#tw: drug missuse

[naomana]

Hello, could I request "You don't have to hide your tears from me." for salie?

Full prompt list here

"You don't have to hide your tears from me." Sam/Paulie

Follow up on this and this story

TW: mention of drug missues and selfharm

Almost a year have passed. And it was difficult year. Sammy fell into addiction quickly, but getting out of it took a long time. He had Paulie by his side almost all the times, but when Paulie had to leave him alone, that was the time Sammy relapsed. And they both hated it, but couldn't do anything about it. Just pick up the pieces and start again.

Like falling of a bike. Brush of your knees, or prodded arms in Sammy's case, and get on the bike again.

The first time Paulie came back to Sammy in state of blissful nothingness, just laying on the bed looking like shit, he was upset. And maybe disappointed. But helped him up without a word and cared for him, because he was all he had left. Nothing was, and nothing ever will be, the same without Tommy.

It was like somebody turned off the lights. It was bearable during the day, all the noise and daylight. But nights. Awful. Couldn't see anything.

Paulie opened the door and caught a glimpse of Sammy walking towards the bedroom. Was he holding something? Paulie panicked, dropping everything he was holding, rushing after him.

"Sammy?!"

"Paulie? You're back early." Sammy was surprised to see him. He was squeezing something in his hands and Paulie forcefully made him open them. His eyes landed on little pocket watch Tommy gave him for his birthday. His shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief.

"Sorry. I thought.."

"What? That I'm about to snort something?"

Sammy squeezed the watch again and Paulie rubbed his upper arms, before pulling him for hug.

"I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best. I'm just too worried for you."

"I did think about it." Sammy admitted and buried his face into the embrace. He bit his bottom lip, holding his tears.

Paulie pulled away from him to see his face. He looked just like a year ago, hurt and broken. And he hated the fact there was little to nothing he could do about it. Just being there and keeping him in line. Ironic that Paulie, the good old party animal, was the more responsible one this time.

He noticed the tears gathering in his eyes and how Sammy tried to stop them from coming. He just caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead.

"You don't have to hide your tears from me Sammy. I'm not mad. You thought about it but didn't do it, right?"

Sammy stopped trying and let the tears roll down his cheeks. The closer to the anniversary of Tommy's death it was, the worse he felt. The more he wanted to use everything at once and just not feel or think anything.

Paulie was wiping off tear after tear, before he pressed his forehead against Sammy's.

"You're doing really good sweatheart. Tommy would be really proud of you, you know that?"

"He'd be disgusted.. disappointed." Corrected him Sammy through his sobbs and Paulie placed firm kiss on his lips, stopping him from talking any more nonsense.

"No. He would look at the good things, like he always did. He'd be happy for you trying."

"Am I dead already? Tommy's gone and you are being sensible, sober and right?" Sammy chuckled softly through his sobs, making the smile on Paulie's lips grow like a mushrooms after rain.

"That's my old Sammy. Picking on me just because.. Look we will get Tommy some nice flowers tomorrow and have a bottle or two with him."

"He'll be thrilled. Two guys, sitting on his grave with bouquet and booze." Sammy shook his head, little smile playing with his lips.

"Oh you know he will fucking love it." Paulie smooched him with giggle and went back to the door, picking up all the things he just dropped. Nothing was broken and he just carried on while Sammy was holding the pocket watch, looking at little picture of Tommy inside.

Maybe he'll see him again one day. And sure as hell he didn't want to tell him how fucking misserable he was after his death, even though he was. No, his sweet good Tom would love to know he was able to move on and carry on living. And so he was doing just that, just for him. And maybe Paulie. Because that idiot would surely jump of the closest bridge if Sammy was gone too.

[fcuxed-blog]

BARBIE FERREIRA / CISFEMALE. — Enya Brent is really making a name for themselves as a tier 1 shepherd. I think that she is studying English Literature in their sophomore year at Lockwood, living in Alpha Nu. originally from Kent, England, Yaya is known to be imaginative & positive, but can also be materialistic & destructive.

–tw. drug missuse, overdose, death

Hi, hey hello! I’m Leti an 18 year old walking disaster, I live in kent atm and i'm trying not to fail my degree in the first year.  This is my twenty one year old walking disaster Enya I'm sorry I have to bring her into y'alls lives;

A E S T H E T I C

 pills on a pink tongue, fingers closing in around your neck, the moments of peace when you submerge yourself in water, closed eyes and an upturned head on a sunny day, the smell of perfume that’s been worn all night, lilac nails, blacked-out rooms with neon lights, the sting of your first tattoo, dancing in an empty house,the flicker of a flame on a windy day, kissing pressed against brick walls, phone lights under the sheets, blurred sunlight when you first wake up, cold coffee in a half-empty mug, empty wine glasses on top of stacks of books, pen ink smeared across fingers and clothes, singing in the rain at 2am.

H E A D C A N O N S 

- born as the older twin by three minutes but the more fragile one by two months, Enya and Elden aren’t inseparable from the moment they’re born, but they understand one another better than anyone else in the world will and that’s the thread which holds them together as they grow older.

- they’re loved. well, what their parents believe is love, sprinklings of expensive gifts that mean nothing, freedom to do as they wish, family dinners that were cut short by nail appointments and gatherings.

- It was the pretty girl who rubbed cocaine on her gums that she blames for her life is like, her translucent skin and long fingers were the triggers, it wasn’t meant to be like this, that’s what she said at first, but it was always meant to be like this.

- it doesn’t take long for Elden to join in, to fall into the abyss they’re far too similar and she’s not one to hide things from him, they’re inseparable, just the two of them against the world. 

- after that, she does a line a day, can't sleep without a Xanax bar, stumbles through classes high on whatever was in the bottom of her bag. she holds herself together by the thread that is her brother, but there’s not much keeping her together.

-  everything in school was nuisance except for her English classes, where the things in her head came to life and seeped into the paper and she saw the colours in her mind's eye displayed in the words she wrote.

- that’s why as she grows writing becomes her passion, and then painting, people can never really understand why they’re so drawn to Enya's work, but perhaps it’s the unexplainable longing in each piece, the stark contrast to who she portrays on the outside.

- things never get better. not the way they do in stories she creates. instead, she digs herself into a deeper hole, it’s not until she’s sat by her brother's dead body on a warm may evening as an ambulance rushes towards them that she notices she’s not dug a hole for herself but instead the grave she will put her brother to rest in.

C O N N E C T I O N S

– a drug dealer 

– someone who knew her after or during her brother's death

– an ex ( open to any and all )

– fellow sorority members 

– a fellow drug user 

– frenemies 

– etc, I personally prefer to brainstorm and see where the characters best slot in together! so pls pls like this or slide into my dms if you want to do some plotting I’m legit open to everything

[hurrdurriamanothergoddamnho-blog]

sometimes i get annoyed at my ADD orm normal reasons like the fact that i get depression and anxiety in a pack with it and someimes i get pissed at it because i CAN NOT GET THE STUPID CRAZY REACTIONS NORMAL PEOPLE HAVE TO ADDERAL AND RITALIN AND I AM SO FUCKING JEALOUS

[naomana]

On the notes of Henry and the whole drug deal.. And gotta put this under Read more bc of M.

Been thinking about this for a while but never really mentioned it but..

Henry is the leading person of their operation, he talks to Bruno to get the money, makes a deal that still leaves them with reasonably large cuts

He’s the one that talks to Wong and Triads, he’s the one that knows the prices and everything.. He’s the one that tests the ‘goods’

Well my question is, beside the argument Clemente was selling drugs ad Henry had the knowledge from there, how exactly did he know the ‘goods’ wasn’t cheap and unusable?

I personally know nothing about drugs and sure as hell wouldn’t be able to tell by taste whenever that’s good or bad batch

So..like.. did Henry do drugs at some point in his life, maybe when he hit the lowest point in his life? (and perhaps got out of it somehow?)

I’d be interesting tho, because his words of loosers and deadbeats only doing drugs would have a lot more meaning, he’d consider himself one of them at some point of his life and he realises it, hates himself for it and knows he deserved it, that’s why he’s so “Nah, I’ll help them for the money”

[naomana]

"I know you're tired, but you have to stay awake." with Paulie and Sammy please.

Full prompt list here

"I know you're tired, but you have to stay awake." Paulie/Sam

I guess this is follow up on this story 

TW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, drug missuse

He was exhausted. Lost. Heartbroken. Unable to live.

Ever since they lost Tommy. Ever since HE lost Tommy.

He loved him. Not in 'I love my buddies' way. He loved him as a man. And he knew it was wrong.

He never got the chance to tell him. And he wanted to because regardless of his feelings being returned or not, Tommy was a pure soul and he wanted him to know. Of course he'd reject him, he only had eyes for Sarah. But Sam had no doubts that he'd reject him gently, apologising about it. Because he was sweet and pure.

And he was gone. Nothing or nobody could ever replace him. He was too good to die. And the way he died was too harsh for him. In pain, blood gushing everywhere. Because Sammy was in trouble and Tommy had to step in, like a knight in shiny armour; like always, saving his ass. Only this time it was the last time. And it was all Sammy's fault.

He hated himself for it. Hated his life. Hated everything. It should have been him. He'd swap with him without hesitation.

Sammy really struggled with the grief. He was numb, withdraw from everything and everybody.

It was only couple of weeks, but it felt like years. Years of emptiness and darkness. And the first time he hurt himself. He never had the intention to harm himself, but one evening he dropped his bottle a broke it. And when he picked up the sharp shards of shattered glass, he cut his palm.

It was small cut but deep. Not as deep as his sadness though. And that physical pain helped him to forget about his mental pain. Only for a short period of time.

Once the wound started healing and pain was almost gone, his dark thoughts returned. And he started INTENTIONALLY hurting himself. At first he'd pick place nobody would notice. Places like thights or abdomen. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him. He believed he had to be hurting, because that was eactly what he deserved after killing Tommy.

Because he killed him. He died because of him and that was almost the same as him pulling the trigger. He should have gone faster, he should have catch the bullet himself. 

Booze and pain stopped being enough pretty quickly. Added some good old giggle smoke. Pill here and there. Before he knew it, he was going down that route. He had no idea how he was able to stand on his own feet, how he was able to pretend that he was alright. How nobody noticed he was constantly under the influence of something.

But somebody noticed. Paulie noticed right away because his eyes were always following Sammy. Everybody would probably expect Paulie to act like that, drown his sorrow with booze and god knows what, but Sammy.. always had a thing for Tommy, naturally his loss hurt him more. And Paulie, having nobody else left, was terrified of losing him as well.

He tried to spend some time with Sammy, but he'd always make an excuse and left alone. He didn't want anybody's company, only Tommy's. And the only way he'd ever get that was if he'd die and follow Tommy to whatever messed up shit happens after death. Was there heaven or hell? Because if so, even after death they'd never be together. Tommy's good soul would head to heaven, while Sammy would go straight to the hell.

Was it really that different from living? He was suffering, he will be suffering in hell. There was nothing else, just more suffering. Did he want to live or die? He didn't know. He didn't know anything. He just wanted Tommy back.

Evenings were the worst. Evenings where he had no work to focus on, his brain turning into mush under the influence of booze and 'happy' pills, that were not really making him happy. Just more numb.

And the combination and volume just kept getting up, to the point he couldn't move from his own bed, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't live. Maybe that was it. The last thing he'll ever see was his shithole of apartment, all alone and relieved. 

Then strong grip pulled him up and someone's hand patted his back, helping him to catch his breath again. His eyes kept rolling into his skull, he was cold and tired. He just wanted to sleep and somebody had to intervene.

"I know you're tired, but you have to stay awake." Paulie shook with him gently and Sammy focused his eyes on him. 

"That's it. Just look at me. What the fuck do you think you're doing here? Look at the state of yourself Sammy!" He looked at his scars, looking at him through his unbuttoned shirt. He pulled him into tight embrace.

"I can't Paulie. I can't anymore. I'm tired."

"I know. But you can't just give up. That ain't your style." Sammy rested his head on his shoulder and wanted to say something but Paulie stopped him.

"You think Tommy would be thrilled to see you like this?"

Sammy felt stabbing pain in his chest. Of course Tommy would hate the state he was in. And he'd hate to know he was the one causing it.

"He saved your ass couple of times, wouldn't it be like a spit on his grave if you just.. give up?" Paulie was rumbling, bitting his bottom lip to keep his own emotions under control. He couldn't lose Sammy too.

"I should be dead Paulie. Not Tommy! It's all my fault."

"No. Tommy did it because he wanted to. Because that's who he was. And he would be really upset to see you like this Sammy. Please, let me help you."

Sammy was leaning on him, barely holding his pathetic sobs. Somewhere deep down his brain he knew Paulie was right. Which was something because that man was mostly wrong. But he was sensible and offering help, whenever it took him so long to offer it. And he'd offer it a lot sooner, but he dealt with his own sorrows, losing his friend and watching his second friend slowly follow, that messed him up. But what he told Sammy, was exactly what he realised himself.

They both had to keep going, for Tommy. For his sacrifice and for everything he ever did for them.

Because if they were both dead, who'd carry on his memory? The memory of a taxi driver, who happened to be at the right place at the right time, completely changing lives of two burnt out gangsters. The most caring person those two ever met in that line of work.