgery.) My husband never shows he is pain, and has been dealing with this pain for over a year. Doctors never took him seriously. He didn't "look" to be in pain, and his physiological responses didn't "show" he was in pain. Often, there was frustration. Anger. Resentment. Not a soul believed him, and he had accepted he was going to have to deal with it for the remainder of his life. My husband served 21 years in the United States Military. His body is proof of what men and women can endure ensuring our freedoms are protected.

My husband has said, "If it weren't for these junkies, I wouldn't have to be jumping through hoops to be taken seriously." It didn't offend me. It didn't hurt my feelings. With the recent (but not new) opiate epidemic, my mind has been reeling with questions, thoughts, and residual pain. How* do we as a society, fix this problem? What can be done to HELP? What types of out-patient, low cost programs could make an impact in communities of these (addicts) people?

Drugs do not discriminate. When I was detained by the oh-so-lovely, Bakersfield Police Department back in 2014, I was treated as less than a person. "How long have you been doing drugs??? You're too pretty and young to be a tweaker." I was humiliated. I sat in silence, and in that moment "they" had won. I wanted to tell them....."If you only knew me.....if you only knew my story....my amazing, loving, parents...my upbringing, my home...my college education....." but to them, I was just 'another tweaker,' and another case number to report on. The stigma is there. I've seen comments on numerous facebook posts, "tweakers deserve to die." But my friends, they do not. If it weren't for the passanger in my car 6 years ago (even if it were for selfish reasons...AKA not going to jail) I would not have had my beautiful babies, and I would not have had a fighting chance to change my life in a productive and meaningful way.

Not even a full 24 hours after surgery, my husband's nerve block started to wear off. We paged his nurse for relief......and what happened? The on-call resident had a nurse bring my husband Tylenol. Tylenol. After a major surgery. I was offended, and in that moment, I felt embarrassed. There are people out here in this world in legitimate pain. Because of the sudden intensity of the current opiate epidemic, they (pain patients) were forced to taper off of their medication completely, or cut back harshly on their medication. Is this the right thing to do? Is this fair to those battling pain daily with the medical records to back it all up? This is where most addictions can start. "It's a prescription by my doctor... so it's fine." I can bet most do not abuse them, because of course, they need them. But there also people out in this world with emotional pain.

The first time I tried Oxycontin, I felt the effects relatively quickly. Battling depression since 12 years of age, I was dealing with my parents divorce and remarriages, new family dynamics, being a fat, and bullied nerd....I never took medication long enough to know if it would be helpful to me. So in that moment, naiive to what was to come, not knowing my genetic predisposition, I thought to myself, "so THIS is happiness....THIS is what "normal" feels like." And so began my endless and bottomless search for that euphoric happiness, and my self-medication began.

My husband was finally given an Oxycodone 11 HOURS later. It was horrible seeing his face knowing he was in unbearable pain. "We're giving you two doses of Oxycodone, Mr. Steele." My ears. I heard the name, and I knew it all too well. A former best-friend of mine; one whom I loved more than myself and loved more than anything else in this entire world at one point. The word itself, triggered me. Almost 6 years of being free and clear off that shit, and the word alone sent my neurotransmitters firing rapidly and excitedly. My brain started to illict a chemical and emotional response... to a fuckin' word*. I started to feel anxious. Uneasy. Worried. Angry. Jealous. To those who have never been addicted to drugs, this probably sounds absolutely CRAZY to you. How can someone be jealous of someone in legitimate pain and taking pain pills? Well, someone who had once before been EXCITED to fracture her thumb knowing she was getting pain pills (me). I knew* my husband needed them. I knew he had a legitimate reason to need them-but I felt* out of my mind. That* is addiction... That* is your brain fighting against the rational fibers of what is "normal". After addiction sets in, your brain under goes chemical changes. Your "Hedonic Set-Point" of happiness is altered and flipped the fuck upside down. You become addicted because you realize that the intense euphoria and happiness, that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach, the rush to your head...have all caused a peak beyond your "set point" of euphoria. You crave it, and you NEED it just to even function and feel "normal" If you don't use (drugs), your entire body shuts down and you become so sick (the flu times 500). So you continue to use and abuse anything to reach the level of "normal" (and beyond) in order to not feel like a depressed piece of shit. Rock bottom hits (whenever and however that is and may be, and some will never experience the same rock bottom) and you get clean, and your "hedonic set point" is reset and now, unrealistic. You soon realize you will never* feel that level of happiness again (sober). Social context, and psychological predispositions can trigger a response in your brain to want to achieve that chemical, unrealistic level- over and over again.

Recovering addicts face this day in and day out, and in this case, recovery** is a CHOICE. No one wakes up one day and says, "you know what? I'm going to steal from my family and act like a reckless fool and ruin my normalcy and fuck up my entire family (and my fuckin' credit score) Addicts can do bad things, but that doesn't make them bad people. They are the walking wounded. In the words of my favorite author, Charles Bukowski, "we don't even ask (for) happiness, just a little less pain." A close friend of mines addiction was so deep, she lost custody of her child and lost sight of everything she once loved. No one in their right mind* would EVER jeopardize the relationship and well being with their own flesh and blood. People who weren't addicted could never phatom this scenario, but addiction is* ugly. She passed away almost two years ago, leaving her daughter and family behind. Again, addiction can be so powerful and it trumps all things good. Addicts become selfish. Because they only care about themselves and their next fix. Unless they get the proper intervention, have kick ass insurance, and the will and reason deep down to stop, they won't. That's why in NA, they say some people's only way out of addiction, is jail, institutions, or death.

I feel embarrassed sometimes to admit any of this. Those who knew me in my active addiction phase, constantly said, "where* is Katelyn? Where* did she go? This is not* the Katelyn we know and loved..." Addicts have to first admit they are powerless over their addiction. Along with this, comes a mountain of shame, guilt, embarrassment, shame, and a total slap in the face of everything* they were covering up during their abuse. We have to essentially re-learn how to live life again. How to cope with underlying mental illness, how to cope with triggers, how to live day to day without their former best friend.

I wish deep down I wasn't this way. I wish deep down the muffled voice subtly nagging at my brain would stop. I wish i knew better. I don't feel this hardcore temptation anymore. In the beginning, everything felt "unfair" and life kept throwing punches at me and I struggled to handle them. I blamed others for my addiction and carried around SO much anger. One day, it clicked. No one forced me to do anything. Only I was to blame. I was responsible and accountable for what happened to me, and only I was responsible for changing my behavior. It was hard. Most of the time, it felt virtually impossible to stop. If any addict could take a magic pill to end the cycle and to start their lives over, I'm betting some- if not most, would. This blog isn't a debate on whether or not addiction is a choice. I could sit here and debate with anyone all day on this subject. This entry is merely pointing out a basic and yet complex struggle one can face years and years down the line during their recovery. I look back and feel accomplished. I overcame something not everyone has the privilege to escape from. Being clean, I was able to rediscover myself, reevaluate goals, mend relationships, and lead a meaningful life. I found my soul-mate and have two amazing babies. My hope for anyone struggling with addiction is to overcome. Take advantage of any and all local resources and dig deep down to find the desire to want to stop. It might take you more than one attempt to get clean. In NA, they mention over and over to never feel like relapse isn't possible and that it "won't happen" to you. Because it is possible. It can happen at any given moment, and there is always a chance of giving in to the demons you have worked so hard to manage and control. Make the concious choice to NOT give in to the monster, no matter how tempting it could be. You are loved. You are worthy.

"Just for today, my thoughts will be on my recovery, living and enjoying life without the use of drugs. Just for today, I will have faith in someone in NA who believes in me and wants to help me in my recovery. Just for today, I will have a program. I will try to follow it to the best of my ability. Just for today, I will be unafraid. My thoughts will be on my new association's- people who are not using and have found a new way of life. So as long as I follow that way, I will have nothing to fear." (Narcotics Anonymous, text)

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA)

1-800-662-4357

NA (Narcotics Anonymous)- find NA meetings and local resources for recovery.

http://m.na.org/