#and potential addiction

[neuroticboyfriend]

finally tried hydrocodone for my back pain and THIS is the ~big scary opioids~ they've been talking about?! i know they're still ykno, serious medication but. i. feel. fine! i even took my other medication todayy!? i'd be angry but im honestly just. WHAT. i'm not in pain! yall coulda gave me this YEARS ago but you just didnt! i shouldnt have had to have figured this out all on my own especially with how it coulda easily gone sideways if i didnt have some awareness of what im doing?? fuckkk the war on drugs man. fuck it. shit.

edit: to be clear no i am not prescribed this i found some in the house it aint mine

[urpersonalpublicgalaxy]

trying something out

[hypewinter]

We've seen a lot of Danny is Damian's twin or older brother but I haven't seen many Danny is Damian's younger brother.

Dick Jason Tim Cass

I see this going two ways:

Danny gets whisked away from the league. Probably because Ra's was going to have Damian kill him as a test of loyalty but Talia or one of his nurses was having none of that. He ends up in Illinois, becomes a ghost, bla bla bla. They meet again when Sam drags Danny to a gala in Gotham with her and Damian is like "Danyal!?". Danny is utterly confused because he was too young to remember Damian or the league. Cue Damian going into overprotective 'I'm never letting you out of sight again' mode. The giw doesn't stand a chance once he finds out about them. The batfam is absolutely shocked because no one knew their youngest could be that protective of another person (Damian is 16 in this while Danny is still 14 btw). Him and Jazz are about to duke it out for custody or at least for the position as the most reliable sibling. Danny meanwhile is still processing that he has an assassin older brother. Neat.

Danny reincarnates. He retains his ghost powers somewhat which makes him special in the eyes of Ra's. This means he gets a separate training regimen. Damian sees his younger brother winning all of his grandfather's attention and promptly proceeds to pretend like he doesn't exist when he leaves for Wayne Manor. Out of jealousy and all that. Until one of the batbros is needling him about something or another and he lets it slip. The batfam is instantly like "we gotta rescue him" which Damian is not happy about. The entire rescue mission, he's complaining about how pointless this all is and how Danny is probably living like a king until they break into his room. Danny's room is bare except for a bed and when he sees Damian, he runs to him crying "you came back for me!". It turns out that Danny's training was much crueler to truly bring out the fullest force of his powers (no better trainer than survival and all that). Danny thinks his older brother came to save him and gets attached quickly. Damian refuses to admit how much the guilt is eating him up on the inside. (In this one Damian is 12 and Danny is 10)

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Adult Tim learns he appearently has a time traveling, dimension hopping, clone son named Danny who keeps evading Red Hood and Damian and leading them on wild goose chases for fun.

After confirming he was not de aged and he had a solid alibi for the past four days and the blood they had managed to snag from the kid (don't ask how) showed signs of cloning shenanigans did they finally agree on what to do.

Which is why they had the kid tied up like a mummy sitting on the couch in one of Red Hoods safe houses trying to explain to this very sassy teen that they had no intentions to harm him and just wanted to keep him safe and give him a normal life.

This, however, made Danny panic and phase out of his bindings before throwing a smoke bomb on the ground and yelling, "I'M NOT GOING BACK TO SCHOOL!!!" in the same way people talk about prison before escaping.

Red Hood looked Red Robin directly in the eyes before saying, "That one is definitely yours."

[oborofollower7]

Yall dont know how happy I am that we got ONE LAST TOKOYAMI AND HAWKS PANEL

those two are such an underrated duo. I wish there were more fanfics of them

[jacarandaaaas]

uhhh I’m bored so hot take: this fandom constantly reduces luisas character down to be only her trauma🧍‍♀️

[franklyimissparis]

i think it’s funny how when some people talk abt alex turner’s potential drug usage it’ll either be like “he has a major drug and alcohol problem it’s so obvious!!!” or “i don’t think he’s the type to have ever even tried a hard drug” as if there isn’t a ton of middle ground between those two extremes

like the man who wrote “why’d you only ever call me when you’re high” and has been a touring musician since he was 19 has obviously fucking been high - and not just with weed - but that also doesn’t mean he’s completely off his head in every interview he’s ever done 😭😭

[vikvampir3]

Tfw when I realize I’ve known this whole time my dazai and general bsd hyperfixation was self destructive and I kinda don’t care

[altho-arto]

Uh oh ! Despite not being a dead body, a certain detective caught the eye of Scotland Yard's coroner... 🫀✨(Late entry for the WLW dgs ship day!)

[ID: Digital illustration of Gina Lestrade and Maria Gorey from the video game Great Ace Attorney Chronicles. A flustered Gina is laid down on an autopsy table, her chin slightly tilted up by a butcher's knife Maria is holding above her. Maria is putting a knee on the autopsy table to lean closer to Gina, her cold assessing look only betrayed by a little blush on her face. End ID]

[mockerycrow]

Only Tipsy (Buck x GN!Reader) Pt. 1

GIF BY: @pjmnskook - masterlist

Summary: You’re apart of the 118 and you have an alcohol problem. Despite knowing you’re surrounded by people who care about you, you’re mortified from the thought of them knowing you’re struggling. [this is an x buck fic, but there’s love from everyone, including maddie.]

WARNINGS: alcoholism, dark thoughts, mentioned self harm (non-graphic), angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the show.

PART ONE OF TWO - PART TWO HERE

—————————————

You know you have a problem, you’ve known it for months but you never wanted to admit it to yourself. You never wanted it to go this far, either. You could never keep a full liquor cabinet because it ended up being emptied by you in days; full bottles of expensive wine and booze, whiskey, anything that burned and tasted bitter. You never thought you deserved the good tasting stuff.

In a way, you never wanted to admit because you were terrified what everyone else would think of you. You know that Bobby struggles with this same exact issue, you’re painfully aware of that, but in a way, that fact makes it that much harder to reach out. You know this is a serious issue, an issue that could cost your job, your life if you aren’t careful, but you can’t bring yourself to it to stop. You find comfort in the way it burns your throat and stomach, the way the bitter taste leaves an even sourer ache on your tongue. You feel lighter when you take that first sip, even if it’s placebo because you’ll only truly feel better when you’re three beers in.

You don’t exactly remember when the drinking started, but it was probably sometime after you realized maybe cutting yourself wasn’t the best coping mechanism. Of course you know drinking isn’t that much better, if better at all, but if you had to guess? It was probably after the ladder truck crushed Buck’s leg. You know that it wasn’t your fault, you’re fully aware, but that doesn’t make the memory any better. If you focused hard enough, you could hear Buck’s agonizing screams and wails clear as day, echoing off of your walls as if it happened in your apartment. You began to drink because you couldn’t afford to scar; you couldn’t afford the injury nonetheless, seeing your job and that your boyfriend, Buck, often finds himself in your bed with both of you in minimal clothing.

Before that, it was a house fire of three children; you witnessed all three of them succumb to third degree burns.

Under the age of 6.

Before that, it was an unsuccessful attempt of talking down—and catching—a jumper.

Before that, it was watching Bobby relapse, holding him while he sobbed until he didn’t make any noise with Hen and Buck.

Before that, it was—

It’s just too much to add on. It’s so much.

You’re suddenly aware of your surroundings and how warm you are—right, you’re in your apartment. You glance around with sluggish eyes, your eyelids feeling heavy. You’re sitting on the ground against the wall, next to your electric heater. Your lower eyelids feel puffy from just existing. You feel as if your brain is sloshing around inside of your skull like oatmeal and you’re vaguely aware of the vibration type buzz underneath your skin. You sniffle as your rub your fingertips together in an attempt to make it go away, but you know it’s because you’re drunk. You glance down at the bottle between your legs and pick it up, humorlessly chuckling at the fact that it’s only half empty. Your mouth is so dry, it feels like there’s cotton on your tongue and down your throat. “Only one way to.. to fix that.” You find yourself whispering, but you could barely understand yourself as the slur was so bad. You bring the bottle to your lips, the bitter and burning fluid filling your mouth and trickles down your throat.

You close your eyes tight in an attempt to prevent yourself from coughing and it worked; it’s like you could feel the liquid settling in your stomach, mixing with your stomach acid and the other alcoholic drinks you’ve consumed tonight.

You hear buck screaming and you flinch, choking on the liquid. You try to inhale but it gets stopped, and you let out a wet cough as you lower the bottle from your lips. Your shoulders tense as you cough the liquid out of your lungs, fuck it burns, it burns, just like those kids did-

You whimper after successfully saving yourself from an embarrassing death, pressing the heal of your palm into your left eye until it ached and you saw colors.

Your entire apartment smells of whiskey and probably every other alcoholic consumable imaginable. After remembering to open your eyes, you focus your eyes long enough to see the different brand of bottles scattered about. A twinge of guilt pulls at your heart; this is why you haven’t had anyone over in a while. You couldn’t bring yourself to clean your apartment, get rid of the evidence of your addiction.

You stare at a beer bottle a few feet away and it brings you back to the times you’d sit at the bar, opting to be the designated driver for the team. You can’t help but let out a laugh—that sounded more like a sob—when you think about it. You never drink in front of the others— only alone. Even after Bobby said he would come around and pick everyone up, you stayed sober. No matter how much your fingers yearned for that cold beer, your throat burned and ached for the comfort of alcohol, your stomach grumbled every whiff, you began to fucking sweat.

Withdrawal.

You try to stifle a sob as the weight on your chest hasn’t been lifted, even though you’ve consumed more than enough— more than enough alcohol that usually does it’s fucking job by now. With every second you felt more guilty, unable to keep your head quiet.

‘What if Buck found me like this?’

“Shut up.” You whisper to no one.

‘He would be so fucking disgusted, you know it.’

“Shut up,” You repeat yourself ever so slightly louder, the bottle finding it’s home on the ground with both of your heels of your palms against your eyes again.

‘What about Chim? Hen? Athena, Maddie? Even Bobby would be disgusted to see you go this far.’

You bite your lip in an attempt to not cry. You have been pushing your limits for months, losing weight and losing color in your face. You go into active withdrawal at work quite often, but you can’t let them know.

No one can fucking know.

You’re startled back to reality by your phone vibrating next to you and you nearly jump out of your skin. You move your head away from your hands and you try your best to blink away the blurriness and your tears. You raise your phone and unlock it—after failing twice.

You haven’t been noticing your phone it seems, as there’s several missed calls and dozens of texts.

Fuck, you’re missing your shift.

…You can’t bring yourself to answer anything, so with shaky hands, you completely turn off your phone and toss it somewhere, the phone landing with a thud. You put your hand on the ground and slowly lower yourself onto your side against the hardwood flooring, curling up into a ball. You keep your bottle nearby, wrapping your arms around your legs. You close your eyes and you only mean to rest them, but you end up passing out right there, surrounded by bottles, head filled with dark thoughts and painful memories. For the first time, you can’t bring yourself to care.

——————————

Meanwhile at the station..

Bobby presses his lips together, a hand on his hip as the dialing tone continues from his phone; this is the fourth time he’s called you. By this point, you’re 26 minutes late to your shift and you’re never late, in fact, you’re always early.

Eddie is sitting nearby, leaning back in his chair, legs spread out. Your absence is quite noticeable and Eddie knows what Bobby is doing, so he watches him with careful eyes. “Are they still not answering?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows furrowed together with his phone in hands. He couldn’t help but shoot you a few texts, too. Bobby sighs and hangs up once he gets your voicemail again and he shakes his head no. He looks at Eddie with a poorly concealed, concerned, expression. “No, they aren’t. [Name] usually lets me know very early in advance if they aren’t feeling well, too.”

Eddie glances across the room to where Buck is; he’s pacing back and forth and he can feel Buck’s worry seeping into his own skin just by looking at him. Eddie sits up straighter and sighs, looking at him. “Maybe we should check on them then,” He begins, scanning Bobby’s body language as he speaks. “If this isn’t like them, maybe they got hurt?”

Bobby pockets his phone. “Yeah, we should go. I’ll go get Hen and text Maddie for backup. I need you, Buck, and Chim to stay here, alright?”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest; he’s really fucking worried about you. You never go off the grid like this. Buck had even mentioned you never shot him a good morning text and you always do. But then Eddie shuts his mouth, looking down at the ground for a moment before looking at Bobby. “Alright, but let us know what’s up with them.”

Bobby assures him that he will; they are a family and they will figure this out like one. He then walks over to Buck, every step into his radius and he can just feel his worry, his stress. “Buck,” Bobby called out quietly which made Buck stop in his tracks. Buck blinks at Bobby, eyebrows furrowing. “What? Did [Name] get back to you, yet?” Buck said in a quick fashion, walking towards Bobby. “No, they didn’t. I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Hen and your sister to go see what’s going on; and before you open your mouth, you aren’t going.”

Buck throws his hands, exasperated. “What do you mean I’m not going??”

Bobby raises his hands and his eyebrows in a way to try to calm Buck down. He knew he wouldn’t react well. “You’re staying here with Eddie and Chim. I promise you, I will update you.”

“That doesn’t explain why I can’t go.” Buck demands, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. If Bobby didn’t care for Buck in the way he does, he never would have caught it. “We can’t just completely abandon the station. I know you three could get a call done if one does so happen to get called while we’re gone.”

Buck forces his lower lip to stop shaking by pressing his lips into a thin line, silently giving Bobby a nod. All he asks is for you to be okay.

[a-drama-addict]

thinking about sigrid. and karlach. Because WHO knows how long it took for Withers to come and revive Sig. How long did Karlach have to face the corpse of Sigrid, the one who promised to stay until she went, now gone before she is. How long did Karlach have to cradle Sigrid’s lifeless body, refusing to let go?

[papakhan]

I think in game it's kind of presented that Julie Farkas thinks poorly of, if not outright dislikes, the Great Khans which I guess is fair enough but also reeks of the attitude of the writers viewing drug addicts and raiders as subhuman. And I don't think really it lines up with either the Khan/Follower relationship depicted in game nor does it Follow Julie's reestablished personality. I think she's a little exasperated with them but not enough to warrent the "who? Oh you mean those raiders who used to clash with the vegas tribes 🙄" line that she has about them like cmon girl 1) people are like your only allies outside of Freeside and 2) why are you taking the Three Families side in this??? They're causing just as many if not more issues than the Khans even Arcade has lines about how the Families are exploiting Freeside and I can't think who else she means by "vegas tribes" Anyway. It does make sense for her to be annoyed with how they're causing more drug problems in Freeside but i don't think it makes sense for her to be written in a way that makes it sounds like she's angry with the Khans for *using their precious medical knowledge to make the evil morphine rather than the morally good morphine* when really she should be more angry with House/The Families for causing the poverty in Freeside and the NCR for forcing the Khans into the precarious position they're in while disallowing the Followers from truly helping them. The fact that by the time that Fnv comes around the Followers and NCR's relationship has broken down should be enough for the Followers to revisit relations with the Khans since, as I said, the Khans have been the only truly consistent allies of the Followers and more importantly, the NCR JUST MURDERED ALL THEIR CHILDREN. In this essay I will

[creatively-cosmic]

more of these

[nat-20s]

I think one of the weirdest sensations of all time is relief over not liking something. Like it's definitely at different Levels but sometimes I look at something and go ohhh fuck that could be something that absorbs my entire life so I avoid it. And then I get around to it and it was fine at best sometimes I'm like THANK GOD! THIS IS NOT GOING TO BECOME A MAJOR FACET OF WHO I AM!

[caldraws]

freddy fazcoke :3

[james-is-nasqueer]

anyone else seeing some distasteful kurt busch dwi takes or is it just me