so many people are treating it like a joke or like he’s a fictional character. he was a real fucking person. he was a real teenager who was halfway across the country, with no family or friends near him. he ended up with someone older than his own mom and had no control over his own life anymore. he had his addiction exploited as a way to control him. and in the end he took his own life (whether accidentally or not) and netflix used that for profit. it’s terrible
Soft fic recs needed
Despite being utterly exhausted, I can’t sleep due to pain (leftover from surgery) + anxiety (my mother who lives across the Atlantic has covid, and while it’s mild it’s extremely anxiety-inducing). So to solve the pain issue I had to take a strong drug that also solves the “can’t sleep” issue since it basically knocks me out rapidly, but it also makes the anxiety count shoot up 😭😫 because family members have had addictions, and I have addictive tendencies as well (which is also why I don’t drink/smoke/do any drug), I’m terrified of ending up addicted to this highly addictive drug that I currently NEED.
If anyone’s got soft fic recs for me to wake up to, I would love it 💕 I read The Witcher fics (Geraskier mostly but I would love some good dad!Geralt with Ciri too!) and Shadowhunters fics (Malec, Claia, Saia, Clizzy, Jace/Lydia, Luke/Maryse) and have been known to read Harry Potter fics as well, pairings don’t matter too much to me!
I think im getting addicted to xanax which is pretty cool
Gonna imagine that I’m laying against Ginko’s chest as we both listen to the new albums of the bands I like and revel how warm he is against my back and how gentle his nose nuzzles into my crown and-
[Part one. TW: gore, needles/drugs mention.]
Lindsey was having the time of her life. Cat could tell by the way she was humming intensely as she drew the knife around their captive’s skin, winding it around his stretched forearm in a spiral. Cat didn’t miss the way her voice wobbled, just slightly, when she sliced open the inner arm, deep enough that blood sheeted over the skin.
Lindsey could feel his pain, and she loved it. This guy was going to die.
🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?
oof that’s a bit difficult to answer. when Walls had just one chapter so far, most of the current conflict in the story (i.e. Papyrus’s drug addiction, Devon, etc.) wasn’t even a blip in my mind. my very first plans for a Papyton slow burn were for it to be fluffy and not angsty. well. we all know how that turned out.
now I guess the general mood I’m going for with Walls is for the first two-thirds or so to be fairly serious, but with lighter moments mixed in to relieve the readers. the last third(? I don’t really know how exactly the story is split up but I typically think of it in 3 major parts) will I think be significantly more lightly toned until the end of the story.
💎- What was your favorite part?
we haven’t gotten there yet (honestly we’re not even close) but I’m so excited to reach the end of the story. I suspect it will be very satisfying for readers in terms of both Devon’s fate as well as the conclusion of the slow burn.
if we’re talking parts I’ve already written–I’d have to say Chapter 20, not because of what goes on exactly, but because apparently I did a fantastic job with it. if I’m remembering correctly, it is the chapter with the most comments as well as the most emotionally-charged and in-depth comments for the whole story so far, and it’s really inspired me to go above and beyond with my writing!
Some days I feel like a failure, like I’m not achieving enough, like other people must be judging me for not accomplishing what they think I could accomplish, like I’m just weird and lacking and lazy and pathetic and always falling short of potential and -
Then I remember the time I briefly described my diagnoses, family history, and life experiences to my psychiatrist. Then she was silent for this strange, pregnant moment.
Then she blurted out: “HOW are you not a drug addict?”
Which, while frankly a pretty shitty sentiment regarding people who use drugs [who I support: plz decriminalise everything, prescribe clean drugs], reminds me that oh, yeah. My life is ridiculous and traumatic, and if people know the half of it they’re amazed I exist, and what I accomplish - even just surviving - is a goddamn triumph.
I’m doing good. And I should be proud.
(And so should you)
addicted to celery
I’m a useless lesbian with a soda and coffee addiction, yet I’m the laziest fuck that I know. Caffeine just gives me more energy to be lazy. Damn.
I am! Funny you should pick #15 and #24, as I had my Sylvan in mind when I added those ones. But since I don’t have other characters to rank him amongst, I’ll do these for the main characters from my play Down Will Come Baby :)
15. self disciplined
Elliot, by far. The others in his family are prone to rash behavior. I’d say Rose is next. She’s got some self discipline, despite having questionable ethics. Then Heather, who just…well, actually, when it comes to work, she’s disciplined. But in her personal life? No.
It’s hard to place Owen in all this. For most of his life, I’d say he’s the least disciplined. But he can be disciplined for periods of time, such as during the first scenes of the play when he’s committed to sobriety.
24. interested in drinking
By virtue of being an alcoholic, Owen. Although as I just said, he is sober at the time the play picks up. Then Heather, then…then Rose, then Elliot. Heather has no qualms with drinking. Rose enjoys a glass, but has some mixed feelings because of how it’s affected her husband and son. Elliot is very cautious about drinking, being both a doctor and a relative of addicts.
Rose and Owen are at the top. But Rose is in full denial about her secrets to the point that she believes her own lies. She has been keeping a huge secret from her younger kids. Whereas Owen is fully aware of his secrets. He is a very private person and has had many secrets in the past, although he’s allowing his memoirist mother (Rose) to write about them out of guilt.
Elliot comes next. He has no secrets of his own, but he’s a great confidant to everyone else and their secrets.
Last comes Heather, who is an open book, and could probably benefit from being a little more discrete.
bipolar is just like: here, you get two choices! you get to choose between
being pretty close to being all the way stable - but you are on tons of meds that affect your body, give you brain fog, make you gain weight and cause birth defects. generally drain you of basically everything, but you have stability and strength to be able to keep a relationship and a job.
be completely unihinged. you’ve felt every emotion ever, all the time. none of that shit matters. it’s all about YOU getting “better” which means hooking or selling/doing drugs to get there or almost killing your self countless times! complete instability. BUT you have the capability to feel! even though your brain fucked off, your body feels sharp and ready. you can have children (please don’t - at least until you know they’ll have a stable environment.) and you don’t feel so fucking cloudy and flattened all the time.
also you get a fun little thing we threw in for you - either another mental illness that goes hand in hand with it and the increased probability of addiction
(pulls up pill identifier)
being sober so far is just like…thinking about how the last bag i did was fucking shitty. i really ended my using with a heavily cut bag 🤕
fbdjdjsh they gave angela a fucking pill addiction without any setup or prior establishment, they really threw every cliché associated with the of music industry into this series huh
‘ i have done many shitty things in my life but i never really thought of doing anything but drink. there may have been a couple times coming out of high school the thought of maybe ? i feel i am a tad more smart than that. started to drink when i was around seventeen. would steal it from my– wouldn’t call her mother just a shit lady who half assed looked after me. not that i– ‘ she takes in a deep breath. ‘ not that i think someone who has is in the wrong for turning to stronger things. shit is hard. i guess it was just easier to drink because i was always on my own. drinking, is a lone persons addiction really. even if you’re in a room full of people. ‘
next 10 asks will be truthful. anon said: Did you ever consider trying something harder than alcohol to cope?
1. Are you more emo, scene or punk?
I think im like more scene cus I hav lots of kandi but maybe i look more punk idk :P irl i dont rlly fit an aesthetic but scenecore is mai fav lolz
3. Any New Year’s resolutions?
Im just liek trying to be da best i can be…alsoz im gonna try and get a handle on mai addictions,,
8. Do you own a pair of fingerless gloves or skeleton gloves (or the combination)?
Fingerless skeleton gloves xD idk where they are :|
For years I’ve said: “Yes, I know it’s bad for me, my body freaks out every time I drink it, but I refuse to give it up, I enjoy it too much!”
But like… that’s addiction talking. Because I rarely find a coffee that truly satisfies me anymore. It’s more the ritual more than anything else. And of course the chemical need. And between the social dance of ‘Wanna go get a coffee/ let’s all meet for coffee’, and feeling a physical yearning for it if I go too long before having one… it seemed kind of impossible to stop.
Maybe it seems like I’m being melodramatic. But you gotta understand… I started drinking strong black coffee when I was in my final year of high school, and that was almost 20 years ago. I’ve tried once or twice to stop, but there’s never been that urgent of a motivation.
Welp, that takes us today, where my internal functions are so sensitive to every little thing – I was told, after a colonic investigation that the lining of my digestive system is just too sensitive and there’s nothing really to be done about it but eating carefully and treating symptoms. And yet, I was still like ‘Coffee is my one vice, I need it, my body just has to deal with that.’
But like… it won’t.
We’re so socially driven to accept an addiction to caffeine, such that many people will scoff at the idea that it even exists (’Nonsense, I just really enjoy the flavour!’). But like… frequently taking in a substance that stresses the central nervous system and aggravates the bowel, and gives the liver a hell of a lot of hard work to do… It’s not… smart?
We put warnings on cigarettes and even alcohol sometimes. But coffee gets to just be that chill thing that everyone does. But it’s harmful, no matter how much we accept that it isn’t. And I keep telling myself ‘Just hold on for a while, you can enjoy coffee again in a few weeks, once your system improves a bit and you’re not in so much pain’. But like… why?? Why am I so eager to go back to toxing and taxing my body??
I really hope that this feeling goes away in time. Because right now, as much as my body is getting healthier gradually, I feel like something is missing in my life, a gaping hole that only the intake of coffee will fill. Even though it doesn’t even thrill my senses anymore, or at least not more than the first couple sips. So I’m trying to strengthen my will and my logic, to keep it at bay. But to be honest? I don’t know if I can do it much longer.
I think I used to not believe the “it gets better” thing because I interpreted “better” as “perfect” or “acceptable to society”
I thought like… they were telling me I’d cure my mental illnesses and be in a big house with a spouse and impress everybody.
Getting better isn’t perfection. It isn’t curing your depression. It’s learning to cope with it and finding meds that work for you and finding the strength to get out of bed in the morning and finding moments of joy even on your worst days.
Getting better doesn’t mean you’ll never think about your addiction again. It means you can get to a point where it doesn’t trouble you enough for it to interfere with what you want to do. It means you can finally fix or confront what led to the addiction and get on with your life.
Getting better doesn’t mean you’ll never be anxious again. It means that after working at it for a long time you’ll know when to breathe. Your loved ones learn what to do when it’s getting bad. You learn mental exercises to let you get out of the house.
Getting better doesn’t mean your trauma won’t ever bother you again. It means you’ll find yourself reopening your wounds a little less often, looking over your shoulder a little less, learn what to do when the flashbacks come.
When people tell you that it gets better they’re not putting pressure on you. They’re not saying you’ll be perfect or that you’ll never be sad again. These are people that have survived long enough to know that it gets better. Better doesn’t mean great. It doesn’t mean perfect. It doesn’t mean things go back to the way that they were before. It means that things will improve. Maybe not in the way you expect. Maybe not in the way that you hope. But they will improve. They will get better.
I know this because I lived it and almost every adult you talk to will have lived it in some form or another. People die. They have mental illness. They lose jobs, trust, families. They get in accidents, they’re betrayed, they grow up in a bad place metaphorically or physically. We are all together in this human truth that there will be awful, awful times. Horrible experiences, bad feelings. But we also all have the ability to climb uphill. To claw our way out even a little bit. It’s messy, it’s hard, but we get there. We get to the elusive realm of better. And you are not the exception to that.
When you’re stuck at the bottom of the cave, don’t yell at the one who tells there’s light up ahead. They’ve been on this road too. They’re trying to throw you a rope.
Angels Fall is a nice song but I wanna find more rocks songs about fighting addiction the way TDG used to be. Those at least felt real