Tw Drug Mention - Tumblr Posts
No that’s OD! I think OP is a physician who specializes in childbirth!
What the fuck does op mean is it over powered bc fuck yea I’m over powered have u seen my muscles
tw human experimentation
oooo boy do I love art, such a fun subject, looking up human experimentation for a silly lil sculpture and discovering the covered up experiments performed by the CIA in Canada on non-consenting/kidnapped children, trying to "cure" autism/schizophrenia by electroshocking and drug abuse :D
oo oo oo also the mind control ones are reeeaaally fun (im being so fucking sarcastic right now)
wow, America amirite :D
New rodent OC!!
(Just in case you can’t read the text in the image)
Dice
(Andrew Bennet)
Male, He/Him
Mouse
27 years old
Drug user/dealer
Nihilist
True Neutral
No friends/family
Physical Appearance:
Very mangy, sunken eyes, dilated pupils, yellowed teeth, reddish nose, bone-colored fur with dark tan spots
As I said, only post for November. See yall in December.
!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE DESCRIPTION OF THE VIDEO ON YT!!!
There was a fucking meme in my dream I don't remember what it said but it was an Image of a printer with some caption(in the font most memes use) and there was an explanation for it in the comments that whatever the caption was was slang for being out of drvgs and the image of a printer was there because they're always low on ink
I've had people in the past that would say I would get more autistic, or " get super autism" when I was drunk or high.
I'm only realizing now that I don't get more autistic when I'm under the influence, I'm just not masking. I stim, my voice is different, my sense of touch is different, so I feel around for textures and leading me to stim more.
I've been masking for so long that I can't turn it off, so I hope I can't find a way to freely be me when I'm sober.
entranced by videos of fireworks while i'm high & i want to live inside them,, ﾟ.+(〃ﾉ-ω-)ﾟﾉ.+°
3, 29, 43 (i chose these at random i apologize if these are too personal lol)
3. Ever done any drugs?
if you count pretending pollen is cocaine in science and sniffing it then yeah
29. What’s the most overrated movie?
frozen 2
43. What’s your guilty pleasure?
drawing under the desk at school
be nosy!
highlights - aspen
pairing: aspen x reader
warnings: swearing, illegal drugs mention, sex toy mention
fandom: tumblr weirdos (yes we’re a fandom)
summary: reader x aspen, the relationship highlights (kind of social media au)
taglist
masterlist
yes i wrote something-
taglist kinda thing: @slut4drvc0
This mf went and got the crown Prince of Briar Valley high while making omelets wtf is wrong with them
What parents think teenagers will pressure each other to do: drugs
What teenagers actually pressure each other to do: biting into an orange like it's an apple
Oh, so weed is legal in the Netherlands but my government health insurance won't pay for methylphenidate, which is like the most common adhd medication
Here some whump. its been drifting in my google docs for a while, but here
its part of a larger series but won't be on tumblr
---
I lay on my back, reading the book Doctor Harland had just given me. I liked it thus far.
He kneeled next to me, petting my stomach while he hooked me up to some kind of machine. I dropped the book, remembering the page number, and I found myself unable to move.
“It’ll be over in a minute,” he whispered. I didn’t respond as my brain went foggy and I closed my eyes.
He bashed me in the side of the face, and my eyes flew open.
I stared at him, and he said, “Begin test number G-1-7-8-8,”
My muscles tensed and I went numb as something inserted itself in both sides of my neck and my muscles spasmed and I thrashed abou-
—
I came to with my muscles stiff.
“Test failed,” Doctor Harland remarked. “We need to deal with the epilepsy,”
He fastened an oxygen mask over my face and put an IV in my skin.
“We’ll feed you tonight, ‘kay? Just sleep off th-,”
Darkness.
—
I opened my eyes in my bed, and Doctor Harland entered a few minutes later.
“Sit up,” he ordered. I obeyed, and he handed me my book again.
“I’ll get you a treat for sitting quietly and letting us test our new device on you,”
I didn’t respond, immersed in the book’s world. It was about a girl who discovered she was the daughter of King Oberon from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Doctor Harland said he would get me the rest of the series after giving me a modern translation of the play so I could better understand it.
He held out something that smelled sweet and I took it, then ate it, my tail wagging happily.
He pet my head and I purred.
“One-two-seven-three, any strange feelings?” He asked.
“No,” I chirped.
“Good. Good. Nausea? Tiredness? Breathing normally?”
He checked my heart rate and breathing for any abnormalities.
“Normal. Okay. Darling little test subject, we’re going to try and treat the illness that made this test fail. We’re going to cure it,”
“What illness?” I asked.
“You- have a reaction to certain things, and it causes you to stop existing for a minute, meaning we can’t do certain tests. We try to treat it and you don’t respond to medications, so we need to cut it out,”
I felt something cold on my wrist and whimpered, “No, not again, don’t look at my brain- please!”
“What? No. The procedure requires you to be awake or you’ll die, we’ve already tested it, and it’s painful. We’d give you painkillers, but that’s unsafe until after,”
I shuddered and hissed when he brought his hand to my tail. I tried to bite him as he tied it under the bed and shackled my other three wrists and my ankles to the bed.
“Please! NO!”
“It’ll all be over soon,”
He called for Doctor Fletcher and Doctor Amatris. Doctor Amatris held my chest down and Doctor Fletcher attached electrodes to my skull, and I felt like I exploded a few minutes later. I shrieked and thrashed around, when I heard something snap.
“Oh shit!” Doctor Amatris shouted.
I felt the pain dull a bit, and Doctor Harland whispered, “Its over, you’re going to have morphine tablets now,”
“Okay,” I mumbled before changing form to my more human self and laying back, my forehead caked with sweat. They undid the shackles, and Doctor Amatris took my hand in hers and the trio set my leg in a splint.
I cried out and whimpered, “Hurts,” when Doctor Fletcher shoved a capsule into my mouth and held my lips shut until I swallowed, then gave me water.
I rolled to my side and shivered, still in deep pain. I started crying and Doctor Harland sat me up and started hand feeding me between each sob. It was cold, barely seasoned chicken, like always.
When I was done, I dove under the bed, where it was calmest, no one trying to talk to me, even though it was dark.
“One-two-seven-three, don’t be like that,” Doctor Fletcher said. “Do you want to undo all the progress in training out that habit?”
I hissed at him and swatted at his ankles, then curled into a ball and continued crying into my fur.
Doctor Amatris kneeled in front of me and held out her hand. I didn’t take it. She very gently petted the fluff on my neck, and I continued sobbing, though it made me feel a bit better.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “The pain’s over now,”
She very slowly pulled me out, as though acclimating a fish from one tank to another. At one point I had a couple fish and a snail, and in a rage, Doctor Harland smashed the tank, killing all three of them. I cried for weeks after that, as at that point, I’d been taking care of them for four years.
“There, how do you feel?”
“Hurts,” I croaked, my voice raw. It felt like the color red to speak.
She lifted me and set me back on the bed, tucked me in like a mother would her child, and kissed me on where my forehead would be, and when she left, Doctor Harland inserted an IV into my skin. She wasn’t allowed to see it, for some reason, I wasn’t even sure if she knew.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
—
What was supposed to be a dreamless sleep became a nightmare, one where I was playing with a child, and we were about the same height. It was all flashing lights and pain and fear when someone grabbed me, and-
I woke up, screaming for someone whose name I didn’t remember. The IV had broken.
I took off my oxygen mask and sobbed in the dark. Normally Doctor Harland stayed to make sure I felt safe at night, it was too dark for me. I wished I had control of my lights, but past lights-out, they couldn’t be turned on unless Doctor Harland or someone else swiped a keycard.
I heard rapid footsteps, and a woman in a dark blue uniform with a thick black stick and a big spiky club opened the door, then said into a strange black box, “False alarm. One of them woke up, over,”
A garbled voice came from the box, “How?”
“Its IV looks broken,”
“Which one?”
She stepped back and looked at the sign that said my room number with a beam of light that came from a black stick.
I ran over and took the lightstick after a bit of back and forth, then clicked the button on and off as she said, “It just took my flashlight,”
I called, “Room 5-6-6 B!” and went back to playing with the ‘flashlight’, then grabbed my book and started reading with the concentrated beam of light.
The woman repeated the room number I gave her and said, “I’m gonna need back-up to get it back into bed, its strong,”
I got under my bed and continued reading, until someone else in a dark blue uniform grabbed me and bashed me with a spike on their club. I dropped the ‘flashlight’ and-
-
I came to with my upper wrists shackled to my bed’s headboard and my entire body numb.
“Okay, so, two hundred million watts can cause seizures. Duly noted,” the one who’d hit me with the spike muttered.
“Seizure? Watt?” I parroted, trying to get feeling back in my tongue. “Why’d you do that?”
“Holy shit it talks,” the woman said.
“Yes I talk, why wouldn’t I talk? Also, I’m not an it, I’m- I’m a girl,”
“Someone get one of the night shift doctors,” the woman ordered. Another person left the room.
“It’s dark!” I complained.
The woman groaned and said, “Deal with it, how old are you, seven, eight?”
“Thirteen, fourteen in four months and two days,”
“How are you that old? Why haven’t you committed suicide yet?” the man asked.
“Suicide?” I’d parroted. I knew what it met at a base level, but in books they always said it in association with a stupid battle plan.
“You know, killing yo-”
“I know what it means, I just thought it only went with wars?”
“What?”
“In books,” I chirped. I motioned to one that said it, then said the page number.
“Oh-kaaay, you can read,”
“Isn’t that normal? Well except illiteracy rates in fantasy places, but isn’t it normal now?”
The man who’d left returned with Doctor Amatris.
“One-two-seven-three, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I had a nightmare,” I replied.
“Come here,”
“I can’t,”
She took a key from one of the security guards and unlocked my manacles, then lifted me into her arms, though it was much more awkward than when I was little, considering I was about as big as her now.
I laid my chin on her shoulder, and she carried me away, off to another room, this one with more light.
“We oughta get you a nightlight,”
“Nightlight?” I parroted. “What’s that?”
“Its a little light that plugs into a wall and makes the room brighter,”
She unhooked a little square that glowed blue until it exited the wall, “Normally they come in fun shapes, but until I go shopping tomorrow, we can use this one. I’ll get a bunch of them and let you pick them out, okay?”
“Okay,” I chirped.
She carried me back to my room and lay me on my bed, and I grabbed her arm and whimpered, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,”
“I have to go back to work,”
“I’m scared,” I whimpered.
She turned back around and fastened my oxygen mask on my mouth and nose.
“You’ll be fine. And if you wake up again, I’ll come back and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep again. Now close your eyes, goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,”
“What’s a bed bug?”
“You don’t want to know,”
She shuddered and tucked me in, then kneeled next to me and rubbed my forehead to calm me. But sleep would be a long time coming. I didn’t fall asleep until all the lights turned back on.
Doe Eyes
A bat pony
Looks high all the time
Talent is putting people to sleep
They/them
He just like me fr
bumblebee: What if I lied this whole time and I'm actually 18?
Ratchet: Bee, stop trying to get drugs. Bumblebee: Don't suppress my interests.
Ratchet: *deep breath* OPTIMUSSSSSS
Concept sketches for Jørgen. Tw: there's sorta a dead guy but... yknow
Here he is in his signature sunglasses. I always loved Layne Staleys round sunglasses so I felt Jørgen would look good in em. So yeah. He wears round sunglasses.
Jørgen with eyebrows REAL
Some concept sketches of him being not himself at all lol. What he did altered him completely and his addictions worsen for a while. Contrary to many of his inspirations in music, he carries regret for what he did. Which leads to worsened heroin usage, self destructive behaviors, bad trips, and more suicidal thoughts than is considered normal for him. He tries to quit a few times but falls right back into it, and he eventually just... goes around looking like a living corpse. Then he has his... uh... failed attempt and is practically faced with a hard decision of whether to keep his substances or keep his family. So, naturally, he chooses his band and Norman. He's a real one.
hip to be square.
MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.
“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.
Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.
You're engaged to him.
In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.
Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."
Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.