#Tw: Drug Abuse

[mj-iza-writer]

Tw: drug abuse mentions.

Whumpee shyly walked into the pharmacy and wandered around a little before they got brave enough to go to the counter.

"HI, uhm, I'm here to pick up my script", Whumpee tried to hide their shaking. Why couldn't the normal pharmacist be here, the one that knew them. Not this new person.

"Name?", the pharmacist grunted.

"Whumpee", they were quick to answer.

"Ah yes, you have a flag on your account for drug abuse. I'm not able to give these to you", they looked up.

"But I have a text they are ready. I need those", Whumpee pleaded, "please, I-I have someone who keeps me on track, and my Doctor checks on me regularly. I'm getting better."

"No", came the reply, "I'm not given these out to you."

"Okay", Whumpee whispered, they looked down to hide their quivering lip.

Whumpee left the pharmacy and waited outside for a few minutes wondering what they should do.

They only had one more pill left for tomorrow. Caretaker was out of town for today and wouldn't be back until way after the pharmacy closed.

"Should I call Doctor", they looked at their phone.

"I don't know what else to do."

Whumpee dialed the office number.

"Hello this is Triage, how can I help you?", someone answered.

"HI, uhm I'm Whumpee. I really need to talk to Doctor. I'm having a problem", Whumpee's lip quivered again.

"Yep, they're right here, give me one second", the Triage person heard Whumpee's voice break.

"Whumpee?", a concerned voice came on a few seconds later, "are you okay? What's going on?"

Whumpee started to cry, and talk really fast, "I'm at the pharmacist... it's a new person.... they won't let me g-get my script bec-because of my past w-with drug abuse. And I told them I needed it.... I only have one more."

"Okay Whumpee take a deep breath for me" Doctor requested, "it's okay, where is Caretaker at?"

"They are out of town for a meeting", Whumpee mumbled, "please help me, I only have one more pill left", Whumpee's voice broke again, "I don't want the voices to come back. Please help me."

"Okay", Doctor sighed, "it's okay, I'm annoyed at the pharmacy not at you. Are you okay if I put you on hold and call them to straighten this out."

"Yes", Whumpee shook, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'll get this all straightened out for you, just stay on the line for me okay", Doctor waited for Whumpee to agree, then put them on hold.

"These freaken pharmacist", Doctor grumbled as they looked through Whumpee's chart to find the phone number, "always getting in my way, and messing with my patient's care."

"Hello, Pharmacy, how can I help you today", someone answered.

"Hello, this is Doctor. I just received a call from one of my patients. Are you withholding their medication?", Doctor frowned, "I would hope not, they do in fact need that medication to stay on track with their mental health. It is also highly illegal to withhold medication without cause."

"I believe you are speaking of Whumpee, they were just in here. They have a flag on their account for drug abuse. This script is a fairly addictive controlled substance", the pharmacist explained.

"Yes, it's a controlled substance.... that's why I control it. They get a certain amount for a certain amount of time, and then they get a refill. They come in and see me every few weeks for a follow-up. They also have someone who monitors their medication for them."

"You are not helping them at all right now withholding their medication. They are terrified right now that they won't get it, and they will regress again. They literally called me crying", Doctor continued, "I am reporting you for harassment as well. That alert isn't there for you to play drug monitor, unless they are trying to get extra pills or showing signs of active addiction. I am going to send Whumpee back in, and I will remain on the line with them during their transaction. If you still withhold that script, you will have serious problems with me and law enforcement. Am I clear?"

"Yes", the pharmacist gulped, then heard the click of the phone being hung up.

"Whumpee?", Doctor came back on.

"I just spoke with the pharmacist. Everything should be straightened out for you. Please keep me on the line, though, so I can listen in. I don't want you to get hassled by them", Doctor's voice had gone back to their nice patient care voice.

"Yes Doctor, thankyou so much", Whumpee cautiously went inside and to the counter.

"Pi-pick up for Whumpee please", Whumpee was too scared to look at the person again.

The pharmacist gruffly handed over the script and took the payment.

Whumpee thanked them, then quickly left.

"They didn't seem friendly", Whumpee whispered to Doctor.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, hopefully next time the normal person will be there so you won't have any issues", Doctor stated.

"Thankyou for helping me Doctor, I'm sorry that I bothered you though", Whumpee sighed.

"Don't worry about it", Doctor smiled, "I'm here to take care of you...even if that means keeping the pharmacist in line. What are you up to now? Do you feel okay mentally, or should I call a police officer to come get you and bring you here?"

"No Doctor, I'm okay, I'm just going to walk home right now. I may stop and get some food though", Whumpee started to walk. They hid the medicine in a bag.

"Okay that sounds good", Doctor grinned, "let us know if you need anything else, I've got a few patients to see. I'll see you next week."

"Okay thankyou so much", Whumpee quickly thanked them before they hung up with each other.

A bit later Whumpee heard Caretaker come into the house.

"I'm home Whumpee", Caretaker called, "I heard you had a problem at the pharmacy today."

Whumpee peaked out from the kitchen and frowned.

"I did. It was embarrassing, demeaning, and unfair", Whumpee's lip started to quiver again, "and... and.. and... I didn't ask for these problems", Whumpee looked at Caretaker when tears started to fall, "I-I just want to be okay", they pleaded, "why do I have to beg to be okay?"

"I know Whumpee, I'm sorry", Caretaker held their arms out, "would a hug help, or would you prefer not to be touched?"

"I would like hug please", Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker smiled as they walked over and wrapped Whumpee in their arms.

"It's okay, I know it's hard right now, but their will come a time when you will be okay. Your drug abuse will be left far in the past. You may have to take the medication still, and that is perfectly fine, but it won't seem as big of a deal as it is right now. You may be able to live on your own even, but if not, I am always here. I will happily take care of you, I promise."

"But what if you get tired of me?", Whumpee rested their head on Caretaker's chest, "what then?"

"Tired of you? I don't think that's possible Whumpee", Caretaker chuckled.

"It is", Whumpee sighed.

"Nah! Not me at least", Caretaker squeezed a little tighter, "how about I get your medicine put away, then we can get started on dinner."

Whumpee nodded, "just a minute more on this hug please."

"Of course Whumpee anything for you", Caretaker chuckled.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems @lavndvrr @ivymyers @starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

[gloomysoup]

when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 4

hello yes i know it's been a while. this part has been a pain in my ass for months. i needed to get it just right and rewrote this thing so many times it's not even funny. and now, after editing it five times over the last two days, i'm just posting it. what's done is done. if i came back to it again i would have rewritten and i don't wanna do that. so here it is at least. there is also going to be at least one more part. i'm shooting for two more hopefully but i make no promises. the next part could very well be the last. i hope you enjoy :)

ao3 pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

cw: hospitals, dissociation, mentions of overdose, addiction, sobriety, and relapse

Eddie couldn’t move. His body was fighting against every instinct he should have in the moment. Someone could throw something directly at his head, and he wouldn’t react. The buzzing voices around him faded in and out as he stared at a chip in the wood of the table in front of him.

One of Steve’s doctors had finally come to speak with them. They couldn’t say anything for certain at the moment, but he was alive, and that’s all Eddie heard before his head went fuzzy again. His mind was still reeling, caught on the fact that he should have seen this. He should have noticed. He should have been able to help Steve. He failed the only person who’d ever loved him like that, the only one who ever would love Eddie like that. Because Steve was it for him. He’d always known that. No one else would even come close. No one could ever compare to Steve Harrington.

Not only had he failed Steve, but he’d failed Robin too. He was supposed to keep Steve safe. Robin couldn’t lose her best friend; Eddie knew that. He’d promised to take care of him. He couldn’t even do that one thing right. God, what was he going to tell Robin?

They didn’t want Steve to have visitors yet. Eddie managed to gather that much at least. It was still touch and go. He wasn’t awake. They weren’t sure if he ever would be. They’re flushing his system, but it’s really just a game of wait and see. They might be able to see him in the morning, but the doctor wasn’t making any promises. It all depended on how the rest of the night went. If he made it through. They couldn’t say anything else for certain. There had been a lot of drugs in his system. He’d been deprived of oxygen for a long time. There was no way to be sure what would happen next. That was all up to Steve now.

Eddie sat there in that uncomfortable waiting room chair for hours. He didn’t move. He didn’t eat or drink. He didn’t even get up to go to the bathroom. He just sat there, staring at the same chip in the wooden table. His friends all tried their best to get through to him. They tried to coax him into eating or drinking something, but their efforts were unsuccessful. No one could get through to him, and he preferred it that way. He deserved to sit in his own silence, letting his brain run reckless and spiral to the depths of his fears and anxiety. He had failed.

He noticed that the more time seemed to pass, the antsier his bandmates got. Though, he couldn’t be exactly sure that’s what was happening. Time escaped him.

Time was such a funny thing, wasn’t it? It can feel like it speeds up, slows down, or stops entirely, but it never changes. It’s always the same. It’s all in the imagination. Eddie was never that good at telling time as a child. Even as he grew older, he found it difficult to keep track. As he sat in that hospital, his entire life on the brink of falling apart at the seams, time was nowhere to be found. Nothing made sense. He just sat silently, staring. People moved around him, time passed, but Eddie didn’t move. He was trapped. His body was at the hospital, but his mind kept bouncing around. From his mom, to Wayne, to Steve on the bathroom floor. An endless cycle. Eddie was hanging on by a single thread: the only thread of life left in Steve.

Eddie would never survive if Steve didn’t make it out alive.

Eddie was aware that a long time had passed only by the ache in his joints and the dryness of his mouth. He also sort of needed to pee, but that wasn’t important. At least, not important enough to warrant getting up. He couldn't move. He needed to stay right in that spot. Nothing was more important than that.

“Come on, Ed,” Wayne’s gruff voice said from somewhere behind him. Eddie stayed rooted to the spot. “It’s time to go, kid. We’ve gotta get to the reception.”

Eddie stood silently, staring straight ahead at the marble headstone. His mother’s name was engraved with curly letters. Eddie hadn’t known that was possible. There were piles of flowers that he knew wouldn’t be there next week. He didn’t speak. His feet were glued to the soft ground beneath him. His suit was itchy and his worn dress shoes were a size too small. The tie around his neck was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe.

He broke down right there, tears rolling down his cheeks and gasping sobs bursting from his chest. He sank down to the ground at the foot of his mother’s fresh grave, clawing at the stupid red tie that his mother had bought him two years prior and the collar of his white dress shirt. Wayne sighed softly and sat down beside him, gently pulling his hands away and shushing Eddie as he loosened the tie. He let him collapse against his chest, tie almost completely off and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. Wayne held him through each wracking sob and stuttering breath, murmuring comfort until he’d gotten it all out.

“I couldn’t do it, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whispered hoarsely. “Why couldn’t I do it?”

“Do what, Ed?”

“Save her.”

Why couldn't he do it?

“Eddie, seriously, you need to eat something,” Jeff said, holding out a bag of chips from the vending machine. Eddie stared blankly at the bag, seeing but not really. He heard the words coming from Jeff’s mouth, but his body refused to respond. He couldn’t quite fully process what he was saying. It slipped out of his head before he got the chance, replaced with his mother’s voice, or Steve promising he was fine. He was fine. There was nothing wrong. It was just weed. Nothing more. He was fine.

He lied.

What else had Steve lied about? What else was he keeping from Eddie? Every time Steve came home late, claiming some generic excuse about work or traffic or whatever else it may have been, how often had those been lies? What had he been doing instead? Getting high? Shooting up in a parking garage somewhere? Was he ever with someone else? Someone who wasn’t Eddie?

Steve would never cheat. Eddie had to remind himself of that over and over again. Repeat it on a loop in his head. Anything to get it to stay there.

He would not cheat. He would not cheat. He would not cheat.

But he would lie.

Eddie has never been insecure about their relationship before. He loved Steve more than anything. He always knew Steve felt the same. Steve loved him. No questions asked. Eddie knew. He didn't need to be told that Steve loved him. It was just obvious. Now, though, Eddie was second guessing everything. Why would he lie? If Steve could lie so easily about something like this, what else had he lied about? Had their whole relationship been a lie? Has Steve ever told him the truth about anything?

His brain swirled with more thoughts, more insecurities. He stared at the chip in the table as he spiraled. His fingers and toes were tingling. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. Any minute now, he was going to wake up. Everything would be fine. It was just one big nightmare. He would be laying in bed next to Steve, who would be snoring softly. He would roll over and tuck his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. He could hold him tight, bury his nose in the back of Steve’s neck and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. He could fall back into a peaceful sleep with Steve in his arms, safe and sound.

Except he wasn't waking up. No matter how much he tried, no matter how hard he willed his eyes to open, it didn't happen. He was trapped. There was no escape. Steve wasn't there. He may never be there again. This was all Eddie’s fault. If only he’d noticed. If only he cared enough. None of it was enough. Eddie wasn’t enough. He never should have expected to be enough for Steve. Steve deserved better.

Eddie never should have asked him to come on tour with them.

If Eddie hadn’t asked him to go, this never would have happened. Steve would be at home, in their apartment with Robin, probably sleeping in her room every night. He hated sleeping alone. He’d be sitting on the couch, wrapped up in one of Eddie’s hoodies and the threadbare blue blanket they took from the trailer when they moved, watching movies with Robin and a bowl of popcorn. He wouldn’t be dying in a hospital in New York. He’d be happy and safe. Eddie would miss him like hell, but at least he would be safe.

The sun was shining, blindingly bright, through the tall windows on the far wall of the waiting room when the doctor finally came back. Eddie’s knee had taken to bouncing anxiously a while ago, maybe an hour, maybe more. He can’t be sure. His brain had mostly come back online, but he still felt a little foggy. Untethered. His world was unbalanced. His ears were still ringing even as the doctor started talking. He barely heard a single word. Snippets of information filtered through the fog. Stable. Made it through the night. Up to Steve now. ICU. Visitors. The next thing he knows, Jeff is leading him through the halls with the doctor. It’s just the three of them. Other doctors and nurses bustled around them.

They finally crossed the double doors into the ICU. Eddie’s heart pounded as the doctor led them over to one of the sliding doors. She opened it, and Eddie couldn't move. He could hear the machines inside, see the edge of the hospital bed. If he turned his head a little, he knew he would see Steve. The doctor walked in and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed. She flipped it open and clicked her pen, writing things down and glancing at monitors.

“Eddie, why don't we go inside?” Jeff suggested softly, his hand on Eddie’s arm. “Steve needs you right now.”

Eddie's feet moved of their own accord, taking slow steps into the room. Jeff followed behind him, closing the door once they were both in the room. He carefully led Eddie over to the chair, giving him a light push on the shoulder to sit him down. As soon as he was close enough, Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand. An instinct he would probably always have. It didn't matter what was going on in his brain. If Steve’s hand was there, Eddie was holding it.

“Is he okay?” the doctor asked gently, nodding to Eddie.

Jeff sighed. “I hope so. This is all really hard on him.”

“How long have they been together?”

Jeff looked up, a little startled. It may have been New York, and queer relationships were a little more accepted than they were just a few years ago, but Steve and Eddie had always been careful. Cautious. They all had. But she was quick to respond before Jeff could even think to redirect.

“It’s okay, really. I know what love looks like. I would look at my partner the same way if something like this ever happened to her.”

“Oh.” Jeff glanced at Eddie, who had his eyes glued to Steve’s hand in his. “Um… it’s been almost eight years now. They’ve been through a lot together.”

She closed the chart and put it back at the end of the bed. She nodded a few times, watching the machines that beeped rhythmically. “I’m going to hold on to hope,” she said softly. “For them. For everyone like us. I can’t say anything for certain; this is all up to Steve. We’re doing everything we can. But I’m holding on to hope.”

“I guess that’s all any of us can do now, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” She cleared her throat and took a step back from the bed, turning to Jeff. “I have other patients to round on, but I’ll be back to check up on everything in a couple of hours. If you guys need anything, just let one of the nurses know.”

“Thank you.”

Silence fell through the room as the doctor left. Jeff took the chair in the corner, letting Eddie have whatever time he needed. He was mostly there for Eddie’s sake; someone had to make sure he would be okay until Wayne got there. Truthfully, they were all out of their depths here. No one really understood what was happening in Eddie’s brain. Not even close to the way Wayne would.

They sat there in total silence for a long time. It's unclear to Eddie just how long, but long enough that Jeff had gotten up four times. Once to get food, once for the bathroom, and twice to hit vending machines and coffee. Not that Eddie accepted anything Jeff offered him. His body still felt wildly disconnected from his brain. His limbs were heavy. He also knows it's been long enough that nurses have come in to check on Steve eight times, and his doctor has been back once. It seems the only thing Eddie’s mind can keep track of is how many times someone has entered or exited Steve’s room in the ICU.

Jeff gets up for a fifth time. Another bathroom break, from the few words Eddie managed to retain. The door slid shut behind him, and Eddie was alone again. He squeezed Steve’s hand three times, desperate for any sign that he's still there. That he's fighting for Eddie. Nothing happens. The machines beep. His chest rises and falls rhythmically with the calculated breaths of the ventilator. Steve’s eyes shift beneath his eyelids, but they don't open. They won't open. The door slid open again, and Eddie assumed Jeff was back, though it seemed like he wasn't gone very long. And then he hears it.

“Oh, God.”

Eddie’s head shot up at the sound of Robin’s shaky voice behind him. She looked wrecked. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffy and red. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. Wayne was standing beside her, looking somber. He watched her take a rattled breath, crossing the room slowly. Her eyes don't leave Steve. Wayne followed a few moments later, coming to stand behind Eddie and put a hand on his shoulder. Eddie wanted to break. As if he hadn't been slowly breaking this whole time.

“They- they said it was an overdose?” Robin asked softly, her voice cracking at the end. Eddie merely nodded, still trying to find his voice. “What- what happened, Eddie? Was it- was he drugged? How- how did this- did he relapse?”

“Relapse?” Eddie croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. That didn't make any sense. For Steve to relapse, he would have to be…. “He- he was clean?”

Robin frowned, and her gaze finally found Eddie. “What do you mean he was clean? He's been clean since ‘85, Eddie. I- I helped him, after Starcourt.”

All the air left Eddie’s lungs in an instant. This was all his fault. Steve was- he was clean. Sober. And Eddie ruined that. He gave Steve weed. He brought him on tour. He took him to parties full of temptation. He killed Steve.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered.

“Eddie, you have to tell me what's going on,” Robin begged. “When did he relapse? Why didn't he call me? He promised he would talk to me if he wanted to get high again.”

“I- Oh, God. I didn't know. He- he didn't tell me.” Eddie couldn't breathe. His heart squeezed in his chest, and his lungs pushed the air from his body until there was nothing left. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get it back. He was already hyperventilating. “This is all my fault. Oh my god, it's all my fault.” He was distantly aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks again.

Wayne stepped between Eddie and Robin, crouching down to look up into his nephew's face. His hands were solid against Eddie’s skin, just like they always were. “Ed, you need to talk to me. Take a breath, kid. I'm right here, but you have to tell me what's going on.”

Eddie’s breath stuttered halfway through his chest. “I didn't know, Wayne.”

“What didn't you know, Eddie?”

“I didn't- I didn't know he was sober. I- I thought I- I was just trying to help. I- I gave him weed. I did this.”

Robin’s expression hardened. “You did this to him?”

“I'm so sorry,” Eddie choked out between sobs. “I didn't- I didn't know. I was just trying to help. And- and then he- I knew he wasn't telling me something, but- but he promised it was just weed.”

“Get out.” Robin’s voice was firm, but he could hear the trembling fear behind it.

“What? I-”

“Get out. Get out, right now. You did this, Eddie. He was doing so good until he met you! And now he's dying! So get the hell out, before I make you!"

It was at this moment that the door opened for Jeff’s return. He paused just inside the doorway. Wayne stood up, facing Robin.

“Now, Robin, I think-”

“I don't care!” Robin’s hands were shaking. “This is his fault! I want him out, right now! Or I swear to God, Wayne, I'm going to kill him.”

Wayne glanced back at Jeff, who was the perfect picture of confusion. “Jeff, take Eddie into the hall.”

“What-”

“Don't ask questions right now,” Wayne said sternly with a shake of his head. “Just take him to the hall. I'll be out in a moment.”

As soon as the door shut behind them, and Jeff had led Eddie a little ways from the room, he finally snapped. His knees gave out from underneath him, and Jeff was the only thing holding him up as he sobbed.

This was all his fault. He killed Steve.

First his mom, now the love of his life. It was all his fault.

-----

taglist: @mugloversonly @djohawke @acowardinmordor @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @slowandsteddie @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @canmargesimpson @captainoliimar @ilikeititspretty

[velvetwarfare]

[ Cont. ]

It wasn’t as if Betty was doing any better.

The anniversary. The fucking anniversary of when the closest person in her life had left — in the worst fashion possible. The very core memory that completely shattered what was left of her sanity, sending the vampire into a spiral of madness.

She didn’t need a calendar to circle the date. It was as if the Gods themselves spited her enough to RELENTLESSLY TORTURE HER WITH THE OVERBEARING FEELINGS IT LEFT HER WHEN THE DAY ARRIVED.

So she too stuffed herself full of drugs and alcohol, determined to NUMB HER SENSES TO THE POINT WHERE SHE COULD NOT EVEN FUNCTION NOR HOLD A COHERENT THOUGHT — but still felt bad enough for Valentino that she momentarily pushed aside her own grief to tend to him.

“ Alright, alright…easy does it… “

The red head croaked, helping him back to bed on wobbly feet. Her hair was a disheveled mess, the pheromones mixed with tears practically stained her entire face red, her scleras were entirely crimson, clothes ragged and torn — it looked as if a bear had mauled her and spat her right back out.

Collapsing next to him, at least she had the decency to lift up the glass of water to prevent it from spilling — now face planted on the bed with the beverage up in the air for grabs.

“ T-Take it. “

@mothvalentino

[sldlovescartoons]

Against my better judgement, I’d like to risk making the whole Orym Vs Launda situation worse by digging into Launda’s Addiction Metaphor a bit.

So, let’s says your operating a small company that does some sort of important job. Like, if you don’t get your work done and the business goes under, lots to people will get hurt. One of your friends and coworkers is a bit of a coke head, but they are a very high functioning addict. Hell, they may be MORE productive when they use. It wasn’t even clear she had a problem until she ODed and spent some time in a medically induced coma. Your company gets this huge contract and it’s really important. If y’all fail the consequences for your company, employees and clients is massive. So you tell your recovering coke head friend to do whatever they needed to… and they agree and take a trip to the bathroom.

Everybody knows they have started using again, but goddamn are they getting shit done. She disappears into the bathroom and then pulls and all nighter that saves their asses so everybody is just choosing to not do anything. Things probably wouldn’t get too bad, she’s not one of THOSE addicts.

Then she breaks into one of their houses to steal shit to pawn for more cocaine and attacks them. She’s clearly high.

Would they deserve it for enabling them? Would it be wrong to get pissed with them? How would you feel if your coworkers defended them try to rob you? So on and so forth. It’s not a perfect metaphor, I know. I’ll probably delete this post after a while if I bother to post it- I’ve likely just pissed lots of people off. Oops.

[fxckin-blackbeard]

Jenny

Jenny by NOTHING MORE || X || @indestructiblelittlefckr || Israel "Izzy" Hands ||

You're beginning to drag the ones you love down Will this phase ever end? A thousand arms to hold you But you won't reach for any hands 'cause

I don't feel like I'm Getting through to you Let me paint this clear Life is short, my dear

ᒥ🐙ᒧ—        His cabin reeked of it, opium. It's a terrible smell, akin to pure cat piss, but Edward didn't care for it's awful stench. How long had he been smoking it that night? Long enough that when the door to his quarters opens, some of the smoke comes wisping out along the floor.

The man is laid out on the floor, pipe in mouth and puffing away still with the stuff. Glazed, bloodshot eyes slowly lull to the side to glance up at his First Mate, his expression shifts from placid to something that was more like he finally smelled the pungent stink of the herb.

"What do you fuckin' want?" He makes no effort to move, the herb having done it's job of pacifying him for the moment. But with Edward's energy and violent tendencies as of late, there was no way to tell how long that would last.

"'m busy, can't you see that? 'TwAt'." The insult is spoken in a mocking tone of voice, mimicking Izzy's use of the word in the past. Edward, when high, was a miserable dick. Or, once again, as of late. He wasn't new to the use of opium, but with how much time he spent smoking it now, it's clear it's no longer just a fun pass time or something to ease the pain of his left knee.

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

Years of trauma, heavy drinking, and hard drugs fragmented a lot of Rayman/Ramon's memories. He doesn't have very many left of Dimension X. He has trouble trying to remember what his own parents looked like.

The only person he really remembers from Dimension X was Globox. Rayman/Ramon assumed he died back in Dimension X.

He has to rely on pictures and stories to help jog the memory.

He latches onto Bullfrog as a friend after the rescue because of how much he reminds Rayman/Ramon of Globox. Bullfrog was hesitant on befriending Rayman/Ramon at first, but they did eventually bond. Rayman/Ramon and Bullfrog becoming close allies and friends.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Six.

It's a new week, meaning there's a new chapter for my SFOS crew! Thank you so much for your lovely feedback so far, guys! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,125

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Shit, honey. You sound awful.” 

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel the best. We had to cancel the next three shows so I can rest my voice. The doctor told me I can only talk when it’s vitally necessary.” 

“So why the hell are you calling me?” 

“Because speaking to my boyfriend who I haven’t seen for two and a half months is vital, baby!” 

He couldn’t help but find that endearing, that regardless of her strained vocal cords after ten months on the road, she still forsook the doctor’s advice, just to call him. Then again, Jade Burton and being told what to do didn’t usually go hand in hand. Except when he was doing the telling, and even then, she still protested. 

It was December first, and while he was back in Los Angeles wrapping up a huge onslaught of press work, she was east, the final leg of the tour now in its last two weeks. She had sixteen days to wait still until she got to see him again, Adrien set to meet her in New York upon her arrival. Or so she thought. Mr. Brody had been sneaky there, not revealing his plans to her for when the tour arrived in Pittsburgh. 

He’d actually be arriving back in New York on the tenth, intending to hop on a plane to Pennsylvania three days later and surprise her by popping up when she least expected it. He’d had a little help there, though. Help that continued in their little covert operation when the day of the Pittsburgh show rolled around. 

“Okay, she just went into the dressing room, go, go!” Jess spoke, ushering him through the side door, suddenly freezing when she saw Jade emerge again. “Shit, abort, abort!” How just over five feet of her managed to practically throw all six feet one of him back through the door, he didn’t know, ducking to hide while she kept the watch. “Okay, we’re clear, hurry.” They walked down the hallway together, Jess beaming with excitement, going into the dressing room before him, Adrien taking his phone out and making a call. 

“Hi baby!” he heard her, both down the phone and just about through the door, despite all the noise going on around. “Blimey, where are you? Sounds as loud as it is here!” 

He held onto the laughter bubbling in his throat. “Oh, just out in downtown LA,” he lied with ease, opening the dressing room door, seeing her in the perfect position to spring the surprise, her back to him. “How about you, how you doing?” 

“I’m sleepy, but yeah, pretty good,” she spoke, jamming her finger in her ear so she could hear him better through the noise of the dressing room. “I can’t bloody wait to see you! I need to fast forward the time!” 

“Might be able to help you there,” he spoke, hanging up, watching the smiles all around grow as he tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi!” he chirped as she turned, her eyes nearly falling out of her head.  

“Stop it!” she cried, hands flying to her mouth. “You are not here!” 

“I can assure you I am,” he grinned, throwing his arms around her as everyone else in the room cooed and applauded, falling into a long kiss that’d been three months in the coming. “Missed you, Moo.”  

“I missed you too, and you’re here, and I don’t know how to process this information!” she spoke, her voice pinched as she started to cry, Adrien lifting her up, her long legs wrapping around his waist as he held her tightly. “How did you even do this without me knowing?” 

“Had some help from the small one,” he replied, Jess waving cheerily. 

“We’ve been in cahoots!” the diminutive bassist informed her, still thrilled that the plan had been pulled off seamlessly. 

Indeed, they had, Jade blowing her a grateful kiss she pretended to catch against her cheek before burying her face against his neck, breathing his scent in. Oh, how she’d missed it. “You’ve got short hair and no beard, this is strange!”  

Her observation made him laugh, placing her down, both moving to take a seat. “Can’t play a mercenary looking like a hippie,” he spoke, scratching his stubbly chin. “The facial hair I’m working on, though. The razor has been hidden for now.” He then looked around, noticing one person in particular absent. “Where’s the noisy one?” 

“Sleeping off her hangover,” Jade confirmed, laughing at how trashed Jen had been the previous night. “She won’t rise until about 3pm. Actually, can you go give her a nudge? I’d do it, but the woman interviewing me is due any second.”  

“Sure, I gotta go throw my bag on the bus anyways,” he spoke, just as right on cue Hazel entered the dressing room, beckoning for Jade. He gave her a quick kiss in parting, walking back down the short hallway and out onto the bus, taking his bag into the rear lounge.  

“Jen, are you alive?” he called, walking back down the gangway, noticing the small curtain covering her bunk still drawn. “Jen? I’ve arrived and you haven’t licked my face yet. Kinda feel like I’m missing something,” he then teased, reaching through and giving her shoulder a little tickle. Nothing. “Jen?” 

Pulling back the curtain, his eyes widened in horror, seeing her lying there, her mouth covered in vomit, her skin pallid, not responding. “Fuck, fuck!” he exclaimed, slapping her face gently, trying to rouse her. “Jen, Jen, wake up. Ahhh, fuck. Don’t do this, Jen!”  

Looking around in panic as he pulled his phone out, he noticed her foot, a needle stuck between her toes as his shaky thumb dialled 911, jamming the phone to his ear while sticking his fingers into her mouth, clearing out what remained of her puke. Thank fuck he felt her shallow breath flutter across them. 

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked. 

“It’s my friend, she’s OD’ing on something, I don’t know what but she’s out cold. Still breathing, but barely,” he spoke, his heart thrumming, feeling lightheaded.  

“Okay, sir. I need you to check for a pulse and turn her onto her side. What’s your exact location, I’m getting an ambulance out to you right away.” He pulled her from the bunk while giving the information required, confirming she had a pulse, although it was weak. He was stuck in the territory of utterly terrified, fingers repeatedly checking her pulse, pulling the needle from her foot while having the operator explaining what else he needed to do, before telling him the ambulance was minutes away.  

Luckily, he wasn’t alone in it for long, Katie boarding the bus, gasping as she ran to them. “What the fuck, what the fucking fuck!”  

“I just found her; she’s OD’ing. Christ fucking knows what on, but I pulled a damned hypodermic out of her foot,” he explained, Katie crashing down to her knees, reaching for Jen’s hand and face as she trembled in fright, Adrien beginning to root around in the pockets of her jeans. 

“What are you doing?” she shouted, her emotions in utter overload. 

“Checking if she had anything left. This is bad enough, she isn’t going to jail eventually for possession if she has anything substantial, too. Cops’ll be fucking crawling all over this bus as soon as it's established a rock musician OD’d in it. Look in her bag, and if you find anything, throw it down the drain. Does Jess have a stash right now? If so, that needs to go, too.” 

Reaching for his arm, she squeezed it in apology for her terse tone, thanking the stars somebody a lot calmer and more pragmatic than her had found Jen, her eyes swimming with tears as she carefully manoeuvred around where she lay, turning her bunk upside down at speed. Nothing. She quickly called her girlfriend while checking her bag, telling her to get their tour manager and get outside, in tears as she explained the situation. Unzipping the last inner pocket, she quickly found what she was looking for, two baggies, one full of cocaine and the other with heroin.  

Heroin. How the fuck had she been using heroin and nobody had noticed? She then remembered how Adrien had said he’d found her, with a needle still sticking out of her foot. Injecting into the feet as a sure-fire way for someone to hide their track marks.  

A quick reach into the overhead compartment located Jess’s weed, Katie running from the bus and just as the lady herself and Charlotte ran up the steps, Hazel following. The contraband was disposed of seconds before she heard the wail of sirens, an ambulance and two police cars hurtling down towards the bus. Everything moved like time was being run through treacle for all involved, the medics clearing the bus, Adrien moving to wrap his arms around her.  

“Jade doesn’t even know! She’s in a fucking interview and the woman who’s like a sister to us is OD’ing in the gangway!” she cried, sobbing uncontrollably. The protector in him noticed the gaze of a few fans the police had pushed back from the bus, seeing a few cell phones being produced, turning to pull her away from it before anyone got chance to take a picture, heading back into the venue.  

“Hey, hey, come on,” he spoke, moving her to the side of the hallway, hand rubbing her back. “She was breathing, she had a pulse. She’s gonna be okay, alright?”  

She nodded dumbly, wiping her eyes. Jade was right, he was steadying, a very calming presence. In that moment, she was thankful for him especially, because she wasn’t sure how she’d have handled finding Jen OD’ing in her bunk, if she could have acted so calmly in the face of someone she loved slipping slowly into what could have easily been her death. If he hadn’t walked on that bus when he did... 

Everything seemed to move around them in a whirlwind, time suddenly speeding up. Hazel ran back and stated she was going to the hospital with her and would call as soon as she had news, expressly stating they stay where they were until she had, having their assistant Kim go and tell the venue manager and promoter the show obviously wouldn’t be going ahead before bolting back through the doors.  

The most difficult thing Adrien thought he’d have to do that day was to get to the venue without his girlfriend being any the wiser. Dealing with someone OD’ing was perhaps beyond the very end of his list, as far as expectations went, lighting a cigarette, feeling awful that the girlfriend in question still didn’t know. 

He stood with his arm draped around a still sniffing Katie, both moving back into the dressing room where Charlotte and Jess sat, looking dumbstruck, the latter bolting back neat tequila from the bottle. He made a motion with his hand, taking a big swig himself, the burn of the golden liquid taking the edge of the fact he was still in a state of shock, feeling Jess rest her head against his thigh as she hugged his leg.  

“Are you alright?” she asked in a small voice, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “That can’t have been easy, finding her like that.” 

He reached to squeeze her fingers, touched that she’d thought to ask. “I think so, and no, it wasn’t.” 

It was a further ten-minute wait before Jade appeared, Adrien moving to hug her, relaying the news that literally made her legs buckle out from under her. He lifted her into his arms, moving to the couch over against the back wall, sitting down and holding her tightly while she cried her eyes out. 

“Has anyone called Donna?” she suddenly asked, emerging from having her face buried against her boyfriend’s neck. 

“I did, she’s on her way,” Jess spoke, referring to Jen’s only surviving parent, her mother. “Lou’s with her, too.” Her elder sister. That was good, at least, that Donna didn’t have to do the five-and-a-half-hour drive all on her own, worried out of her mind. “I can’t believe it. I knew she was upping her pills because of her back, but smack? That’s just not Jen’s style. And yet there she was, using right under our noses.” 

“Don’t feel too bad, none of you. Injecting in her foot goes to show she went a way to hide it, and with her pain pills all being opioids as well, she could easily explain it away, looking all whacked out if she was ever caught.” Adrien spoke. It didn’t matter how much sense his words made, though, that Jen had indeed been very clever in hiding her habit well, they still all felt like they were responsible for not noticing.  

“Yeah, but we did. I did.” He was expecting that, for Jade to take the blame. “And now I’m sitting here sobbing like a loser when it’s Jen in a hospital bed, not me.” Yep, he expected that, too. She really didn’t give herself any grace where being vulnerable for long was concerned, always hardening herself rapidly. 

“Hey,” he spoke, turning her face to look her in the eye, “you’re not a loser because you’re upset about your friend, alright?” he told her gently, watching her wipe her eyes as she sat up and squared her shoulders, sniffing. 

“And I sent you, and you had to deal with the fucking awfulness that was her almost dying. You didn’t need that!” She was up off his lap and pacing around in a circle, clenching and relaxing her fists as the agitation began to pulse, his words seemingly not penetrating at all. He opened his mouth to speak, to try and calm her, Jess quickly reaching to grab his arm, shaking her head. 

“Let her deal with it in her own way, big guy.” she whispered. Was he the only one in the room that saw Jade’s way – blaming herself and then avoiding how that made her feel - wasn’t healthy at all, he wondered?  

It was a further wait of half an hour before Jess’s phone rang, Hazel calling in from the hospital. The sigh of relief that exited her chest was huge, everyone feeling a little better to see the relief leave her tense shoulders as they finally sagged. “She’s alright. They gave her Naloxone and she snapped out of it like that,” she explained with a click of her fingers, “but they’re keeping her in overnight because her blood pressure is through the roof.  

“Also, even though she stated it wasn’t intentional, a pure accident, they want her to have a psyche evaluation in the morning, too, once she’s rested. Hazel is staying there with her, told us to find hotels to check into for the night and the company will reimburse. We can go and see her tomorrow.”  

While Jade organised accommodation, the others returned to the tour bus to collect their belongings, the police still there after turning it upside down, just as Adrien had predicted they would. At discovering he’d been the one to find her, he was asked to give a brief statement, his presence at the local PD not necessary. All he could tell them was that he’d found her, called an ambulance and no, he didn’t know her well enough to know if her habit was longstanding. 

With three rooms booked at the Marriott, the girls all went and gave their crew big hugs as they packed away, Adrien noting how close they all seemed, like one huge family. Their sound engineer, Scott, a towering bear of a man with dirty blonde dreadlocks down to his knees took extra time to hug the four of them tightly, telling them he loved them and asking them to pass that onto Jen too when they saw her.  

One sombre ride across the city later and they checked in, departing in the foyer, Jade and Adrien’s room on the seventh floor, the other two rooms on the ground. As soon as they closed the door, she was in floods all over again, the stress of it, what could have been hitting her square in the chest, pulled into the tight embrace she’d been missing for the last three months. 

“You saved her life. I owe you fucking everything, baby. She would have died if you hadn’t come here early, if today hadn’t panned out the way that it did,” she told him through her tears. “I love you. Not just because of what you did for Jen, but because you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” 

He beamed, resting his forehead to hers, kissing the tip of her nose. “I love you, too. I’m not just saying it because you did either. I always planned to tell you in person, because I’ve known for a while.”  

Hearing those words, her heart could have burst, the emotion of the day colliding with the love that she felt, pulling him into endless kisses, steering him in the direction of the bed. Sex hadn’t even been on his mind after the horror of what had happened, but in truth, they both needed something to take their minds off the awfulness of it. The sharp edge within needed softening.  

Loving hands pulled one another from their clothes, touches and kisses exploring in sweet reacquaintance, Jade gasping as she felt herself parted around the thick heat of him, her mouth closing a soft kiss upon the side of his throat. His hands clasped hers, their lips locking together, kisses full of fiery honey exchanged, the rolling rhythm of it anchoring them back to each other. 

Hooking his arm under her leg, he hoisted it forward, allowing him to fill her deeper, kissing the little sob that fell from her lips, staring into the blue glitter of her eyes. “I love you so fucking much, baby. God, I missed you.”  

“I love you, too... and missed you... and your cock... oh, fuck!” He couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, nuzzling her, raining kisses over her neck and breasts, driving into her harder for a few thrusts before slowing the tempo again. Three months without the most incredible sex of his life meant there was no way he wanted to rush it. The fact that he could already feel those waves of bliss beginning to get stronger negated that somewhat, though, but he wouldn’t let them direct him. 

Slipping from her, he moved down the bed, mouth closing over her glistening folds, tongue circling in a slow, firm rotation upon her clit. “Ohhh, how the hell did you get so good at that?” 

“I pay attention.” he paused to speak, kissing her a couple of times, the blade of his tongue snaking back between her folds. It really wasn’t difficult, he’d always thought, to gauge how a woman reacted and adjust accordingly to that.  

The swirling tempest of wet heat lapping against her had her squirming, nails raking over his scalp as her back arched, her little moans a complete symphony of bliss. It was amazing to him, that a woman capable of bending her voice to such an unearthly growl could be made to emit sounds so delicate and sweet.  

Moving to kneel, he returned himself to her, parting her walls, his eyes falling to watch himself arrowing her as Jade grasped her legs and pulled them back until her knees touched her chest, improving that view for him even more. He didn’t know what was more beautiful to cast his gaze upon, how the petals of her pussy parted so prettily around his cock, or how gorgeous she looked while he was fucking her. His eyes flitted between as he brought his thumb to her mouth, watching her pillowy lips suck upon it before moving to begin rubbing sparks at her clit. 

It didn’t take long for any containment to be abandoned, bodies colliding, the lewd noises of their fuck filling the room as they chased the culmination of sweet release. It blew through them like a howling storm, shattering against one another as the sublime warmth radiated and he filled her with cum, her inner walls milking his cock thirstily. 

His body collapsed to hers, mouth pressing kisses against her neck as they lay in a content entanglement of limbs, enjoying the way her soaking walls pulsed around his cock. Smiling down at her, he remained exactly where he was, kissing her tenderly, fingers stroking her delicate neck. It was exactly what they’d needed to counteract the events of that afternoon, parting eventually but remaining close, Jade stroking his head until he drifted off.  

He was tired, his eyes shadowy. He needed the coming break from work he had, him without any projects for the next five weeks, Jade having a month free until she flew over to the UK to begin a five-week movie shoot where she’d be playing the role of Sarah Quentin, a police bomb disposal expert. A little later that evening, it was as she was reading the words of the real people who worked in that field on her phone that Adrien found her, sitting outside beneath the heater on the hotel patio, a large JD and a cigarette in her hand.  

“There’s my Moo,” he spoke softly, sitting at her side, placing the beer he’d brought down and stealing one of her cigarettes. “What are you doing?” 

“Familiarising myself with all things bomb disposal,” she replied, sipping her drink, glad of the nice little buzz. She was all about buzzes at that moment, whether it be the afterglow from sex, or a good, cold bourbon, it was a little soother sorely needed. “I need to keep my mind off what nearly happened, or I’ll be climbing the damned walls.” Pausing, she placed her drink down, reaching to squeeze his thigh. “How are you feeling? I can’t even imagine how horrible that was, finding her like that.” 

A little warm wave swelled through his chest at that, her concern over how he was dealing with it. “It was awful. Fucking awful. I thought she was dead for a few moments, until I cleared the puke out of her mouth and felt she was still breathing, and that she was warm, too. I just wanna go and give her a hug now, you know?” 

“Me too,” she empathised, sighing. 

“How about you, how are you dealing with it now?”  

“Still kicking myself, but it happened, and what I feel doesn’t matter. I’m okay. I’ve just got to be there for her now, get her through it.”  

A reply he more than expected. “What you feel does matter, Jade.” 

“It doesn’t!” she exclaimed, eyes widening as she took a fierce drag on her cigarette. “I’m not the one who almost died, she is. I have to pull myself together and be there for her, get her through it.” 

He wanted to explain to her that not being together immediately was perfectly fine, that her closest friend having a very real brush with death of course affected her as well. He doubted it would fall on anything other than deaf ears, though, and didn’t want to cause her further distress. She was trying hard enough to push that down as it was.  

The truth of it was, at thirty-two, Jen was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions and in this instance, her own mistakes. Nobody had forced her hand. Jade couldn’t have prevented it any more than her lament over the loss of control could mean that Jen hadn’t decided to shoot up an accidentally lethal dose of heroin. Again, though, he kept that thought on the back burner, not wanting to confront her with it.  

Her habit of avoidance and self-blame, though, he saw quite clearly then that he’d have to keep an eye on it, before it rose up to become a problem she couldn’t run away from any longer. Until that happened, he’d simply be there for her, let her know she could talk to him. Or like he did later that evening, hold her tightly and make her feel safe when he knew that emotionally, she didn’t.  

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered into the dark, lying in the same pose they did on the bus, his thigh between hers, arms around her, her hand rested on his cheek. “And for just been you. I think I’d have fallen apart completely if you weren’t here with me.” 

He kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, baby love.” 

He truly meant it, too.  

[guessillcallitart]

taglist: @aloeverawrites, @your-absent-father, @rbbess110, @yesireadbooks, @full-on-sam, @anonymousfoz, @the-mindless, @athenswrites, @albatris, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary (ask to be added or removed)

(moodboard pics from pinterest)

[angelsanarchy]

Bad Habits- Clay Roach x Y/n series

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22

WIP

[small-world-au]

((Lmao i'm bored rn))

((Context: this is a what if Bridget actually got killed by Rowena))

**Gabe finds Avrille with Rowena (idfk what theyre doing)**

"Avrile!? Wh-why are you with her! Don't you know what she has done!?!?"

Avrille: “Yes…I know what she’s done dear…”

She walked up to Gabe and looked her dead in eyes.

Avrille: “I’ve done worst, you know? My little lab rat of a brother escaped and I need to find him…Rowena posses abilities that are quite necessary for my business.”

There was a slight pause.

A: “Though it rather…unfortunate that Bridget is no longer with us, life goes on, I suppose.”

*Rowena holds on Avrille’s arm*

R: “At least am not a sorry soul who craves love when it’s not there…”

*leans onto Avrille*

R: “Not anymore~”

*Avrille pats Rowena and gives you a blank stare*

A: “Am sorry…but business is business, Gabe.”

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Turning Point

Note 1: I got the idea for this chapter late last night and resisted the urge to work on it then because I was still fleshing it out. Also, I will be ignoring some "canon" information like the Killer Croc file, etc because I didn't care for the canon version. Faceclaim: Ethan Cutkosky as Jason Todd Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader (Sweetie) Warnings: Violence, descriptive child abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, vague reference of disturbing images on a bad guy's laptop. Sweetie as an alternative to Y/N (for those new to the series)

Jason pocketed the key the baker had given him the night before. He'd been scared out of his mind when Batman had shown up. It had been difficult to eat with Batman staring him down, expression entirely unreadable. But the baker had practically dragged the dubbed Demon of Gotham out of the kitchen.

Jason had a talent for moving without being detected. It was a skill he'd been forced to develop early on. So, quietly moving to the doorway the pair had ducked out, Jason began to listen in. They were whispering, clearly not wanting him to hear their conversation. Too late for that.

"He's a kid. I sincerely doubt he's going to kill me if I give him a place to hide out whenever he needs it." The baker had scoffed.

"You can't guarantee that, Sweetie. You don't know anything about him. He broke in. With a crowbar clearly he planned on using it on something." Batman's response made Jason cringe. He never planned on hurting anyone but he hadn't done himself any favors bringing something that could be considered a weapon.

"Pfft, yeah, on my display case! Bruce, I get that you're worried about me. And that's sweet and all. But this kid needs help!" It was at that moment that Jason realized why the baker had looked so familiar. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner. This was Bruce Wayne's newfound love.

But now he knew Bruce Wayne's secret. He took learning Batman's secret identity as his cue to slink back to his seat before his eavesdropping could be discovered. The adults had returned, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jason had overheard crucial information.

After he'd finished eating, the baker, whom he'd later learned to call Sweetie, had handed Jason a pair of keys. They'd explained the copper-colored one was to the bakery and the silver one was to their loft upstairs. They'd told him if he ever got hungry again or just needed a place to hang out for a while, he could let himself in, in a less destructive way, whenever he wanted.

Jason had been confused as to why this complete stranger was so interested in helping him. He'd expected to get hit when he'd been discovered in the bakery. And instead, they'd fed him, given him access to the bakery and their own loft, and had stood up for him to Batman.

He had just slipped out of the bakery for the second time after having been fed yet again by Sweetie and hanging around for what he assumed was long enough for his stepmother and her boyfriend to be passed out before he got home.

Boy was he wrong. As Jason slipped into the run-down apartment and began to silently make his way to his bedroom, his stepmother's boyfriend, Clay, stepped out of the kitchen, right in front of him, with a beer can in hand. Jason froze, hoping Clay wouldn't notice him. Again his hopes were dashed.

Confusion and surprise briefly flashed over Clay's face, followed immediately by anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?!" At the man's yelling, Jason took a defensive stance, preparing for Clay's fist to come flying.

Then his stepmother, Sheila, came staggering out of the living room. "S'going on, baby?" She muttered, glazed-over eyes barely registering Jason's presence.

"Your shithead kid finally dragged his ass in! He has no respect for you or me, waiting so long before he finally shows up!" Clay snarled, stepping close enough to Jason to make the boy grimace at his foul breath.

"The fuck have you been?" Sheila demanded, glaring at Jason.

"Nowhere. I-" Jason's attempt at an excuse was interrupted by Clay's fist making contact with his browline, knocking him down to the floor. The blow made it impossible for Jason to register what Clay was yelling at him now. But he could take a guess.

Steeling himself, Jason kicked out at Clay's shin. Knocking the drunken man's leg out from under him. He attempted to scramble backward up the stairs but Clay was on top of him at a surprising speed.

Another punch, this time to his nose, and Jason silently wished it wouldn't be broken later. Followed by Clay's meaty hands wrapping around Jason's neck. Jason lashed out with both his hands and his feet, making contact on numerous occasions. But it was futile. Clay was too amped up on whatever drugs he'd taken to notice any pain now.

Jason could faintly hear Sheila screaming at Clay to let him go, not out of concern for Jason but out of worry that Clay would go to prison for killing him. Jason's vision was getting spotty and he was certain he was either going to die or at least black out and be left on the floor overnight like last time.

Then suddenly Clay's weight and hands were off of him. It became easier to breathe so Jason moved onto his hands and knees and began taking deep gasping breaths. They were a bit painful but Jason didn't care. He could barely make out the sounds of a scuffle behind him but the blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the commotion.

Finally, once it became less of a chore to breathe and his heart rate, vision, and hearing returned to normal, Jason realized that someone had saved him. He had an inkling of who it was and the sight of his stepmother and her unconscious boyfriend bound a few feet away confirmed it. He heard the sound of laptop keys clacking in the other room. He followed the sound to the living room, where Clay kept his laptop hidden in the locked coffee table drawer.

There was Batman, typing away. Obviously looking for something to gain Clay further charges.

"How did you..." He started, wincing at the scratching in his throat. He rubbed his neck, hoping the swelling would lessen.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an eye on you after your little break-in last night?" Batman responded, not even bothering to look at Jason.

Jason watched him for a second, thinking how odd it was that he had the richest man in Gotham sitting on his ratty couch, using his stepmom's asshole boyfriend's laptop. The richest man in Gotham had just saved him. The richest man in Gotham had no idea that Jason knew he was Batman.

For yet another time that night, Jason was proven wrong.

"You seem to like spying on people, Jason." Batman suddenly said, again not looking away from his work on the laptop.

"Not really spying since you're in a common area of my home." If he didn't know any better, Jason could have sworn Batman chuckled at Jason's snark.

"True. But listening in on my conversation with Sweetie last night..." Bruce trailed off and Jason noted that his tone held no anger or hostility, merely amusement. Which just confused the boy even more.

Before Jason could ask or say anything else, Batman suddenly slammed the laptop closed. A sickened look on his face. Clearly, he'd seen something disturbing on Clay's laptop. Which didn't really surprise Jason. Clay would do anything for a quick buck.

Outrage soon washed over Batman's face and Jason remained rooted in place as he watched Batman storm over to Clay. Jason's eyes grew wide as Batman whipped out a red hot ring in the shape of his bat symbol and he couldn't tear his eyes away as the side of Clay's face was branded.

He only looked away when he saw blue and red lights flashing outside the window, growing closer by the second, accompanied by a chorus of sirens. When he turned back around Batman was gone.

But somehow Jason knew it wouldn't be his last encounter with Gotham's guardian.

[thewayuarent]

Ways of handling addictions in Only Friends

Tw: drug abuse, overdose

Let me tell this straight away - I was in a relationship with addicted person. By the time we started dating they didn’t use drugs for about couple of months by still used alcohol a lot. They’d come a long way to be clean and I was there all the time every time. This year they collapsed. Drug overdose, the end of it.

So I know that my personal experience doesn’t make me a profi automatically. Addiction is a very complex subject and very personal experience. But I do know a thing or two about it.

And the first rule here is: addicted person will never stop because of you. They need to want it for themselves.

By this moment we’ve been shown three different dynamics where one person is addicted and the other isn’t: Sand and Ray, Mew and Ray and Mew and Top.

Start with Mew and Ray. The thing is, Mew has no obligation to save Ray. He was there for him in the worst moment and, yes, I really want to say that he had to do more for Ray - he is his closest friend and he is definitely struggling - but. But Mew has a right to step away. Because navigating someone through healing is very hard and very long process and Mew doesn’t have to deal with it. I can’t blame him honestly for that.

For what I can critique not Mew specifically but the whole friend group (all four of them yes) is the very next scene where them all - including Ray - are drinking. Like guys, Ray right here tried to overdose, may be it would be nice to have a fucking break?

The Mew and Top situation is way different. Mew finds out Top uses drugs - that’s not the best thing to learn about someone, sure. But Mew doesn’t take time to think about “do I need that in my life” (which would be understandable), no. He makes a statement: stop using drugs and I’ll have sex with you. There is your price by the way. And this is also understandable - it is a manipulation, yes, but it’s very common way to try to handle things like that, and I would argue Mew has good intentions here. And oh, Mew, my boy, I’m sorry but that’s not how things work. You know Top can have more in a phone call, right? You understand that person saying “I’m not an addict” while having a dose in his pocket it’s at least a bit shady? I know that it doesn’t automatically implicates that Top is a hard addict but still.

But he is already lying about it. Using drugs while having fun with your friends it’s not the same thing as calling your dealer and using it alone in your room because you struggle with emotions, just saying.

Making him choose will never work out. Because he will choose, and it won’t be you.

And what’s about Sand and Ray? Sand knows for a fact that Ray has problems with alcohol. He doesn’t know about drugs, at least for now. Sand and Ray know each other for a very short period of time, and Sand is “it’s not my business” type of person, so I don’t criticize him while saying the next thing. But.

Sand is unintentionally supportive of Ray’s addictions. He drinks with him a lot - they are drinking buddies. I can’t be sure but it’s kind of looks like there will be a weed smoking next episode? For Sand drinking time to time and smoking weed can be fine - he is not addicted (by what we know). For Ray it is a call. So of course Sand, so as Mew, has a whole right to live his life without dealing with Ray’s addictions. But they are definitely falling for each other. That can develop into relationship. And then it will suddenly be a problem. But isn’t it already? How will Ray react if Sand suddenly turns from drinking/smoking with him to trying to stop him? I would say not the best way. There is also an option that for Sand it won’t be a problem so we’ll see.

The addiction is not a verdict. Both Top and Ray are young and very rich and it’s a very common thing for young rich people to have some kind of stuff - drugs, alcohol or both. It doesn’t automatically mean they are doomed. But still whoever decides to be in relationship with them (Mew and Sand, talking to you) have to think about it and think hard. Do you understand what are you dealing with? Do you honestly want to deal with it? Are you ready for all of highs and lows you’re going to face? If yes, then good luck to you - it really can work out. But don’t fool yourself into thinking that there is nothing to worry about.

[nerdywriter36]

There Comes at Last an End to the Bitter Frosts, Chapter 1: Discovery

AO3

A friend of Erik's discovers his dependency on an addictive substance, and she decides to take on helping him overcome this problem. However, she perhaps doesn't go about it in exactly the right way.

This idea has been sitting on the back burner for a WHILE now as an offshoot of an upcoming enemies-to-lovers fic that @brendadaaedestler and I have in the works. When @textsfromthefifthbasement announced their E/OC Flash Event, we found that this fic perfectly fits one of the Bingo lines and decided to finally put it out into the world! The next four chapters will follow in due course. This first chapter is based on the prompt 'anti-hero.'

We hope you enjoy the start of this little mini-fic!

also shout-out to @brendadaaedestler for putting this gorgeous banner together in record time! ❤️

[askmafiabobvelseb]

Fair fair warning. Bobs gonna have a LOT of nightmares a week after the hospital event.

[rihdler]

a few quick notes that i thought were important to mention:

>> despite his desperate need for recognition, edward still enjoys the benefits of anonymity, so while his name is quite well known to the public as the identity of the riddler, his face and voice are another thing entirely. he uses a variety of filters and modulators to alter his appearance and speech whenever addressing his v*ctims (or batman and the gcpd). >> suffers from a mild form of osteoarthritis. it isn’t debilitating, but there are times when he is physically incapacitated due to the severity of the symptoms. this is one of the reasons why he chose to incorporate a cane into the riddler’s ‘aesthetic’, since he often needs one as a mobility aid. >> given edward’s aversion to doctors (and the fact that he’s a wanted criminal), he often self-medicates. most of the time, it’s a concoction of over-the-counter painkillers and anti-inflammatory medication, but he does drink (only until he’s tipsy, never full-blown drunk) and smoke (both nicotine and otherwise) on occasion. however, there are times when he takes harder dr*gs. >> still builds and utilizes a variety of death traps and devices (which are an amalgamation of those found in the telltale game and 2022 movie, but far more saw inspired) in his schemes. however, the intended v*ctims are those he deems deserving of such cruel and unusual punishment, i.e., abusers, predators, corrupt officials and other unsavoury individuals (especially ones that have escaped the law in some way or another).

[poisonedspider]

Fuck, he felt like shit. He definitely relapsed. Charlie was going to be so disappointed in him, but he wasn't perfect. Addict trash like you never changes. At least the withdrawal wasn't going to be bad since he had been clean for a decent amount of time. But his head hurt, he was fucking tired, and emotionally he felt like garbage.