Drugs Cw - Tumblr Posts

life is sooo good bet yall wish u were meee

so me coded honestlyyy

i loveee acid someone should buy me moreee

haii guys i’m so sleepy

i need a new geek bar so bad uhghgh

anyways

Another day, another oc (Dogslobber) and another osha violation. (pretty sure 14 year olds are not legally allowed to smoke and that blood puddles are work place hazards).

Tell me when you get bored. A story about doses. [x]

I posted this on twitter and had a variety of aggressive ableism thrown my way.

This is a story about changing what I can in spite of what I cannot for the comfort of my loved ones. The thing that others find to be hurtful about me is that I like to spend time in silent solitude. People who love me often feel hurt that I tend to solve my own problems instead of leaning on them.

When we spend too much time together, people find my neutrality to be concerning, and it becomes too much for people to be unable to read me.

To show the people I love that I enjoy their company in ways they can understand, I pool my energy together to be high-energy, peppy, and social. Since this is not my natural state of being, it takes effort, which can only be expended in small doses. I amplify the things people like in me while filtering out everything they dislike about me when I am in their company.

I change my behaviors for those I love, but at the end of the day, I cannot change my neutral state of being, which is the thing that they want most out of me.

This is a story about me accommodating people in the best way I know how, not the other way around. I would truly appreciate it if people don't misconstrue this anecdote as me asking for dismissal of hurtful behavior when in reality, people find hurt in the fact that I simply exist, and I must change for them.

u would think i would have figured out by now that getting high to help me fall asleep just makes me super horny instead. and yet i try it every night anyways.

(btw will have a fun story from yesterday up in a bit)

come here and sit, darling. right on my lap, good boy. legs spread. there we go. now, I’m going to take a hit and you’re going to sit nice and pretty for me while i pull, won’t you? feel up your thighs? claw you up a little, hm?

then I’m going to grab your chin and force your mouth open, and you’re going to inhale when i tell you, do you understand? good boy. tilt your head back a little, let me see that tongue of yours. you look so dazed already, aren’t you cute? I bet you’re getting wet just from me manhandling you a bit. my sweet pathetic little cocksleeve. I’m going to get you so stoned that you’re nothing but a drooling mess, begging me to play with your cock

Been going to bed every night with some kind of toy pummelling away inside me or vibrating my dick until I’m in silent tears. It feels so good to lie there in bed, feeling those hits of my pen set in as everything becomes more relaxed, more in tune w/ my senses. Eventually, I hit a point where my body is no longer under my control. I’m such a desperate fucking pet that my will alone keeps my legs spread and in place all night— even when it exposes my overstimulated cock to torment its most sensitive parts. I just lie there, taking it as wave after wave of impossibly climbing climaxes wash through me.

The next morning, I wake up still wet from the night before, everything so sensitive I can feel my dick being overstimulated by just the brush of my thighs as I walk. God, everything about this new routine is melting my mind. I just wish someone would break into my house in the middle of the night, actually tie me up, and wake me up with screaming orgasms as you begin to experiment with seeing how much a body can climax before the mind breaks.

lol this literally just appeared on my dash (via @arielmagicesi) - if it wasn’t already obvious because of the universal love of scottish twitter, the use of gaelic makes it super clear that this is from the land of alba rather than éire  

PSA for the raven cycle fandom or any other fandom with irish characters or characters of irish descent - irish people call the irish language irish or, in irish, gaeilge. the word gaelic is usually used to refer to gaelic football. no one says that they speak gaelic here. 

there are gaelic languages - scots gaelic, for example, being the name of the gaelic language spoken in scotland - but, if you’re talking about irish people speaking the gaelic language of ireland, it’s called irish/gaeilge. thanks so much for tuning in. 

It's extremely rare for me to not post something because it's too bad. But this was a 4 edible situation

boomers be like "nobody had autism or ADHD when I was a kid!"

probably because back then, neurodivergent folks were dismissed as "insane" or "r-worded" and were thrown into mental asylums. and before that they were straight up just given hard drugs or lobotomies.

it's almost like as time goes on and technology/research evolves, so does our understanding of human beings and the inner workings of the mind.

WEIRD, RIGHT?

boomers be like "nobody had autism or ADHD when I was a kid!"

probably because back then, neurodivergent folks were dismissed as "insane" or "r-worded" and were thrown into mental asylums. and before that they were straight up just given hard drugs or lobotomies.

it's almost like as time goes on and technology/research evolves, so does our understanding of human beings and the inner workings of the mind.

WEIRD, RIGHT?

Monster high is the realest shit ever

I like to pretend I'm funny (and normal)

Original image:

D. E.

Headcanons A-Z

D - Director - How much do they feel the need to have control over their life? Do they spend a lot of time telling others what to do or and they more likely to be more obedient to others?

Immensely. Roman might not show it openly but not being in control of a situation can prove rather distressing for him as it reminds him of how powerless he was back when he was a child. His parents were incredibly controlling, not even allowing Roman the freedom to speak his own mind unless he said exactly what they wanted him to say. Living under the thumb of such repressive socialites who, when safe and sound behind closed doors, were such hypocrites who didn’t even believe the falsehoods they spouted, it confused and upset him so much Roman refused to be anything like them once he grew up. Unfortunately by then his parents had done their damage, dictating everything he said and did to the point that when Roman is no longer in control over his life, he does NOT take it well. Arkham is an especially difficult place for him to be for this reason, the man no longer able to find joy in something as simple as dressing however he pleases on top of being subjected to ‘treatment’ he neither wants nor believes he needs. Outside of Arkham, losing control over a situation can fluster Roman if not send him into an outright panic attack. Upon becoming one of Gotham’s Rogues, Roman spends plenty of time telling people what to do. Ordering underlings around, forcing rivals to submit to his rule, threatening his enemies - he’ll tell everyone what to do and enjoy every second of it, especially as he rises through the ranks of crime lords before reaching the top. The satisfaction of ordering politicians around and even members of the wealthy elite is so gratifying, it pleases Roman like nothing else. The only people Roman is remotely ‘obedient’ towards is either those he has to (under threat of duress) or a partner he’s particularly keen on pleasing. He’ll resent the former deeply, hating them with every fibre in his heart but the latter situation takes time before he’s comfortable doing so. Only when he’s developed enough trust in somebody else does he willingly cede control over to them.

E - Entrepreneur - How do they make money? Are they willing to take financial risks? How do they approach making deals with others?

Crime, and lots of it. Once Janus Cosmetics had been bought out by Bruce Wayne to help contend with hundreds of lawsuits resulting from the company injuring hundreds of people through hazardous chemicals, there remained very little of the grand wealth Roman had grown accustomed to enjoying. Taking what little remained, he sought to procure wealth from illegal activities instead, investing in and selling drugs on the black market before delving into the weapons industry and arms trade. Roman is decidedly more cautious about his deals since his experience of getting burned by the toxic chemicals he’d invested in during his time as a CEO but he’ll invest in anything at least once to see how it turns out, then continue conducting business should doing so turn out to be a profitable endeavour. He has few qualms about making his wealth, loaning to the desperate with punishing rates of interest he expects to be paid back, selling highly addictive drugs to anybody who has the money to purchase them and encroaching on the territory of rival groups, sweeping them into his fold before forcing them to work for him instead so he gains more control over an area and the resources within. His deals are harsh but fair since Roman knows being too oppressive to even be considered as a last resort is unlikely to bring him customers. For other criminals, few people are better at obtaining weapons as quickly and discreetly as Black Mask and Roman will gladly sell his wares to both sides, not caring about the damage done so long as he profits from the conflict.

“Dead?! What the fuck do you mean they’re dead?!?” Roman snarled, apoplectic with rage at the news he’d just received. The piles of paperwork littering his desk scattered like leaves in the wind as he slammed his fists down heavily upon solid wood, the gesture doing nothing to appease his foul mood and only fuelling it further when Horsehead’s suspicions had been proven true. Business on the streets had been sinking like a corpse in Gotham Bay for some weeks now. Naturally there were slow periods from time to time, so Roman hadn’t been overly concerned after the first week but then profits only continued to decline, with today turning up less than a few hundred measly dollars. A few hundred fucking measly dollars! His profits had never been that bad, not even when he was a fresh-faced rookie for crying out loud, so where had all his customers disappeared to? Turned out they hadn’t just disappeared, they’d been turning up dead all over the city, many of them familiar names who’d bought from him for years. Now all of a sudden they were dropping like flies in just a few weeks? It didn’t make any sense and because of that, Roman was pissed. "So what the hell happened then?? And don’t tell me, they all decided to join a doomsday cult? The crap we sell is clean so it can’t have been that killing them all!” The muscle, those slack-jawed idiots shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, not one brave soul amongst them daring to lift his gaze for fear of getting a punch to the jaw for his trouble. Even Ms. Li didn’t have a smart quip for once which didn’t make him feel any better. Rocco was merely a dog, blissly unaware and uncaring of the situation that had befallen his master and Roman envied the mutt for the briefest of moments, wishing life could only be so simple. Horsehead was the only one who seemed composed, but the rubbery white equine mask he always wore concealed any and all expressions from others. ”Word on the streets is that bad drugs have gotten into Gotham and they’re coming from your territory. No idea what they are or where they came from just yet, but it’s bad stuff. Real bad. The GCPD claim twenty victims have turned up dead this week and they’re finding more and more bodies every day. Buyers are getting nervous so they’re staying away, you know... just in case they’re next.” ”No fucking shit. This is bad for business!” Roman snapped, running a hand over his blackened scalp. Today was turning out to be an absolute disaster. Roman didn’t give a rat’s ass about some random dropheads too stupid to know not to OD themselves but he did care about his reputation and how badly profits would be hit should people believe these lies being spread about him being the one distributing whatever the fuck was killing his regulars. Ever since the fiasco that caused him to lose Janus Cosmetics, Roman always double-checked his deals and made sure he’d gotten exactly what he’d been promised. Poisoned drugs were not what he desired - the dead didn’t come back for another fix and now he was out of pocket and liable to end up in serious shit if he didn’t get a handle on this situation quickly. It was only a matter of time before the bat brigade came snooping, if they hadn’t been doing so already, and tossed his ass in Arkham. Worse still, Red Hood might believe he was responsible for these killer drugs snuffing out people all over the city and would do a hell of a lot more than just breaking his bones and dragging him back to the slammer. And Roman really didn’t feel like dealing with that asshole today. Unfortunately, Horsehead seemed to read his mind and commented further before he could say anything against it. ”Why not contact Red Hood? He can’t be worse than the Joker, plus you might find out what the hell’s going on around here.” ”Have you lost your fucking mind, Horsehead??? The last time we dealt with that asshole, he nearly blew our previous building to Kingdom Come with a goddamn ROCKET LAUNCHER!!! Or did you miss that newsflash somehow??” ”That’s because he wanted to make a good first impression. Next time we might not be so fortunate, especially if he thinks these rumors are true. Shoot first, think later and all that.” Roman gritted his teeth, seething at what he was hearing but knew he didn’t have any better suggestions. For all his issues, Red Hood didn’t target civilians so he couldn’t be the one responsible for the killer drugs either. He would not poison a bunch of random people just to make up an excuse to come after his enemies, he did so anyway regardless so there weren’t many other options avaliable and like hell was he running to the Bat.

”Fine. Send a message to Red Hood, tell that prick we need to talk. Where and when, I don’t give a damn - somebody’s trying to set up shop or cause trouble between us, one or both and I ain’t interesting in taking the blame for this mess.” The muscle, who had been watching this exchange nearly breathed out a collective sigh of relief as Roman signalled for them to go, clearly wanting to formulate a plan with Horsehead in private. They did so quickly, coming up with the idea that the equine-masked man would instruct a new underling, one of the most harmless members they had on hand to get the vigilante’s attention and let him know Black Mask needed to discuss a delicate matter at a time and place of his choosing, preferably sooner than later. Roman sighed once Horsehead also left, collapsing back in his seat and pouring himself a shot of whiskey which he downed fiercely. What a way to start the week. At least he’d caught wind of this situation early, and would soon root out the little rat bastard who’d poisoned half his regulars and scared off the rest. Horsehead’s words rang in his mind, that Red Hood couldn’t be worse than the Joker. Roman had a hard time believing it but what options did he have at this point? He had to make his move before anybody else did and stop this from getting any worse than it already had. @jp-todd-rp​

Just witnessed a drug deal for the first time at work today #slay

I'm obsessed with this tweet

Can I request a sketch of a cute little guy ?? Preferably a dumb silly little cat. Give him a blunt, let him join the circle.

this ask inspired me deeply