#Tw: Drug abuse

[gloomysoup]

when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 4

hello yes i know it's been a while. this part has been a pain in my ass for months. i needed to get it just right and rewrote this thing so many times it's not even funny. and now, after editing it five times over the last two days, i'm just posting it. what's done is done. if i came back to it again i would have rewritten and i don't wanna do that. so here it is at least. there is also going to be at least one more part. i'm shooting for two more hopefully but i make no promises. the next part could very well be the last. i hope you enjoy :)

ao3 pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

cw: hospitals, dissociation, mentions of overdose, addiction, sobriety, and relapse

Eddie couldn’t move. His body was fighting against every instinct he should have in the moment. Someone could throw something directly at his head, and he wouldn’t react. The buzzing voices around him faded in and out as he stared at a chip in the wood of the table in front of him.

One of Steve’s doctors had finally come to speak with them. They couldn’t say anything for certain at the moment, but he was alive, and that’s all Eddie heard before his head went fuzzy again. His mind was still reeling, caught on the fact that he should have seen this. He should have noticed. He should have been able to help Steve. He failed the only person who’d ever loved him like that, the only one who ever would love Eddie like that. Because Steve was it for him. He’d always known that. No one else would even come close. No one could ever compare to Steve Harrington.

Not only had he failed Steve, but he’d failed Robin too. He was supposed to keep Steve safe. Robin couldn’t lose her best friend; Eddie knew that. He’d promised to take care of him. He couldn’t even do that one thing right. God, what was he going to tell Robin?

They didn’t want Steve to have visitors yet. Eddie managed to gather that much at least. It was still touch and go. He wasn’t awake. They weren’t sure if he ever would be. They’re flushing his system, but it’s really just a game of wait and see. They might be able to see him in the morning, but the doctor wasn’t making any promises. It all depended on how the rest of the night went. If he made it through. They couldn’t say anything else for certain. There had been a lot of drugs in his system. He’d been deprived of oxygen for a long time. There was no way to be sure what would happen next. That was all up to Steve now.

Eddie sat there in that uncomfortable waiting room chair for hours. He didn’t move. He didn’t eat or drink. He didn’t even get up to go to the bathroom. He just sat there, staring at the same chip in the wooden table. His friends all tried their best to get through to him. They tried to coax him into eating or drinking something, but their efforts were unsuccessful. No one could get through to him, and he preferred it that way. He deserved to sit in his own silence, letting his brain run reckless and spiral to the depths of his fears and anxiety. He had failed.

He noticed that the more time seemed to pass, the antsier his bandmates got. Though, he couldn’t be exactly sure that’s what was happening. Time escaped him.

Time was such a funny thing, wasn’t it? It can feel like it speeds up, slows down, or stops entirely, but it never changes. It’s always the same. It’s all in the imagination. Eddie was never that good at telling time as a child. Even as he grew older, he found it difficult to keep track. As he sat in that hospital, his entire life on the brink of falling apart at the seams, time was nowhere to be found. Nothing made sense. He just sat silently, staring. People moved around him, time passed, but Eddie didn’t move. He was trapped. His body was at the hospital, but his mind kept bouncing around. From his mom, to Wayne, to Steve on the bathroom floor. An endless cycle. Eddie was hanging on by a single thread: the only thread of life left in Steve.

Eddie would never survive if Steve didn’t make it out alive.

Eddie was aware that a long time had passed only by the ache in his joints and the dryness of his mouth. He also sort of needed to pee, but that wasn’t important. At least, not important enough to warrant getting up. He couldn't move. He needed to stay right in that spot. Nothing was more important than that.

“Come on, Ed,” Wayne’s gruff voice said from somewhere behind him. Eddie stayed rooted to the spot. “It’s time to go, kid. We’ve gotta get to the reception.”

Eddie stood silently, staring straight ahead at the marble headstone. His mother’s name was engraved with curly letters. Eddie hadn’t known that was possible. There were piles of flowers that he knew wouldn’t be there next week. He didn’t speak. His feet were glued to the soft ground beneath him. His suit was itchy and his worn dress shoes were a size too small. The tie around his neck was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

He broke down right there, tears rolling down his cheeks and gasping sobs bursting from his chest. He sank down to the ground at the foot of his mother’s fresh grave, clawing at the stupid red tie that his mother had bought him two years prior and the collar of his white dress shirt. Wayne sighed softly and sat down beside him, gently pulling his hands away and shushing Eddie as he loosened the tie. He let him collapse against his chest, tie almost completely off and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Wayne held him through each wracking sob and stuttering breath, murmuring comfort until he’d gotten it all out.

“I couldn’t do it, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whispered hoarsely. “Why couldn’t I do it?”

“Do what, Ed?”

“Save her.”

Why couldn't he do it?

“Eddie, seriously, you need to eat something,” Jeff said, holding out a bag of chips from the vending machine. Eddie stared blankly at the bag, seeing but not really. He heard the words coming from Jeff’s mouth, but his body refused to respond. He couldn’t quite fully process what he was saying. It slipped out of his head before he got the chance, replaced with his mother’s voice, or Steve promising he was fine. He was fine. There was nothing wrong. It was just weed. Nothing more. He was fine.

He lied.

What else had Steve lied about? What else was he keeping from Eddie? Every time Steve came home late, claiming some generic excuse about work or traffic or whatever else it may have been, how often had those been lies? What had he been doing instead? Getting high? Shooting up in a parking garage somewhere? Was he ever with someone else? Someone who wasn’t Eddie?

Steve would never cheat. Eddie had to remind himself of that over and over again. Repeat it on a loop in his head. Anything to get it to stay there.

He would not cheat. He would not cheat. He would not cheat.

But he would lie.

Eddie has never been insecure about their relationship before. He loved Steve more than anything. He always knew Steve felt the same. Steve loved him. No questions asked. Eddie knew. He didn't need to be told that Steve loved him. It was just obvious. Now, though, Eddie was second guessing everything. Why would he lie? If Steve could lie so easily about something like this, what else had he lied about? Had their whole relationship been a lie? Has Steve ever told him the truth about anything?

His brain swirled with more thoughts, more insecurities. He stared at the chip in the table as he spiraled. His fingers and toes were tingling. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. Any minute now, he was going to wake up. Everything would be fine. It was just one big nightmare. He would be laying in bed next to Steve, who would be snoring softly. He would roll over and tuck his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. He could hold him tight, bury his nose in the back of Steve’s neck and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. He could fall back into a peaceful sleep with Steve in his arms, safe and sound.

Except he wasn't waking up. No matter how much he tried, no matter how hard he willed his eyes to open, it didn't happen. He was trapped. There was no escape. Steve wasn't there. He may never be there again. This was all Eddie’s fault. If only he’d noticed. If only he cared enough. None of it was enough. Eddie wasn’t enough. He never should have expected to be enough for Steve. Steve deserved better.

Eddie never should have asked him to come on tour with them.

If Eddie hadn’t asked him to go, this never would have happened. Steve would be at home, in their apartment with Robin, probably sleeping in her room every night. He hated sleeping alone. He’d be sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of Eddie’s hoodies and the threadbare blue blanket they took from the trailer when they moved, watching movies with Robin and a bowl of popcorn. He wouldn’t be dying in a hospital in New York. He’d be happy and safe. Eddie would miss him like hell, but at least he would be safe.

The sun was shining, blindingly bright, through the tall windows on the far wall of the waiting room when the doctor finally came back. Eddie’s knee had taken to bouncing anxiously a while ago, maybe an hour, maybe more. He can’t be sure. His brain had mostly come back online, but he still felt a little foggy. Untethered. His world was unbalanced. His ears were still ringing even as the doctor started talking. He barely heard a single word. Snippets of information filtered through the fog. Stable. Made it through the night. Up to Steve now. ICU. Visitors. The next thing he knows, Jeff is leading him through the halls with the doctor. It’s just the three of them. Other doctors and nurses bustled around them.

They finally crossed the double doors into the ICU. Eddie’s heart pounded as the doctor led them over to one of the sliding doors. She opened it, and Eddie couldn't move. He could hear the machines inside, see the edge of the hospital bed. If he turned his head a little, he knew he would see Steve. The doctor walked in and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed. She flipped it open and clicked her pen, writing things down and glancing at monitors.

“Eddie, why don't we go inside?” Jeff suggested softly, his hand on Eddie’s arm. “Steve needs you right now.”

Eddie's feet moved of their own accord, taking slow steps into the room. Jeff followed behind him, closing the door once they were both in the room. He carefully led Eddie over to the chair, giving him a light push on the shoulder to sit him down. As soon as he was close enough, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand. An instinct he would probably always have. It didn't matter what was going on in his brain. If Steve’s hand was there, Eddie was holding it.

“Is he okay?” the doctor asked gently, nodding to Eddie.

Jeff sighed. “I hope so. This is all really hard on him.”

“How long have they been together?”

Jeff looked up, a little startled. It may have been New York, and queer relationships were a little more accepted than they were just a few years ago, but Steve and Eddie had always been careful. Cautious. They all had. But she was quick to respond before Jeff could even think to redirect.

“It’s okay, really. I know what love looks like. I would look at my partner the same way if something like this ever happened to her.”

“Oh.” Jeff glanced at Eddie, who had his eyes glued to Steve’s hand in his. “Um… it’s been almost eight years now. They’ve been through a lot together.”

She closed the chart and put it back at the end of the bed. She nodded a few times, watching the machines that beeped rhythmically. “I’m going to hold on to hope,” she said softly. “For them. For everyone like us. I can’t say anything for certain; this is all up to Steve. We’re doing everything we can. But I’m holding on to hope.”

“I guess that’s all any of us can do now, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” She cleared her throat and took a step back from the bed, turning to Jeff. “I have other patients to round on, but I’ll be back to check up on everything in a couple of hours. If you guys need anything, just let one of the nurses know.”

“Thank you.”

Silence fell through the room as the doctor left. Jeff took the chair in the corner, letting Eddie have whatever time he needed. He was mostly there for Eddie’s sake; someone had to make sure he would be okay until Wayne got there. Truthfully, they were all out of their depths here. No one really understood what was happening in Eddie’s brain. Not even close to the way Wayne would.

They sat there in total silence for a long time. It's unclear to Eddie just how long, but long enough that Jeff had gotten up four times. Once to get food, once for the bathroom, and twice to hit vending machines and coffee. Not that Eddie accepted anything Jeff offered him. His body still felt wildly disconnected from his brain. His limbs were heavy. He also knows it's been long enough that nurses have come in to check on Steve eight times, and his doctor has been back once. It seems the only thing Eddie’s mind can keep track of is how many times someone has entered or exited Steve’s room in the ICU.

Jeff gets up for a fifth time. Another bathroom break, from the few words Eddie managed to retain. The door slid shut behind him, and Eddie was alone again. He squeezed Steve’s hand three times, desperate for any sign that he's still there. That he's fighting for Eddie. Nothing happens. The machines beep. His chest rises and falls rhythmically with the calculated breaths of the ventilator. Steve’s eyes shift beneath his eyelids, but they don't open. They won't open. The door slid open again, and Eddie assumed Jeff was back, though it seemed like he wasn't gone very long. And then he hears it.

“Oh, God.”

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of Robin’s shaky voice behind him. She looked wrecked. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy and red. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. Wayne was standing beside her, looking somber. He watched her take a rattled breath, crossing the room slowly. Her eyes don't leave Steve. Wayne followed a few moments later, coming to stand behind Eddie and put a hand on his shoulder. Eddie wanted to break. As if he hadn't been slowly breaking this whole time.

“They- they said it was an overdose?” Robin asked softly, her voice cracking at the end. Eddie merely nodded, still trying to find his voice. “What- what happened, Eddie? Was it- was he drugged? How- how did this- did he relapse?”

“Relapse?” Eddie croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. That didn't make any sense. For Steve to relapse, he would have to be…. “He- he was clean?”

Robin frowned, and her gaze finally found Eddie. “What do you mean he was clean? He's been clean since ‘85, Eddie. I- I helped him, after Starcourt.”

All the air left Eddie’s lungs in an instant. This was all his fault. Steve was- he was clean. Sober. And Eddie ruined that. He gave Steve weed. He brought him on tour. He took him to parties full of temptation. He killed Steve.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered.

“Eddie, you have to tell me what's going on,” Robin begged. “When did he relapse? Why didn't he call me? He promised he would talk to me if he wanted to get high again.”

“I- Oh, God. I didn't know. He- he didn't tell me.” Eddie couldn't breathe. His heart squeezed in his chest, and his lungs pushed the air from his body until there was nothing left. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get it back. He was already hyperventilating. “This is all my fault. Oh my god, it's all my fault.” He was distantly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks again.

Wayne stepped between Eddie and Robin, crouching down to look up into his nephew's face. His hands were solid against Eddie’s skin, just like they always were. “Ed, you need to talk to me. Take a breath, kid. I'm right here, but you have to tell me what's going on.”

Eddie’s breath stuttered halfway through his chest. “I didn't know, Wayne.”

“What didn't you know, Eddie?”

“I didn't- I didn't know he was sober. I- I thought I- I was just trying to help. I- I gave him weed. I did this.”

Robin’s expression hardened. “You did this to him?”

“I'm so sorry,” Eddie choked out between sobs. “I didn't- I didn't know. I was just trying to help. And- and then he- I knew he wasn't telling me something, but- but he promised it was just weed.”

“Get out.” Robin’s voice was firm, but he could hear the trembling fear behind it.

“What? I-”

“Get out. Get out, right now. You did this, Eddie. He was doing so good until he met you! And now he's dying! So get the hell out, before I make you!"

It was at this moment that the door opened for Jeff’s return. He paused just inside the doorway. Wayne stood up, facing Robin.

“Now, Robin, I think-”

“I don't care!” Robin’s hands were shaking. “This is his fault! I want him out, right now! Or I swear to God, Wayne, I'm going to kill him.”

Wayne glanced back at Jeff, who was the perfect picture of confusion. “Jeff, take Eddie into the hall.”

“What-”

“Don't ask questions right now,” Wayne said sternly with a shake of his head. “Just take him to the hall. I'll be out in a moment.”

As soon as the door shut behind them, and Jeff had led Eddie a little ways from the room, he finally snapped. His knees gave out from underneath him, and Jeff was the only thing holding him up as he sobbed.

This was all his fault. He killed Steve.

First his mom, now the love of his life. It was all his fault.

-----

taglist: @mugloversonly @djohawke @acowardinmordor @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @slowandsteddie @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @canmargesimpson @captainoliimar @ilikeititspretty

#gloomysoup #gloomysoup writes #gloomysoup ao3 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steddie angst #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steve harrington angst #rockstar!eddie munson #tw: drug abuse #tw: overdose

[wiltingwoes]

[ Cont. ]

It wasn’t as if Betty was doing any better.

The anniversary. The fucking anniversary of when the closest person in her life had left — in the worst fashion possible. The very core memory that completely shattered what was left of her sanity, sending the vampire into a spiral of madness.

She didn’t need a calendar to circle the date. It was as if the Gods themselves spited her enough to RELENTLESSLY TORTURE HER WITH THE OVERBEARING FEELINGS IT LEFT HER WHEN THE DAY ARRIVED.

So she too stuffed herself full of drugs and alcohol, determined to NUMB HER SENSES TO THE POINT WHERE SHE COULD NOT EVEN FUNCTION NOR HOLD A COHERENT THOUGHT — but still felt bad enough for Valentino that she momentarily pushed aside her own grief to tend to him.

“ Alright, alright…easy does it… “

The red head croaked, helping him back to bed on wobbly feet. Her hair was a disheveled mess, the pheromones mixed with tears practically stained her entire face red, her scleras were entirely crimson, clothes ragged and torn — it looked as if a bear had mauled her and spat her right back out.

Collapsing next to him, at least she had the decency to lift up the glass of water to prevent it from spilling — now face planted on the bed with the beverage up in the air for grabs.

“ T-Take it. “

@mothvalentino

#🐀 VERSE: DOLLHOUSE. 🐀 #mothvalentino #tw: drug abuse #tw: alcohol abuse

[fxckin-blackbeard]

Jenny

Jenny by NOTHING MORE || X || @indestructiblelittlefckr || Israel "Izzy" Hands ||

You're beginning to drag the ones you love down Will this phase ever end? A thousand arms to hold you But you won't reach for any hands 'cause

I don't feel like I'm Getting through to you Let me paint this clear Life is short, my dear

ᒥ🐙ᒧ—        His cabin reeked of it, opium. It's a terrible smell, akin to pure cat piss, but Edward didn't care for it's awful stench. How long had he been smoking it that night? Long enough that when the door to his quarters opens, some of the smoke comes wisping out along the floor.

The man is laid out on the floor, pipe in mouth and puffing away still with the stuff. Glazed, bloodshot eyes slowly lull to the side to glance up at his First Mate, his expression shifts from placid to something that was more like he finally smelled the pungent stink of the herb.

"What do you fuckin' want?" He makes no effort to move, the herb having done it's job of pacifying him for the moment. But with Edward's energy and violent tendencies as of late, there was no way to tell how long that would last.

"'m busy, can't you see that? 'TwAt'." The insult is spoken in a mocking tone of voice, mimicking Izzy's use of the word in the past. Edward, when high, was a miserable dick. Or, once again, as of late. He wasn't new to the use of opium, but with how much time he spent smoking it now, it's clear it's no longer just a fun pass time or something to ease the pain of his left knee.

#arr or some shit (in character) #indestructiblelittlefckr #//Hello~!! #//This song came on and I was SO excited #//So many of the lyrics are good it was hard to choose just a few #tw: drug abuse

[mj-iza-writer]

Tw: drug abuse mentions.

Whumpee shyly walked into the pharmacy and wandered around a little before they got brave enough to go to the counter.

"HI, uhm, I'm here to pick up my script", Whumpee tried to hide their shaking. Why couldn't the normal pharmacist be here, the one that knew them. Not this new person.

"Name?", the pharmacist grunted.

"Whumpee", they were quick to answer.

"Ah yes, you have a flag on your account for drug abuse. I'm not able to give these to you", they looked up.

"But I have a text they are ready. I need those", Whumpee pleaded, "please, I-I have someone who keeps me on track, and my Doctor checks on me regularly. I'm getting better."

"No", came the reply, "I'm not given these out to you."

"Okay", Whumpee whispered, they looked down to hide their quivering lip.

Whumpee left the pharmacy and waited outside for a few minutes wondering what they should do.

They only had one more pill left for tomorrow. Caretaker was out of town for today and wouldn't be back until way after the pharmacy closed.

"Should I call Doctor", they looked at their phone.

"I don't know what else to do."

Whumpee dialed the office number.

"Hello this is Triage, how can I help you?", someone answered.

"HI, uhm I'm Whumpee. I really need to talk to Doctor. I'm having a problem", Whumpee's lip quivered again.

"Yep, they're right here, give me one second", the Triage person heard Whumpee's voice break.

"Whumpee?", a concerned voice came on a few seconds later, "are you okay? What's going on?"

Whumpee started to cry, and talk really fast, "I'm at the pharmacist... it's a new person.... they won't let me g-get my script bec-because of my past w-with drug abuse. And I told them I needed it.... I only have one more."

"Okay Whumpee take a deep breath for me" Doctor requested, "it's okay, where is Caretaker at?"

"They are out of town for a meeting", Whumpee mumbled, "please help me, I only have one more pill left", Whumpee's voice broke again, "I don't want the voices to come back. Please help me."

"Okay", Doctor sighed, "it's okay, I'm annoyed at the pharmacy not at you. Are you okay if I put you on hold and call them to straighten this out."

"Yes", Whumpee shook, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'll get this all straightened out for you, just stay on the line for me okay", Doctor waited for Whumpee to agree, then put them on hold.

"These freaken pharmacist", Doctor grumbled as they looked through Whumpee's chart to find the phone number, "always getting in my way, and messing with my patient's care."

"Hello, Pharmacy, how can I help you today", someone answered.

"Hello, this is Doctor. I just received a call from one of my patients. Are you withholding their medication?", Doctor frowned, "I would hope not, they do in fact need that medication to stay on track with their mental health. It is also highly illegal to withhold medication without cause."

"I believe you are speaking of Whumpee, they were just in here. They have a flag on their account for drug abuse. This script is a fairly addictive controlled substance", the pharmacist explained.

"Yes, it's a controlled substance.... that's why I control it. They get a certain amount for a certain amount of time, and then they get a refill. They come in and see me every few weeks for a follow-up. They also have someone who monitors their medication for them."

"You are not helping them at all right now withholding their medication. They are terrified right now that they won't get it, and they will regress again. They literally called me crying", Doctor continued, "I am reporting you for harassment as well. That alert isn't there for you to play drug monitor, unless they are trying to get extra pills or showing signs of active addiction. I am going to send Whumpee back in, and I will remain on the line with them during their transaction. If you still withhold that script, you will have serious problems with me and law enforcement. Am I clear?"

"Yes", the pharmacist gulped, then heard the click of the phone being hung up.

"Whumpee?", Doctor came back on.

"I just spoke with the pharmacist. Everything should be straightened out for you. Please keep me on the line, though, so I can listen in. I don't want you to get hassled by them", Doctor's voice had gone back to their nice patient care voice.

"Yes Doctor, thankyou so much", Whumpee cautiously went inside and to the counter.

"Pi-pick up for Whumpee please", Whumpee was too scared to look at the person again.

The pharmacist gruffly handed over the script and took the payment.

Whumpee thanked them, then quickly left.

"They didn't seem friendly", Whumpee whispered to Doctor.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, hopefully next time the normal person will be there so you won't have any issues", Doctor stated.

"Thankyou for helping me Doctor, I'm sorry that I bothered you though", Whumpee sighed.

"Don't worry about it", Doctor smiled, "I'm here to take care of you...even if that means keeping the pharmacist in line. What are you up to now? Do you feel okay mentally, or should I call a police officer to come get you and bring you here?"

"No Doctor, I'm okay, I'm just going to walk home right now. I may stop and get some food though", Whumpee started to walk. They hid the medicine in a bag.

"Okay that sounds good", Doctor grinned, "let us know if you need anything else, I've got a few patients to see. I'll see you next week."

"Okay thankyou so much", Whumpee quickly thanked them before they hung up with each other.

A bit later Whumpee heard Caretaker come into the house.

"I'm home Whumpee", Caretaker called, "I heard you had a problem at the pharmacy today."

Whumpee peaked out from the kitchen and frowned.

"I did. It was embarrassing, demeaning, and unfair", Whumpee's lip started to quiver again, "and... and.. and... I didn't ask for these problems", Whumpee looked at Caretaker when tears started to fall, "I-I just want to be okay", they pleaded, "why do I have to beg to be okay?"

"I know Whumpee, I'm sorry", Caretaker held their arms out, "would a hug help, or would you prefer not to be touched?"

"I would like hug please", Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker smiled as they walked over and wrapped Whumpee in their arms.

"It's okay, I know it's hard right now, but their will come a time when you will be okay. Your drug abuse will be left far in the past. You may have to take the medication still, and that is perfectly fine, but it won't seem as big of a deal as it is right now. You may be able to live on your own even, but if not, I am always here. I will happily take care of you, I promise."

"But what if you get tired of me?", Whumpee rested their head on Caretaker's chest, "what then?"

"Tired of you? I don't think that's possible Whumpee", Caretaker chuckled.

"It is", Whumpee sighed.

"Nah! Not me at least", Caretaker squeezed a little tighter, "how about I get your medicine put away, then we can get started on dinner."

Whumpee nodded, "just a minute more on this hug please."

"Of course Whumpee anything for you", Caretaker chuckled.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems @lavndvrr @ivymyers @starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

#whump community #whumplr #whumblr #whump stuff #whump writing #whump author #whump writer #whump ideas #whump scenario #tw: drug abuse #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaking #caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #oc

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

Years of trauma, heavy drinking, and hard drugs fragmented a lot of Rayman/Ramon's memories. He doesn't have very many left of Dimension X. He has trouble trying to remember what his own parents looked like.

The only person he really remembers from Dimension X was Globox. Rayman/Ramon assumed he died back in Dimension X.

He has to rely on pictures and stories to help jog the memory.

He latches onto Bullfrog as a friend after the rescue because of how much he reminds Rayman/Ramon of Globox. Bullfrog was hesitant on befriending Rayman/Ramon at first, but they did eventually bond. Rayman/Ramon and Bullfrog becoming close allies and friends.

#Rayman Head canons #Captain Laserhawk #Captain Laserhawk a Blood Dragon Remix #Captain Laserhawk Head Canons #Captain Laserhawk Rayman #Ramon #Tw: Drug abuse #tw: alcholism #My take on CLH Ramon tends to switch between the two names depending on who he's with or the situation at hand #It's why I use Rayman/Ramon #Because it would apply to both his name and his persona

[thewayuarent]

Ways of handling addictions in Only Friends

Tw: drug abuse, overdose

Let me tell this straight away - I was in a relationship with addicted person. By the time we started dating they didn’t use drugs for about couple of months by still used alcohol a lot. They’d come a long way to be clean and I was there all the time every time. This year they collapsed. Drug overdose, the end of it.

So I know that my personal experience doesn’t make me a profi automatically. Addiction is a very complex subject and very personal experience. But I do know a thing or two about it.

And the first rule here is: addicted person will never stop because of you. They need to want it for themselves.

By this moment we’ve been shown three different dynamics where one person is addicted and the other isn’t: Sand and Ray, Mew and Ray and Mew and Top.

Start with Mew and Ray. The thing is, Mew has no obligation to save Ray. He was there for him in the worst moment and, yes, I really want to say that he had to do more for Ray - he is his closest friend and he is definitely struggling - but. But Mew has a right to step away. Because navigating someone through healing is very hard and very long process and Mew doesn’t have to deal with it. I can’t blame him honestly for that.

For what I can critique not Mew specifically but the whole friend group (all four of them yes) is the very next scene where them all - including Ray - are drinking. Like guys, Ray right here tried to overdose, may be it would be nice to have a fucking break?

The Mew and Top situation is way different. Mew finds out Top uses drugs - that’s not the best thing to learn about someone, sure. But Mew doesn’t take time to think about “do I need that in my life” (which would be understandable), no. He makes a statement: stop using drugs and I’ll have sex with you. There is your price by the way. And this is also understandable - it is a manipulation, yes, but it’s very common way to try to handle things like that, and I would argue Mew has good intentions here. And oh, Mew, my boy, I’m sorry but that’s not how things work. You know Top can have more in a phone call, right? You understand that person saying “I’m not an addict” while having a dose in his pocket it’s at least a bit shady? I know that it doesn’t automatically implicates that Top is a hard addict but still.

But he is already lying about it. Using drugs while having fun with your friends it’s not the same thing as calling your dealer and using it alone in your room because you struggle with emotions, just saying.

Making him choose will never work out. Because he will choose, and it won’t be you.

And what’s about Sand and Ray? Sand knows for a fact that Ray has problems with alcohol. He doesn’t know about drugs, at least for now. Sand and Ray know each other for a very short period of time, and Sand is “it’s not my business” type of person, so I don’t criticize him while saying the next thing. But.

Sand is unintentionally supportive of Ray’s addictions. He drinks with him a lot - they are drinking buddies. I can’t be sure but it’s kind of looks like there will be a weed smoking next episode? For Sand drinking time to time and smoking weed can be fine - he is not addicted (by what we know). For Ray it is a call. So of course Sand, so as Mew, has a whole right to live his life without dealing with Ray’s addictions. But they are definitely falling for each other. That can develop into relationship. And then it will suddenly be a problem. But isn’t it already? How will Ray react if Sand suddenly turns from drinking/smoking with him to trying to stop him? I would say not the best way. There is also an option that for Sand it won’t be a problem so we’ll see.

The addiction is not a verdict. Both Top and Ray are young and very rich and it’s a very common thing for young rich people to have some kind of stuff - drugs, alcohol or both. It doesn’t automatically mean they are doomed. But still whoever decides to be in relationship with them (Mew and Sand, talking to you) have to think about it and think hard. Do you understand what are you dealing with? Do you honestly want to deal with it? Are you ready for all of highs and lows you’re going to face? If yes, then good luck to you - it really can work out. But don’t fool yourself into thinking that there is nothing to worry about.

#i ​know I may see things way darker than I should due to my personal trauma #but this is still very interesting topic to discuss #only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #sandray #topmew #raymew #tw: drug abuse #tw: overdose

[nerdywriter36]

There Comes at Last an End to the Bitter Frosts, Chapter 1: Discovery

AO3

A friend of Erik's discovers his dependency on an addictive substance, and she decides to take on helping him overcome this problem. However, she perhaps doesn't go about it in exactly the right way.

This idea has been sitting on the back burner for a WHILE now as an offshoot of an upcoming enemies-to-lovers fic that @brendadaaedestler and I have in the works. When @textsfromthefifthbasement announced their E/OC Flash Event, we found that this fic perfectly fits one of the Bingo lines and decided to finally put it out into the world! The next four chapters will follow in due course. This first chapter is based on the prompt 'anti-hero.'

We hope you enjoy the start of this little mini-fic!

also shout-out to @brendadaaedestler for putting this gorgeous banner together in record time! ❤️

#my writing #that's my friend! #phic #erik #oc #erik/oc #e/oc #eoc flash event #tw: drugs #tw: drug abuse #tw: drug withdrawal #tw: drug addiction #poto

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Turning Point

Note 1: I got the idea for this chapter late last night and resisted the urge to work on it then because I was still fleshing it out. Also, I will be ignoring some "canon" information like the Killer Croc file, etc because I didn't care for the canon version. Faceclaim: Ethan Cutkosky as Jason Todd Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader (Sweetie) Warnings: Violence, descriptive child abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, vague reference of disturbing images on a bad guy's laptop. Sweetie as an alternative to Y/N (for those new to the series)

Jason pocketed the key the baker had given him the night before. He'd been scared out of his mind when Batman had shown up. It had been difficult to eat with Batman staring him down, expression entirely unreadable. But the baker had practically dragged the dubbed Demon of Gotham out of the kitchen.

Jason had a talent for moving without being detected. It was a skill he'd been forced to develop early on. So, quietly moving to the doorway the pair had ducked out, Jason began to listen in. They were whispering, clearly not wanting him to hear their conversation. Too late for that.

"He's a kid. I sincerely doubt he's going to kill me if I give him a place to hide out whenever he needs it." The baker had scoffed.

"You can't guarantee that, Sweetie. You don't know anything about him. He broke in. With a crowbar clearly he planned on using it on something." Batman's response made Jason cringe. He never planned on hurting anyone but he hadn't done himself any favors bringing something that could be considered a weapon.

"Pfft, yeah, on my display case! Bruce, I get that you're worried about me. And that's sweet and all. But this kid needs help!" It was at that moment that Jason realized why the baker had looked so familiar. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner. This was Bruce Wayne's newfound love.

But now he knew Bruce Wayne's secret. He took learning Batman's secret identity as his cue to slink back to his seat before his eavesdropping could be discovered. The adults had returned, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jason had overheard crucial information.

After he'd finished eating, the baker, whom he'd later learned to call Sweetie, had handed Jason a pair of keys. They'd explained the copper-colored one was to the bakery and the silver one was to their loft upstairs. They'd told him if he ever got hungry again or just needed a place to hang out for a while, he could let himself in, in a less destructive way, whenever he wanted.

Jason had been confused as to why this complete stranger was so interested in helping him. He'd expected to get hit when he'd been discovered in the bakery. And instead, they'd fed him, given him access to the bakery and their own loft, and had stood up for him to Batman.

He had just slipped out of the bakery for the second time after having been fed yet again by Sweetie and hanging around for what he assumed was long enough for his stepmother and her boyfriend to be passed out before he got home.

Boy was he wrong. As Jason slipped into the run-down apartment and began to silently make his way to his bedroom, his stepmother's boyfriend, Clay, stepped out of the kitchen, right in front of him, with a beer can in hand. Jason froze, hoping Clay wouldn't notice him. Again his hopes were dashed.

Confusion and surprise briefly flashed over Clay's face, followed immediately by anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?!" At the man's yelling, Jason took a defensive stance, preparing for Clay's fist to come flying.

Then his stepmother, Sheila, came staggering out of the living room. "S'going on, baby?" She muttered, glazed-over eyes barely registering Jason's presence.

"Your shithead kid finally dragged his ass in! He has no respect for you or me, waiting so long before he finally shows up!" Clay snarled, stepping close enough to Jason to make the boy grimace at his foul breath.

"The fuck have you been?" Sheila demanded, glaring at Jason.

"Nowhere. I-" Jason's attempt at an excuse was interrupted by Clay's fist making contact with his browline, knocking him down to the floor. The blow made it impossible for Jason to register what Clay was yelling at him now. But he could take a guess.

Steeling himself, Jason kicked out at Clay's shin. Knocking the drunken man's leg out from under him. He attempted to scramble backward up the stairs but Clay was on top of him at a surprising speed.

Another punch, this time to his nose, and Jason silently wished it wouldn't be broken later. Followed by Clay's meaty hands wrapping around Jason's neck. Jason lashed out with both his hands and his feet, making contact on numerous occasions. But it was futile. Clay was too amped up on whatever drugs he'd taken to notice any pain now.

Jason could faintly hear Sheila screaming at Clay to let him go, not out of concern for Jason but out of worry that Clay would go to prison for killing him. Jason's vision was getting spotty and he was certain he was either going to die or at least black out and be left on the floor overnight like last time.

Then suddenly Clay's weight and hands were off of him. It became easier to breathe so Jason moved onto his hands and knees and began taking deep gasping breaths. They were a bit painful but Jason didn't care. He could barely make out the sounds of a scuffle behind him but the blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the commotion.

Finally, once it became less of a chore to breathe and his heart rate, vision, and hearing returned to normal, Jason realized that someone had saved him. He had an inkling of who it was and the sight of his stepmother and her unconscious boyfriend bound a few feet away confirmed it. He heard the sound of laptop keys clacking in the other room. He followed the sound to the living room, where Clay kept his laptop hidden in the locked coffee table drawer.

There was Batman, typing away. Obviously looking for something to gain Clay further charges.

"How did you..." He started, wincing at the scratching in his throat. He rubbed his neck, hoping the swelling would lessen.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an eye on you after your little break-in last night?" Batman responded, not even bothering to look at Jason.

Jason watched him for a second, thinking how odd it was that he had the richest man in Gotham sitting on his ratty couch, using his stepmom's asshole boyfriend's laptop. The richest man in Gotham had just saved him. The richest man in Gotham had no idea that Jason knew he was Batman.

For yet another time that night, Jason was proven wrong.

"You seem to like spying on people, Jason." Batman suddenly said, again not looking away from his work on the laptop.

"Not really spying since you're in a common area of my home." If he didn't know any better, Jason could have sworn Batman chuckled at Jason's snark.

"True. But listening in on my conversation with Sweetie last night..." Bruce trailed off and Jason noted that his tone held no anger or hostility, merely amusement. Which just confused the boy even more.

Before Jason could ask or say anything else, Batman suddenly slammed the laptop closed. A sickened look on his face. Clearly, he'd seen something disturbing on Clay's laptop. Which didn't really surprise Jason. Clay would do anything for a quick buck.

Outrage soon washed over Batman's face and Jason remained rooted in place as he watched Batman storm over to Clay. Jason's eyes grew wide as Batman whipped out a red hot ring in the shape of his bat symbol and he couldn't tear his eyes away as the side of Clay's face was branded.

He only looked away when he saw blue and red lights flashing outside the window, growing closer by the second, accompanied by a chorus of sirens. When he turned back around Batman was gone.

But somehow Jason knew it wouldn't be his last encounter with Gotham's guardian.

#sweetie series #batfleck x reader #jason todd #bruce wayne x reader #gn!reader #jason pov this chapter #just to try it out #fic #ignoring snyder's canon #not canon compliant #tw: child abuse #tw: violence #tw: branding #tw: alchohol mention #tw: drunkeness #tw: drug abuse #dceu #snyderverse #bruce wayne's sweetie #batman x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x sweetie #bruce wayne x gn reader

[guessillcallitart]

taglist: @aloeverawrites, @your-absent-father, @rbbess110, @yesireadbooks, @full-on-sam, @anonymousfoz, @the-mindless, @athenswrites, @albatris, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary (ask to be added or removed)

(moodboard pics from pinterest)

#victorianshannon #habits stay high #tove lo #you're on your own kid #taylor swift #ballad of a homeschooled girl #olivia rodrigo #teenage dream #writerblr #my writing #writing #moodboard #character aesthetic #lgbtq characters #tw: drug abuse

[basiccortez]

this might seem like a big deal to y’all but it is to me.

about a year ago at this time, i started using again. it started with having a drink every night when i got home from work. and then one drink turned into two, three, sometimes up to four drinks in a night. then the drinking turned into “i need to sleep but i can’t” and i started taking benadryl to get myself to sleep. then, i hurt my hip playing a game of flag football. Instead of going to the doctor and getting a doctors pov on the injury, i found an old perscription of oxycodone i never got rid of.

i thought i was hiding everything well. i thought i could handle it and only take the oxy when i was in pain. But i was slowly losing myself to the power of addiction once again.

Back in september, it had gotten to the point where my friends noticed that I wasn’t being myself. I was mean. I said things that i didn’t mean to say. I was impulsive and saying the first thing that came to my head. I was selfish and not thinking of the people who i was hurting. Because in my fucked up mind, I didn’t think I was hurting anyone.

They basically gave me an intervention and I am thankful that they did it.

Did i hurt like a fucking bitch? yeah it did. Did I spend days and days crying and being so mad? yes I did. Did I need the wake up call? hell yeah.

But since that night, I have been unable to change my calendar. I have walked past it for 9 months, just looking at the same dates on it. In the back of my head I knew I should change it. It would bring me closure and I could finally move on from everything that happened and what I had lost. But I just couldn’t… until today.

I looked at the calendar, took it off the wall, erased all the old writing of past homework assignments and concerts and tests and changed the dates.

It’s a really, really small thing that some might just brush past, but to me… it’s the start of a new beginning.

Today, I am eight months clean and sober.

#tw: drug abuse #tw: addiction #tw: alcohol

[swervdcity-arc]

hi hii i love you all. just wanted to drop an activity/life update on the dash since ive been almost radio silent. by no means do you have to read all of it, but just know i might not be online for a bit until i get my shit together! if inactivity bothers u at all, feel free to hardblock me if you so desire. tw for drug abuse, substance abuse, self harm.

ive struggled with substance abuse problems for a big part of my life, almost ALWAYS exacerbated by anxiety and my chronic stomach problems. i was clean from painkillers for almost 8 months (give or take) and i relapsed this week. i talked with my partner about it and weve already discussed plans of action, but so far, ive been good for the past 4 days so thats a winnnn.

i can already feel a MASSIVE difference in my body since. i've been trying my best to keep myself healthy these past couple of days, and at the least feel like a living person, and its really fucking difficult. i dont have a lot going on for me rn, so theres not much i can do to distract myself. i did hang out with one of my long time besties last night and had a blast, so that was really really awesome.

i have a support system, i'm safe, and i know from here its back to the uphill battle. it can feel really really bleak, and its honestly been incredibly embarrassing to even acknowledge a relapse or that i had a problem in the first place. but im really grateful that i'm truly in a place and surrounded by people who care for me and want to see me get better.

if ive been super silent lately, this is why. i try to tend to me relationships the best i can, because i do care for them truly, and i love chatting with my tumblr besties. ive just been exhausted and havent had the capacity to even say "heyyy im going thru it im going dark for a bit." but please know im not ghosting you or anything, i just havent had the brain power to say whats going on.

i will be here though! soon! when i feel better and capable of doing so! i wont lie, i LOVE writing here even though it kicks my ass sometimes. its become such an important creative outlet for me, and despite the Problems, i feel safe and happy in my community. i love writing with yall, i love the people with make up and making them kiss, i love reading and writing lore. its really important to be as a hobby, so you definitely will see me back.

i might pop on the dash every now and then to say hi and yell about stuff, i might draft sum shit up soon, but im going to be prioritizing getting my shit together for the time being.

xoxo godsip girl

#tw: drug abuse #tw: drug mention #tw: substance abuse #if theres anything else i need to tag please let me know #ooc

[ohtobeleah]

I’ve been pretty open on here about my past drug addictions before and I’m typically not ashamed of that era of my life. I often remind myself how bad it got by seeing how far I’ve come.

But sometimes I really do need to take a step back from certain situations and understand I’m standing at yet another crossroads where I have two choices to make, one being fully send it back into a spiral or two, continue to further develop my relationship with ‘party’ drugs and remind myself that the person I was is not the person I am now who educates people on how to become the best versions of themselves.

#tw: drug addiction #tw: drug abuse

[askmafiabobvelseb]

WARNING.

after my return I will be pushing the blog to a semi darker path. but do not fret! Bob will be okay once it is over.

this dark path will include: - over dosage - suicidal thoughts (mild. Will not be heavy.) - heavy amounts of trauma (on both Beka and Bobs side) - violence - and possible memories of sexual assault and torture.

please do not encounter with this blog if you are sensitive to these types of images and topics! you may message me and once it is over, I will let you know! :)

#mafia au #bob velseb au #spooky month #spooky month au #tw: suicide #tw: drug abuse

[aperturedeadend]

WHA-

GRADY?!

ARE YOU STILL THERE?!

-@brightbluecore

oh... wheatley.

i'm sorry.

#tw: drugs #tw: drug abuse

[flawsfatal]

if  you’re  hearing  SIX  by  I  WOULD  SET  MYSELF  ON  FIRE  FOR  YOU  playing,  you  have  to  know  HARRIER  “HAL”  BRENNAN  (HE/HIM;  CIS  MAN)  is  near  by!  the  35  year  old  AUTO  MECHANIC  has  been  in  denver  for,  like,  TWO  YEARS.  they’re  known  to  be  quite  IMPULSIVE,  but  being  ENDURING  seems  to  balance  that  out.  or  maybe  it’s  the  fact  that  they  resemble  MATT  BOMER.  personally,  i’d  love  to  know  more  about  them  seeing  as  how  they’ve  got  those  AXLE  GREASE  ON  WOOLEN  SWEATERS,  TORN  OUT  PAGES  IN  OLD  JOURNALS,  MUD  CAKED  ON  SKIN  vibes.  and  maybe  i’ll  get  my  chance  if  i  hang  out  around  the  LAKERIDGE  DISTRICT  long  enough!

tw: heavy substance abuse, brief, undetailed mentions of sa.

it’s  nuclear  family  archetype—his  parents  are  loving,  his  needs  are  attended,  his  wants  are  indulged  when  reasonable,  his  elder  brother  and  he  are  close.  hal  grows  up  with  the  world  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  he  is  bright,  wants  so  desperately  to  work  in  aircraft  engineering,  to  build  and  design  the  jets  his  brother  had  his  hand  in  flying.  

the  exact,  focal  moment  of  destruction  comes  when  he  is  seventeen.  it  comes  with  the  smell  of  cigarette  smoke,  the  feel  of  a  coarse  mattress  underneath  him,  regret,  loss  of  autonomy.  his  first  love,  his  first  crush,  and  he  is  far  too  drunk  to  do  anything  but  survive.  he  leaves  pieces  of  himself  there  that  he  has  yet  to  recover  in  full,  loses  the  ability  to  feel  anything  but  murk,  until—

euphoria,  dissolved  in  a  spoon,  in  the  rundown  kitchen  of  a  friend  of  a  friend’s  apartment.  strikes  a  match  in  his  veins  and  suddenly  the  discomfort,  the  overtightness  of  his  own  skin  fades.  it  was  an  off-switch  to  the  agony  he  could  not  put  words  to,  and  he  lost  himself  in  it,  lost  everything.

it  took  a  very  long  time  for  his  parents  to  cut  him  off  in  spite  of  his  obvious  descent.  his  brother—richard—was  much  quicker  to  stop  enabling  him,  drew  the  line  when  hal  refused  treatment,  but  he  was  their  baby  boy,  no  matter  how  volatile  and  sick  the  substance  abuse  made  him.

after  they  do,  hal  lives  on  the  streets  for  several  years,  struggling  to  get  back  on  his  feet,  not  entirely  convinced  being  sober  is  an  option  for  him.  he  tries  to  get  clean  on  his  own  a  few  times,  more  than  a  few,  but  the  numbness  that  comes  with  sobriety  eats  him  alive,  he  knows  no  other  way  to  feel.  

it  takes  time.  it  takes  hospital  visits,  it  takes  almost  dying.  it  takes  rehab,  relapse  and  then  rehab  again.  finally,  he  claws  himself  to  four  month  sober  and  catches  a  flight  to  denver,  to  start  anew,  perhaps  against  his  better  judgement.  

it’s  not  aeroplanes,  but  it  is  mechanics,  and  hal  proves  proficient  enough.  he  works  engines,  works  cars,  and  there’s  peace  in  that.  his  apartment  is  small  and  lived  in,  he’s  managed  to  keep  nearly  clean  in  the  past  two  years  since  coming  to  denver,  save  some  minor  scuffs  to  his  record  that  he  manages  to  wean  off  of  without  help.

#CHQ;INTRO #will update this to be better #tomorrow #i have brain fog rn #tw: drug abuse #tw: sa mention #tw sa mention #tw drug abuse #hal ; dossier.

[theshepcollective]

Jocelyn (Josie) Shepard

Josie is a badass and sensitive woman from the wonderful mind of @ladynyxeris.

Backstory - Earthborn (Chicago).

Background - Sole Survivor.

Class - Adept, though she can biotically kick and punch like a Vanguard if needed.

Alignment - 70% Paragon, 30% Renegade.

Lover(s) - Garrus.

Best Friend(s) - Also Garrus, though she’s also close with Tali, Wrex and Joker.

Some would say Josie’s worst enemy is Cerberus, but really it’s her own fear of not being good enough.

Josie was born in Chicago into a broken family. Her mother was a red sand user who never really got clean, not even when she was pregnant, so little Josie came into the world already addicted. It was a miracle she even survived birth. Josie's father instead walked out on her when she was too young to remember his face.

At 12 Jocelyn would lose her remaining parent to a red sand overdose, so she was sent to an orphanage run by nuns, but she soon ran away since the living conditions there weren't much better than her family home. Young Josie was a scrawny little thing and didn't think she could be anything different than a mouse surviving on scraps, always keeping her head down, always biting her tongue to survive. Now alone and without a place to go, she fell easy prey to the Tenth Street Reds, who mostly employed her as a working girl and a finesser to spy on rival gangs.

Jocelyn didn't know she was a biotic until her abilities awakened. It was a classic case of 'wrong place at the wrong time'. A local politician's son was trying to buy a huge amount of drugs from a gang member. After the deal Josie tried to sneak away without getting seen, but she accidentally knocked over a glass. The man was instantly on top of her, hellbent on getting rid of the only witness, but adrenaline and survival instincts did the rest. Jocelyn warped his head into a bloody pulp, and by her 16th birthday she was arrested for aggravated murder.

Anderson found Josie rotting in jail. Even if she was a minor during those events, money talks and it was unlikely she'd have gotten out anytime soon without his intervention. He got her a good lawyer, and after her release she got into an Alliance training program. At 18 she officially enlisted, trying to give back some of what Anderson gave her.

She had thought that would be a new chapter in her life, but then the Akuze tragedy happened, leaving her with physical and emotional scars.

Due to her being used and thrown away time and time again, Jocelyn is profoundly affection starved but afraid to pursue meaningful relationships at the same time. That's how she ended up in Garrus' arms. It was supposed to be just a casual thing, but she fell hard and fast for him, a sentiment reciprocated by the turian. And with the threat of the Reapers looming at the horizon, Garrus becomes Josie's main reason to fight.

#femshep #earthborn #sole survivor #adept #paragon #shakarian #tw: drug abuse #Josie Shepard