#How Does Drug Detox Work

[di-writes-stuff]

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

[oneforthemunny]

YAY MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS GAME!!!

Rockstar!eddie, rehab, angst (because I have been think of this concept all day)

starting the day off strong with some angst! tw bc it does mention drug abuse and some darker kinda themes.

"Eddie Munson," Eddie looked up from the guitar he'd been strumming towards the nurse- no, the holistic helper at the door. They didn't use words like that here, not at this rehab.

"You have a visitor here." She nodded, giving a soft smile.

Eddie set the guitar down, tucking the pick back between the strings, following the woman down the long hallway of the center. The music room was where he spent most of his time these days. He'd tried hiking and the spa once he'd finished detox, but always came back there- his own oasis in his own personal hell.

"We're going to go back to your room for this meeting, if that's alright with you, Eddie." The nurse smiled gently.

"Fine with me." Eddie grumbled, his shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each passing step.

Ninety days, it's what he agreed to. He felt better after twenty, but he'd finish it out- for you, for your girls, his family that he'd fucked selfishly. His stomach turned at the thought.

"And, there's no limit on this visit today." The nurse stopped before she opened the door. "So no need to feel pressured to rush."

Eddie's brows furrowed. It was Gareth, maybe Jeff, he knew it was. They were the only ones who came to visit him anyways. Still, he grumbled in response, turning the knob to his room. It was nice, a private suite that felt more like a hotel room than the prison cell it'd become.

"Hey, man, didn't know you were coming by today. I've been working on some stuf-" Eddie's breath hitched, falling flat in the air when he turned.

It felt nearly like a mirage, like he might have been dreaming, hallucinating that you were here. Here, on his bed, sitting too rigidly to be comfortable, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Working on stuff?" You hummed, eyes barely meeting his and he didn't miss the way you swallowed. "What kind of stuff?"

"Y-You're here?" Eddie croaked, shutting the door with a harsh snap. "Wha-What are you doin' here, baby?" Every bit of his being screamed to hug you, hands tingling and twitching- itching to feel you, to hold you.

You shifted uncomfortably, finger running over your ring finger out of habit. Eddie nearly threw up when he saw you'd gone without your ring, he wondered how long ago you'd stopped wearing it.

"Um, Gareth came by the other day to see the girls." Your eyes cut to Eddie at the mention of them, how his face nearly crumbled at the thought. "He told me you'd been doing much better. Told me you were scared straight."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. He was frozen, unable to move, so he stood in the doorway. "I am. I-I..." There was a million things Eddie wanted to say. He wanted to drop to his knees, beg for your forgiveness, for mercy, for anything.

"He," Your voice cracked, turning your head politely to the side to compose yourself. So prim and proper, Eddie's heart leapt at the action- he'd missed it so fucking much.

"He also brought me your letter." Your lip wobbled at the mention, pressing them tightly together to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Ten pages, front to back, with scribbling, tear soaked, inked ramblings about his feelings- poured his heart out onto those pages. Everything he'd ever wanted to say in his entire life, there on those pages, his whole bleeding heart.

"He did." Eddie sounded relieved, shoulders slumping, rounding with the weight of everything he'd kept in for so long.

You nodded slowly, watching him carefully from your own perch. "The girls made you some things." Your voice shook with your hands when you reached in your bag, piles of drawing and scribbles they'd made for Eddie.

Eddie looked at the colorful papers, just a glimpse in your hand, choking on a sob that was tearing mercilessly through his chest. "I, um, I didn't bring them today." You barely met Eddie's eyes, hand smoothing over the construction paper. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."

"No," Eddie shook his head, tears falling down his stubbled cheeks. "No, I-I don't. Thank you."

The air was thick between the two of you, an unsure uncomfortable feeling that left you both on ease. Eddie finally sobbed when your hand brushed his, passing the drawings to him.

"I'm-I'm so sorry." Eddie broke, teeth gritted, trying to swallow back his own cries, hand holding yours tightly. "I don't-I don't know why I-I fucking did that. Why I did it to you, a-and to the girls, and fuck- I don't know why-" Eddie's sobs choked his words.

You knew you shouldn't have, that you should have stood strong, colder and meaner. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but you couldn't- not when your own heart was shattering all over again. So you held him, arms wrapped around his torso, body moving towards his in that familiar way. Your puzzle piece, you two fit so well. His arms hugging you tightly, nearly crushing you into his chest like he wanted you to fuse to him. Eddie's face pressed to your head, wetting your scalp with his tears, nose rubbing into your skin babbling apologies over and over again, promises that he would keep, that you hoped he would.

[yelenasdiary]

It was like reader have a gambling problem but she hasn’t gambled for a long time so “she has it under control”. Tony invites her to a party and she kind of refuses but Tony convinces her to go and there is drugs and gambling there so she kind of relapses in both and her girlfriend hasn’t seen her the whole day because reader didn’t have time to contact her. She asks her sister(s) and they go looking for her just to find her there. Instead of being like mad they try to help her go away from the party and calm and stuff.

Now why didn’t I specify the sister and girlfriend. Because at first o think it was Wanda girlfriend and Nat and yelena the sisters. But if you want to make it yelena girlfriend and Wanda the sister it’s totally fine ☺️☺️

Relapse

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff! x Romanoff! Reader

Summary: Tony begs you to come to a party in hopes your friendly charm get help get more donations. Little does he know; it wasn’t a great idea.

Angst, Super Light Fluff

Translations from Russian & Slovak: сестра (sister), dieťa (baby), Srdiečko (sweetheart)

Warnings: Gambling, Mentions of Drinking, Mentions of drugs & drug usage | 2.2K

AC: Thank you for sending this & I hope you enjoy! x Please note, I have no idea how poker works lmao so bear with me.

Tony looked at you with begging eyes, he never begged anybody for anything, so you knew he must've really needed you to take one for the team. He was throwing another fundraiser party to help raise some money for the Stark Relief Foundation. Your girlfriend was out for the day getting some alone time like she usually does on a Saturday after a mission, Yelena was off seeing your parents, Melina & Alexei while Natasha, your biological sister, was due to come home from a mission. 

"I don't Tony, it's not really my scene" you said hoping he'd understand but how could he? You held a secret from the entire team besides your family and Wanda. It wasn't a big deal that not everybody knew but it was what worked for you. You've been clean for four years and it has been a really long, stressful and hard road to get to where you are today. 

When you escaped the Red Room, you were introduced to a whole different world. A world of hardcore drugs, alcohol and gambling. Those who you thought were your friends at the time quickly learnt that you had a natural talent for poker and used you to win big time, time and time again. In return they fed you drugs and alcohol, you didn't know any better. 

But when Natasha and Yelena finally tracked you down, they did everything in their power to help you get clean. You went to rehab, detoxed and still to this day attend meetings. You were free, once again but this time for real. Your sisters have been a huge part of helping you stay clean, same with your parents, but it's always been somewhat refreshing to have Wanda by your side too. She was there when the doors were closed and you couldn't sleep, when the urge to pick up the bottle after a mission was strong, when there was a birthday party and everybody else was drinking and Wanda stuck to drinking soda or water, so you weren't by yourself. 

She knew when things were getting too much and she was able to take you away from that, to give you a moment to breathe and remind yourself how hard you've worked to stay clean. So, when Tony was sitting before you, begging you to help raise money, you couldn't help but think of the environment you'd be in. 

"We really need this" he replied causing you to sigh, "Fine. But I'm only going for an hour" you said, setting yourself some boundaries. Surely, you'd be able to handle an hour. 

----

The first 30 minutes of the party was going smoothly, you avoided the bar and tried to ignore the smell of alcohol that floated through the room get to you. You spoke to guests while sipping on a class of orange juice, when people asked what you were drinking you lied and said OJ and vodka followed by a comment on how you weren't much of a drinker. 

Tony failed to tell you that there would be a poker table at the party. Once your eyes landed on it, your memories of all your past winnings game flooding back. Thor sat at the table drinking his Asgardian alcohol while making jokes with the other guests at the table. 

"Oh, Y/n, come join us! You seem like you have sense of good luck about you" The god called out. You smiled softly but shook your head as you walked over to the table, "I've never been good at poker" you replied with a friendly chuckle but the urge to join was becoming stronger. The chips in the middle of the table didn't help, you knew you could win big. 

"I'll teach you, take a seat!" Thor added just as Tony came up and took a seat at the table, "You in Y/n?" He looked up at you. Your heart skipped a beat, you knew you had to get out of there, but something came over you and you found yourself nodding and pulling out a seat. "Let's do this" you replied.

Before you knew it, an hour had passed by. You were winning, no doubt about that. You had taken Thor and Tony by surprise, making them more eager to try and beat you with each round. Lost in the moment, a glass of scotch had found its way into your hand. You'd worked out both Thor and Tony's poker faces which only helped you keep winning but eventually Thor pulled out giving you a pat on the shoulder, "you play a good game Y/n" he said friendly before walking away. 

Thor was soon replaced by a guest of the party, a younger gentlemen that had been watching you from afar. "I hope I'm not intruding" he smiled as he took a seat beside you, "but let's make this a little interesting" he added before throwing a small bag of coke into the middle of the table. 

"Oh, there's no need for that" Tony replied.

"No, no, let him play. If that's what he wants to bet, I'm sure that's all he's got" you looked up at Tony before shifting your eyes to the gentlemen beside you with a smug smirk on your lips. 

----

Yelena just got back to the compound to find a room full of strangers, music playing softly under all the chatter from the guest, she sighed and went upstairs to your room to see if you were around. "Yelena! You're back" Wanda greeted her with a warm smile, "I was just about to join the party, are you coming down?" she asked.

"Nooo, parties are not my place" Yelena replied with a light chuckle, "have you seen Y/n?" She asked. 

"No, I'd assume they went for a walk or something given Tony's party which I will be speaking to him about that" Wanda replied with a lightly unimpressed tone.

"Oh good, you're both here" Nat stormed down the hall making Yelena and Wanda turn around, "we have a little problem" Natasha added still in her widow suit. Wanda tilted her head while Yelena frowned with concern. "I'm going to fucking kill Tony" Nat commented before she turned around and started heading towards the party, followed my Yelena and Wanda.

The three stood from afar as they saw you sitting at the poker table, sipping on your drink and laughing along with Tony's terrible joke. By now it's been 4 hours since you entered the party, you'd been up and down talking to people, playing poker and doing a line of coke from your winnings. 

Natasha glared harshly at Tony until he looked up and noticed, "he's so dead!" Yelena added. Tony looked at you, "do you know what that's all about?" He asked, shifting his eyes back to your girlfriend and sisters standing by the door. You looked over your shoulder, "fuck" you mumbled to yourself as they began to walk over to you. 

"Y/n, let's go" Yelena spoke, Natasha b-lining straight for Tony. 

"You, get up now!" She spoke sternly. "What did I do?" Tony asked, standing up from the poker table as Natasha harshly grabbed his arm and walked him out of the party. Wanda picked up your glass and gave it a light sniff, confirming that it was what she dreaded. 

"Y/n, look at me" she spoke softly. You looked at her with a slight eye-roll. Wanda looked up at Yelena, "go get some water and meet us back in our room" she said. Yelena nodded and walked over to the bar, leaving you to answer to your girlfriend. 

"Wands, it's fine! I'm fine, it was just a little bit of fun" you explained hoping she wouldn't be disappointed. "It's not about that sweetheart, I need you to come upstairs with me, the party is over, okay?" she replied in her soft tone. She wasn't trying to pick a fight, not when she didn't know the whole story. You sighed heavily as you stood up from the poker table and followed Wanda out of the room. 

----

"I spoke to Tony, he said if he had of known they were clean, he would never have begged them to help with the party" Natasha said after entering your shared room with Wanda. 

"I mean, he has a point" Yelena replied, "maybe we do tell the others" She added. 

Natasha shook her head, "Y/n doesn't want that" 

"And look what happened" Wanda turned to Nat, "Y/n said that they said no but Tony begged and for the first 30 minutes or so, they did really well but it was Thor who pulled them towards the poker game. None of this would've happened if we were here, or better yet, if they knew what could've happened" she added just as you came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. 

"Don't do that" you said, "don't fight over my mistake. I was weak, I didn't listen to myself. I caved and now I have to start all over again, this is on me" you added looking between the three. 

"сестра, this isn't your fault" Nat replied, "there's a meeting in about half an hour, get dressed and I'll take you" she added. 

You sighed, "seriously? I don't need a meeting right now; I'll go to one in the morning" 

"The sooner we get you to a meeting, the sooner we get you back on track" 

"dieťa, Nat's right. You need to go to a meeting, I'll come too" Wanda chipped in as Natasha kept her eyes on you, "where is it?" she asked. 

"Where's what?" You asked with an irritated tone. 

"You know exactly what, where is it?" 

You rolled your eyes, "I flushed it" you replied, lying but your sister didn't buy it for a second and walked right into the bathroom. "Alright!" You sighed once more, "I'll go to a fucking meeting" you added. 

Wanda hated seeing you so worked up, she knew it was the relapse and you'd be thankful for this in the long run, but she couldn't help but feel worried for you. Yelena kept her distance in the moment, whenever you got worked up like this, Nat was always the one who was able to put you back in your place. 

"Yeah, you will be going to a meeting" Nat came out of the bathroom shaking her head, throwing the small now empty bag on the dresser. 

While Natasha took you to the city for a meeting, Wanda stayed back with Yelena. Nat suggested it might not be the best idea to have all three of them hovering over you and Wanda could hear the fearing thoughts that Yelena was having. 

"They'll be okay" Wanda said in comfort, "it's just a hiccup" she added.

"They were sober for so long and what? In less than an hour it's all ruined? You saw that bag; they're going to a meeting high right now" Yelena replied. 

"I know, but we have to give them some credit here, per pressure is a lot especially when they didn't know Y/n's past. If we were there, they would've been okay"

"But we weren't and now we have to watch them go through all this again" Yelena snapped, leaving the room to get some fresh air. 

----

Two days later and it was the late afternoon when you got out of bed, woken by your sister to get ready for your meeting with your sponsor. Your mind was slightly foggy as your body was getting rid of the drug in your system and you felt horrible for the relapse. 

"Hey, I made you a smoothie for your drive" Wanda smiled as you met Nat in the compound's kitchen. You smiled softly at her as you took the smoothie from her hand, "thank you baby" you replied. 

"You're ready?" Nat asked, you nodded, "Yeah, I'll meet you at the car? I just need to get my jacket" you said before taking a sip of your smoothie. "Don't be too long" Nat teased as she walked out of the room, you went to follow her but were stopped by Wanda's grip on your arm. "Srdiečko, are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her eyes full of worry. Your eyes dropped, "I let you down, I let Nat and Yelena down, I let myself down…I thought I was stronger" you replied. 

Wanda gently cupped your face, lifting your head up to look at her. She stroked your cheeks with her thumbs in a comforting way, "You are strong, stronger than you think. This is just a little bump in the road, okay? You're doing all the right things to get back to where you were, you're not the same person you were when you first started to get clean, you're stronger this time. I believe in you, we all do. We are going to get through this" she spoke in a warm, comforting tone. "I love you" she added before kissing you softly. 

"I love you too and I promise, I won't let this happen again" you said as she pulled away, still cupping your face. "How about tonight I cook your favourite and we have a picnic under the stars?" The woman offered, you smiled softly, "I'd love that" you said before kissing her once more.

"You better get going, don't want you to miss that meeting with your sponsor" Wanda smiled.

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[steddie-island]

Wiggly worm Wednesday🪱🖋️

I was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson

There are brain worms today but they're pretty angsty ones-- with a happy ending, because I can't let something just be angsty!

CW for recreational drug use, talk about addiction, mention of canon character death, PTSD

This is another long one, these get away from me somehow.

No pressure tagging @runninriot @stervrucht @rozzieroos and anyone else who wants to do this. 😌

I keep listening to My Fault by Shaboozey and seeing Eddie, rolling in the fame and glory he fought so hard for. He wonders why that doesn't fix him, wonders why he still has dreams about Chrissy Cunningham dying in front of him, why he still wakes up in a cold sweat with a mob hot on his heels.

Even having the love of his fucking life there doesn't make it all better, doesn't make it go away. Besides, Steve has his own shit, his own nightmares, his own trauma he's still trying to work through. Eddie refuses to be a burden.

So he turns to booze, and to drugs. He parties harder and harder, until he passes out hard enough that he doesn't dream (at least, he doesn't remember dreaming).

Steve knows something's changed. He's not an idiot, he's lived with Eddie for a few years now. He's seen enough rock stars on a downward trajectory, has had a few who crashed on their couch. Eddie's going down and he's going down hard, and Steve is fucking terrified.

He talks to Eddie, who insists he doesn't have a problem, he's fine, Steve's just being a worrier the way he always is. Eddie finally promises to slow down when Steve breaks down in front of him and literally begs.

And it's a promise Eddie means to keep, only slowing down means the dreams come back harder, stronger. So he doesn't slow down for long.

Steve tries to stick around and help him, but he can't handle seeing the way Eddie starts to look like a hollow shell of himself. He's still a livewire on-stage, but there's something more manic to it. The rest of the band notices it, too. Eddie tells them all to get off his dick when they try to have the same talk that Steve had with him.

Finally there's a breaking point. They're at an aftershow party. Someone flirts with Steve (something they're both used to because, fucking duh, Steve's hot). Only this time Eddie snaps, and he ends up breaking this poor asshole's nose, getting his own ass kicked a little, and he leaves in cuffs.

Steve leaves that night. Calls up Robin, who knows how worried he's been, and she and Vicki come help him pack his bags and come back to their little apartment to stay for a while.

Eddie's mugshot is all over the tabloids, followed by news of Corroded Coffin cutting their tour short, taking a break.

Then Eddie disappears from the public. It was one thing for the band to be as pissed as they were, but coming home to an empty apartment (not empty empty, but empty of the only thing he really gave a damn about besides Warlock) almost did him in.

So Eddie, for the first time since he left Hawkins, goes home to his uncle Wayne. Wayne helps him detox. And it's fucking hard. Eddie wants to give up, almost does a few times. Wayne catches him leaned over the bathroom counter and doesn't stop him, just says he hopes the hit is worth losing Steve forever.

Eddie hates him for a few days, but when the worst of it is finally over and Wayne brings him hot chocolate in a chipped Garfield mug, he instantly melts.

That isn't the end of it, though. There are meetings to go to. Apologies have to be made, and not just to the band and Steve. Eddie makes his way down the list, saving the most important person for last.

Finally he does show up at Steve's (Robin's) door, though. He thought about showing up with flowers and candy and the notebook full of songs he's written to try to show Steve just how sorry he is. He doesn't do any of that, he just apologizes. Asks Steve out for coffee.

They get to sit and talk, and it's like old times again. Steve's still cautious, but he has the man he fell in love with in front of him again. When Eddie drops him off at Robin's again it's with a kiss so gentle, so tender, it nearly makes Steve cry.

He moves back in a week later.

divider credit

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Deadly Proposal: Part Four

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drug use, drug angst

Summary: Amber is detoxing which is dangerous for everyone. To make matters worse, Dean asks one of his friends to babysit you. You've been marked by Dean for all vampires to know but that doesn't stop Amara from wanting a tiny taste of your blood.

Deadly Proposal Masterlist

Square Filled: clothes sharing (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The sound of yelling is what wakes you up. It sounds like your sister so you jump out of bed in fear that she is fighting with Dean. You throw on the first thing you see--Dean’s shirt--and rush downstairs to the kitchen. Amber is fighting the chef like she wants to cook something.

“Amber, stop! What are you doing?” you ask and pull your sister from the chef.

“She won’t let me cook anything!”

“Don’t worry about it. She will cook whatever you want to eat. Sit down.” She does. “I’m sorry.” The chef huffs out in anger before preparing breakfast. Amber rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nailbeds. “You need to calm down, okay? This isn’t home. You can’t boss everyone around when you’re detoxing.”

“Don’t act like you care about me,” she snaps. “You only got me because you had to.”

A surge of anger runs through your veins.

“No, I didn’t have to do shit for you. I could have left you there to fend for yourself. Mom and Dad tried to convince me not to go but I did. I’ve always been the one who was there for you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she sighs sadly.

“Stop yelling at people who just want to help you. Chef Sonja works and lives here, okay?”

Amber’s attitude immediately changes when she hears your words. You can’t keep up with her sometimes. She gives you whiplash with how fast she changes her attitude.

“So, you got yourself a private chef, huh?” she smirks.

“She’s not mine. She’s Dean’s chef.”

“Tell me about this Dean.”

She gets up and searches through the fridge for something to drink. She pulls out a half-drunk vodka bottle. You hate she’s grabbing alcohol but you learned quite early never to tell Amber not to do something.

“I met him at a motel on the way to get you. He was at the bar.”

This is technically true but you decide to keep out the vampire part. She wouldn’t understand, and it would only complicate things.

“So, you’ve only known him a few weeks? You sound more like me.” Hate and disgust fill your chest. You don’t comment on it because you don’t want to upset her. You’ll never be like her and she knows it. “Have you fucked him?”

“Amber!”

“What? It’s a valid question.”

You give Sonja a side glance but her back is turned to you as she cooks. That doesn’t mean she’s listening in, though.

“No, we haven’t,” you grit out.

“Why not? I would have,” she shrugs. “Maybe I might.”

“No, you won’t. Leave him alone.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Amber. Leave him alone.”

“Okay, Mom,” she rolls her eyes.

You sit with her at the kitchen counter and fiddle with your fingers nervously.

“Listen, Dean only gave you a week to be here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow. My boyfriend is going to pick me up.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He’s real classy. He’s got his own car and everything,” she grins.

You honestly don’t know what to say to that. You’re trying really hard not to cry for her right now. She’s your older sister and her life is so sad.

“Who is he?” you ask after a pause.

“Dustin. I met him in jail as he was getting out.”

“What was he in jail for?”

“Drug possession,” she shrugs. She sees the disappointment on your face and waves you off. “He was falsely convicted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Sonja plates the food and gives it to Amber who immediately digs into it. She offers you a plate but you politely decline. You leave Amber in the kitchen by herself while you think about her words. Are you really going to let her go off with this man she doesn’t know who may or may not have drugs? Yes, you are. She is not your problem. She made her bed, now she has to lie in it. It’s hard seeing someone you love go through something like this.

You’re not looking where you’re going and run into Dean in the main hallway. His hands grab your shoulders to keep you steady so you don’t fall on your ass. You turn your head away so he doesn’t see the blush on your cheeks but you think he knows.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I have to leave for the day but one of my friends is coming to babysit.”

“Are you serious?”

“Maybe if it was just you, I wouldn’t need her but I don’t trust Amber..”

“Her?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Is that a problem?”

“Is she… like you?”

“Yes.” He must see the panic on your face because he immediately eases your concerns. “Don’t worry, I trust her. She won’t hurt you or your sister.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

Dean leaves once his friend comes over, and you’re floored at how beautiful she is. Amara is her name. She walks with purpose and in red-bottom heels. She looks at you with disdain and discontentment.

“He owes me for babysitting a couple of humans,” she rolls her eyes.

This is your chance. This is your chance to get to know Dean since he refuses to answer your questions. This is how you’re going to get to know him. Amara walks into the living room and sits on the sofa with her legs propped up. You follow behind her and stand awkwardly in the doorway.

“Either come in or leave but don’t stand there.”

“Sorry,” you mutter and step inside. “I just… Dean won’t answer my questions. Maybe you can?”

“What do you want to know?”

You sit next to her on the couch and hold your hands close to your body to try and hide how nervous you are.

“I want to know more about him. Does he have any family? If so, where are they? How old is he? How did he become a vampire? What does he do for work?”

“Slow down there,” Amara chuckles.

“Does he have any family?”

“He did once. He doesn’t anymore.”

What does that mean? With the way Amara is looking at you, you know she won’t deliver any more information than that.

“How old is he?”

“Old.”

“How did he become a vampire?”

“Someone turned him.”

“What does he do for work?”

“I don’t think he’d like it if I told you,” she chuckles.

“Are you going to tell me anything?”

“Nope.”

You huff out in annoyance and leave the living room. Instead of entertaining your sister or being Amara’s puppet, you decide to go outside and cut some flowers to make a beautiful bouquet. Dean’s house lacks severe color, and this will give rooms some life. After grabbing shears from the shed, you go outside and start cutting them off their stems. After about an hour of gathering a bunch of flowers, you head back inside the kitchen to cut off the thorns.

You set the flowers down on the kitchen island and pull the trashcan toward you. You’re careful not to prick yourself with the thorns until you’re not. You grab a long-stemmed rose and move too quickly where one of the thorns rip into your hand. You curse and drop the rose onto the counter before assessing your bleeding hand.

Amara has been reading the magazines Dean keeps around when a sweet substance fills her nose. She drops the magazine just as her fangs come out. This isn’t like normal blood. This is something… different. She’s never smelled this kind of blood before, and she’s been around a long time. She knows what all kinds of blood smells like. Dean says not to touch you or your sister but lets the bloodlust take over her logical thinking.

You wash your hands to clean the blood off your hands when Amara rushes into the kitchen with her vampire speed. She pins you to the wall causing you to yelp out in surprise.

“Amara, wha--”

“What is that delicious smell?” She leans in and runs the tip of her nose along your pulse point which is throbbing like crazy. Her nose touches the marks Dean left behind and she growls. You’ve been marked by another vampire. That other vampire being one of her good friends. “You have special blood. I’ve never smelled this before. I just want one tiny sip.”

“Get off me!” you yell.

Amber hears your distress signals and comes rushing into the kitchen. She grabs Amara’s dress and yanks her off you in one swift motion.

“Get the fuck off her!”

Amara looks at Amber with deadly red eyes, and you quickly step in between them so she doesn’t hurt her.

“Back off, Amara, before Dean hears about this.”

She looks down at your bleeding finger with a glare before stalking off.

“What the fuck just happened?” Amber asks.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? She was about to attack you! Something weird is going on here.” She looks around the kitchen in thought. “Why would you be with a man you just met, and are now living with him?”

“Please, just drop it, Amber.”

You put your bloody finger in your mouth and lick the blood off before wiping your finger on your jeans. You grab the flowers you already cut and fix them into two bouquets.

“No, this isn’t like you. You’re the good girl. You once refused to move in with Jeremy even though you two had been dating for an entire year. You said you didn’t want to ruin anything. Now, you’re living with a man you met a few weeks ago?”

“Amber, drop it. I’m serious.” She doesn’t. She keeps rambling about how this is so out of character for you and if she continues, she’s going to figure out that Dean isn’t human. “Amber! My God! Stay out of my fucking business! You don’t know anything about this, and you’re just getting in the way!”

Her entire face drops at your words. You hate it but you can’t let her know about the supernatural. Her face hardens into something cold a minute later.

“You want me gone? Fine. I’m gone.”

She storms out of the kitchen and you sigh sadly. This is all becoming too much and it’s all Dean’s fault. If he hadn’t left Amara in charge, none of this would have ever happened. When Dean comes back later that night, you push him angrily into the wall behind him.

“What the fuck?”

“Tell your so-called ‘friend’ to keep her fucking hands to herself.”

“What happened?”

“She almost bit me, that’s what happened!”

Dean growls angrily and storms into the living room where Amara has been since she left you alone. He slams the door behind him, letting you know that he wants to talk to her in private. You can hear him yelling at her but you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying. Eventually, she leaves the room and heads to the front door. She notices you lingering about and gives you a smirk.

“See you later, Little Flower.”

Dean leaves the living room but you’re far from done with this conversation.

“What did you tell her?”

“None of your business.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Dean pauses by the stairs and chuckles.

“What if she is? What’s it to you?” You open your mouth to answer but Dean immediately cuts you off. “Don’t forget that I’m not your boyfriend. You’re here for one purpose and one purpose only. I want your blood, nothing more.”

Dean leaves you standing in the hallway with a frown on your face. It’s true. You’re only here to give him your blood but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You’re falling for him fast with no chance of slowing down.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[stevesnightmares]

I have to be honest and say that I personally very dislike the way Nora handles addiction in her books just because, to me, it always just feels a little too flimsy and not researched at all.

The most difficult part of being an addict isn't simply being able to go through the detox process, that's hard in itself of course and can be very painful and mentally straining, but the hardest part of being an addict is that you'll always be an addict. Being clean doesn't mean that you are not an addict anymore.

Aaron is an addict, one that got clean very recently at that, and yet they bring him to bars, the make him drink alchol, they make him thake cracker dust. Not only is Aaron not clean and sober but he's also in an extremely tempting environment that would make it so easy for him to start using other drugs again.

To me, it just looks like it was written by someone that has no idea of what being an addict is, of how much being an addict takes from you, how much being an addict is who you are. You could be 50 with 3 children and a wife, 35 years clean with a perfect job and still you might one morning wake up and run a to an NA or AA meeting because the sink broke, your child wouldn't stop crying and your wife is upset with you and you need to take a hit or your veins will explode. And yet Aaron, olny sober for around 3 years, gets drunk and even gets high every weekend. That's a sure recipe for relapse.

I know everyone deals with their sobriety differently, I know there are people, for example, who are California sober (no alcohol, no drugs, yes marijuan or some other drugs). We could debate about our thoughts on the topic if you see it differently but to me it seems like being californiana sober is just a first step towards the right direction, it's a way to reduce the dangers and the most prominent side effect of being an addict without actually having to abstain from drugs. We all take different paths in a life, there is not just one way to do something and everyone must do what it's right for them and what works for them, so if cali sober works for u that'sgreat. But being californiano sober (which is not even what Aaron is doing cause he does consume alchol very regularly) could easly lead him to becoming an alcoholic or make him addicted to craker dust because when you substitute one substantial for another is very very easy to just get addicted to the new one.

Again, I know everyone deals with sobriety differently, but I just feel like Aaron sobriety is just very badly handled and most importantly not very well thought out, probably because he's just a side character so maybe there wasn't really much thought put into it.

[toycarousel]

Hiiiiiii! I don't know how to title this, so I'm just going to get into it. I know I've talked about going through University and how that's kept me from doing any voice work for the past couple years (and that's true, but I mean... I've been in University for a long time now, and I wanted to get into the reasons for that).

I've mentioned this before on this account, but I've been struggling with borderline personality disorder (BPD), social phobia, PTSD, constant nightmares, and related hard drug and alcohol addictions since around 2014. Sometimes things got better, oftentimes they got worse. I quit cocaine in 2016 and crystal meth in early-mid 2017, but never quite kicked alcohol (the worst one imo, because it's dangerous to quit it cold turkey -- that one can kill you).

So I'm writing this from a detox centre right now, pumped full of valium and clonidine so I don't die from liquor withdrawal seizures or sudden cardiac death.

Everyone here complains about it (and the food does totally suck lmao), but the centre is actually pretty great! At least compared to the first one I went to in Alberta back in 2016, and I'm only here for a week. Detox is different from rehab -- it's basically a short term medical thing where they have nurses and doctors on staff to make sure alcohol withdrawals don't kill you. I've had several related seizures in the past, and every time you have one of those, your risk of having another rises, so I'm at high risk and they're monitoring me carefully.

So yeah, that's why I haven't been around much. Going through a lot. I'll get more into the reasons for it all sometime, as well as the follow-up steps I'll be taking for mental health and addiction maintenance.

Also, during my more stable/good days, I will be getting back into voice acting. It's one of my favourite art forms and it means a lot to me! I miss that part of myself and getting to share it with people!

***EDIT: Oh, yeah, and in the meantime, I've been spending more time on my personal blog manicpixiedreamtwink.

(There isn't any voice work over there, it's kind of just a personal update/aesthetic/meme/poetry/art inspiration sort of place! I try not to romanticize anything dire in terms of mental health, but I do discuss my own experiences with BPD, OCD, trauma, etc., so fair warnings for that!)

[all-pacas]

DIAGNOSTIC OLYMPICS, SEASON 1, EPISODES 5-15

part one

Hi! I was curious about who on House (besides House) gets the most diagnoses right. Other folks have already run a tally (it's Chase), but I was curious how other factors would influence the tally — whose ideas get run with, who manages treatment, who screws up… So I thought I'd keep score.

1 point for getting the answer. This is almost always going to be House.

.5 points for Valuable Contribution — stuff that isn't the final answer, but either is thought to be the final answer or is valuable to the solving of the case. Stuff like "noticing something on the MRI" doesn't count; things like "figuring out how to treat" does.

-.5 to -1 for Mistakes — stuff that delays or prevents diagnoses, injuring or killing patients, etc.

FIDELITY

DIAGNOSES: African Sleeping Sickness

+1 House: Figures it out very early, the trick is proving it, which takes significantly longer. +.5 Foreman: When at first it looks like sleeping sickness is impossible, he comes up with a strong secondary theory and gets House Praise GO-GETTER AWARD: This is the third time Cameron has brought House a case, and in just a couple episodes she'll bump that up to four. PROBABLY A COINCIDENCE AWARD: Chase immediately guesses parasites based on the idea that "maybe she was lying about never leaving the US." This is the second time in three episodes his first offhand guess ends up being right.

POISON

DIAGNOSES: Pesticide Poisoning

+1 Team: This is another episode where they basically know what's happening immediately, the trick is proving it/figuring out how to treat it. +.5 Cameron: Successfully bullies the mother after she shoots down everyone else. House and Chase had to trick her in the end anyway, but credit where it's due. -5 COOL POINTS: When the patient is seizing, the subtitles have Chase saying "stay calm." The words that actually come out of his mouth are "stay cool, mate."

DNR

DIAGNOSES: Bad Arteries

+1 Team: Another episode where no one person has a big breakthrough; they only catch the cause of the patient's paralysis on a scan. +.5 House: His determination that something is wrong and should be addressed leads to the patient not only being able to walk, but still being alive. Legally shady, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Suggests a stroke early on, and a scan does find a clot. It doesn't end up being the problem, just a symptom, but good call. +0 Foreman: His first time running a case and it really doesn't go well. He keeps following House's orders and doubting himself, lies about treatment, and is generally wishy-washy. He didn't make any mistakes (because he didn't make any calls), but not a good showing.

HISTORIES

DIAGNOSES: Rabies

+1 House: Figures out the patient has rabies. -.5 Foreman: Makes a number of mistakes, from refusing to take any of the patient's symptoms seriously to wanting to discharge her to almost giving her an MRI with a metal pin in her arm. I was going to give him a full point demerit, but he does accurately guess she gave herself the insulin OD intentionally, and once he gets over himself and realizes he fucked up he works really hard to help the patient.

DETOX

DIAGNOSES: Termite poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out while actively suffering drug withdrawal. +.5 Chase: The patient's eye gets a clot and goes blind, but he's on blood thinners and they can't operate. House is willing to just let the eye be blinded, but Chase figures out a creative way to remove the clot and save the eye. +0 Cameron: Suggests lupus and gets really, really stuck on it, but still goes along with all of House's ideas. They do eventually treat for lupus when House runs out of other ideas, but he's clear he doesn't think it's a good one. +5 MEME AWARD: First time lupus comes up on the show!

SPORTS MEDICINE

DIAGNOSES: Cadmium poisoning

+1 House: Takes him a while, because at first they dismissed environmental causes, but when the patient's wife shows a symptom he figures it out in three seconds. +.5 Chase: Initially suggests Addison's, which House likes and the team runs with. Later, is the first of the team to realize House thinks cadmium poisoning, and figures out the source. +10 FRIENDSHIP POINTS: The first time in the series the fellows hang out outside work, we see them getting drinks at one point and dinner with a drug rep at another.

CURSED

DIAGNOSES: Anthrax and Leprosy

+1 House: He figures out that the patient and his father both have leprosy. He also figures out Rowan Chase has cancer, but we're not grading on that case. +.5 Cameron: The first to realize anthrax after House notices something wrong with the sample. +.5 Chase: He has like three merits and three demerits for this one. His early guess of mold causing pneumonia is a good one, and leads them to anthrax. He also bonds with the patient and gets a truer history from him. However, once his dad shows up, Chase spends the rest of the episode just trying to prove him wrong: first that the patient doesn't have sarcoidosis, then testing for every single auto-immune disease known to man because daddy thinks it is one. On the other hand, he also sticks to his guns on anthrax and is proven correct even after the team and House (and dad) dismiss it as a possibility. -1 Rowan Chase: Being a bad father aside, his guesses are plausible but all wrong. As Baby Chase points out, Daddy Chase is just guessing rheumatoid diseases because that's what he knows. THE REMY HADLEY AWARD: Chase manages to be so opaque and so resistant to House's manipulation attempts that House gives up entirely and just tries to have an honest conversation with him. 13 would be proud.

CONTROL

DIAGNOSES: Ipecac poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out, and advocates hard for his patient to have a heart transplant once he realizes she's sick because she's self harming. Ethically shaky, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Reads a self-help book and manages to get the guys to agree with all her ideas and run her tests. She continues to have good ideas through the case, even if she quickly gets on all their nerves. +0 Chase: hot take alert! He loses points for his fuck up early in the episode: he's too busy flirting to realize he scanned the wrong leg. Luckily for him, it had no bearing on the case, but it could have gone very badly. On the other hand: Going off a vague clue (that House was acting oddly), he also manages to figure out the ipecac poisoning and that the patient's illness was self inflicted. He then runs to Vogler (+50 Rat Points). Shitty move ethically, good diagnosing. I wouldn't give him the credit if he hadn't also been careful to wait to tattle after the transplant was done.

MOB RULES

DIAGNOSES: Beef allergy

+1 House: The episode is really much more about Vogler and Chase's ratting than the case. The patient has an unrelated symptom (high estrogen) that throws everyone off for a while, but once House finds the cause it's pretty quick and obvious.

RUNNING TALLY:

HOUSE: 11.5 TEAM: 3 FOREMAN: 1 CHASE: 2.5 CAMERON: 2.5

Cameron has the biggest jump, going from .5 to 2.5: she isn't making any big leaps, but unlike Chase and Foreman, she's consistently solid and not making any big mistakes either. Good for her!

[royalbilliards]

i would LOVE to hear your opinion on maruki's therapy bc i see a lot of ppl saying he sucked as a therapist and i've never seen one so i can't really say anything with certainty...... but idk, i want joker to have at least an okay therapist just because it's a nice touch. also i think it's more satisfying narratively when maruki is someone joker can lean on for support and get attached to, but then has to oppose because shitty actualization. idk. pathetic wet man makes me go brrrrrr

Welcome to the autism zone.

So a lot of my thoughts on maruki’s therapy comes from my own experiences with a therapist in the past (I’m trying to get a new one right now) but. A lot of what Maruki’s ‘confidant perks’ and what they’re called suggest he’s giving Joker treatment for anxiety and depression, which makes a lot of sense given the way he acts in public outside of the joker persona, and the situation he’s in at Shujin (being bullied, for lack of a better term because it’s 5 am and I just woke up, and ostracised due to Kamoshida spilling his criminal record).

Practices like mindfulness and wakefulness sound like bullshit when you first have to start them, mostly because of the names, but the practices themselves are grounding techniques, being able to be present in your body, aware of your surroundings, and not letting yourself spiral via panic or depression and stuff. Detox is a term for drug addiction and alcoholism rehab, they’re not exactly practices we know Joker needs help with, but they’re most likely preventative measures, so that he doesn’t go Down those paths BECAUSE of his situation, which honestly makes sense, depression, anxiety, bullying from peers and the rest of it, including his criminal record and the way Japan treats students with criminal records, it makes sense that Joker could have easily gone down those routes if he didn’t have his friends and the metaverse to blow off steam and have an outlet for his emotions that he isn’t allowed to have in his day to day life. Flow is also a form of therapy treatment for handling depression, and mostly focus’ on capturing moments of positive mental states and allowing yourself to be completely focused and involved in Enjoyable activities that make you happy.

Because all of these therapy treatments that we get named from his confidant perks are Real therapy treatments that both Work and are widely used to treat specific mental health problems (Depression, Anxiety and Self-worth) we get both an insight into how Joker is actually feeling about things outside of what he shows and how useful these techniques are in his actual day to day life, because he’s using them to handle stressful situations in the metaverse.

There’s also the fact that Before everything, and AFTER everything, Joker doesn’t seem to hold much animosity towards Maruki, yes Akechi does and he’s Totally allowed to hate him, but neither Yoshizawa or Joker do, when Yoshizawa is more than justified in being angry and frustrated with him. And it might just be due to the abysmal lack of characterisation Yoshizawa gets, but mostly she seems like she too, like Joker, WANTS to help him, because we know that Maruki himself struggles with Self-worth problems, delusions of grandeur, a messiah complex (in both definitions of the term) anxiety and depression (along with a few other spicier things I don’t feel like mentioning because I’d need to bring up the psa’s on how demonised disorders need to be treated with respect since no one can do that on the internet). But there doesn’t seem to Be animosity between the three of them. Mostly just worry about someone they both cared about, and trusted.

There’s also the fact that, Jokers interactions with Maruki do not End After you help him with his research, we’re just cut off from the interaction at that point, because Joker in canon is explaining to Sae other more important things, he probably doesn’t feel the need to tell her the confidential therapy treatment he’s receiving at school. Their interaction continues, we get a fade to black, so it’s obvious he is getting actual therapy treatment, but Maruki has probably picked up on Jokers earth shattering savior complex and is easing him into the idea of therapeutic treatment by having him assist in his research, so Joker is more inclined to accept the help, since it’s a Transaction to Joker. If Maruki had more time to be Jokers therapist, and I assume he would have at some point Offered to continue his work as Jokers therapist after his tenure at Shujin ending, he would have eventually been able to work on that with Joker, and weaned him off Needing to help people all the time, and viewing social interactions as a transactional thing.

Anyways, yeah, I don’t think Maruki is a bad therapist outside of the horrors, I think people just don’t think about it because it isn’t spoon fed to them in a social link interaction, which is where the assumption that he’s Only using Joker as a sounding board comes from. But what would I know I just did media studies and have a special interest in analysing media, SHRUG

[lcandothisallday]

A Shot Worth Taking - Jeremy (WMCJ) x f!reader

Part 4 - Sister’s Know Best

warnings: except for an awful ending🤡 but mentions of drug/drinking abuse!

series masterlist!

You stood in your tiny kitchen, cutting up cucumbers for the salad you were making, while your friends Vanessa and Destiny hung around the island helping you with the rest of the dinner.

It had been about a month since your first date with Jeremy. You've been seeing him rather consistently in this month, and to say you were slowly yet surely falling hard for him was a severe understatement. All of him was addicting--his smile, his humour, the way he made you feel all giddy--all the way down to the way he dressed even. It's been a while since you felt like this and it was truly refreshing to meet a good guy.

"You know, Jeremy put me on some of these organic drinks...and they're actually so good," you pointed out to your friends. "You should definitely try it. They’re in the fridge--"

"Girl I'm not trying no damn nasty ginger drink that looks like murky water," Destiny scoffed, shaking her head. You tossed your head back in laughter. "I promise it's good!" you defended. "He also took me to this vegan restaurant the other day and like it genuinely changed my perspective on the whole diet.”

Destiny groaned and smacked her hand against Vanessa’s arm. "C'mon Nessa! Tell her his dick game can't be that good for white boy to have her out here eating rabbit food!"

"Actually, we haven't slept together yet," you hummed with a smirk. "So that argument is now invalid...but he seems like the type to have a good dick game," you shrugged, continuing to slice up some more vegetables.

"Speaking of Jeremy though..." Vanessa began. "I don't know if its such a good thing that you're seeing him," she admitted to you reluctantly.

You couldn't help your scoff before you set down the knife you were using and looked up at your best friend. "And why is that?"

"Danny goes to the same gym as him. And he told me some wild shit. Y/N--he pops pills, gets drunk in the gym and starts fights--apparently he used to date a dancer that taught classes there--"

"Yeah I know about his ex," you stated firmly. "They dated for like six years--and Danny's probably getting him confused with someone else! Jeremy isn't like that at all. He rarely gets mad or frustrated. He's always meditating--"

Vanessa shook her head. "You've only been seeing him a month!" she exclaimed. "How well do you actually know him babes? The pill popping--the drinking--probably the reason why him and his ex broke up if they were together six years! Don't be delusional, Y/N. Not to mention he's broke broke. Like I know we all struggle financially in this economy but he goes around selling those detox drinks around the gym--that can't be the best sign," she sighed. "Y/N...I just don't want you to get hurt. You clearly don't know the full picture."

You scoffed again and crossed your arms over your chest. "Oh so Danny does apparently?--God Vanessa I actually really like him! You guys are the ones who told me to shoot my shot!"

"I'm just telling you what Danny told me," she said calmly. "It's simply a warning before you get too deep with him.”

You let out a sigh of defeat and nod your head. “I’ll be careful.”

__

It was now the next day and Jeremy had invited you out to the pier for a late evening date. Your fingers were intertwined with his as the two of you walked along the water.

“How have your knees been?” you ask him.

Jeremy grinned and gave your hand a squeeze. “Really good! I think getting more movement in while playing more basketball lately has really helped.”

“Is that how it really works?” you questioned with an awkward chuckle, causing Jeremy to catch on. He stopped walking and took both your hands into his, before he looked down at you with a raised brow. “What did you hear about me?”

Your cheeks heated up immensely and you looked away. “C’mon Y/N—someone must’ve told you something for you to question my knees,” he sighed. The only reason he even caught on was because Tati had asked him the same question before, vying for a reason to suspect he was on his pain meds again.

You let out a sigh. “Vanessa’s boyfriend--"

"Damn--I needa properly meet this Vanessa chick cos she clearly has it against me--"

You interrupt quickly. "I'm being serious, Jer. Her boyfriend Danny goes to the same gym as you…told her that you pop pills and that you pick fights while drunk,” you explained.

Jeremy chuckled as one of his hands moved up to run his fingers through his curls. “I only ever picked a fight once—and it was right after my ex left me…and as for the pain meds…they just help with my knees,” he shrugged. “Believe me if my knees weren’t still an issue after the multiple surgeries I’ve had I wouldn’t still be taking them.”

“So it’s not like…an addiction thing?”

Jeremy shrugged, “would you even wanna know if it was?”

“Touché…” you mumbled lowly, biting your lip in thought. “What about you and Tati?” you asked. “Why did you two break up?”

“Y/N I already told you,” he groaned.

You shook your head. “No that was before I knew what I knew,” you say stubbornly.

Jeremy scoffed, his hands leaving yours as he began to feel cornered. “So what? You want me to fucking admit it was because of the pills? And because all I cared about was basketball? Because yeah I guess it was and--"

You cut him off by leaning up and pressing your lips to his in a gentle yet determined kiss. Jeremy's words trailed off, his surprise evident in the way he momentarily froze before he responded to your kiss with equal intensity. The worries and doubts that lingered in your mind were momentarily pushed aside as you allowed yourself to get lost in the warmth of the moment.

After what felt like an eternity, you both pulled away, breathless and eyes wide. Jeremy's expression softened, and he reached up to cup your cheek. "I didn't want to bring this up so soon, but you deserve to know the truth," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "So uh yeah. That's why we broke up."

"I really like you Jer...if you're working on yourself with these things then--"

"I am I am!" he rushed to confirm. "I'm in therapy and I'm getting better being off the pills and I'm not a violent guy--that fight was just at a bad time and--"

"Jeremy!" you interrupted him with a laugh. “I appreciate your honesty. That’s all I wanted,” you explained with a smile.

He let out a breath of relief as he nodded. “Can I kiss you again then?” he asked, his fingers anxiously playing with your own as he felt his cheeks heat up. You giggled as you nodded.

With a grin, he dipped his head back down again, connecting his lips to yours in another searing kiss. Your arms moved up to wrap around his neck while his hands rested on your hips. The kiss deepened, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the taste and feel of Jeremy's lips.

Perhaps you were being stupid and let the whole thing slide too easily, but you truly didn’t care in that moment. The way his lips felt soft against your own and how his beard lightly scratched your skin was all that mattered as you kissed under the moonlight and the waves crashed against the shore.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

please please please stallard x ghost and the "Aww, love you too." prompt🙏🙏🙏

LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO POWERFUL MUCH. 🥹🥹🥹

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!OC / Simon doesn't know where to go when he detoxes. It makes him crawl back to an old flame, and he sweats out addiction and ugliness.

TW's: drug withdrawal, mentions of violent infanticide.

The fevers go by in spikes of blurred dreams. This is where Ghost would die, if he was done paying for all the shit he's done. Figures it's owed, his soul's in the red, and deep in the shit. Course, he wouldn't be lucky enough to die detoxing off pills.

It's the dog legs of July, 2012. World was supposed to end a month ago. It didn't. Now he's sweating out his demons in Stallard's guest bedroom. The guest bedroom in the house she shares with her husband.

That's right. She's no longer Stallard, is she? She's Graves. Saeda Graves.

It's hard to keep that in mind when he wants to shred his skin to get the goddamned bugs out from under it. When all his bones ache the same as trees turned tinder by nuclear blast radii.

And the fucking hallucinations. Christ. He can't escape Tommy's son. Can't see his fuckin' face, no, but he can see his little socked feet. Can see his bloody chest rising and falling. Can hear his death rattle. Over there, just under the dresser.

Falls out the bed, tryin' to get to him. Cracks his temple off the corner of the nightstand, busts his chin on the hardwood.

Stallard isn't there one moment, and then she is, over the span of a blink--one that lasts ten minutes when his pounding heart demands unconsciousness, because his brain can't decide which panicking bodily system is most deserving of attention and correction, when it is too far burnt down to even regulate itself.

"Christ, Simon," she mumbles, crouching, and there was a time, years ago, when he'd grab her hips, and drag her over his face, as if forcing her into a saddle. "Split your fuckin' head open. The fuck're you doin', man?" she asks, more herself than him.

"Shut th'fuck up," he says, or he thinks he does. If it fell out of his mouth, she had the grace he's never possessed in his life to ignore it. Just hooks her arms under his pits, and hoists him back in the bed.

The moment he hits the sweaty sheets, his brain pulls a hard left. His nephew is gone, the death rattle is gone, the smell of blood in the air--gone, gone, fucking gone. His head is spinning, and he feels spiders crawling across his skin, and his brain is burning, cooking, broiling to death in his battered skull.

Stallard: gone again, back again, and, now, she's cleaning up his forehead, pulling it back together where it split. She seals it shut with super glue, an old trick he remembers she'd picked up from the Rangers.

"Stop," he grunts, trying to push at her hands, but she ducks and bites his little finger. A nip sharp enough to drop his hands, and he remembers that, too. She picked that up from farriers working on horses that bit at their shoulders and asses--just bite the fuckers back, make them stop.

"Dumb bastard," she says under her breath, and she focuses in his eyes.

He's missed her. He's always fucking missed her, and he remembers everything about what they had. The way her hair felt sliding through his hands, black as pitch. The elastic lines around her mouth as she smiled. How her eyes would return to him when he spoke, when her mind was years and years behind them, before she had gotten the bulk of her tragedies out of the way.

There was a wedding portrait in the hall on the way to this guest room. She--she looked fucking awful. Her wedding was not hers, and he can tell without asking how it went down. He hated her dress, and her veil, and her bouquet, and her short fucking, shit-grinning groom.

He hates this house. He hates her last name. He hates that she didn't somehow know to fucking wait for him.

He hates that even if she did, he couldn't have done shit-all about actually marrying her.

"I hate you," he croaks, staring hard into her eyes as she fusses over him, and her hands still. Her gaze zeroes in, wide and hurt, and he continues to drill into those gray-green eyes. And he likes it. He likes that he's wounded her in her big, fancy house, with that big, ugly ring on her finger. He just don't know, though, he don't understand just how fucking bad it is under this roof. "Fuckin' hell, I hate you."

A huge sigh heaves her chest, and she shakes her head, capping the super glue as her eyes flicker away. "Aw. Love you, too," she says, but the tone of her joke is flat, carries on without heart to back it up.

His mouth staggers away without his control after a few moments of floating, paint-smear silence, and his voice almost cracks when he insists, "Shouldn't have married him, Saeda."

"Yeah, well." Her fingers worry the two gold necklaces around her throat, all of her little gold crosses, the chintzy yellow gold and opal ring he scrimped and scraped and save to buy her a lifetime ago. "Woulda been you, if you hadn't'a fuckin' died, Simon."

The silence rings in his ears. Imagines it rings in hers as well.

She picks her ass up off the bed, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket, and lights one. After she takes a drag, she puts it to his lips, giving him a sorely needed hit of nicotine. Another little mercy of hers, caring for him, even when he is wrong. And he is wrong to and about her so fucking often.

[disfrutalakia]

Have you seen the theory that q!Forever thinks shock therapy (aka shooting people) is good is because he went through it and "it worked".

Like basically Cucurucho t*rtured him and then gave him the drugs to stop him from exploding everything and make him think that HE was the problem (see his detox speech) and now he's glad that Cucurucho stopped him because he was going to do something "bad" that he would regret. And so, shooting someone would be a "good" solution to stop someone who's going to do a "bad" thing (aka kidnap a worker) that they might regret.

I hope I explained it well!

I have!! And funnily enough I was going to analyze his whole thing with therapy but then... I got distracted by 4halo crimes.

And I agree to a certain degree, while I don't think that the whole Cucurucho happy pills thing was the only thing that shaped his view on drastic measures (I haven't watched stonkscraft yet, I know shocker what a fake fan /j but something in there for sure shaped some of the way Forever sees the world)

Forever does sees his anger as a problem to be fixed, as something that he will regret later on and that's the reason why he never truly lets himself gets angry. He gets frustrated yes, but never actually angry the way he got during those dream sequences of his. Forever knows he is volatile and in his head someone else has to stop him, and that's what he is trying to do with Bad in a way. I have spoken a lot about how Forever sees himself in Bad, and while he would never actually call Bad a monster, he still thinks Bad is in the same situation as him, out of control and violent to the point that he can't stop himself.

But we, as the audience, know that Bad is far more in control than Forever was before being drugged. So yeah it makes total sense for him as a character to think that shock therapy is good in a way. It fixed him, why couldn't it fix Bad? They are the same, right?

[lucius-morningstar]

The only one who can call me that (Part 1)

If there is one thing Lucius absolutely hates is being referred too as Luci. Doesn't matter in what way. He has an immense hatred for it. Does he have a reason why, possibly but why should he talk about it. All you have to do is not call him Luci and you'll be fine. Otherwise, well he has various different ways of punishing those who can't respect his simple boundary. ----- Charlie: Hey Lucius, you want to sit in on this lesson with us. Lucius: Nope, I'm good sis. You do your thing. Angel: Aww what's the matter Luci, don't want to ha- Lucius: Do not call me that. Angel: What? Charlie: He really hates to be called Luci. Angel: Why? Charlie: Not my place to say. Lucius: Not his business to know either. Angel: ... Vaggie: Don't do it. I can see you playing the idea in your mind and I can promise this will not end well if you it. Angel: Oh yea and what is Luci gonna do about it.. Lucius: ..... ------ Husk: Woah what did he do to do you. Angel: I can't decide whether to be angry or glad. I mean he basically paid Val to keep me here the whole weekend. Husk: ..That-.. How is that a punishment. Lucius: Oh that's not the punishment. See I paid for him to stay here the whole weekend. Costed me quite a bit too. Angel: I knew I'd wear you down eventually big bo- Lucius: Oh if you think sex is even close to remotely what I have planned you are going to be soo disappointed. Angel: Then what are you going to make me do this weekend. Lucius: Oh not me, we. Angel: We who? Lucius: *grins.* Charlie!, You ready sis! Charlie: So ready! Angel: What-.. What did you? Lucius: It has come to my attention that you Angel haven't seen any musicals right. Angel: I mean maybe-.. Why? Lucius: I figured this weekend we could all watch Charlie's favorites.. And she's got a lot of them. Angel: ..I Did not agree to this. Lucius: Oh but you kinda did. I paid for a weekend with you and in doing so you have to do whatever I want. Angel: ..I-I'm not bothered by this. I can just have Husk keep me bus- Lucius: Nope. See Husk is working, he's a member of the staff and you are a resident and as a resident you have to participate in all activities that Charlie plans. Movie night I figured would be a fun activity and just so I know you won't try sneaking a fast one, Vaggie and I are going to be keeping an eye on you so you don't try sneaking off. Angel: You're punishing yourself too ya know. Lucius: Not really, I lived with Charlie all my life. I can tune out most of the musicals. Charlie: Ooh nice pun. Lucius: Thank you, anyway, I can drown most of em out and Vaggie has learned over the past few years on how to do it. Plus it makes Charlie happy so all in all, doesn't bother us. Angel: This can't get any worse.. Lucius: No drugs or alcohol consumption will be given during this week either. Think of it like a detox but with music. Angel: Charlie yo-you're not gonna have me watch all of them are you. Charlie: I mean not all of them. Angel: Great- Charlie: I don't even think that would be physically possible to get through my whole collection in a week anyway. Angel: ...Fu- * Lucius: So did we enjoy our weekend. Angel: ..I am going to be hearing music in my ears for the rest of my afterlife! Lucius: Next time when someone sets a boundary, we don't cross it. Are we clear Angel? Angel: ..Crystal. Lucius: Great, glad we could understand each other.

[maxwell-mtv]

Headcanons on how I think Morris and Pierre cope with the stresses of life because they both have so much on their shoulders and I HAVE IDEAS!!! [All these are based off my own gameplay with the SD Expanded mod and Marry Morris mod too]

(Just a little TW for alcohol and drug mentions.)

[Morris]

He totally drinks on the job in the privacy of his office when it's inventory day (or when the higher ups are visiting)

Won't drink enough to get drunk (he's a heavy weight) but enough to calm his nerves

When he can, he goes to the beach

The waves and calm breeze soothes him

Willy will sometimes have conversations with him on the docks

When they talk, Morris will often confide in Willy only for Willy to give either some solid advice or some odd story that is wayyyy off base but still helps to distract Morris momentarily

Because of Morris's secret love of the ocean, he keeps a seashell or two on his desk as a reminder of better days to come

Doesn't go to the resort because he's ALWAYS WORKING

[Pierre]

Secret Stash

I'd like to think he will do yoga with his wife on the occasion

He'll feel really great after yoga and then quickly remember he's not really in shape any more

Then for the next week or two he'll be completely sore and cranky lol

Which is great because Caroline will just be trotting about the house like she's still young and free and not at all the same age as Pierre lol

Also, duh, he practices boxing when he can

He will take out his dusty old gear and GO HAM, DUDE

Oh you wouldn't believe how much he imagines the punching bag being Morris

He has issues... :(

He'll also visit the Saloon Tuesday nights

Also the resort... he'll visit the resort and just have an absolute blast baking in the sun (in more ways than one)

BONUS! [Dobson]

This man... oh boy

He goes above and beyond

He's extra

He gets his own special complicated af order from Stardrop Coffee (as he does every morning)

He'll go to the salon

He'll get that mani-pedi

You bet your booty he has regular visits to the top masseuse in Zuzu city!!

Mud masks? YES

Seaweed wraps?? Oh HECK yeah

Detox teas and hot tub soaking?

Yes.

And after all that?? SHOPPING THERAPY AND DINNER AT THE BEST STEAKHOUSE IN THE CITY!!!

This man has the vaca days I think we all may want...

[transmutationisms]

Actually turns out I do have a more extensive response to ur thoughts on the addict, notably the point you made abt downers which is so well put. One of the things abt capitalism that lead to cycles of escapist addiction is that those addicts benefit the system because they become optimal consumers. They invigorate economically by consuming drugs as well as excess fueled by intoxication and then as consumers of rehab and detox drugs and programs and medications etc. I think there's something to be said about how Kendall, who due to his wealth has the option of the fantasies of luxury escapism available literally at all times doesn't then go down the pathway of constant numbing thru drugs, especially juxtaposed with rhe pals he makes in austerlitz whose poverty is linked to their types of drugs. Their communal drug use and comfortable social zone under the influence feels like something kendall envies in that moment but like, ultimately takes the wrong lessons from and rapidly distances himself from when it stops making him feel like the coolest guy in the room when roman shows up. That's something I think about a lot while watching the show, like how absurd all their striving feels to me when they have access to so many things capitalism had me "working" for ie luxury time and physical space/land/homes and property but how clear the show is about how many of those things have stopped mattering bc they're always accessible (like how gifts and presents are meaningless to logan). Connor might be the exception in some ways to actually valuing those benefits but he is often ready to let go of the "peace of mind" his ranch gives him in order to receive praise or proximity to power (like his behavior at the gala in s1)

yeah ABSOLUTELY. kendall's constant striving is ultimately so hollow because he already has access to material luxury and comfort. what he's striving for, then, is not so much pleasure as the unlimited ability to produce more pleasure, ie surplus value. he's insatiable in the way capital is insatiable, because capitalism is inherently and always expansionist. there's no finish line for kendall, which is why at the end of the day he can't just sit and enjoy getting high with the austerlitz guys. he always ends up moving back into that neoliberal corporation mode of operation, wherein the point is just to expand and optimise and exceed himself, ad infinitum. there's no way to satisfy that type of desire, hence the function of cocaine on the show as the business world's performance-enhancing drug and kendall's inability to control his usage of it.

i agree connor is an exception here, and stewy is too. both of them have a fundamental ability to enjoy the material fruits of wealth in a way that the other roys don't. this is why stewy is able to use coke, and quite a lot of it, without being pathologised or falling into the self-destructive spirals kendall does. connor's particular delusion here is, i think, related to running for president. he sees the attainment of political power as an end-goal; he wants to achieve sovereignty over others, but this type of project has a finish line built in that the financial expansion of capitalism does not. even a totalising grab for political power will theoretically, eventually, reach a state of complete control; on the other hand, the logic of capital has never produced 'all' possible value; the surplus can always be made bigger.

as a side note, this is why it's so irritating when people assume the austerlitz guys are, like, dangerous or preying on kendall lol. like first of all, insane transparent very telling assumptions to make about drug users who are poor. but second, they actually do have a function in the story and in the show's commentary on addiction, and it's not some kind of paranoid stranger danger reaganite psa fantasy. whatever lol

[green-alien-turdz]

hey i kinda just wanted to lyk that i really appreciate your potrayal of all the boys (esp tweek bc i also lived w my grandmother for a time) as someone who’s struggling heavily w sh/ed🩶🩶🩶 it makes me feel so seen honestly. is it ok if you could share some craig n tweek headcanons? :)

!

#1 thank you, I'm glad you like it lol #2 Ayy fellow grandma liver, love finding my people who also lived with their grandma for usually terrible reasons (I say this sarcastically, I hope that you and thatsituation have gotten better). #3 I'm sorry to hear that you're struggling right now, I get it completely, I'm right there with ya. If you ever need someone to talk to, my PM's are always open.

#4 Yes I can share some with you! Feel free to send another ask if you have specific questions or headcanons you were curious about. I am also answering for hc's revolving around them together, if you wanted individual headcanons, let me know.

They've been goin (mostly) strong for 8 years straight. There were some slight bumps when Tweek's parents were arrested in 7th grade, and he had to not only come to terms with bein drugged, but also a rather long detox and rehabilitation. It's not that Craig wasn't there for him, he really did try to be, but it was more that Tweek was extremely unstable and lost trust in just about everyone, and his paranoia amplified significantly since. Once Tweek was at a more calm and stable state, they were able to pick up where they left off, only this time, with a few more 'quirks'. Craig currently works as a pizza delivery driver, and has a tendency to let Tweek come along with him on his shift (which has Tweek also spending a lot of time to do fuck all in the car while Craig fulfills duties in the store). There's not too many times that they are apart due to Tweek's paranoia of everyone but Craig, also fearing that something bad will happen to Craig if he's not there. They're always at each other's houses, and don't mind the lack of separation. I've mentioned before that Tweak Bros. was reopened by other family members, and while Tweek doesn't work in-store, he does bake and drop off the items, which is how he makes a living. I am blanking right now, but they also both like to make fun of eachothers hair. Tweek can't cut his hair for shit n always makes it a choppy mess, all while starting to have white/greying due to the emotional aftermath of his parents arrest. And Craig is already developing a bald spot before he's even 20.