Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Drugs Tw - Blog Posts
Okay, to put the negativity of the world aside. Here’s some nice little random doodles.
hey. got involuntarily admitted for 3 weeks. i won't touch much upon the hell i went through but let's just say i am extremely jaded and bitter and angry. i have a severe bruise on my leg from attacking objects, and some more bruises elsewhere. my knees are further fucked from medical neglect. i was threatened with restraint within hours of arriving. nothing feels real and i keep breaking down in tears.
i just got out today. my bestie picked me up, we hung out, it was cathartic. i was going to be put into inpatient rehab, then i realized i didn't want to be locked up and was just being manipulated. then i tried for respite and outpatient, but respite won't have a bed until after thanksgiving. i'm terrified to even go now because i want to keep what control of my life i have left.
so now i'm home. with my abusive family. no one has seemed happy to see me. only my mom visited me, when i asked her to bring something. my psychiatrist at the ward broke HIPPA and told my mom i'm an addict, who then told my aunt, and now my whole family knows. my father included. i have already abused drugs within half an hour of being home.
i don't even have the option of relaxing in my own room, which i had begun turning into a safe haven, because my family turned it into storage. there is virtually no walking room and it is a massive safety hazard to me. they also killed half my roses, and the others are barely alive. they said they'd take care fo them. fuck my life. fuck all of this.
why is everything i touch dying.
We had a presentation on fentanyl recently
It made me think about a lot. My grandmother. My mother. Myself
Because of my nervous system dopamine deficiencies I have a higher chance of becoming an addict than most
Even if a drug is barely laced with Fentanyl it can and will probably kill you in an instant
I made a promise to not do drugs of any kind. I plan on keeping that promise
But shit man a 14 year old with ADD dies because he tried to take drugs to relax his symptoms and then dies less than two weeks after getting his hands on said drugs will fuck with me forever
Mole accidentally eats a medical weed brownie...... Insane
Azazel held his gaze on the other, unbroken, for a time, before he blinked, almost too slowly. Then turned his head and muttered, “The fuck does it look like I just did, hm?” The other usually wore on his patience, but not enough before now to have him reacting anymore aggressively. But notably, at this moment, he was. Of course, at this moment, he had a lot more lore than he had some of the previous times they had run into one another. Azazel moved to rest his head in his left hand, bringing his left elbow to rest on the counter. He still knew not to press more than necessary, lest he end up breaking the mask more than it was able to bend in these conditions. Forcing a smile as Cyrek went on, he shook his head a bit, “Oh. Come now. I'm a reasonable person, even if I'm not your favorite at times. I can be very-ah, companionably.”
He glanced around the bar, sighing at it being one of the few he liked to go to, even if it belonged to the wrong team. Though he had never concerned himself with that, as long as his team was on top of the pile of skulls, in the end. Turning his gaze back onto Cyrek as he went on, he nodded his head a bit, “You think I would?” He laughed, biting on his bottom lip, not sure the other could be trusted to read others. Though he was in no mood to dissuade the others' wrong assumptions, if The Art of War taught him anything, like the most basic and sensible advice in the world, it was to just ignore such attempts at slights by the supposed enemy. Cyrek wasn't seen as a threat to Azazel, however, more like a tick that just needed to be burned off every once in a while to go spin his head in a different direction.
Grinning, Azazel wondered how many of those silly drinks ever really got sold, probably a reasonable amount for them to be on a menu, instead of some secret order a dumb college kid created while high off his ass during a bender for some pledge to a sorority or fraternity. Azazel was an adult, however, long since passed mixing his drinks to create some bullshit, he just wanted to roll his blunts, smoke off the nerves in his living room while watching Care Bears, in the sanctity of his own home. A few shots deep, surrounded by other things. Though he didn't choose to do that, on this night. He was here, instead. Listening to this acquaintance of his trying his best to stand next to him on that pile of skulls, Azazel narrowed his eyes a bit. At least, that's what he assumed, or was it the workings of his paranoia trying to make a threat? He sucked on his teeth a bit, “Powder my nose?” He scrunched his nose a bit, not sure what to make of that comment.
“Aww, Cyrek, do you think I'm pretty? Only the most vain of people powder their noses, though.” He grabbed the drink then, downing it like a champ and huffing out a breath to one side, “It's alright. But it could be stronger.” Tipping the class upside down, he pushed it gently from him, “I bet I could breathe fire, in some circumstances, but, like I said, I'd need something, like--… Gasoline? What do you think?” Though gasoline didn't taste all that pleasant, not, that he had ever tried to breathe fire before, of course not. He had absolutely tried before.
"Alright, then don't order it," the bartender threw up his hands in mock surrender at that, the folly of showperson's charisma ebbing out of his pores, replacing any sense of congeniality with a wrinkle of his brow and a thin-lipped grimace. Half the time, it seemed like it was the agenda of people who walked through the door to make his job significantly more strenuous than it had to be — though, in the case of anyone involved with the Vitellis, he kind of leaned into the inclination that that was their quid pro quo for strife he'd eventually reaped what he sow. "No harm, no foul to me. You'll probably stiff me on the tip anyway." Which begged the question why Azazel would bother entering a biker bar that was arguably outside of the comfort of the family bounds, and there was plenty of alcohol they could get for free at one of the casinos, surely. Now that he wasn't under the guise of playing nice, he let out a snort, reaching for a clean glass to serve him. He didn't feel like getting shit on the job at Azazel's expense, if nothing else. "Think you'd crack for the feds a lot faster than I would. Sure that you got some secrets you'd squeal over."
The laminated sheet clattered noisily back to its resting place under the bar, to be turned down by another dozen patrons before he finally could hightail it home for the evening, or a couple blocks over where the lights on the Strip were crystalline enough to illuminate the shadowed building of the future home of Skratch Records. Thank you. "Oh, surprised you remembered manners." Cyrek certainly let it slip his mind if people gave him reason to. Pouring out the drink, he narrowed his eyes to catlike slits, he slid it over to him, chewing on his inner cheek and itching to reach for the pack of gum in his back pocket and unroll a strip. "Uh-huh," he grunted out, unimpressed with the pass, "Good luck breathin' fire with this, mate. You might be goin' through a lot of drinks if that's what you're after. Might find it easier if you powder your nose in the bathroom instead."
‘‘ Some proper dead joke though, innit ? ’’ Sammy mumbles, gesturing to his phone that lies between them. He doesn’t think much more needs to be said to clarify what he’s talking about. What most people have been talking about all day. ‘‘ all jokes aside n all that, what shit for brains thought it was funny ? Whoever it was, I reckon we could find ‘em if we rub our ‘eads together quick enough. I’ve even got a tin foil ‘at I could wear for the occasion ’’ he adds, stretching his legs out across the grass while pulling out a grinder, ‘‘ fancy a smoke? ’’
@hvrrorsfm
RUE & LEXI in
EUPHORIA | S02E03: Ruminations: Big and Little Bullys
THE FALLOUT 2021, dir. Megan Park
I've been having a hard time realizing what I have left behind, in my home town.
I was everyones everything.
People liked me they would only asked for me.
I helped everyone with whatever they needed, I gave my whole heart and soul to them.
We grew up in the same shitty little small town together, ate at the same restaurants with our family's.
Before I left we even walked at night in the streets, doing nothing but been kids.
Now since time has passed, and we all grow into bigger and better people.
They all grown into wonderful, motivated and independent people.
And I've been come the laughing stock.
I haven't contacted anyone from my town in a year, but some how I still hear them talking about me, they all say how "they knew me" and "she was our friend how could she". You say my name like I'm the monster. I wouldn't have done this if you would have helped me. But now its too late it finally has a grip on my neck.
PSA
To all who have a heart.
I need drugs...so if you would like to donate to me please do so💕✨😘
Msg me and ill give you my email
Much love, Kai💕✨
harryzhangs:
harry chuckles in agreement to his comment about the food. she knows nate doesn’t owe her an answer, but she has to admit she’s curious as to how the rest of her peers are doing tonight. over the years she’s discovered that people seem comfortable confiding things in her, and her time at alderidge has been no exception. harry doesn’t mind it, though– on the contrary, it’s really one of the only methods she has of feeling close to people. she nods sympathetically when nate continues; if there’s one thing she understands right now, it’s not liking the presence of those detectives inside the refectory. of course, his phrasing makes harry curious… nate was the one to find orson’s body, but she still wonders if there’s anything else he could be hiding about that whole night, like she is. she wonders about it constantly, truth be told. not just in regards to nate, but to all of them. harry might not know exactly what happened, but she’s damn sure she and jonah aren’t the only ones with secrets.
“i get that,” harry agrees before taking another drag from nate’s joint. with this one, she starts to feel it a bit, a nice calm spreading over her that only weed could ever cause. “it’s hard to move forward with all these reminders of what happened. especially when we don’t know what they’re looking for, or… who they might suspect, you know?” she shivers before passing the joint back to nate.
he misses his therapist. she always had a good way of giving clarity to nate’s thoughts and challenging him to think deeper, as any professional should do. while the fear of what certain truths would come up has kept him away recently, nate thinks back to many of their conversations and tries to remember any piece of actual therapy he got from those sessions. because maybe, he’d stop feeling like he was going crazy. maybe he’d be able to get the image of orson’s dead body out of his head. maybe he’d be able to face whatever the fuck was going on with jason.
and that’s exactly who he’s thinking about when harry mentions the detectives and potential suspects. nate hopes he isn’t wearing it all on his face and lowers his head as he brings the joint back to his lips. two long puffs and the joint is barely hanging on at this point. he shrugs, “yeah, things like this make it really hard to move on. and that’s all i wanna do at this point. ...for my sake but mostly for jason’s — i mean, everybody’s sake, y’know,” nate panics a little, so he stands up and knocks the ash against the railing. nate slides his suit jacket off and offers it to harry. “i should probably get back inside and keep the party going. i started a petition to play firework over the sound system, so...gotta check on that progress.”
oofscenestlr:
one thing that’s held through the past few years of dealing with nat is that he somehow always manages to make it about him. she had first hand experience, the constant days and nights when orson would pair them together was like a thorn in her side. getting through scenes was tough, but she tried to stay professional about it. so what if she was a try-hard? she was doing more than half the people here anyway.
“i’m not even gonna try and respond to that fucked up theory. just some advice for you - maybe get your head out of your ass and realize the world isn’t in love with you. in fact, the world has a lot more things going on than falling to their knees to worship you.” she’s bitter, it’s true. and maybe this was a losing fight, but she had to hold her own. she was a perfectionist, that much is true, and if nate couldn’t see there was anything to gain from that, it was lost on him. but trying so hard to impress orson’s ghost? grace had no respect for orson anymore. “have you considered i work so hard to get where i am for myself? and not for the fake validation of some ghost busy haunting our school and the real murderer?”
giving somebody shit for actually caring about something, especially their craft, is the lowest hanging fruit and while nate knows that, it doesn’t stop him from standing behind his words. because yeah, while grace’s work ethic was something fierce, she had generally not been a nice person from the moment nate met her. and in the wake of orson’s death, she still didn’t seem to get it. and maybe she never would. “save me the fucking diatribe about how you’re so different from the rest of us and how much you’ve sacrificed to get here. ‘cause if you wanna compare notes, we could be here all night,” nate takes another long inhale of the joint and closes his eyes.
for a moment he thinks he can feel it — the warmth of this particular strain — but it doesn’t last long. clearly whatever he had going on right now was not going to be solved with just one smoke.
it’s a small revelation that he chooses not to focus on, so nate turns back to grace instead. “look, did you come outside to just yell at me about petty shit or did you wanna smoke and try to chill the fuck out for once? i mean, aren’t you tired of all this fighting? i know i am. i’m fucking tired, grace.” nate pushes himself off of the railing he was leaning up against and extends the joint to her. things were changing around here — and while drugs weren’t going to fix any of their issues, nate didn’t have it in him to keep throwing insults back and forth. not tonight, at least.
harryzhangs:
“yeah, it’s a shame i left my favorite monastic tunic back at home. really fucked up on that one,” harry chuckles, shrugging at the next remark noncommittally. it’s not as though she’s having a terrible night– things are going fairly well, all considered. the detectives are on her radar, certainly, but she hasn’t gotten any unwanted attention from them or noticed them focusing on any of her peers. for the most part, harry’s just been enjoying the evening with her friends. it all just feels a lot more stifling than usual, right now.
“fuck it, might as well,” she agrees, taking the joint from nate. “thanks.” harry brings it to her lips and inhales deeply, holding her breath for a moment before letting the smoke out in a long stream. a couple coughs make their way up as she passes the joint back, not enough of a regular smoker for her body to be totally accustomed. she eyes nate curiously, letting the two of them sit in the comfortable silence for a moment before voicing her question. “so what brings you away from the dancing and camaraderie? i’m guessing it’s not just the sudden urge to get high.”
harry was almost too good at that; she could play along with his dumb banter, and then have nate ready to spill everything with the flip of a switch. but that’s how it always seemed, for some reason. maybe she just has one of those faces — please, tell me all your dirty secrets! — which nate is sure he’s told her once or twice before. so he considers her question for a moment, deciding on how much he should tell her, because she doesn’t get paid to be his goddamned therapist, but nate doesn’t know how much longer he can go on like this.
and it’s as if it had been waiting in the wings for its cue, nate feels the first tingle — a precursor to what he’s come to know and love about weed. but harry’s still there and expecting an answer, so nate sighs, “it’s because the food really sucks tonight, and it’s bumming me out. when’s aldy gonna stop serving us ore derps for every fuckin’ event? we’re not rabbits.” nate shakes his head and brings the joint back to his lips. on exhaling, he offers it up to harry once more. she deserves a better answer than that, so he shrugs, “and maybe those detectives inside are rubbing me the wrong way. seeing them here just reminds me of a lot of shit i don’t want to think about right now. or ever again. ....what about you?”
“ Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you look gorgeous - as always, of course,” he says with a wink, throwing an arm round her shoulder and leading her inside for a moment. “ Let me just grab my wallet ‘n’ shit. ” he says, dodging the question for a moment. “ What did I do today? ” what did he do today? He did a bump, but aside from that, nothing particularly worth mentioning. “ Not much, to be honest, just watching some shit TV. Called my mum, the usual. ”
"How rude! I'll pretend you mentioned three of your favorite things, one of which is me," she said with a roll of her eyes. Nina loved Danny, and if she planned to eat her nerves away, he was the best person she could think of to join right now. "I haven't pulled out all my hair, and my eyes aren't bloodshot red, so I consider that a small victory." Never one to brag about her accomplishments, she preferred to let them speak for themselves. "I need nachos, guacamole, queso, and some birria, pronto!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "What did you do today?" {Continued from here...}
RUE & LEXI in
EUPHORIA | S02E03: Ruminations: Big and Little Bullys
just because you said the magic word anon~✨
~~~
~Yandere 2P!Allies x Country!Reader~
-2p China-
You first caught Xiaos attention by giving a speech at one of the meetings that he rarely ever attended.
But this time he was glad he went to the stupid meeting. Just to see your eyes flare with passion and with such purpose that the drugs in his system couldn't even block it out.
It felt like the first time he tried drugs, the feeling of losing yourself under its control, though it dulled over time the more he took it which led him to looking for more harder drugs, which too, dulled over time.
But you, you had awoken that feeling of it back inside of him which he thought he had lost long ago.
It was something he couldn't lose, he had to must get more of it.
Just like if you give a racoon food,
it's going to come back for more.
~~~
~2p Russia~
You first met the intimating Russian was when your two countries were doing a public announcement that the two of you had to attend.
Something about having y'all be side by side while your bosses sign papers was to show how close y'all were supposed to be.
Politics politics politics...
He had been through these type of meetings before with many different countries, it wasn't that important to him, still, it was majorly just to look nice and pretty for everyone to see.
Making a few adjustments to his outfit outside the doors waiting for you, (even pondering if you were even going to show up once) but when he saw you in your best outfit walking to see him, all his thoughts vanished.
Something about you had made him stop momentarily before he regained himself (though with his resting bitch face it was hard to tell on your part) to properly greet You.
He had a habit of judging people when he first met them, seeing if they were worth his time to talk too, but when he looked at you he couldn't tell what made you so special to him. It almost scared him.
maybe this meeting wasn't going to be as dreedful as he had thought.
~~~
~2p France~
Let's just say when you first met the Louise, it wasn't in the most ideal place.
Not behind a Building smoking a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves before a meeting.
When you threw open the back door and hitting a certain Frenchman causing him to drop his own cigarette, you knew you were screwed.
When you were about to get cursed out in French you quickly apologized even going as far to try to not get even more beat up as you thought you were, by trying to say sorry in French.
He just kept staring down at you with a blank exspression as you quickly excused yourself to go to the meeting. You felt like you were going to accend when he walked into the meeting and sat right next to you, just your luck.
Afterwards you went back behind the building (making sure to not hit anymore) to see that you were alone, much to your relief. It wasn't until your back got smacked by the door did someone join you saying "Thats payback for earlier.."
Softly you chuckled and offered him a cigarette saying "Even?" Which he let a sign out but took one.
As the two of you just sat in the ally in silence when he casually looked over at you, feeling a tiny bit irritated that you were still nice to him even after he purposefully smacked the door with you and even went as far to offer him a cigarette.
it confused him to find a genuinely nice person.
And as you went back inside, leaving him, he couldn't help but feel like he wanted it for himself...
and only for himself.
~~~
~2p England~
oooohhhhh boy did you mess up-
So stupid for you to procrastinate on delivering papers, now you gotta act like a delivery boy today, running around with a stack of papers and putting them in their correct place.
Didn't make things better when you ran straight into someone, causing all your papers to fly
e v e r w h e r e
Not even adding onto the fact that the dish of cookies that the brightly colored Brit was carrying got frosting and crumbs all over them.
Just your luck...
Trying to hastily gather all your papers and try to get the icing off some of them(more like smudge it into the papers more), you didnt notice how the Brit was so close to you before you looked up, staring right into his colorful eyes.
"You have a bit of frosting on your cheek poppet!" Wiping it away with his hand.
The odd gesture left you feeling a bit touched but you couldn't stall, you still had to get the papers delivered.
Excusing yourself you quickly got up and continued on your way, making it a point to repay him later and to be more mindful of who's around the corner.
Oliver continued to stare at you as you left, the feeling of Butterfly's in his stomach being replaced with a stinging pain with seeing you disappear behind a corner.
He made it a point to see you again,
he just had to.
~~~
~2p America~
You had decided to go to one of the local bars to celebrate your countries Independence Day.
The whole city was booming with fireworks, dancing, and of course, drinking.
It was a day that you looked forward to for the whole year, a day filled with joy and being proud of what you represented.
It felt nice to unwind for day (since it was a national holiday your boss let you have the day off), you sorta lost yourself when you started dancing to the music that was blasting in the streets, merging in with all the drunks as fireworks lit up the sky.
What happened next happened so quickly that it took your drunken mind a minute to process.
You had tripped over yourself bumping into a stranger, and if it hadn't been for them catching you, you would have hit the hard pavement of the road.
"I've seen you've fallen for me, dollface!"
Was all the stranger said with looking at your confused and drunken face. All you could do then was just burst out laughing as the two of you started dancing together.
It was then that Allen knew he had fallen for you, your laugh. It was like nothing he had ever heard before, and it was the only thing he wanted to hear!
He only wanted to see you happy from that day onwards.
He would do anything to just see you smile and laugh.
~~~
✨hope you like it anon!
gym done, starters done, queue filled until sunday. time to smoke and play tlos
bro came over, we smoked, then went nonverbal for four hours watching ninjago - now i wanna add cole back
Vitus hadn't built the walls, those were under construction long before him, but he'd been the one to slide under as it sealed shut. Like an action hero. Then, his betrayal had simply melded it in place. Opening up would mean pain, and no amount of therapy had successfully opened the cage that protected her heart, her very brittle, fragile heart.
She hadn't meant to break him--or maybe she had. But she had meant every word. Sleepless nights spent at his side pressing all the broken pieces back together, solid when he shook, warm when he was too exhausted to fall easily into dreams, a breath when he couldn't find air. There was never anywhere else she wanted to be. The irony of the Lighthouse in view wasn't lost on her. She had tried to be a light in the storm, a guide back home. Even when it got complicated, it was easy. And it wasn't enough.
She wanted answers. Answers he couldn't offer, ones she wasn't even sure would make her feel better. "Deep breaths," she whispered, cursing herself for showing him any mercy. She had sworn to herself she wouldn't if they were ever to cross paths again, but they were the same broken. "You need to find out why," she said, "the people you'll keep hurting until you do, they deserve that."
His promise that he did love her went unacknowledged because she did know he had, but it hadn't been real. Real love, if it existed, did not do what he did. She simply chose to no longer believe. Part of her would have given him her hand, let him find comfort in it. In her. But she couldn't, she had to protect herself first. No one else was going to.
"Please stop saying sorry," she breathed out, a single stray tear sliding down her cheek unchecked, "you had reason to worry, and I know I have punished you enough. But I don't want your apology. You broke my heart, you broke my trust, you made my nightmare a reality. Someone newer, shinier, thinner, prettier, more exciting, whatever it was. I know you said it wasn't me, and I know that, but you can see how I'll struggle with that anyway, right? I asked you for faithfulness, a lot of other people make different arrangements. You could have just told me you didn't want to do that anymore." She was circling back to the question that screamed in echos within her mind. Why, why, why. And there was no why. With an exhale, she let it go out with the waves retreating back into the ocean. At least for now. "Deep breaths, Vitus, take deep breaths."
Vitus had hoped for something softer, with her, after all these years. Time had a way of doing that—taking the bite out of memories, until the once-visceral pain turned phantom, like a long-gone limb. But Leyla's eyes didn't melt into her core like his own did. Her voice didn't compress and fold itself over, bowing under the weight of him. No, Leyla remained as hardened and sharp as the day he lost her.
Out on the beach in broad daylight, the last event of summer buzzing around him, Vitus was trying his best not to cry. But then she said that—You were easy to love. Why wasn't that enough?—and the thing in his chest quit howling long enough to crumble. It punched a shuddering breath out of his lungs. Vitus wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stabilize, as the first tears finally tipped over and fell down his face.
He had never thought himself easy to love, but especially not when he was in his twenties, and especially not when they met. Leyla had held him on the bathroom floor while his hands shook, on the tail end of a coke comedown. She'd seen him crawl into bed at four in the morning, exhausted and empty after draining sessions with his clients. She'd let him cry into the cradle of her neck after a day's worth of panic attacks as he tried to build a new place in his life for his parents. And through it all, she'd loved him. She'd loved him, she'd loved him. And he'd loved her too, because she knew what it was, to live like that. To be shredded and unwilling to look at her pieces long enough to reassemble them.
And yet. He'd still cheated on her. And then he'd done it again, and again, and again, to other partners that came after her. How many people had come up against his fever, promised to love him through it, only to end up burning to death in his arms?
"I don't... know. I mean, yes, but it wasn't you," he said again, speaking through the guilt pouring down his cheeks. Vitus pawed at his face, if only to save her the sight of him like that, but it didn't quite work. "Nothing is ever enough. I don't know why. I wish I could tell you, but I don't—Something in me is just—" He gestured at his sternum, trying to indicate the ache in there, the beast that had been demanding more more more for as long as he could remember. "I know how much you loved me. And I loved you like that too. I really did."
To make matters worse—Leyla's lips quivered, too, and Vitus immediately wanted to step forward. He wanted to reach, offer his open palm to her, say what can I give you? just like he did the night they met. He didn't. He stayed in place, battered by guilt over the fact that he had broken her so severely ten years ago that she still didn't believe in love, still couldn't talk to him without crying.
"I'm sorry. I'm really glad you're doing better. I worried about you, a lot, after—" A sniffle. Another hand across his face, as if he could wipe his identity right off of himself, bury it in the sand, and start fresh as someone new. "I'm so sorry, Leyla. I know it can't fix anything. But I just—I never stopped being sorry."