cw: heavy discussion of substance use. use caution. alcohol, drugs.
"I've seen what that does to people, you know," Keigo says, tenderly tipping the glass bottle away from your lips with a single finger.
"What," you slur. "You gonna judge m'too Kei'?"
You sputter, reaching back to tilt the neck of the empty vase above you, stale tongue darting out to catch whatever droplets will grace your drought. He breathes out through his nose; but soft eyes never waver, nor do they lose their empathy.
It makes you sicker than the booze. You scoff bitterly, an action sober you would balk at as abrasive.
"You'd piss yourself if you saw what else little ol' me used to get their rocks off with," you say. Vulgar, but it gets to the point.
Keigo supposes he can't fault you for saying it so crudely, for wanting to scare him away with the truth. You seem to think the mere image of you, as you are, as you were, is enough to drive him to sickness and disgust.
You wouldn't have deployed that method if it never worked, he realizes. The reality clinks against the glass of his heart, cracking it down its bleeding center.
His mind drifts toward images of his mother, of trash piles and hazy eyes, her mouth wide open under the tap of the pouring sink like a fish out of water. Stumbling off to the bathroom, and back for more to quench her thirst, then right back. Shoulders lined with itches, the buzz of a scratched and bloody scalp.
"Dove," he says, sharp in his throat.
You wince as you turn to meet his eyes, expecting to see disgust for your nest of unkempt hair. You expect him to stand up and slam the door behind him, to look down at you over his nose. You expect him to spit words like "I'd never."
Instead, you find the same smile he always smiles, gazing right your way. His eyes pierce down past your manufactured, false barriers, your puffed up feathers and squawking beak. They lock right on to the finch with the broken wing that lives surrounded, protected by bloodied, barbed wire. He reaches his hands over the gates, cradling it in his palms, lifting it to his nose.
Oh. That's right. He's told you before.
He still loves her.
It stings. The burn of your tearducts, the saltwater streamlined down your dusty cheeks.
You wipe them away with the back of your sleeve, sobbing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't leave me. I-I'll be better, I can be good for you. I'm not dirty, I can wash up—"
He swoops down, murmurs of "baby, baby, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere."
He thumbs the tears away, cradling you against his firm chest as he hushes you.
"Let's get you cleaned up. Tomorrow, we start over."
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“I’m chronically ill, not drug seeking! I don’t want to be mistaken for an addict trying to get opiates in the emergency room!”
I totally understand not wanting to be mistreated, bullied, and denied treatment, or being misdiagnosed with a disorder you don’t have (in this case, substance use disorder). It shouldn’t happen, period.
The problem is when chronically ill people act like they’re better than addicts just because they themselves are going to the ER for a “real” reason. (If you don’t do that then I’m not talking about you)
Have you considered that the addicts and “drug seekers” shouldn’t be treated that way also? They too are seeking medical treatment for a disorder and/or withdrawal. Everybody deserves adequate treatment, yes, even if they are doing so because they are addicted to a substance.
[Image ID: White text in a Galaxy background reads If you: Derail my posts; are an “aspie”; run a sh/ed blog; are under 16; are a TERF; think cripplepunk is for mental disabilities; think that autism isn’t a disorder; are pro-transabled, trace, transage, etc; are pro-map or pro-zoo; are a transmed; want to completely demedicalize autism, I will probably block or mock you. End ID]
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People who use drugs deserve love and kindness.
Abstinence is not the only form of recovery. AA/NA doesn’t work for everyone. Sometimes people choose to use instead of meeting other needs, which is valid. Some people use for recreational purposes. Some people use for medicinal purposes. Some people who use have substance abuse disorder. Treatment looks different for everyone. Not everyone needs or wants treatment, for various reasons. The only thing Naloxone enables is breathing. Active use is not shameful. People who use drugs often also deal drugs. People in recovery should not shame active users. Active users deserve love. Active users deserve someone to check in on them, get them safer use supplies, and get them pizza. Active users deserve to be listened to. They deserve better than to have that be the first time anyone ever treated them as human since they began using.
Let’s care for each other.
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That post got me thinking. About all my unlisted faves. I am self aware.
IF YOU KNOW A CHARACTER THAT FITS ANY OF THESE TROPES FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND AN ASK/COMMENT PLEASE
My favorite character tropes <3
Tragic blonde dog who wants to protect but is driven to violence and encounters a specific kind of problem. This causes their brain to be fundamentally unwell.
Narcissist with mommy issues, underlying entangled wires, and some form of rage.
Scruffy, depressed, 30-50 year old alcoholic who is probably passively suicidal but too exhausted to go through with it (I married Shane in stardew valley).
Chuunibyous.
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