#inappropriate prescription

[chqnified]

The unnecessary digs from people on the daily lmao and it's almost always on what i wear. Like nobody asked, you look like you blindfolded chose your outfit from primark love.

#the new one is 'when are you never in some sort of designer shit' . #the other day was 'omg nooo it looks like it could be saying something inappropriate loll“ ... do you need new prescription glasses? #or don't you think that's too short? #you're not wearing it so i don't think it concerns you #i dress myself in a particular style. i get it. but at least it's something different lmfao. even if you don't like it yourself #idk. i call it main character behaviour. that's how i go about most things. #got cheated on? I'm main character #people bitching about me? main character core #had a comically shit day? main character things #i think I've only ever really gotten digs made about my clothes tbh. #that and the way i think / what i do. but in terms of #people HATED it when i just woke up and said it was time for a new job. #i was called a self entitled bitch for actually thinking i could just go get another job like that #but guess who did. got offers from every single application i made . and that made people madder #but what could they say. it wasn't the so called delusion they claimed it to be. #i'm sorry i know what i want lmfao #ket tag

[aperfecthalosblog]

FUKITOL RX inappropriate Adult 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler (Glow in dark option)

This listing is for one 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler..

Glow in the dark option.

Vacuum insulated tumbler with lid and straw. Drinks stay ice cold or steaming hot ALL DAY LONG. Perfect for hot coffee in the morning, cold drinks all day long, or wine at the end of the day.

These are custom made and can be custom made for you with a process called sublimation..

Add a name or saying

Since these are handmade the image maybe slightly different then pictured

** All tumblers should be hand washed and not placed in the dishwasher.

There is no actual glitter the image make it appear like glitter..

Check out my other listings if you can't find what your looking for message me I can put almost any image on a tumbler..

#Fukitol RX #bridesmaid gifts #bachelorette party #inappropriate gift #gag gift naughty #kitchen collectibles #handmade homemade #swear cuss word #birthday gift #sex gift #funny adult gift #customized cup #prescription medicin

[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[fatliberation]

I totally understand and can empathize with fat activists when it comes to medical fatphobia. But I do think its important to provide nuance to this topic.

A lot of doctors mention weight loss, particularly for elective surgeries, because it makes the recovery process easier (Particularly with keeping sutures in place) and anesthetic safer.

I feel like its still important to mention those things when advocating for fat folks. Safety is important.

What you're talking about is actually a different topic altogether - the previous ask was not about preparing for surgery, it was about dieting being the only treatment option for anon's chronic pain, which was exacerbating their ed symptoms. Diets have been proven over and over again to be unsustainable (and are the leading predictor of eating disorders). So yeah, I felt that it was an inappropriate prescription informed more by bias than actual data.

(And side note: This study on chronic pain and obesity concluded that weight change was not associated with changes of pain intensity.)

If you want to discuss the risk factor for surgery, sure, I think that's an important thing to know - however, most fat people already know this and are informed by their doctors and surgeons of what the risks are beforehand, so I'm not really concerned about people being uninformed about it.

I'm a fat liberation activist, and what I'm concerned about is bias. I'm concerned that there are so many BMI cutoffs in essential surgeries for fat patients, when weight loss is hardly feasible, that creates a barrier to care that disproportionately affects marginalized people with intersecting identities.

It's also important to know that we have very little data around the outcomes of surgery for fat folks that isn't bariatric weight loss surgery.

A new systematic review by researchers in Sydney, Australia, published in the journal Clinical Obesity, suggests that weight loss diets before elective surgery are ineffective in reducing postoperative complications.

CADTH Health Technology Review Body Mass Index as a Measure of Obesity and Cut-Off for Surgical Eligibility made a similar conclusion:

Most studies either found discrepancies between BMI and other measurements or concluded that there was insufficient evidence to support BMI cut-offs for surgical eligibility. The sources explicitly reporting ethical issues related to the use of BMI as a measure of obesity or cut-off for surgical eligibility described concerns around stigma, bias (particularly for racialized peoples), and the potential to create or exacerbate disparities in health care access.

Nicholas Giori MD, PhD Professor of Orthopedic Surgery at Stanford University, a respected leader in TKA and THA shared his thoughts in Elective Surgery in Adult Patients with Excess Weight: Can Preoperative Dietary Interventions Improve Surgical Outcomes? A Systematic Review:

“Obesity is not reversible for most patients. Outpatient weight reduction programs average only 8% body weight loss [1, 10, 29]. Eight percent of patients denied surgery for high BMI eventually reach the BMI cutoff and have total joint arthroplasty [28]. Without a reliable pathway for weight loss, we shouldn’t categorically withhold an operation that improves pain and function for patients in all BMI classes [3, 14, 16] to avoid a risk that is comparable to other risks we routinely accept.

It is not clear that weight reduction prior to surgery reduces risk. Most studies on this topic involve dramatic weight loss from bariatric surgery and have had mixed results [13, 19, 21, 22, 24, 27]. Moderate non-surgical weight loss has thus-far not been shown to affect risk [12]. Though hard BMI cutoffs are well-intended, currently-used BMI cutoffs nearly have the effect of arbitrarily rationing care without medical justification. This is because BMI does not strongly predict complications. It is troubling that the effects are actually not arbitrary, but disproportionately affect minorities, women and patients in low socioeconomic classes. I believe that the decision to proceed with surgery should be based on traditional shared-decision making between the patient and surgeon. Different patients and different surgeons have different tolerances to risk and reward. Giving patients and surgeons freedom to determine the balance that is right for them is, in my opinion, the right way to proceed.”

I agree with Dr. Giori on this. And I absolutely do not judge anyone who chooses to lose weight prior to a surgery. It's upsetting that it is the only option right now for things like safe anesthesia. Unfortunately, patients with a history of disordered eating (which is a significant percentage of fat people!) are left out of the conversation. There is certainly risk involved in either option and it sucks. I am always open to nuanced discussion, and the one thing I remain firm in is that weight loss is not the answer long-term. We should be looking for other solutions in treating fat patients and studying how to make surgery safer. A lot of this could be solved with more comprehensive training and new medical developments instead of continuously trying to make fat people less fat.

#inbox #medical fatphobia #sources #surgery #anti fat bias #fat activism #fat liberation

[priceyprice]

Prof!Price sitting down on his couch, watching through the window the heavy rain and the upcoming storm. He lifts his glass of bourbon to his lips, drinking a little and feeling the burning sensation trailing down his throat.

But that's nothing compared to the burn he has on his chest.

Price can't stop thinking if the decision he made about breaking up with her was the best. Yes, she's an adult and she's very capable of a lot of things, but for fuck's sake, she's his student. That's so dangerous.

If he's being honest, he doesn't care about his career as a professor. He already made a lot of things he wanted (not all of them since he hasn't proposed to her yet. That's one of his dreams.), he already made his career and pursued his future, but she’s just only starting hers.

She's studying so hard and giving all her will to the things she loves. He can't risk her passion and her career just for his selfish needs.

Selfish needs called love for her.

A week ago, one of the superiors found out that a professor had a relationship with a student. They fired the professor and expelled the student, her record being damaged with a warning of an inappropriate relationship with one of her professors.

Since then, Price couldn't stop thinking about his situation. If one of the superiors finds out about their relationship, everything's going to be over for her.

So he did what he thought was the best. Breaking up with her.

He called her to his office this morning, anxiety creeping up to his veins. When she stepped inside, his heart stopped for a moment. She looked so beautiful with her dress and her smile adorned with some blush over her cheeks. The sparkle in her beautiful eyes looked like The Starry Night.

He felt so guilty. He doesn't want to break up with her. Fuck, no. He was already planning how to propose to her when she graduates.

"Let's break up," he said without going around the bush. Direct, cold, and fast. Finally, he did it. He was going to end things with her for good.

But when he saw the look in her eyes, his world crumbled. She looked confused at first, but she realized what he said. The pain flashed within a second.

"What?"

"You heard me. Let's break up."

Since then, he couldn't get that burning feeling off his chest.

That void.

Now, he needs to get used to not hearing her giggles anymore or seeing her smile. Seeing how she walked in his apartment with only his shirt on. How his heart fluttered every time she kissed him. How soft was her skin. How she gasped his name every time he was pleasuring her.

Now he needs to get used to loneliness because he's pretty sure he can't find someone like her. He doesn't want anyone like her. He just wants her.

In the midst of his loneliness, three knocks grabbed his attention.

His eyebrows frown as he looks to the door. Who could it be at this hour? Maybe it's one of the tenants complaining about something again.

One time, when he was with his lover, one of the tenants knocked on the door to ask if he had water since there was an accident leaving a few tenants without water. He opened his door a little too wide, and the tenant caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman sitting on his couch, looking at them with confusion. Since then, the rumors about the hot and reserved professor having a beautiful girlfriend started.

Price slowly stood up from his chair and walked to his door. He turned serious. It could be an intruder trying to fool him.

Getting closer to the door, he looked through the peephole. His eyes widened in shock when he saw who it was.

It was her.

Price unlocked the door and opened it. His heart stopped for a second. Is his mind really playing tricks with him? Is he really seeing correctly? Maybe he needed a new prescription of glasses.

She looks up to his eyes. Every suspicion of her being a product of his imagination vanished like thin air.

There she was, standing in front of him. She was real.

"What are you doi-"

"We...We need to t-talk," she said, shivering. His eyes took a look over her figure, realizing she's drenched in water.

His face changed into one of worry. "Oh my God, love. You're freezing, come here." He grabbed her arm and took her inside his apartment, closing the door behind her. She exhaled a little, feeling the familiar coziness his apartment always gave to her. Even though she really loved that, she was not here for that.

He turned around and started to walk, "Stay here and take off your clothes. I'll be looking for a towel and one of your clothes in my drawe-"

"No."

He stopped.

Turning around slowly, he looked at her with confusion. Only to see anger in her eyes.

Oh. Right. They broke up.

He was so used to taking care of her that he almost forgot that detail just a second ago.

Price closed his eyes, sighing. "Look, I-"

"We need to talk." His eyes snapped open at her words. He could feel how his heart was beating heavy at his chest with her tone.

Her freezing body was now going back to its normal temperature, thanks to the anger consuming her.

"My love, calm do -"

"Fuck, don't call me that! And don't tell me to calm down when it was you who broke up with me without any explanation!" She said taking a step closer to him, drenching his floor with water, but both of them couldn't care less.

"I've been nothing but good to you! I've been a good student, a good friend, and mostly, I've been a good lover! I think I deserve a fucking explanation!" She's now standing in front of him, pointing at him with her index finger. "And I want to hear it now, John. Why are you breaking up with me?"

His heart started to beat faster with every step she took. Emotions are still alive and fresh, consuming every fiber in his body and reminding him who those feelings belong to. But what kept him down on his feet was her eyes. She looked so angry, so... hurt. And it's caused by him.

"I don't want to explain it. Please, let's just get you a towel and dry y-"

"Are you cheating on me? Did you find another student?"

"What? No!" He looked at her with his eyes wide and brows frown. There's no way in hell, heaven or earth he would've done such a thing. He preferred to die before cheating on her.

"Then why are you breaking up with me, John?!"

Price just wants to take everything back and tell her it's his fault. He wants to tell her that everything's going to be alright, take her in his arms, and continue his future with her. But he can't risk her future. If he tells her the risk and the consequences of their relationship, she would've ignored it and never left him. He knows her. He knows how much she loves him.

He needs to forget her. She needs to forget him and continue her life. And he's going to do so.

"Because I don't l-..." He sighed, trying to find the courage to resist his emotions and not spell the truth. "Because I don't love you anymore."

Her body froze. Her mouth hung open while she looked at him with her big expressive eyes. Her heart stopped for a few seconds. She's trying to process his words.

He doesn't... love her anymore?

She doesn't believe him. A few moments ago, he was calling her his love. And he wasn't looking at her.

Price is known for his confidence and the way he intimidates people with his electrifying blue eyes. But he wasn't looking at her right now.

So that means one thing, he's lying. She thought.

"You're lying."

His face went up. "No."

She laughs. "Yes, you are. You're not looking at me. You're lying."

He can't look at her. She's too good at reading him, and he's scared she's gonna find the real reason for his breakup.

But of course, she found out he was lying. She's a smart girl.

She's his smart girl.

"No, Look Lo-..." He closed his mouth, swallowing the word. "Look, I'm not lying. I don't love you anymore. Everything's over. We are over."

The strings of her heart were being cut off one by one.

No.

She doesn't want to believe him. He loves her. She's sure of it. She just needs to prove it.

He can't leave her like this.

So she took a step closer to him and smashed her lips with his.

Price looks shocked for a second, processing what was happening. His heart started to gain those familiar warm emotions again, racing like it was gasoline.

But on his mind was a voice screaming at him.

It was a trap.

She's testing him.

He couldn't make the same mistake again and start from zero, so with all his willpower, he grabbed her arms and pushed away, making her stumble in her feet. She looks at him wide-eyed into his eyes, only realizing the cold look. She saw emptiness, not even sadness or madness. Nothing.

He felt nothing.

Tears escaped, rolling down her cheek, and he almost, almost, lifted his hand up and wiped the tears away. Price hates it when she cries. He can't stand looking at her beautiful eyes glossy and teary, and of course, he hates it more when he makes her cry.

Fuck, this is going to be difficult.

Her breathing was faster each second. Her heart was so heavy on her chest that it felt like it was going to get out of her ribcage. Sadness starts to consume every cell in her body. "So you used me, right?! You... You got what you wanted. You get to bed one of your students, have fun with her, and then toss her like some piece of garbage?!"

He swallowed hard, but nothing could calm down his storm of emotions. The inner war he's having with himself.

Love,

"That's right..."

Please

"I used you."

I love you so much.

"I don't love you anymore. I never did."

I will never let you go.

"So get out of my house and my life."

I will remember you, my love.

"We're done."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Just a little idea, and I'm sorry for a few crying hearts.

This is my second post, which I'm kinda new on this app. I apologize for some errors or misspelling. Any suggestions are appreciated. 🫶

#task force 141 #john price #john price x reader #call of duty #captain price #141 x reader #price #cod 141 #cod mw2

[heepthecheep]

There is so much medical misinformation on Tumblr that people take at face value and it's kind of fascinating but also really fucking bad

Off the top of my head?

- drugs; prescription, OTC or recreational can absolutely have an effect on your health. Dosages aren't suggestions and neither is stuff like "don't take with alcohol" or "don't operate heavy machinery"

-in addition to the last point, addiction is real and not something made up by your parents to keep you from doing weed in highschool. It can take different forms

- don't take other people's prescriptions. Again, with the dosage thing, expiration dates, and especially not antibiotics

-speaking of which, antibiotic resistant infections (ie. MRSA, ERSA) are caused by not finishing your prescription of antibiotics or taking antibiotics inappropriately (ie. When you have a viral infection) (and there are other issues too but these are probably the main ones that are most relevant to a layman) and are not caused by "antivaxxers" (seriously, I've seen this argument applied to the covid vaccine. A vaccine for a virus that no doctor would treat with antibiotics- not the mention that MRSA is literally referring to Staph Aureus)

-just because a disease is uncommon or "extinct" in your part of the world doesn't actually mean it is. Pathogens have animal and environmental reservoirs. Similarly, diseases that have been eradicated in your well developed and wealthy part of the world still kill people in places that aren't as wealthy and/or developed. The only diseases that are actually extinct are Smallpox and Rinderpest- and no, the parents who think vaccines cause autism aren't going to cause them to come back

-your weight, diet and lifestyle ABSOLUTELY affect your health.

-people on Tumblr seem to have some weird vendetta against doctors ordering blood work, but it's an absolutely valid and important screening and/or diagnostic test, and is helpful in monitoring many conditions

-Puberty, pregnancy and aging are natural processes that are not inherently harmful. Furthermore, people on Tumblr act as if pregnancy is the most dangerous thing in the world...while blaming the process itself and not the shitty, abusive and corrupt obstetrics community (or they point to history (and focus entirely on Europe) and act like issue is the process and not the ignorance towards germ theory, lack of or misunderstanding of hygiene, not understanding how women work, etc)

-hormones control a lot in your body and aren't just your sex hormones. They exist before you're even born and continue to exist after puberty ends.

[softagenda]

antidote (kuras)

kuras x reader(f)

aphrodisiac au / short fic

series: sweet poison (scenario-based collection of character imagines)

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

You’re an idiot for drinking that. An absolute idiot.

You’re spilled across the floor, head swimming, burning from the inside as though you’d swallowed a star. The velvet rug brushed soft and cloying against your prickling skin as you squirmed, your heart pounding in your ears and beating an insistent rhythm in your groin.

Cooing at you from the table, her cat’s eyes curled in satisfaction, Morgana asked, “Something the matter? You look positively feverish.” She twirled a curly black lock around her finger.

Bitch. 

Paintings of naked people - bathing in springs, dancing around a fire, having an orgy in front of a temple - swirled into one colorful blob as you turned on your side, fisting the rug. You attempted to pull yourself to where you remembered the door but stalled a couple inches in, weak as a newborn kitten and stifling a moan as your body rubbed on the carpet.

“Now, now, where’s the fire? Stay a while.” She rose from her chair and stood over you, her arms crossing under her full chest. “You’re clearly hot under the collar. The thought of you wandering the streets like this concerns me deeply.”

You glared up at her, using every ounce of willpower not to writhe on the floor like a worm on a hook. Your hand felt clumsily around your hip for the dagger. 

“I’ll take that,” she chirped, snatching the weapon from your belt and tossing it behind her. “Can’t have you nicking that lovely skin.” Her heel braced on the other side of you, straddling your back. Her hands tugged the shirt from your waist before dragging warm palms up your back, her nails scratching on the return journey.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan rocketing through your chest, as every nerve in your body vibrated with electric pleasure. Your hips pressed hard into the floor, growing ever desperate for friction even as you struggled to focus.

Morgana sunk her hand into your nape, drawing your hair back from your face. When she leaned down to brush her painted lips against your ear, goosebumps erupted down your neck. “We’ll start with the bandages, shall we?”

____________ prologue end ______________

With her left hand holding your head to the ground, Morgana traced her right across your shoulder, scratching gently at the fabric here and there as though offering scritches along a cat’s back. 

You bit the inside of your cheek until the taste of blood slipped over your tongue. 

Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs, accompanied by the faint murmur of voices, until the conversation slipped amongst the folds of the curtains. ‘-- with a client right now, but she will address the issue as soon as she is available. So, please - “

A knock sounded at the door.

Morgana froze. Her grip tightened on your neck, nails pricking your skin. 

A woman’s voice pleaded, her voice hushed but increasingly frantic, “Please, sir, the mistress must not be disturbed -” 

“Pardon my intrusion,” said the man, opening the door with only a moment’s pause, clearly not giving a single fuck about his clear intrusion.

You squinted through your hair, recognized the spotless white coat and curling waterfall of hair trailing over his chest, before letting your face fall to the floor once more, a whine of humiliation stifled against the luxurious threads.

Of all people to walk in like this. What must he think of you, trapped under a pleasure house mistress?

“Doctor, while I am forever grateful for your services, I must say this is rather… inappropriate,” Morgana purred, just enough of an edge to her voice to bare her claws. 

Kuras folded one hand on his chest and gave a short bow, his glowing eyes holding hers, his smile sweet. “I do apologize, but I fear the matter is quite urgent. When your employee visited my clinic this afternoon, they appear to have grabbed another patient’s prescription.”

She froze. “Oh?”

“Yes. This patient suffered from infection of the stomach, brought on by parasitic worms crushed into his food. I had a vial of evulsion agent waiting for him.” His gaze swept the room perfunctorily, passing over the massive bed piled with silks, the open chest of brightly colored sex toys, and the lurid paintings on the wall without batting an eye, before settling on the table, where the bottle of aphrodisiac had tipped on its side..

Kuras strode into the room, skirting around your tangled form, his brow furrowing slightly. “Ah.”

Morgana shifted uneasily, inadvertently sending a shiver down your back. “What?” She paused. “Was that not Fever Dream?” 

With a hum in the back of his throat, the doctor stepped back and stared down into your face, his expression purely clinical. “Do you know how much she consumed?”

“... at least half.”

“Ah.”

“What’s going to happen?” All lustre and verve had dropped like a stone from her voice. Her hands still pinned you in place, but her palms curled away like she was touching something contagious or slimy. “What are the side effects? She seemed fine - no different from the usual effects of the drug.”

“Well, I suppose the initial symptoms present in similar ways. Fever, confusion, muscle weakness, temporary loss of motor function.” Kuras paused then added, “Treatment of parasitic infestation of the stomach naturally involves expulsion of the organisms.”

The body hovering on your back vanished in a heartbeat. 

“She’s about to start vomiting?” Morgana snapped her fingers at the woman lingering in the doorway. “Imelda. Carry her to the back entrance, now.”

Kuras interrupted with a wave of his hand. “No need.”

Polished white boots stopped inches from your hand, twisting feebly in the rug. With a feeble twist, you met his gaze, teeth gritted against the fire swimming in your veins. 

“Do not be afraid. I can treat what ails you,” he consoled, the essence of civility and professionalism, but for his eyes, the gold brimming with hidden amusement. His arms slipped under your shoulders and knees, lifting you up to his chest with ease. “My lovely patient.”

“Thank you for your quick handling of the situation, Doctor,” Morgana said, trailing behind as Kuras turned on his heel and strode out of the room. “Is the rest of the order contaminated, or just the one bottle?”

“The rest should be fine.” 

Not soon enough, he stepped out onto the street. Cool air washed over you in a wave, exhuming the heavy incense and smoke from your lungs and nose. Your legs and outside arm swayed with every step, draped over him like a limpet. Cheek pressed to his chest, you could smell the scent of herbs and magnolia pressed into his clothing - maybe his skin, after all this time. 

Your nose pressed into the crook of his neck before you could stop yourself. Your mouth opened, lips brushing against his skin, wrestling desperately with the temptation to lick, to taste.

“Kuras,” you said, breathless, voice cracking. 

He watched you from above, with that impartial curiosity he had always affected when working with patients, except his eyes. The intensity, unblinking and frightening, of those golden eyes reached deep down into your gut with fear and arousal.

His mouth curved at the edges. “You must be feeling the effects quite strongly now.” His head lowered until his breath drifted over your ear. “Feverish. Elevated pulse. Heightened arousal,” he murmured, velvet smooth.

A full-body shudder wracked through you. 

Kuras smiled. “Once we return to the clinic, I can administer the antidote.” At your confused look, he added, “the privacy of my patients is of the utmost importance. My tendency has never trended toward exhibitionism.”

_______________________________

a/n: thanks for reading!

#kuras x reader #kuras x mc #touchstarved fic #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved imagines #touchstarved kuras #otome fanfic

[valentineish]

What I need abled people to realize is how fucked up it is to ask strangers about our mobility devices or medical equipment. I especially need you to internalize is how much this functions like catcalling.

The harassment started the minute an abled decided to approach me. There was not an appropriate way for them to ask about my body and the equipment it needs. But because of their actions, I am given the job of figuring out what's more dangerous: disclosing intimate details about my life, health, and body, or pushing back.

Without fail, ableds get hostile when a cripple like me chooses the latter. There is outrage at even the most polite expression of "no thank you". Trying to express how they've violated me isn't even an option. I am already aggressive for not performing an impossible standard of grace.

And because of this stranger's choice, because of the power dynamics at play, my existence suddenly centers on a stranger. My life needs to go on pause to handhold a totally unknown abled's feelings about my hurt they caused. All the while, I still have to brace for the potential that they will overpower me, or steal my equipment, or try to institutionalize me.

This is a terrifying position to be in. And it happens so frequently, my stomach drops whenever a stranger approaches me.

There are no neutral questions you can ask about a stranger's body – and my equipment is part of my body. This is not small talk. This is not considerate or empathetic. Despite how it looks to you, these are not like comments on somebody's outfit.

Hearing any inquiry about my crutches or limp or whatever from somebody I don't know is invasive and creepy. It's like somebody asking you "what did you do to become left handed?" or "did you always smile like... that?" or "oh my god, why do you have glasses?", then being expected to give an in-depth answer. It fucking sucks, and for disabled people, it has broader implications than you can imagine.

If you want to know why that person you spotted needs medical equipment? Tough. Shut the fuck up, mind your goddamn business.

EDIT: I want to include an ask I got about this post so it doesn't get lost in a reblog. Screenshot and expansion will be under the cut.

Anon was right to point this out! I would like to better clarify the point I was trying to make.

I chose people commenting on somebody's smile, dominant hand, or eyewear on purpose. Expression can be impacted by things like facial paralysis or even neurodivergence. Paralysis or amputation can require changing one's dominant hand. And despite their normalization, prescription glasses are medical equipment.

Ablebodied people can get comments on these things. Some people just have distinctive expressions. People can be naturally left-handed (and notably, punishing left hand dominance was the standard for generations). Non-prescription glasses were a huge trend in the 2010's. Similarly, ablebodied people can temporarily require mobility aids! You or someone you've known has likely needed a cast or crutches due to an injury.

Strangers approaching an ablebodied person about these things is still bad. It's inappropriate, and the kind of thing you'd vent to friends about for being uncomfortable. Still, answering typically won't require sharing extremely personal, potentially traumatic information. It does not carry the fear of stating "my body is like this forever for a reason scary or inhuman to you".

When these questions are directed towards a disabled person, though? It does carry those heavy implications. We are being put at risk. A stranger is asking us to divulge our ability status, and give them wildly personal history. Furthermore, it confirms us as disabled – thus putting us at risk for discrimination of varying levels of severity, including institutionalization.

My point in making that comparison was not "people don't say those things". Strangers absolutely do this. My point was "comments about medical equipment count as body commentary". My crutches or bifocald do not get treated like the extensions of myself they are. The severity of this harassment, then, does not translate to those who don't need such accommodations.

Questioning somebody's body or the things supporting that body is never a good idea. Whether abled or disabled, a stranger is bothering that person simply to sate their own curiosity. Nothing of substance can be gained – but everything is at risk for disabled people.

#open mic night #disability #disability pride #cripple punk #chronic illness #ableism

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 15: Revisit The Past

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I have no excuses for this one I am just a Sap who supports womens wrongs. 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @weemssapphic @barbarasstar

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 14

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

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You were sat in a booth at the Weathervane. You didn’t want your father coming back to Nevermore. You’re almost certain he wouldn’t want to be there either. Larissa had insisted she stay with you, giving your father the side eye of a fucking lifetime. The two of you sat on one side while your father sat across from you, taking in the cafe curiously.

“Isn’t this the place you said you were working at? It’s quite nice.” He hums.

“I didn’t tell you where I was working. I didn’t even tell you I was in Jericho. So tell me, Dad, how did you find out I was here?” You asked, false pleasantry coating your words.

“Come on now kiddo,” he smiles awkwardly, his gaze flitting to Larissa and then back to you. “There’s no need to-“

“No there is. So I’ll ask you again, how did you find out I was here?” You interrupted, your already thin patience close to vanishing.

He doesn’t answer you, pursing his lips and he looks back and forth between you and Larissa uncomfortably. You sigh, moving to stand when he finally decides to speak.

“I spoke with your doctor,” he sighs, slight annoyance in his tone, “he said you hadn’t picked up your prescription in a month, said it had been delivered to Jericho the last time it had been ordered. So I come down here myself, to make sure you were alright… I’m worried about you.”

He reaches across the table to grab your hand but you quickly pull both your hands into your lap. Larissa reached out beneath the table to rest her hand on your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. She was still glaring daggers at the man across from you both, despite her deep curiosity. She would have time to ask her questions later, when or if you were ready and you wanted to. For now, she would simply support you as best as she could, by making your father fucking uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m fine, thank you. So there’s no need for you to stay any longer.”

He then smiles at you in a way that makes you want to bash his face in. He reaches into his jacket and places an all-to-familiar pill bottle on the table between you, gently sliding it towards you. Larissa stares at the thing with so much contempt you’re sure she’s willing it to explode in his hand.

“I don’t need those anymore.” You say, pushing the bottle back toward him.

He frowns, his expression twisting in anger for a split second before he corrects himself.

“Well,” he starts, “as nice as that would be love, we both know how weak you get when you don’t-“

“That’s not a problem anymore. And quite frankly I don’t owe you any kind of explanation all things considered. So just leave me alone.”

“Kiddo…you don’t understand…” he tries, his false concern giving way to mild frustration. You knew it wasn’t just mild though, had first-hand experience of just how not-mild it could be.

“Don’t understand what? That I’m a danger without it? That this was never actually about me and my well-being but actually to protect you from something you didn’t understand?”

It would seem your anger wasn’t so mild either.

“That’s not-“

“Because I was a child who didn’t understand what was happening and instead of getting me actual help you decided to just cover it up? Because it was easier to just get me these stupid little pills and pretend nothing ever happened?” You continue, doing your best to keep your voice down despite the venom in it.

“That is simply-“

“Because you would rather I keep taking these, frankly fucking awful tasting pills instead of receiving support and- and care. And be around people who are like me? Is that what I don’t understand?”

“That’s enough!” he yells, and you hate yourself for the way you flinch.

Larissa immediately takes your hand in hers, moving to stand up and get you away from him when he continues.

“You don’t even have half the right idea, you ungrateful wretch. Your mother and I, we took you into our home, you had nothing, you were nothing. Without us, you would be nothing. We took you in, fed you, clothed you, raised you. Your mother loved you like you were our own. But then…then we came home one day to find our precious child had murdered her sweet babysitter. So what were we to do? You needed to be fixed-“

“Fixed?” You choke out, angry at the tears gathering in your eyes and the way your whole body shakes.

“You think it was easy? Finding a doctor who could create these fucking things?” He continues, shaking the pill bottle. “But we had no fucking choice. We couldn’t just let you carry on as you were! We couldn’t become known as the parents who raised a godforsaken killer! We did what we had to to make sure you would grow up to be normal. So you become one of those- of those monsters!”

For a second it feels like the whole world just stops. Like the universe is giving you a little time to process the truth; that this man never truly loved you, that your father never loved you. You can’t know if that was how your mother felt, rest her soul, but you can’t help but think she probably felt the same. That you were a burden on them. Never the child they wanted but the one they were stuck with. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to hit him.

Before you can even think of doing anything of the sort your father is suddenly sprawled across the floor, clutching his very broken and very bloody nose. You then notice a very angry and intimidating Larissa towering over his pathetic form, glaring down at him so intensely you think he might actually catch fire. She’s shaking her now rather bloody hand out as she slightly winces.

And then, as if that wasn’t metal enough, she lifts her hand(the bloody one) to tuck her hair back behind her ear, pushing her immaculate updo back into perfection. She had an eerily calm expression as she did before smiling oh so condescendingly down at your father, who was still clutching his nose as he stared up at her in horror.

“Now then, sir,” she sneers, “I’d suggest you leave town swiftly. Lest you wish to suffer any more harm.”

It’s then that your father's terrified gaze snaps to you, perhaps foolishly hoping you’d help him. But you aren’t even looking his way, transfixed by the statuesque blond you’ve grown so fond of. He must realize then that the two of you aren’t simply friends, the way disgust twists his features for a moment. He seems to want to say something, opening his foul mouth to speak before looking back at Larissa and freezing in his tracks.

It’s then that he realizes just who she is. The woman the people he had accosted for information about you had spoken about. The impossibly tall, insanely intimidating Principal of Nevermore Academy, a force to be reckoned with. The academy for outcasts. Only then does he think that picking a fight with her may not be in his best interest, not when the odds are she could very easily overpower him.

So instead of further condemning you and your actions he keeps his mouth shut (the first smart decision he’s made all day) and all but scrambles out the door before hopping in his car and speeding away. And then he’s gone.

“Holy shit that was fucking awesome,” James breathes, breaking the silence.

That snaps Larissa from her intense glaring at the door. She turns to you, looking you over to make sure you’re alright. You gingerly grasp her hand, the bloody one, turning it over in your to inspect the damage. You frown when you notice how red her knuckles are. You lift it to your mouth to press a soft kiss to them before looking up at her.

“Shall we go home?” She asks softly, reaching out with her other hand to grab yours.

You nod, still staring at her in awe. She says something to James, earning a snarky response no doubt. But you’re not really listening. You’re stuck very deep in your thoughts about Larissa and her bravery and badassness and how much you love her. And how you don’t particularly care what has happened in the past, you want her to know, you need her to know.

You make it back to Nevermore in a blur, you’re quite honestly just going through the motions. Your mind is running a mile a minute. You keep jumping from one thought to another. You honestly keep wanting to cry and then laugh and then cry again.

When you finally arrive at Nevermore you quietly follow Larissa to what turns out to be your quarters. Larissa stands in the doorway, looking rather conflicted. You all but drag her inside, leading her to sit on the bed. You quickly grab your first aid kit and waddle back into the room. You kneel in front of her, getting out some gauze and bandages. She starts to protest, claiming she can sort it out herself but you just shush her gently and continue cleaning up and bandaging her hand. You press a kiss to it when you’re done, staring up at her lovingly.

“Larissa I-“ you start.

“Darling I-I wanted to apologize. I-I don’t know what came over me. I-I realize I was- I was out of line. I-if-“ she rushes.

Before she can continue on with her unnecessary apology you all but throw yourself onto her lap and kiss her senseless. She lets out a cute little noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, wrapping her arms around your waist and clinging to you with all she has.

The kiss is soft and sweet and so full of love it makes your heart swell. You pour all the love you have in your heart for her into it, hoping she can feel it. You lick at the seam of her lips, moaning into her mouth when she parts them for you. You lick into her mouth, blushing at the moan she lets out and the way she grips your hips tighter.

Eventually, when you remember you need to breathe, you pull back. Your hands cup her cheeks, your thumb brushing over her cheekbones as you just stare at her wearing the dopiest grin. She’s staring up at you, wide-eyed and a little breathless. She looks a bit confused, and you realize while she may be one of the smartest women you know she can still be so utterly dense. So you will spell it out for her.

“Larissa…I-no one’s ever done anything like this for me before…like ever. And I’m not-I could never be mad at you, especially not for standing up for me like you did. I mean, I wanted to hit him so if you hadn’t I probably would’ve.” You snort, “and uhm when I saw you like…absolutely deck him. I honestly…honestly you looked very hot. Not that violence is right! But like…maybe it’s alright if you commit a lil violence-“

She lets out the most beautiful laugh at that, unrestrained and loud and imperfectly perfect. And your heart feels like it’s going to explode. You want to kiss her again, but you need to finish your thought.

“I-I know we still have a lot to figure out. And things aren’t-arent perfect. And I didn’t want to rush into things but I’m starting to realize that that’s just like bullshit and doesn’t actually even matter. Because-because what does matter, what matters to me…is you. And- and the truth. And the truth is Larissa, the truth-“

“Take a breath sweetheart, it’s okay.” She murmurs, a look of confusion still marring her features. So you take a breath, closing your eyes for a bit before you continue.

“The truth is that I think I-I love you…” you breathe, your voice wobbling with emotion. “No that’s-that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. And-and I hope I’m not-I hope it’s not -that you don’t think I’m silly or-“

Your rambling is cut off when she launches forward to kiss you. This time she’s nowhere near as gentle. She tugs on your bottom lip with her teeth, her tongue rushing into your mouth when you gasp. The kiss is hungry and passionate and takes your breath away.

She kisses your jaw, and then your neck, nipping at it before she presses her forehead to your collarbone. You feel her tears drip into your shirt, soaking the fabric. She’s still clutching you so tightly against her, almost as if she fears you’ll disappear.

“Oh darling…” she breathes against your skin, “I-I had never dared to hope…”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath before leaning back to gaze up at you. Her eyes sparkling and her cheeks blushing deliciously.

“I love you too… I have loved you for the longest time.”

Her words are a balm to your fragile little heart, making you feel impossibly bright and good and whole. You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand in an attempt to stifle it. Larissa gently pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm that makes you melt even further, if that’s even possible. And Larissa looks happier than you’ve ever seen her, her smile so bright and happy. You connect your lips again, gently pushing her to lay back against your bed. And as you kiss her only one thought runs through your mind.

Gods, you love her more than anything.

#htwahp #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems #wednesday #principal weems x reader

[luulapants]

“I don’t use cannabis. How do I write characters that do?”

This long-criminalized psychoactive drug is having a renaissance in the US these days, now legal for recreational use in 21 states. That means there are even more ways that people use cannabis. It’s still illegal in most of the world, and I will be writing primarily about use in the US, where my experience is.

What should I call it?

Ganja. The Devil’s Lettuce. Dank. Mary Jane. There are endless epithets for this drug, and most of them will make you sound absolutely ridiculous unless used as a joke. The use of the Spanish name, marijuana, is traced to efforts to use American xenophobia to demonize it. Cannabis is the technical English term you would hear in, say, a police report. Your average Joe on the street, though, will say either “weed” or “pot.”

Who’s using cannabis?

More people than you might think! Stereotypes once painted this as the drug of racial minorities, hippies, burnouts, and teenagers. These days, anyone you could imagine with a glass of wine at the end of the day could be going home to a cannabis gummy. People use cannabis to deal with chronic health issues like pain, insomnia, or anxiety. Some partake as a rare indulgence, like a cigar on a special occasion. The vast majority of people who use cannabis do so in moderation.

Habitual users are easier to spot - people who make pot a huge part of their lifestyle. They might talk about it incessantly. They might be stoned at inappropriate times or wake ‘n’ bake (getting stoned first thing in the morning and, presumably, staying stoned all day). Cannabis is not physically addictive, but for people self-medicating other issues, it can be psychologically addictive the same way as shopping or gambling. People can become dependent on it to help them fall asleep or regulate their moods, in absence of other coping mechanisms. Just as with alcohol, someone who frequently uses cannabis alone is at higher risk of dependence than someone who uses occasionally or only in social situations.

Where do they get it?

Depending local laws, a person might have access to a medical or recreational cannabis dispensary. Recreational dispensaries can serve anyone who is above the legal age. Medical dispensaries require a prescription. These are really easy to get, and the dispensary may even have someone on site that can diagnose you (with pain or anxiety usually) and write a scrip. In addition to many forms of cannabis, they may sell glassware, vapes, or other paraphernalia.

A dispensary is like any retail location with a couple of differences: Most merchandise will be locked in cases or behind the counter, due to the regulated nature of the substances they’re selling. They may have extra security measures, like a security guard or bulletproof dividers at the counter. This is because dispensaries are cash only and usually have large amounts of cash on location, because conflicts with federal law mean banks can’t work with them.

Not having legal access to a dispensary isn’t the only reason someone might skip it, though. Dispensaries, due to overhead, liability, and very high taxes, are super expensive. If your character can’t get to a dispensary or has strapped finances, they will probably turn to a street dealer.

The local dealer or weed man is never a normal person. If you are depicting a weed man in your story, please keep this in mind. They are weird in different ways, but they’re all weird. You find them through personal connections, and a friend usually has to vouch for you before you can meet them. You might go to their place or they might come to yours. They may have a public meet-up location (park next to me in the McDonald’s parking lot after midnight). If you’re nice and the dealer likes you, they may smoke you out, meaning you smoke a bowl together from their personal stash, free of charge. One stereotype is a dealer who doesn’t have any real friends and makes it difficult to leave the drug deal because he wants to hang out. You then have to tactfully (without offending/losing your dealer) engineer an escape.

Otherwise, you might buy from friends, reimburse them for a buy they made, or throw down some cash when someone shares their weed with you.

Are there different types?

Yes! There are lots of different strains and crossbreeds of cannabis, most with lofty or whimsical names (purple unicorn kush, hazy sunrise sativa). If you go to a dispensary, a sales person will give you extensive “high profiles” of how different strains make you feel: “This one won’t make you as paranoid.” “This one is a very mellow high.”

Honestly, (and I might get assassinated for saying this) most of it is bullshit. Different strains have different chemical compositions and will act differently, but each person’s individual physiology is going to have a much larger impact, so Mr. X and Ms. Y will react more differently to strain A than the difference between how Mr. X reacts to strains A or B. And the dude at the dispensary is entirely unqualified to tell you how a strain will impact you, personally. Your expectation of its effects and how much you consume are also major factors.

One scientifically proven difference is the impact of different THC and CBD content. THC is the psychoactive component and CBD is responsible for more physical effects. The two major variants: Indicas are high in CBD, more sedative, and better at pain reduction and appetite increase. Sativas are high in THC, more stimulating, uplifting, and can help with creativity.

Whether your character knows anything about different strains will more about them than what strains they choose: whether they pay top dollar for designer weed strains or if they’re just buying whatever the local weed man has. The weed man may talk a big game about the strain they’re selling, and some of it might even be true. But usually, their stuff is not top shelf and, aside from low-budget weed aficionados, most of their customers don’t care.

Edibles

Edibles are foods with THC and/or CBD. Edibles might suggest a character who’s more health conscious, not wanting to inhale smoke, or who is more secretive about their cannabis use - edibles won’t leave a smell behind. People who only started using after it was legalized might be comfortable with eating a gummy even if they still have negative criminal connotations with smoking.

THC and CBD are fat-soluble, so edibles are usually made by infusing butter (for baked goods) or oil (for other products) with cannabis. If your character is into cooking, they might make their own weed butter, keep it in the fridge, and bake brownies or cookies with it. Usually, you can’t really taste the difference. If they’re looking for something portable or easy to hide, gummies or other candies are the way to go.

Dosage is important with edibles because it takes longer for your body to process them, so the onset of the high is significantly delayed. Whoever made the edible should tell you how many milligrams are in each item. How much you should eat depends on your body weight, tolerance, and how stoned you want to get. You can’t overdose, but you can have a really, really bad time if you get too high. The classic joke is that someone will be warned not to eat too much, have half an edible, say, “These edibles ain’t shit,” eat the rest, and then when it finally does kick in, they’re on-the-moon high.

Smoking

Let’s clear one thing up: smoking anything is bad for your lungs. That said, people do be smoking weed! Unlike edibles, smoking has near-immediate effects. The whole high doesn’t hit you at once, but someone with a low tolerance will feel something by the time they exhale that first puff. Unlike cigarettes, when a person smokes weed (takes a hit), they are supposed to inhale deeply and hold the smoke in their lungs for as long as they can before exhaling.

Before your character smokes out of anything, the first step is to grind up the weed. The part of the plant which is smoked are the buds: dense, greenish clumps which are ideally sticky to the touch. (Old, shitty weed will be dry and brownish.) These are placed in a grinder, a metal contraption which is twisted to move metal teeth inside and break the buds into small pieces. Ground-up weed will dry up faster, so it’s best not to grind until you’re ready to smoke.

Joints are made by taking a small piece of rolling paper, sprinkling a line of weed into them, then rolling it up. The edge is licked to seal it and both ends twisted closed. They’re smoked like a cigarette. If you add tobacco, it’s called a spliff. Most adults will add in a filter or roach on the mouth-end so the smoke is less harsh, and leaving it out speaks to being un-fussy. Like a burrito, you ideally want a nice, fat joint, but hubris can lead you to an overfilled, falling-apart mess. Joint rolling is a skill developed with practice, so your character’s ability to do so successfully or unsuccessfully will speak to their experience. Joints are cheap and portable, so good for tight budgets or someone on the move.

Blunts are similar to joints but made with tobacco paper - the brown paper that cigars are wrapped in. You can buy tobacco paper on its own, but more commonly, they’re made by buying cheap, sometimes flavored, cigars (like swisher sweets), cutting them open, dumping out the tobacco, and stuffing them full of weed. They’re bigger, so there’s a lot more weed in them, and they’re also wider than a joint, so each hit delivers more cannabis. Blunts are associated with urban Black culture.

Glassware includes pipes, bongs, chillums, bubblers, and other smoking vessels made of glass. These can be simple or beautifully decorative. A simple pipe might cost $10-15. A huge, artistic bong could cost upwards of a thousand. Glass is the most popular material for smoking vessels. All of these consist of a bowl where the weed is packed (”pack a bowl”) connected to an end where your mouth goes. The smoker places their mouth on the end, then holds a lighter flame over the weed in the bowl. They inhale, which draws the flame down into the bowl and causes the weed to smolder (not catch fire). The weed may continue to smolder enough for the next hit or the lighter may need to be used again. When the bowl is all burned, it’s cashed.

A pipe has a simple tube from the bowl and a small hole for the mouth, plus a carb hole on the side of the bowl, which must be covered while inhaling. The carb allows air into the bowl when not smoking, so the weed doesn’t burn too quickly between hits. The longer the stem, the less harsh the hit will be, because the smoke has time to cool off. Pipes are less harsh than joints and blunts but still pretty rough. A pipe can be made of many different materials. DIY pipes carved out of apples are a classic “no other options” stand-in. A chillum is a type of pipe that is straight, with the bowl facing outwards instead of upwards with no carb. A pipe with a very small bowl is called a one-hitter, since you can only fit one hit in it. A character might choose a pipe for portability, ease of hiding, or price.

A bubbler is a water pipe that uses water to cool and condense the smoke. The hole leading from the bowl descends into a small, enclosed compartment of water. The smoke goes into the water, then rises up a second tube to the small hole for the mouth. Like a dry pipe, it has a carb next to the bowl. They’re about two to three times the size of a dry pipe, not as portable, and more expensive. They are much less harsh than a pipe, though, and a good compromise between a pipe and a bong.

A bong is a long tube with a large water vessel at the bottom, usually like an Erlenmeyer flask with a really long neck The top has an opening which fits around the smoker’s mouth. The bowl is not connected but is shaped like a funnel with a stem that fits into a long tube that descends into the water vessel. Instead of a hit, smoking from a bong is called a rip. The smoke goes into the water, where it’s cooled and condensed, then continues to cool as it moves up the long neck to the smoker’s mouth. The bong will fill with smoke as long as there is suction between your mouth and the smoldering bowl. To end the suction, the stem is removed so clean air can replace the smoke as you inhale it. In order to not waste smoke, you should know how much you can inhale compared to the volume of the bong. Bongs can be filled with ice to cool the smoke further or have multiple chambers and twisty necks. They are much easier on the lungs than pipes or bubblers. They are also large, cumbersome, easy to break, hard to hide, and can be expensive. A character that owns a bong is a dedicated weed smoker with their own space where they don’t need to hide it, and the quality or lavishness of the bong will say a lot. Broke characters could improvise a bong by cutting a hole in a plastic bottle and inserting a tin foil funnel. That is janky as hell.

Finally, vaping cannabis took off in popularity at the same time as vaping tobacco. Cannabis oil cartridges are installed into a small vape pen, which can then be smoked somewhat discretely (less smelly than smoke, but it still smells!) with supposedly less damage to the lungs.

Effects

Different people react differently, much of which is based on their physiology and their mental state. Anxious people may become more anxious. Depressed people may become more lethargic. Affectionate people might get cuddly. Here’s some key elements:

Stoned/Faded: Reaction times slow. Memory becomes worse. Time perception is altered. You might repeat the same conversation over and over. The body feels heavy. Everything seems funny. You might become hyperfocused on something very specific or become intensely immersed in a story or TV show. Imagination and creative thinking improve. You may feel sleepy or serene.

Paranoia: Paradoxically, cannabis can create anxious paranoia, usually related to worrying that everyone can tell you’re high. The world looks very different to you, so it’s hard to imagine that you don’t look different to it. Slow reaction times mean that you might not notice someone moving until they already have, which can be startling and make you jump.

The Munchies: Cannabis is useful for people with appetite or nausea issues because it does cause cravings and the urge to eat. It doesn’t cause hunger, just intense craving. The intense focus of being stoned lets you focus on flavors more, which means food usually tastes better.

Baked: This term is synonymous with ‘stoned’ but it also implies some unpleasant side effects, like dry or bloodshot eyes, smoke-rough throats and voices, and an oppressive laziness that makes it hard to do things.

Second Stoning: Happens to some people, not all. Because THC bonds with fats, if you consume fats while you’re stoned, it will become bonded with those fats as they’re stored in your body. Your body fat works on a first-in-last-out system, so if you burn fat the day after toking up, the THC will be released into your system, causing you to get high again.

Is there anything I missed? Let me know!

#cw drugs #writing reference #cannabis #writing advice #how to write

[thenightfolknetwork]

So I'm a member of a genus known for our... fertility, shall we say? And our lagamorphic ears. And that's all very well and good except that I'm asexual. And I keep getting disbelief from *everywhere*. Sapios, nightfolk, my own family. I wear flag pins and the like but someone looks at them, then my ears, and goes back to the "breeding like rabbits" comments. How can I deal with this?

I'm so sorry you're having to deal with this kind of harmful ignorance, reader. Not only is it profoundly insulting for you as an individual, it also demonstrates a profound disrespect for your genus as a whole.

Your genus may have expectations around reproduction that differ from the majority – or, more likely, that differ from the sapio “norm”. These expectations may be rooted in your different biology or in how your culture approaches sex and child-rearing – or, more likely, in both.

But an expectation is no more prescriptive than an average. Statistically speaking, the average person in the UK has brown hair. It does not follow that one should find it remarkable to come across someone who does not.

How you deal with this issue depends on the context of when and where these comments take place, and what your relationship is with the person making them. Your safety is paramount above all, and if the situation is one where it is unsafe to push back, know that you are doing absolutely the right thing by protecting yourself.

If you do feel able to respond and have the energy and will to do so, remember to stay calm and don't let the other person derail the conversation with their own hurt feelings. Nobody likes to be told they've done something inappropriate or accidentally been offensive. But it's not your job to hold their hand through their emotional response.

Be clear and to the point. You will need to put this into your own words and find a way of expressing it that feels comfortable to you, but the gist of what you're telling them should be, “When you make jokes like that, it feels like you don't respect my identity as an asexual person or as a person my genus. I want you to apologise, and refrain from making such comments in the future.”

Each part of the statement is important. First, you identify the problematic behaviour. It's not that they are an offensive person inherently – it's that they are behaving badly in this instance. Second, you explain why it is offensive and on what counts. Finally, you offer them a way to make amends.

Once you've said your piece, the rest is up to them. They can either apologise and move on, or have a temper tantrum. If they choose the latter, simply disengage. There is no point talking to them until they've calmed down enough to behave properly.

Above all, reader, know that the problem lies with them. They are responsible for their own ignorance and for their own behaviour. All you can do is communicate your needs and boundaries, and treat yourself with the respect and dignity you deserve.

If others are unable or unwilling to do the same, draw a line under it and know that this is not someone who deserves your time, energy, or emotional investment.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

[satoko567]

It's so fucking wild that even suggesting that methamphetamine is in the some class of drug as amphetamine salts will make people want to kill you

Meth is even a prescription stimulant (Desoxyn) that is approved for treating ADHD and obesity im not even like trying to say that taking meth or similar drugs for ADHD is like bad even lol like do what you gotta do https://www.accessdata.fda.gov/drugsatfda_docs/label/2013/005378s028lbl.pdf

Attention Deficit Disorder with Hyperactivity: DESOXYN tablets are indicated as an integral part of a total treatment program which typically includes other remedial measures (psychological, educational, social) for a stabilizing effect in children over 6 years of age with a behavioral syndrome characterized by the following group of developmentally inappropriate symptoms: moderate to severe distractibility, short attention span, hyperactivity, emotional lability, and impulsivity. The diagnosis of this syndrome should not be made with finality when these symptoms are only of comparatively recent origin. Nonlocalizing (soft) neurological signs, learning disability, and abnormal EEG may or may not be present, and a diagnosis of central nervous system dysfunction may or may not be warranted

#adhd #actually adhd #neurodivergent #methamaphine #adhd medication

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[five-rivers]

Ancestral chapter 16

Written for ectoberhaunt 2023 day 20: danse macabre.

The room was silent as everyone listened intently, straining to hear Mr. Kynbaz’s (his first name was Kevin?) response.  

"An extraction? Why?  Isn't she in hospital for a medical condition?"  There was a pause, not quite long enough for Joanna to interject, but long enough to hear.  “How do you even know about that?”

“You left the team on read and the emergency system kicked it to Matthew and your second, but Matthew has it set to forward things to family members if he doesn’t answer and it’s flagged as an emergency.”

Another brief pause.  “Why do you want Princess Alicia extracted?”

“We think that–”  Joanna visibly collected herself.  “There’s evidence that Revyvtech is involved in the poisonings and responsible for Alicia’s condition.”

“Joanna–”

“My judgment was poor as a teenager, but don’t you dare hold that over me when my family is in danger!” snapped Joanna.  She closed her eyes.  “I– I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“What kind of evidence?  Would it hold up overseas?”

Joanna’s eyes flicked over Danny, Jazz, and their other cousins.  “No.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t valid.”

Mr. Kynbaz hissed softly, the sound barely transmitted by the phone speakers.  “I’ll get back to you.”  

“Kevin, wait, I–”

The end-call tone played.  

Joanna let her hand drop to her side.  Her eyes flicked over Danny, Jazz, and their other cousins.  “How many of you have prescription medication?”

Everyone but Jazz and Danny raised their hands.  Jazz elbowed Danny.  “You have that stuff you were prescribed for your eyes,” she said.  

“Oh, yeah.”

“Danny–  Danny.  Do you think you could tell if this… if this poison - blood blossoms? - was in something?  Like you did with the aconite?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “Maybe.  That was mostly Gw– the ghosts, though.  They saw the poison being added.  If it is blood blossoms, though, I think I should be able to.  Or- or they should be able to," he added, glancing at the ghosts.  He didn't want to ask them to, though.  Not after what had happened to Gwensyvyr’s arm.  "I should be able to." 

“Good,” said Joanna, “good.  Everyone, go get your medications, and bring them here.”

.

"Why are there so many?" asked Danny, intimidated.  The little bottles practically surrounded him.  

"We're part of the oldest royal lineages in the world," said Iris.  "It'd be weirder if we didn't have any weird genetic disorders."

"What even are all of these for?" asked Danny, knowing it was rude, but not being able to help himself.  It was his family medical history, anyway.  

"Blood disease," said Iris and George simultaneously. 

"Specifically anemia," said Iris.

"Specifically Avlynyse recurrent macrocytic anemia," said George.  

“Called that because normal macrocytic anemia is supposed to be caused by something else, like hypothyroidism or alcoholism, but we don’t have those problems and it always comes back.”

“You guys probably have it, too,” added George.  “It’s super common in the family, but it.”

“Along with Avlynyse defective melanin syndrome,” said Iris.  “Purple eyes are pretty, but they come with problems, you know?”

“I knew about that,” said Danny.  “But you don’t take medicine for that, do you?  Mom has that, and I don’t think she takes anything for it.”

“Usually you don’t,” said George, “but melanin has a lot of functions beyond just skin, hair, and eye color, and sometimes ADMS affects those things as well.  You remember how Iris and I would, ah, shake a little, all the time?  And our eyes would scan back and forth?  We couldn’t stop it.  That’s what we take medication for.”  He made a face.  “We actually first got this in a drug trial from Revyvtech a few years ago.  It’s new…”

“Oh!  Don’t forget the epilepsy,” said Iris.

“Yeah, can’t forget the epilepsy.”

“You have epilepsy?” asked Danny.  “But I’ve sent you flashing videos… Memes…”

“No, no, Lewis is the one who has epilepsy.  I’m just saying it’s relatively common.”

Lewis made a face.  “I could have told him myself.  They’re only focal seizures, anyway.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Danny.  “I’ve sent you flashing videos, too.”

“It’s fine,” said Lewis.  “Focal seizures don’t make you lose consciousness all the way, and I’ve got a filtering program on my phone.”

“Mostly he shows them to me, first,” said Leo.  “I have the anemia and a heart condition and low blood pressure and poor circulation and also eczema, which sort of makes my skin break out in hives if anything is touching it the wrong way for too long.”  

“Still not a good reason to not wear shirts,” muttered Lewis.  “Eugene?”

Eugene blushed, then looked down at the medicine bottle in his hand.  He looked back and forth between Danny and the bottle, then the bottle and Jazz.  The bottle was a slightly different color than everyone else’s.  

“Um,” he said.  “I have bipolar disorder.  And I have auditory hallucinations.  It’s not– It’s not schizophrenia, though.  I don’t have the other symptoms.”

Joanna put her hand on Eugene’s shoulder.  “I also have bipolar depression.  And anemia.”

Now Danny just felt bad.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked.”  (Also, wow, why was he suddenly thinking about the time his parents tried to ‘spin the crazy’ out of him?)

Eugene laughed a little.  “It’s fine.  I mean, we’re showing you all our medications.”  He held out his bottle towards Danny.

“Still.”  Danny took the bottle.  “But… have you ever considered that the hallucinations could be…?”  He trailed off as Gwensyvyr and the other ghosts started shaking their heads.  

“Oh,” said Eugene.  “No, definitely not.  There are ways to check if you’re hearing ghosts, assuming they’re cooperating.  We tested it.”  He sat down on the floor across from Danny.  “So.  How are you going to do this?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “I was just going to phase my hand through each of these and see if anything happened?  That way, I’m not screwing up good medicine by taking it apart or anything.”

“Is that safe?” asked Jazz with a slight frown. 

“I– Nothing has ever happened to the stuff I’ve phased through before?”

“For you,” clarified Jazz.  

“Might give me a burn,” said Danny.  “But the blood blossom cream is already out, so…  I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” said Jazz.

Danny nodded and held up Eugene’s bottle with his right hand and swiped his left hand through it.  

(It was so strange to just do that in front of so many people, and in human form.)

“Nothing,” he said, handing the bottle back to Eugene.  

“That makes sense,” said Eugene.  He turned the bottle so Danny could see the logo imprinted on the bottom, a simple eye with an apple in place of a pupil.  “Avl Ayg does more psychiatric medicine than Revyvtech.”

Danny nodded, and hunted through the bottles to find Joanna’s.  It also didn’t have anything in it that Danny could detect.

Then, he started working through Leo’s medication.  The heart stuff was fine, but when he passed his hand through the anemia medication, he flinched back, hissing.  

“Blood blossoms?” asked Jazz.  

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “Ow.”  He shook out his hand.  

Jazz held out the cream to him.  

“It’s such a tiny amount,” said Danny.  He examined his hand.  It wasn’t even red.  “It was just, like, touching something too hot, rather than all-consuming agony.”

“Your standards for all consuming agony are off,” said Jazz.  “Put on the cream before you do more.”

Danny grumbled but did what Jazz said.  Then he tested the eczema medication, and…

“This feels weird, but not like blood blossoms,” he said.  There was something ectoplasmic in it, but only in trace amounts.  “Could be ectoplasm contamination?”

“Could you tell how even it is?” asked Jazz.  

“No,” said Danny.  “Do you think…  If they are getting things for their medicines from Andyr, do you think that there could be ectoplasmic stuff down there?  From the ghosts, maybe?”

He saw Gwensyvyr’s face screw up, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but then shook her head.  

“That would make sense,” said Jazz, slowly.  “But that would be incredibly dangerous.  Ectocontamination made a cooked turkey come back to life.”

“What,” said Lewis, flatly.  

“Never mind,” said Jazz.

Danny moved on to Lewis’s.  His anti-seizure meds were fine, but he had a jar of anemia supplements, just like Leo.  Again, there was something in it.  He set it aside.  

He moved on to Iris and George’s.  They had a larger number, but theirs were largely identical, so he did them all at once.  Again, most of them were fine, one of the melanin ones was weird, and the anemia supplement had blood blossoms in it.  

“These actually have more than any of the others,” said Danny, nodding at the bottles while rubbing more cream into his hand.  “It’s still tiny, the ghosts aren’t even affected by it being near, but…”

“But we’ve been getting slowly poisoned for who knows how long,” said Joanna.  “All of us.”

“It does cast some doubt on it being what killed everyone, though,” said Iris.  “Since none of us have keeled over in anaphylactic shock any of the times we’ve taken these.  It’s possible that there’s a legitimate medical use.”

“I don’t know.  I guess there are some things… Mom and Dad wanted to use it to purge ectocontamination.”  Danny looked up.  “Did Martin have this?  Do you think any of his medication is still here?”

“Maybe,” said Joanna.  “If he did have any here, it would probably be in his room, or the master bathroom.”

Getting everyone into the master bathroom was a squeeze, but no one wanted to be left out.  Joanna opened the cabinet and moved aside a woebegone toothbrush and a few boxes of band-aids before pulling out three bottles and a weekly pill organizer.  The organizer was mostly full, with only Sunday morning empty.

“Ferromultyx, melanyorata, and escitalopram?” she read from the bottles.

“Huh,” said Iris.  “I didn’t know his melanin defect was bad enough to take melanyorata.”  She sounded a little congested. 

Danny, not quite in arms’ reach of Joanna, between all the people in the room, made grabby hands.  “Let me see.”

Joanna passed them over, and Danny phased his hands through.  The melanin deficiency drug had the same weirdness as Iris and George’s.  The anemia drug on the other hand…

“There’s nothing here,” he said.  “It’s clean.”

Iris chewed her lip.  “None of this makes sense.”

“I think it does, actually,” said Danny, turning the bottle over and over in his hand.  He wriggled his way out of the bathroom.

“How?” asked Lewis, who managed to get out before the others.  “Why poison us just a little bit, and kill everyone else?”

“I don’t know that it’s just about that,” said Danny.  He put Martin’s medication on a nearby shelf and pulled the small bottle of the medicine he’d been prescribed from his pocket and passed his hand through it.  It burned.  Badly enough to make him hiss and drop the bottle.  

“Danny?” asked Jazz, alarmed.  

“I’m fine.  I just had to check something.”  He cradled his hand near his chest.  “I don’t think they want you dead.  They want me dead.  They don’t want you ectocontaminated.”  

“You guys keep saying that,” said Leo.  “What is it?”

“Ectoplasmic contamination.  Ectoplasm.  Ghost magic.”  Danny licked his lips, then stepped sideways to get a better view of Gwensyvyr.  “That’s what’s actually in Andyr, isn’t it?  There’s a source of ectoplasm.  There’s a portal.”

Gwensyvyr gazed at Danny for a long moment, then nodded.

“There’s something that happens in the Trials that makes you… more spiritual.  Or something.  More like a syvyr.”  And Danny hoped beyond hope that ‘something’ wasn’t dying like he had in the portal.  He could almost imagine it, all of them, all his family, walking, practically dancing down into the dark, into glowing, deathly green.  A tableau.  A danse macabre.  A memento mori.  Except no one really died…

… until now.  

“That,” said Danny, “that’s what they’re trying to stop.  They’re trying to keep that from happening.  Because if it did– if it did…”  He trailed off, unsure, then looked at Gwensyvyr.  Her eyes were sharp, expectant.  “Well, what we thought before, about them using stuff down there for medical research is probably still true, but…  There are probably parts of the Trials you can’t do without having ectoplasm.  Things for the ancestors.  Things for…”

If there was a portal beneath Avlynys, the ghosts here should be as strong as in Amity Park.  They weren’t.  But they were gaining strength from Danny’s presence.  

“Things for the portal,” Danny continued.  “Like, unblocking it or something.  Fixing it.”  He shivered, remembering the last time he’d tried to fix a portal.  

“A portal?” asked Joanna.  “To where?”

“The, you know, the afterlife,” said Danny.  

There was quiet.  

“Unfortunately,” said Joanna.  “We can’t do anything about that until we take the Trials.  Except for not taking any more of these things.”  She snatched up Martin’s medication and put it back in the cabinet.  

Leo groaned.  “Fainting town, here we come.”“For now…  I think all of you need some sleep.”

#danny phantom #ancestral fic #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023

[intoloopin]

LOOP GOES DISCO #1 - "THE LAST PIT OF HELL IS AN ASSHOLE'S HOTEL BATHROOM."

A SERIES REWRITE OF DISCARDED SCENES USING DISCO ELYSIUM GAME MECHANICS/LINGO.

TWS: Drug use. Cursing. Self deprecating language. Fighting. Forced vomiting. Blood. Feelings being expressed weirdly at inappropriate times (???).

CONTEXT: This is rewrite of a missing scene from END AT ME: it's a glimpse at the Hell party that caused Minwoo to call Taesong on July 14th going 15th + what proceeded the final motel scene by 4 to 6 hours.

starring: Bang Minwoo. Xu 'J.J' Jiahang.

word account: 3.8K / 3,848 words.

writer's note: OKAY, SO! To anyone who's unfamiliar on how DE functions, fear not: this works as it's own thing. But to hopefully get you into the right mood, I'll link a video to the game's intro as well as the skill sheet out of detail so you can grasp what's being evoked here. Most skills have been adapted to fit this new setting and Minwoo's own psychology anyway, so understanding how they function in game or not (hopefully!) won't take away from any fun of this psyche dive. With that being said! Good read! This is the most fun I had all week!

THE ASSHOLE’S HOTEL BATHROOM - Filled with too many soap cabinets and a candelabra for a lamp – things of value but no *practical use* – the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom looks exactly like you expect it to. To put it simply it's a fancy, cold and soulless shit deposit.

REACTION SPEED (Easy: Success) - Like your goddamn man.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - Like *them*, your man’s ‘friends’, who share no traits with him. Not an hinch of loyalty to anything or anyone.

YOU - You inspect Jiahang, the said man – just a man, his own man – that you have an arm's hold of, dragging along behind you. He doesn’t want to come into the Asshole’s Hotel Bathroom, of course not. He doesn’t want to leave The Party and its Party People either, but he must be surgically extracted from them. He must be attended to, immediately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS (Medium: Fail) - You still have no idea why he jumped on to take what the asshole man offered you, why he tried to bargain your way out of the room at the expense of his already too dazed system, with a dry gulp of a too big pill ill meant for you, putting on a show so you could leave.

INTERFACING (Easy: Success) - As if you would ever choose to escape out of any Hell without him – as if you could make out of any labyrinth without your North Star.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Easy: Success) - God, he’s beautiful even while bone deep in physical discomfort. That’s art in real fucking staggering movements, all live, full color. He has mastered the sweet, sweet pain it takes to *be* music. He has beat you at your own game, Minwoo love. Beat you right up. *Beat you good*.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - Whatever is that he swallowed, he needs it out of his system. Now.

YOU - You lock the door behind you, let his pulse go. You both stand in discrepant different examples of equilibrium at the center of the room.

VISUAL CALCULUS (Easy: Success) - The toilet has its lid already set open, like a paid extra.

“What were you thinking?!”

“You need to throw up. *Now*.”

No talking. No time to waste. Reach forward. Be of help.

YOU - You take an unfocused step forward, leaving two feet between Jiahang and you. The proximity accomplishes nothing: your fingers trail millimeters over his chest, failing to check anything, just shaking.

JIAHANG - "Minwoo hyung, c’mon… Calm down, okay, calm down… I can… take it, I’m alright…," Jiahang’s marijuana voice is something deeper in tone and lighter in sound, close to a whisper. He takes pauses to hold in anxious, misplaced laughs. “It’s not my… First rodeo, so… Calm down…”

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - He’s not new to drugs, that’s what he meant. Both in general, and with today’s doctor’s prescription: weed, cocaine, maybe, and the other thing, the white pill.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - You knew this already. You pretended not to, for someone’s sake – you don’t remember who, now – but it’s become obvious to you early on. How could it not when it’s *you*, a Guryo son who knows what to seek for when telling… *high risk riders* apart from any crowd.

LOGIC (Easy: Success) - And yet you did nothing to put a stop to it. You let it come to this. This is as much as your fault as it is the asshole man’s. You’re a fucking asshole man, Asshole Man.

YOU - Your head bends downwards, away from him, away from direct view.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Because it pains you; the sight of him pains you. It always has. Every inch of his body is a light that cuts right through your retinas, close to being fatal.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - By God, he’s made you just as blind as the piano and guitar have. *He really is music*.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

Give me something else. I won’t say that.

YOU - Give me something else. I won’t say that.

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Oh? And why the fuck not?

It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

The night’s been already harsh enough. Try to be kind or something, fuck Hell.

Please, *please* don’t make me say it. I don’t wanna say it.

YOU - It’s not what he needs to fucking hear now, shit Head!

HALF LIGHT (Challenging: Fail) - Well, fuck-o, this is all you got. Have you forgotten who you are? You’re a brute and ruthless son of a gun. Shoot-words-to-kill, that’s the Bang Minwoo pattern of speech. You know nothing else.

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (3% CHANCE).] Breath.

[LOGIC CHECK: GODLY (27% CHANCE).] Come up with something else. Something soothing. *Anything*.

LOGIC CHECK: FAILURE. - As you search your oceanic brain for a cohesive, less deadly set of words, you find nothing but a dark void and the defeating sound of static. You’re tongue tied. You’re jaw set. You’re furious. You’re terrified. You’re only half inside your own body.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Impossible: Fail) - The smell of urine and powder mixed together, coming straight off the toilet to your nose. The sensation of being too small, too impotent inside a big room that you’ve never seen so big. The body of a loved one shivering close, mad with fever.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Fail) - It’s all too familiar, isn’t it now, crack baby?

[-1 MORALE.]

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - TIME IS A FLAT FUCKING CIRCLE, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE THEN, AND YOU DREW ITS LINE NOW!

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

[COMPOSURE CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE).] Breath.

COMPOSURE CHECK: EPIC FAIL. - Thinking of breathing only makes your breathing worse. Stop. Thinking. Of. It. STOP. IMMEDIATELY.

[-1 PHYSICAL.]

“Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

YOU - “Why are you, out of everyone, making stupid fucking decisions?!”

JIAHANG - Slowly, as if he’s hearing you with a 15 second delay, Jiahang looks up at you with his big stars for eyes, embedded in a sea of red. “What..?”

“You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

YOU - “You–! Jesus Christ, you fucking heard me, Jiahang!”

“I can’t deal with you having a crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

YOU - “I can’t deal with you having a goddamn crash, I can’t witness that sort of *shit*! You know why I fucking can’t!”

JIAHANG - The delay’s gone, it seems: in front of you, Jiahang flinches, withers, pressing his tiny lips close together.

AUTHORITY (Challenging: Success) - BE CALM. He’s scared, but not of you – only of himself, what he’s done, and what you might think of him now.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - And he’s ashamed of what he took you back to, now that he realizes – the razor sharp flashes of your once uncle seem to flow between you telepathically.

THE BLURRY PHOTO INSIDE YOUR WALLET - *GOODSPEED, BANG WOOHYUN – BELOVED BROTHER, ADORED SON, TRUE FATHER. AND MAY GOD LAY YOU TO REST KINDLY.*

CONCEPTUALIZATION (Medium: Success) - He’s always scared of what people might think of him. It’s his Achilles tendon. When it comes to you, the fear of letting down goes hand in hand with an old, too familiar grief.

UNTRACEABLE RUSH OF DOPAMINE - Tell him. Tell him what we think of him, now and always. It’s time.

“I just don’t get– You or, or! You’re supposed to be music, for shit’s sake! Whatever the fuck that means!”

Don’t make me do this to me now.

I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

YOU - I don’t fucking know what I think, alright?! Not about him, not about anything anymore! *I don’t know!* And I don’t want to know! I don’t give a shit! I never fucking have!

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - Alright, sire, alright. Don’t open the Pandora’s Box that is your stone heart, if you’re too much of a pussy to see what’s been growing inside. Suit your weak self, take the coward’s road. Just be careful not to fall too hard while embarking on this deep, deep sink of yours into that old, old Egyptian river.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Legendary: Success) - That old Egyptian river is called the Nile river. Say it's determiner and name three times quickly out loud. The joke writes itself.

INLAND EMPIRE (Easy: Success) - Not a easier joke to decipher than *you*, of course, Bang Man.

JIAHANG - It takes him a while, but Jiahang eventually recovers; straightens his spine up, grows back to big. “If you can’t see it, then… leave, then. You can… do that. You brought me my bag, I– I took the *thing* for you, you’re free– free to go. So go on. Turn around, just turn– turn around, if that’s what… what you want so bad!”

[VOLITION RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (0% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Leave.

I can’t leave him.

“I can’t leave you!”

YOU - I can’t leave him.

PERCEPTION (Heroic: Fail) - Ah, yes. That you have no strength to do. It's as simple as that.

“I can’t leave you – not like this!”

“I can’t leave you – not with them!”

“I just *can’t leave you*!”

YOU - “I can’t leave you, Jiahang – not like this!”

JIAHANG - You see a frown show up on his forehead as he mouths ‘like this’, like it’s an insult, but doesn’t say it. What he does say is a frustrated, confused plea of, “Then what, Minwoo? Then *what*?!”

HAND/EYE COORDINATION (Easy: Success) - Oh, sire. You know exactly what you must do.

[SUGGESTION CHECK: FORMIDABLE (38% CHANCE).] Convince Jiahang to throw up. Keep talking. He’s giving in.

[REACTION SPEED CHECK: CHALLENGING (65% CHANCE).] Make him throw up. You’ve lost too much damn time already with all this fucking talking.

[PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (1% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Shove him into the bathtub and turn on the ice cold shower. Let the thermal shock overwhelm him, then make him throw up there. It’s risky, but it feels like the way.

REACTION SPEED CHECK: FAIL. You raise your arms and grab him suddenly by the elbows, catching him visibly by surprise – and it all goes quickly downhill from there.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Challenging: Epic Fail) - Your limbs struggle to make him bend any way, let alone to the direction of the toilet or the floor. Under your feet, the humid ground keeps you from grounding yourself enough to make any of this work. Nothing’s in your favor. You realize your mistake too late.

RHETORIC (Easy: Success) - You should have thought this through. Jiahang is, after all, much taller than you – and much too cherished for your hands to dare squeeze or scratch.

YOU - Your fingers let go without you telling them to. Bad equilibrium disrupted, Jiahang slips on the wet tiles and falls sideways, head bumping with the toilet’s unforgiving ceramic, nose first, sound second: a horrible cry out of pain you heard just once.

[CRITICAL MORALE DAMAGE.]

[CRITICAL PHYSICAL DAMAGE.]

YOU - DEAR GOD. MY DEAR GOD.

EMPATHY (Medium: Success): DON’T SHUT DOWN – YOU CAN’T. IT MAKES YOU MORE VICIOUS. YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO: HE MUST KNOW YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO. RUSH TO PROVE IT– HELP!

JUMP TO HELP!

YOU - YOU JUMP TO HELP! You’re on your knees quicker than you’ve ever been, palming his back, his shoulder.

JIAHANG - He glimpses at you sideways, then hides his face away, turning it to the opposite side. A lonely stream of blood drips from his left nostril, and he rushes to cover it with his trembling hand. You notice; you hear a sob.

RETHORIC (Heroic: Fail) - You’re a wordsmitch, fuck face, or are you not?! SAY SOMETHING. FIX THIS.

“Fuck, you– You didn’t give me *any other choice*, like!!!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry so so sorry I’m sorry sorry!!!!!!”

Fuck it. Focus on the mission. Put your fingers down his throat. Count damages later.

YOU - Make the worst worth it, you think, as you scoopes his face in.

LOGIC (Medium: Fail) - Will it even accomplish anything? The white pill’s been in his system for over 20 minutes, not to mention all the rest, a pool party of shit in his bloodstream. Anyhow: better safe than sorry, you assume – you pray.

YOU - You fight to get your fingers into his mouth, meet a wall of teeth, a resistence of tongue; it opens after you let out a small curse, like a castle’s gate.

SUGGESTION (Easy: Success) - So *this* is how it feels.

PERCEPTION (Medium: Success) - Under you, he’s stopped moving. Jiahang has no real strength or deep desire to push you out or hurt you. He might even understand the invasion, under the haze; be grateful for it, even.

YOU - You feel it when it comes, a stream of bile. You remove your hand and wipes it on your trousers, sees Jiahang bending over to sit and spill sick yellow vomit for seconds, a minute.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Easy: Success) - Even though you’ve hurt him not a second ago – it wasn’t even the first time, either – he hasn’t bitten a single finger of yours off when he had the chance. Not a follower of the Eye For an Eye school of thinking, this pupil of yours, despite your suffocating influence. That’s good. You’re nothing but a bad preacher of a bad religion.

JIAHANG - When he’s done spitting and coughing, Jiahang begins to curl into himself, turning into a quiet small ball on the floor, too close to the release pool.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way– I’m sorry.”

“Jiahang-ah, please, let me take a look at you – Let me look at you, *please*.”

[AUTHORITY CHECK: EASY. 92% CHANCE.] “Show me your nose, now.”

AUTHORITY CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “Show me your nose, now.”

PERCEPTION (Easy: Success) - He does, without a fight, lying on the floor with his head facing the ceiling. It’s bad, the bruise – the damage. You help guide him to sit up straight as he can.

YOU - You extend your hand to the side, up– The toilet paper dances off the holder as you push it, and it rolls away. You get enough of it to wrap it over your open palm three times, to make an amateur glove. You wipe the trace of blood off his mouth as gently as you can.

JIAHANG - “I’m such a… mess, just so–!” He cries, suddenly; a dam of tears, hot and uncontainable. “Awful, *awful* thing, disgusting fucking– fucking *thing*!”

“I know. I know exactly what you are.”

“That’s not all there is to you, baby, it’s not all there is to you at all, listen to me, honey, *listen*, **please listen**.”

“You could be worse.”

YOU - “You could be worse.”

JIAHANG - This gets his attention. “How even– Worse how?” Jiahang asks, mid hiccup, mid wail. “Give me one– One fucking example, if you… can. Can you? You *can’t*, can you?!”

SHIVERS (Medium: Success) - Around you and around him, The Party keeps on going, like a nonstop train. Your ears attune themselves to the purr of it – it's a habit. You’re too often outside rooms buzzing with life, only listening in through paper thin walls, missing the experience of it.

EMPATHY (Heroic: Success) - No one has come to check on him, you both have realized – Jiahang a minute faster than you. None of his Party People friends give a flying fuck. The reality is falling down on him like a skyscraper, crushing, breathtaking, killer.

AUTHORITY (Legendary: Success) - LET THE OUTSIDE WORLD GO QUIET. THERE IS SOMETHING HE WANTS TO HEAR YOU SAY.

[REACTION SPEED RED CHECK: IMPOSSIBLE (11% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the real world things that are worse than him. (There’s a ton, and you know them intimately – and you know him intimately. Give Jiahang something else to weep for.)

[DRAMA RED CHECK, IMPOSSIBLE (9% CHANCE.) YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] Start listing the unreal, out of this world things worse than him – the ones you’ve seen in your open eyed dreams. (Not as many options, but a tad lighter. Make the sadness disappear, bring anything close to a laugh back. Be the mad man for a great cause.)

[INLAND EMPIRE RED CHECK: LEGENDARY (26% CHANCE). YOU CAN’T RETRY IT.] “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.” (The truth. It can only hurt you.)

Say nothing.

INLAND EMPIRE CHECK: SUCCESS.

YOU - “You could be like me. I’m worse than you’ll ever be.”

LOGIC (Challenging: Success) - There is nothing worse than you, False Prophet, Fake Noah. Obsessed with connecting melodies, speaking truthfully only through rhyme schemes on pieces of paper that meet no one, only the bottom of trash cans or the back of your hard pillow. You’re not functional. You’re no leading man. You’re no good.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - But it feels good, doesn’t it? To finally admit how rotten you are after a whole life of pretending you’re a giving three, a good soil.

EMPATHY (Challenging: Success) - To say to someone who knows it, understands it, and stays.

[+1 MORALE]

Wait, I gained a fucking morale point from THAT?!

YOU - What the actual fuck?!

RHETORIC (Medium: Success) - You’re neck deep into shit, pal. Just count your win. It’s only a consolidation medal, nothing more, nothingbless – kiddo needs his fake prizes to fill his kiddo fuel.

JIAHANG - “But… I feel like you already,” he tells you. “All the time, hyung… All the time, I feel like you– Angry, and upset, and– and so lonely.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - Wait, what’s that taunting your face, blocking your neck…? Oh, fucking Hell…! You’re crying! You’re nodding at him and crying!

AUTHORITY (Impossible: Fail) - HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU CRYING?! You don’t do that anymore, you’ve forgotten how. Revoke it. Revoke it along with all this sweat taking over your body.

“Don’t you dare say that.”

“I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

“Just– Give me a minute, God, give me a minute!”

YOU - “I’m sorry, Jiahang. This is not– Not what I wanted to happen.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT (Easy: Success) - The tears prickle your eyes, actually turn you momentarily blind. You blink, hard, adjusting to their salt. It reminds you of how hard to stomach you are, inside out.

PAIN THRESHOLD (Medium: Success) - And it reminds you of how much saltier you’ve used to be. The tears are already falling off your sad sockets, sire – let them.

[+1 PHYSICAL.]

JIAHANG - “It’s not so bad, right, I think, to have… Turned into *this*, because– You’re no longer… lonely, and… Neither am I, right…? We can both be happy with that, be happy…” He doesn’t finish speaking; just closes his eyes, closes his mouth.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - We like the visual he’s evoking, Minwoo love. Picture the two of you, holding hands, walking right into the dooming sun– Oh, oh! Romeo and Romeo, tongue deep into each other’s poison bitter throats!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Your man’s not right. He’s fading. This isn’t the Jiahang you want; most importantly, this isn’t the Jiahang that *Jiahang wants*. This is no good, Minwoo.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY (Medium: Fail) - It’s as close as we'll ever get to having any Jiahang *at all*. Enjoy it! We should kiss him now. Seal this deal right up. Two shots of Marriage In Misery and a whole bottle of Honeymoon On The Floor (Animal Style) coming *right the fuck up*, sign it to the wingless lovebirds right there, near the piss jar!!!

EMPATHY (Medium: Success) - Let go of his hand. Check his eyes. Help him up.

INLAND EMPIRE (Legendary: Fail) - Or perhaps this is the time for you to leave. You shouldn’t have ever touched him, to begin with. You shouldn’t have spoken a single word beyond ‘Goodbye’ to this man when he was still a graduating boy. You shouldn’t have made him think that he needed to cling to ruination to shine. You shouldn't have come to know any of them.

Kiss Jiahang. (ANIMAL FUCKING STYLE!!!)

Check Jiahang up (medically.), then help him up. You both need to leave the Asshole's Hotel Bathroom and The Asshole’s Hotel all together.

Walk away – Just walk away. His shortness of breath seems contagious. It’s sticking to your lungs.

YOU - It takes no effort to untangle your hands from his, to place them both on his cheeks, tend to the temperature.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - His skin is at 110 degrees, to be precise. The lucky-unlucky number, if you’ll believe it.

LOGIC (Medium: Success) - It’s a mind and body turmoil. I’m afraid you can do nothing about it.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, *DO NOTHING*?! FUCK OFF.

I can do something, I– I feel it.

I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

YOU - I refuse to let him fall. I reject it.

INLAND EMPIRE (Medium: Success) - Cute, my lord, but still not enough. You might as well swear to become a whole different man, in your desperation, if you want to make this medicine of yours come true – transform into a superhuman, super empathic man suit. Like the Taesong Taesong thinks he is.

Good, I’ll swear on it, I’ll be it – I've been waiting for an excuse to tend to the internal damage and start a renovation. This is will be my new wallpaper.

No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work*.

YOU - No, don’t swear on it, fool – There’s no need to be extreme. *There’s no guarantee it will work.*

ENCYCLOPEDIA (Challenging: Success) - Exactly. Hold your horses, Bang Man. Take this promise in. You never tried to be anything besides what you are now. You’re a 26-year-old hound – in dog years that’s 116 to 128 years of living. There’s no space inside your head for new tricks, new instincts.

DRAMA (Easy: Success) - You’re chained to a wall, my liege. You have to tear it the fuck down, and clean the concrete aftermath, and rise from the ashes of it – full Fenix style. Fail at that and you’ll be here again, if not in this asshole’s hotel bathroom, then another asshole’s hotel bathroom; if not with him, then with someone else, just as meaningful. You got the need for change, now? The need to compromise the fuck out of you?!

AUTHORITY (Heroic: Success): Say you got it now.

Fine. I guess I got it now.

I got it! I fucking got it, goddammit!

I understand.

YOU - I understand.

INLAND EMPIRE (Challenging: Success) - My, oh my… It seems you really do.

THE AWARENESS OF THE LOOP - *OH?* OH! THIS IS A REAL STEP, THIS IS SOMETHING – OH, THIS IS *REALLY SOMETHING NOW*, LITTLE MOON, WHAT A MAGNIFICENT EFFORT! THIS IS PROGRESS YOU’RE HOLDING THE HAND OF, AND IT’S PLEASED TO MEET YOU AT LAST, SO PLEASED TO MEET YOU! THE THING ABOUT IT– THE THING WITH PROGRESS, SHARP-TOOTHED ONE, IS THAT THERE IS NEVER ANY INGLORIOUS END – THERE’S NO END TO IT AT ALL!

[HIDDEN TASK, ‘TAKE THE 1ST STEP OF A 100 INTO METAMORPHOSIS’, COMPLETE.]

[+30 EXPERIENCE.]

[YOU CAN LEVEL UP A SKILL NOW.]

[END?]

[END.]

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ extras . #&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing . #fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oc #I'm just a girl having fun!!!!!

[darkfictionjude]

What if in a AU were Dr. Madorna and MC were a couple, the first comes to the town to visit her lover. How would the ROs in deep crushing stage and family with Orla react.

Damn nonnie this au came completely out of left field (I keep getting doctor Madorna AUs which is odd since she only showed up once 💀)

although if they were lovers you bet the doctor is losing her licence because that is professionally immoral 😭 (there’s also that she knew mc since they were around 16 and she’s like in her late 40s…)

Let’s say mc is in their 20s

Imre:

Immediately when they see this he begins looking into her professional history. He comes over and debates her over proper medical care and diagnoses. Then someone calls the medical board about an inappropriate relationship between a certain doctor and her patient. Oops, if mc needs comfort he’ll be there.

Nia:

She’s gets a deep puncture in her chest and to get rid of it she decides to find other patients of the doctor’s and pay them off to tell the police some “creative embellishments” about how inappropriate the doctor was to them and look at that the doctor gets arrested but Nia feels so sorry for you, she wonders how this could’ve happened *wink*

Lorcan:

He at first tries to tell the doctor that she needs to stay away from mc or something bad will happen but somehow the doctor ends up having a therapy session with Lorcan and he leaves the house so disturbed about being so throughly analyzed he keeps coming back for therapy. He decides not only will it help him but the more he keeps the doctor away from mc the better.

THE CROWNS

Victor: who is this? Your doctor? Is this gonna cost me? No? Well as long you take care of them I don’t care (and no he doesn’t mean he’s happy mc is being loved more so he’s happy he doesn’t have to take care of them)

Prudence: she hates doctors, especially ones who deal with mental health issues. She thinks anyone who goes into that profession must have something wrong with them. Also it’s embarrassing to date your own doctor. She bans her from the premises.

Sally: he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He thinks this is unhealthy. He thinks the doctor is taking advantage of you. But… you’re happy so he gives his blessing.

Percy: *cue dr. Frankstein and his monster jokes* and then he asks if they can give him a prescription for adderall

Orla (alive era): she makes sure everyone knows so they can make fun of you. And tries to break into the doctor’s briefcase for personal files

#anon asks #Imre #Nia #Lorcan #the crowns #Victor #prudence #salvatore #percival #Orla #dr. madorna #we wretched creatures

[lifewithchronicpain]

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has approved a controversial genetic test that uses a patient’s DNA to assess whether they are at risk of developing opioid use disorder (OUD). Although the test is only intended for patients with short-term acute pain who have not used opioids before, there is concern about the test’s accuracy and whether it will be used “off-label” to assess addiction risk in chronic pain patients – who could potentially lose access to opioids as a result. In approving the AvertD test, the FDA stipulated that it only be available by prescription to patients who consent to its use and have no prior history of using an oral opioid for pain relief.

The test is administered by a provider swabbing the cheek of a patient to collect a DNA sample, which will then be tested in a laboratory to see if the patient has 15 genetic markers that puts them at elevated risk of OUD. According to the FDA, the test will help patients “make better informed decisions” about using opioids, such as a patient facing surgery who wants to know what analgesic to use for post-operative pain...

“I’m sure it would be used for anyone who may be considered for opioid therapy,” says Lynn Webster, MD, a pain management expert and Senior Fellow at the Center for U.S. Policy. “I am all for gathering more data to help clinicians make better decisions, but we must exercise caution with such tests. Otherwise, the test may be over-read or misinterpreted. Some patients may be deprived of access to an opioid if they test positive or there can be a false sense of harmlessness from opioids if the test is negative. “I am most concerned that providers will see the results as binary. Either a patient will or won’t develop OUD, depending on the result. That would be a big mistake. Any such device or test must be used along with other clinical and personal information to help mitigate harm from using, or being denied, opioids.”

In 2022, an FDA advisory committee voted 11-2 against recommending an earlier version of AvertD, primarily because of concerns about false-negative and false-positive results. An observational study found the test was about 80% accurate in detecting genes associated with OUD. "I believe 100% of the risk associated with this test is with false positives and false negatives -- both people being untreated or poorly treated because somehow it came back as a positive result, or being given inappropriate treatment because it said negative," said Timothy Ness, MD, an anesthesiologist and Professor Emeritus at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, who voted no. (Read full article at link)

Yeah I don't like it. I can see how it would be useful for patients to decide, but with the way opioids are controlled I can totally see people being denied necessary pain relief based on this test.

#disability #chronic pain #ableism #spoonies #opioids #OUD test #addiction #opioid use disorder #article

[ecoamerica]

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