#cw discussion of addiction

[tarlosstory]

TARLOS | S1E4 | Part 5 [TK only] FULL TARLOS STORYLINE | ONLY TARLOS SCENES

[steddieas-shegoes]

crawling out

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’

rated m | 404 words

cw: mention of addiction (nothing specific or detailed), mention of rehab, break-up | tags: rock star Eddie Munson, making amends, angst with a hopeful/happy ending, hurt/comfort, getting back together

- - - - - - - - - -

“Keep digging the hole for yourself. Eventually, no one will find you.”

Those were the last words Steve had said to him over a year ago.

They were in the middle of tour, their first headlining one, and Steve had been antsy. Eddie was picking fights with him for no god damn reason.

Steve got sick of it.

Steve left.

The band finished that tour, Eddie went on a bender and nearly died, and the band took a break.

- - -

Rehab sucked. Not because of the withdrawals; Those weren’t all that bad compared to some of the horror stories he’d heard. He was alone.

And being alone was what got him there in the first place.

Steve warned him he’d be alone the further into this hole he put himself and he was right.

- - -

But it’s been months since rehab, months since he felt the urge to bury himself in the hole he dug for himself, months since he started clawing his way out.

He’d spent the first month with Wayne, who welcomed him with open arms the way he always did.

The second month was spent traveling to see all the kids, apologize to them for everything.

All of them had quickly sided with Steve, rightfully so, and he’d barely heard from them after…well, after. They all accepted his apologies, wanted to start working towards friendship again.

Next was a trip back to California to visit the band, who all stuck around to help out in the studio and write songs for others while they figured out what they wanted to do. They all loved him, told him so in the way they looked proud to see him standing outside of the hole he dug.

Now, standing outside the apartment Steve shared with Robin, he had the strong urge to jump back into the hole.

“Just knock,” he said to himself.

He lifted his hand.

The door swung open.

Steve stood there, just as beautiful and perfect as the day he left Eddie, frowning.

He looked him up and down, took in how he’d changed, put on a little bit of weight, trimmed his hair to his shoulders, got a new tattoo.

The date Steve left.

Steve’s eyes locked on his.

“You still digging that hole?”

“No. Filling it in actually. My arms got tired.”

Steve bit his lip, the telltale sign he was hiding a laugh.

“Need help?”

Eddie smiled. “Couldn’t hurt, sweetheart.”

[imfinereallyy]

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

Steve sighs, and he looks at Eddie in his doorway. So much has changed in five years. But Eddie seems the same. Just his hair is a bit longer, he’s got more tattoos, and he’s got scruff on his face that Steve knows when they saw each other last in 87’ would have driven him nuts.

Steve has always liked the idea of Eddie with a beard. It doesn’t matter now, though. “I think you should leave.”

“Steve, I—I just need a chance to explain.” Eddie moves side to side on his feet.

“Explain?” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “You had the chance to explain five years ago before you left. You had the chance to explain the weeks after with no phone calls to me to any of the kids. You had the chance to explain the year after when you talked to everyone but me, and I thought you just needed time. You had the chance a year ago before you cut everyone else off again.”

Eddie hangs his head in shame. “Stevie, please. I know I don’t deserve it. But I just want to talk.”

Steve’s resistance wavers slightly. He moves out of the doorway to let Eddie in. Eddie rushes inside, knowing Steve will change his mind at any moment. Steve shuts the door behind them. “I’m only letting you in because if Robin finds you in our doorway, she will kick your ass. And as much as you hurt me, I don’t actually want to see you in physical pain.”

Eddie smiles a bit, “Still the dynamic duo? You and Robbie? What’s stopping her from beating me up inside?”

“Our cat Sylvia might see. And she’s trying to shield her from as much violence as possible. Says one Sylvia has seen enough.”

“Oh please tell me she is out by now, because that is a giant gay flashing sign.” Eddie chuckles.

Steve can’t help but laugh a little, “Yes, she is. It would be hard if she weren’t, considering she’s dating Nancy. And Nancy is a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. She shows her off any chance she gets.”

“Wow, Robs bagged Wheeler? Never saw that coming.” Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Must have been a blow to the ego for ya, Stevie. Your ex and your best friend.” He mock clutches his heart.

Steve lets out a big laugh this time, “Nah. I encouraged it. They’re my favorite people; they deserve to be happy.”

Eddie softens, “Yea, being a favorite person of Steve Harrington is a very special thing.”

Steve feels ice water in his veins, “What are you doing here Eddie?”

Eddie sighs, “What do you want to hear? Why I needed to come, or why I wanted to? Cause the truth is I needed to come to apologize to you. Give you the explanation you deserve. What I wanted, though, what I wanted is to tell you that I love—“

“Don’t.” Steve chokes.

“Right apologies first.”

“First? First?! Eddie. I don’t know what you could say to me right now that would make anything make sense. We had something good. It took us so long to get to that point. And it was great because we learned about each other and knew each other inside out. Our friendship blossomed into something more, and we were just getting started, and you left. I had thought I was done with love before I met you. But then you came along and made me feel seen and cared for, and then you got weird and distant so quickly, and you fucking left. And then I knew for sure I was done with love. Don’t think it was meant for me. Sure, that’s not on you, but you don’t get to—you don’t get to open old wounds because you feel the sudden desire to come around again.” Steve swallows tears.

Eddie’s face goes through hundreds of emotions. Anger. Shock. Grief. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. They stew in Steve’s words instead. Then finally, Eddie settles on. “I’m an addict.”

Steve, who has thought about a million ways this could go, has never thought of this. “What?” All the tension releases from his body. He just stares hopelessly at Eddie.

“I’m an addict. I'm sober now, I just reached a year, but yeah. I'm an addict. Never thought I would be. But after everything with Vecna and the painkillers they put me on…it got hard. Denied it for a while. Said to myself a little of everything here and there to forget wouldn’t hurt anyone. But then we were becoming something alongside, me spiraling deeper into addiction. And I—fuck this was easier to practice at the meetings.” Eddie runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I would have hurt you. More than me leaving did. And I couldn’t live with that. I could live with you hating me. It was selfish of me. I wasn’t ready to give up the drugs so I gave up you, and it’s not fair. Not fair that I did that to you, to anyone of you really, but especially you Steve. You just deserved someone who could love you all the time, love you fully. And I thought I did but I think I was using you a little to make myself feel better. That’s not to say I didn’t love you. I did, still do, always will. But we both deserved a better version than what we had.”

Steve feels tears on his cheeks, he isn’t sure what to say. “You didn’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Steve chokes on a sob, “Dammit Eddie. It was my birthday.”

Something breaks inside them, and suddenly they are in each other's arms, weeping together. There is this fragile broken thing between them, a love that never went away. It is horrible and beautiful and needs so much work to be wonderful once more.

But it was nice to break together again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll make sure every day for the rest of my life that I make it up to you. In any way I can.”

“I don’t know how we can get back Eds. Don’t know if we should.”

“I’ll take you any way you’ll have me. Friend. Lover. A person you only call when you need a ride to the airport. Just let me try; it’s all I ask. I promised I wouldn’t go back to you until I knew I had put the work into myself first. You don’t owe me anything. I would understand if you kicked me out right now. But I need you to know that Steve, I love you anyway you’ll have me. And I have never stopped thinking about you.”

Steve lifted his head from Eddie’s chest. “I’d like to try to get to know you again. This you. See where it goes. But Eds, no matter what, no matter the version of you, I will always care. And I will always be your friend.”

Eddie kisses Steve’s forehead, “Thank you.”

It’s there where Steve and Eddie hug on the wooden apartment floor; they hear the door unlock. “Oh no, she’s home early.”

Eddie doesn’t get to respond because, suddenly, Robin is in the doorway. “Hey, dingus! I brought home an extra latte—“

She freezes at the sight of Eddie before rebooting with a dark look, “Steve, is your nail bat still under your bed?”

——

Wanted to try the whole break up thing, I have a lot of different break up/makeup ideas in my head. maybe pt. 2???? Kinda feels good to stop here. But if you think so I have more ideas for this.

[eumillipes]

The cheat smoking a huge cigarette and flipping you off

[cleradinel]

i finally had a proper one on one in like. a separate room for a few minutes and i got the biggest, most bear of bear hugs from david (i'm at this convention to celebrate my one year sober) and he kept telling me how proud of me he is and that i should be too (i am), making sure i'm looking him in the eyes both hands on my shoulders (he's been through it so i know he truly gets it), we talked about both his experience and mine this is going to be the one thing that makes me cry

[gaytoastposts]

I would also like to note that the decision to prescribe pain medicine, stimulants, any other controlled substance is between the person needing the meds and their medical provider! It’s not the government’s business and certainly not that of random ass people. If the government thinks too many people are using X medication, try addressing the systemic factors that a) contribute to needing such medication and/or b) create the conditions in which such a substance is being abused. Creating more hoops and hurdles for both providers and patients to navigate to access medication does not prevent addiction (or drug abuse!) but rather, literally just makes it harder for people who need it to get it!

Also! Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make it so you have to jump though so many hoops to get adhd medication! Like, where fresh fuck am I supposed to get the executive function to do such things when that is the very thing I need! The medicine! For!

It is actually way better for 100 addicts to get their fix on pain pills than a single person in pain go without. I call this the "Torture is bad" principle. You should be able to get the good stuff forever after a single doctor's visit. If you're worried about addicts fund rehab centers and needle exchanges instead of torturing people.

[kalach-cha]

people who are supposed to be my friends stop triggering me challenge

[glitchdollmemoria]

addiction talk

ohhhhhkay i think i get why the caffeine (+ sugar?) jitters are Doing Something to my brain. ive been doing really well with cutting out weed for my mental health, i actually just hit a month sober from that, but i still get cravings for it sometimes. and it absolutely gave me the jitters, and so i think my brain is going "damn this is familiar and reminds me of recreational drugs can i have more of this" and im just looking at myself like. hey. what the fuck is your problem. i absolutely should not regularly be this intensely caffeinated because i already have heart issues but like.hm. huh. hm. im gonna have to force myself to use a smaller amount of this cold brew mix bc it must be way more caffeinated than most of the stuff i drink. but ALSOOOOO shit man the idea of being this awake at work... idk man!!!! idk. i should really research the negative effects of caffeine to discourage myself from going overboard because i KNOW my brain will latch onto any substance possible and understanding health risks is probably my best coping mechanism against that shit

[wireddless]

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

[willnaib]

i didn't mention levi's heroin addiction at first because i wanted to make a longer post about it, but... may as well tack it onto this one because it's on topic.

i know it's optional in-game when you play as him for a reason, but i really wish the addiction was unavoidable. it's something i like about termina a lot -- that you Cannot Escape the horror. levi's trauma isn't something you can just write off and move on about, it's a constant debuff that affects every combat encounter in the game. you have no choice but to think about it when he's in your party. there's meta discussions on how levi is really only useful when you have heroin and need a heavy hitter for a boss fight, but useless for general fights. that's the point. he's a product of prehevil and of the war that frames the game. when he has the drug, he's practically a killing machine. when he doesn't, good luck. it's an intentional thing -- that it's not just cosmetic or a personality trait, but a debuff that affects how you play the game. because it affects how levi lives his life.

we see this in the plot of the game too -- how the only time levi shows any sort of excitement (or emotion other than vaguely miserable) is when he remembers his hiding spot in the woods from when he was a kid... and then gets somewhat embarrassed as he remembers that he was stashing beer and god-knows what else in there. when he was, like, twelve. because he was conscripted at 13. (which is why personally i don't agree with the avoidable debuff, since we know he's already predisposed to it because he grew up in Depths of Shit Orphanage, but w/e.)

it's been mentioned in the tags of the og post a few times (ty all for your additions btw. i read them all. i love them) but it really is disappointing that levi's addiction is either not acknowledged or treated as a joke. it's something that impacts his gameplay -- and character -- fundamentally, and it's not as if resources on addiction aren't easily accessible through searches. don't try to escape it. does it make you uncomfortable? good! fear and hunger is a horror series. horror is meant to make you uncomfortable. the existence of a barely-adult character who has struggled with substance addiction since childhood is supposed to make you uncomfortable, and then question the circumstances that made him into that. termina is very overtly an anti-war game. aside from his childhood, the war is what denied him an opportunity to grow past his origins. he is a victim of circumstance.

thinking about the complexity of levi today. how he’s the first person to suggest just burning the city down, how easy it would catch fire. how he doesn’t feel bad for the moonscorched citizens because, in his opinion, they kind of deserved it. how he still wants a home. how he wants to take up piano again. how he doesn’t register when abella asks him if he’s okay and doesn’t take a noncommittal “yeah” as an answer. how he’s only 18 and has been at war for five years. how he always offers to watch the door, guard the exit — just in case. how he doesn’t want to just be a scope behind a rifle anymore. how he’s been prepared to die his whole life, but doesn’t want to. he’s only 18.

[imfinereallyy]

when you said I scared you, well I guess you scared me too

Steve looks over the pamphlet in his hands. The smooth surface shouldn’t feel so rough on his hands. He supposes that’s because of the scars and callouses over his fingers. Nothing is able to be soft for him anymore.

Steve moves his gaze from the pamphlet to the door, to the pamphlet and the door once again. It shouldn’t be so scary. It is a community center door, similar to the ones they have in Hawkins. It’s made of beat-up wood and foggy glass. Steve’s sure if—no when, he pushes the door open, it’ll squeak. Rusting hinges that need replacing long ago, reminding him of his worn-out limbs.

Steve knows he shouldn’t feel so achy at 25, but when facing his own mortality year after year for so long, he knows a few aches is probably the bottom of the barrel of problems he has.

Steve lets out a breath. Circles his thumb around the edge of the pages and gives himself a paper cut. He doesn’t flinch; he knows it will happen. He isn’t sure if he could look someone in the eye and tell them he didn’t do it on purpose. He probably would tell the truth instead; he has many vices, but lying isn’t one of them. The truth being he just wants a reminder that he is alive.

That this is real.

“Okay.” Steve breathes again. He can do this. He promised Robin he is going to try. Even after all this time, he can’t say no to her. Can’t break her heart. So even though they move to a new city, even though Steve has already been sober for two months, she thinks this will be good for him.

Narcotics Anonymous: 6pm-8pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Fucking N.A. Steve thinks. He doesn’t want to do it. It is already hard enough trying to avoid all of the Upside Down stuff, a major contributor to his problem. But the other big part, the abuse part, the queer part, isn’t always safe to talk about. No matter how anonymous it says, it is. Steve isn’t stupid. Sure, there were other things he could talk about. His neglectful parents. His struggles with depression. The countless head injuries. How one of his best friends hasn’t spoken to him in over five years. How he is pretty sure he is dead. How the other friends of his he met when they were 13, and he is nearly 18.

All really good stuff to work out.

But Steve knows he won’t be able to move on unless he can talk about everything honestly. Well, everything that isn’t signed away in an NDA.

“Isn’t the point to be able to heal?” Steve tells Robin when they are unpacking boxes. “It’s either this or therapy dingus, and this is free,” Robin says while wrapping bubble wrap around his head.

She does the research, of course, because she’s Robin. She finds the one group in all of Chicago that is considered “friendly to all groups around.” She even admits to having Dustin help her, and Robin doesn’t ask anyone outside of Steve for help, let alone admit it. So Steve knows she is serious.

Steve groans loudly. His voice echoing throughout the hallway. Using the pamphlet as a barrier between the wood and his palm, Steve pushes through the door.

As usual, Steve underestimates himself, and the door slams against the wall, echoing throughout the room. Everyone in the room turns away from the podium to look behind their seats at Steve.

Steve glances at his watch. 6:04 pm. Shit. He supposes punctuality is supposed to help with recovery. “Sorry,” Steve says to the room with a grimace and a little finger wave.

“It’s okay.” The man at the podium states. He has salt-and-pepper hair and round-frame glasses. He isn’t particularly old, though. He’s handsome, and well-aged. Like a fine wine that Steve knows he can’t touch anymore. “You actually arrived a little early for a first-timer. Please have a seat; we just started.” The man laughs lightly, waving to the empty back row.

Steve rushes to his seat. Thankful that most people here have the humanity to face back to the front. He brings a little relief to Steve, knowing these people can sense when not to push.

Well most people.

See, while everyone else turns back around, one head stays perfectly on Steve. He can feel the eyes boring into him so furiously that Steve can’t help but turn in their direction.

Steve expects an older gentleman who is fed up with young people's disrespect of punctuality. Or a younger person, wanting to move addictions from drugs to sex. Which Steve isn’t looking for right now. He even thinks that maybe it’s a family member someone brought with them today who doesn’t understand the etiquette of N.A.

What Steve doesn’t expect is to turn and see the very best friend he hasn’t seen in five years. A man he thought to be dead. A man whose last words to Steve were that he rather would be.

Because there, staring at Steve with wide eye curiosity and sorrow is Eddie Munson.

And he is even more beautiful than the last time Steve saw him.

***

just an idea I had bouncing around….

part 2? Maybe if people are interested, cause I have so much I could write on this. Either way I think this interesting on its own. Also I’ve dealt with addiction close hand with loved ones, but I am not an addict myself so if I get anything wrong please feel free to correct me. I want to handle this with care.

The title is from “Joey” by concrete blonde. An amazing song, everyone should listen to.

[puppyaulait]

Part 2- CW for discussion of addiction and alcohol (part 1)

[konigsblog]

consensual somnophilia with depraved simon riley.

cw; somnophilia (consent discussed), dub-con. 18+

simon riley usually has self control. he's able to resist and hold himself back, but when it comes to you? god, you're irresistible, and he's an insatiable mess, admiring your features while you sleep peacefully.

you're so relaxed, at ease and completely unaware of his perverted gaze. his filthy hands wander, trying to pull himself away to no use. his calloused hand slides between your thighs, rubbing at your clothed cunt gently while he takes in your beauty. your body limp in his strong arms, continuously rubbing at your sensitive clit through the fabric, your facial expressions almost enough for him to come in his boxers.

instead of soiling his boxers with his hot cum, he instead slides your panties off of your figure, holding them against his face while he prods against your tight hole. so wet, glistening with slick, collecting your juices along the head of his hung dick. simon's hands drive underneath your t-shirt, toying with your hard nipples and burying his face in the crook of your neck. your smell, sweet, and your body compliant and reactive with his touch, your glossy and aroused pussy becoming wetter with each stroke and drag.

fuck, he can't hold himself back any longer. despite his gentle and slow thrusts, the way he sloppily rolls his broad hips against you, he feels himself inching closer to his desired release. the tip of simon's swollen cock begins to weep and ooze milky beads of his arousal, pushed into you while he huffs at your scent.

so addictive, aren't you, princess?

[ask-codeearasure]

There should be a noted difference between creative fanon works and character generalizations for discussions like these. I think it would help distinguish between whether fanon in general is being criticized or the stereotyped versions of these characters are.

I've got a lot of complaints for how Killer, Swap!Papyrus, and Error are mischaracterized in fanfiction if you'd like to hear them.

I don't know why I'm phrasing it that way because I'm gonna rant regardless.

I'm not a fan of how Error is always assumed to be aggressive and aggravated beyond belief either, because the only times he is shown to BE outwardly aggressive is when he's in the process of destroying a reality and torturing the people in it OR his boundaries were crossed. You can see these cases on the AskErrorsans blog, in the asks where Error's fighting Swap!Papyrus or when he thinks he's being manipulated by either Blueberry or one of the askers in the Anti-Void (the one who asked for a handshake).

There are CONDITIONS to how Error reacts and It's less likely to earn his fatal responses in the Anti-Void because, well, that's pretty much his safespace despite his past with it.if.

But note that he is not angry ALL THE TIME. He's sadistic and all but he's got unstable mood swings and a certain detachment from reality and characterizing that shit as unfiltered rage, malice, and threats all the time is nothing short of a stereotype for people who experience those symptoms intensely.

It's just gotten aggravating at this point. Error experiences more emotions than this. There are more times where he's happy or caught extremely off guard by stimuli he did not expect (see: Fresh).

My complaints with Killer's characterization is similar and I know @howlsofbloodhounds has the same grievances given... her entire Tumblr, I mean look at it. It's a landmine of Killer. It's great.

Killer is almost always characterized as this perverted flirtatious sex guru in both Stage 1 and Stage 2, but mostly Stage 2, the Stage where he could care less about interacting with other people unless there is an interest he has latched on to.

He has never been shown to be a particularly sexual person, and the one time he had been was as a joke between Rahafwabas and Jokublog about him making an effort to repulse the shit out of Nightmare.

But here's the thing. In full honesty, the sex part of how he's characterized is something I could care less about. It's moreso his personality and lack thereof depending on the Stage he's in. Killer is a tragic character with trillions of sins on his back. It's especially evident in Stage 1 where he has the disposition of a wet cat who sometimes aims to get Color to kill him or warns others about Stages 2 and 3 if he can't have the former.

In Stage 2, he is in such an intense state of dissociation he has convinced himself he feels nothing and cares about no one. Perhaps he could put on a false persona here and there but he has to have a CAUSE first. He's not going to put in all that effort unless he's getting a benefit out of it and often that benefit has to include a semblance of control over himself or another person.

Stages 3 and 4 I can't speak on as much considering they're both completely weaponized states of mind. One is most easily comparable to a feral animal and the other a machine with tunnel vision onto one objective: killing. They don't have much personality to warp in a sexual or flirtatious way and that is why these stages are consistently ignored in fanfiction.

If you can't sexualize a concept, you're better off ignoring it or completely rewriting it. This is where the "sex addict Stage 2" comes from. The people who write this shit either didn't care for what this character actually was or couldn't bother to do the research.

This isn't even a statement against fanon in general, coming from me. What irritates me so much isn't the basis of creative liberties, it's about the constant warping of these characters to the point the results overshadow what they were intended to be. Too many people still think Killer is a mouthy pervert instead of one of the most unsocial, guilt-ridden, and suicidal characters this fandom has ever made. And again, that's just him in Stage 1.

It becomes an issue when one perception of a character, one that isn't even right (or one that could be a harmful stereotype), gets pushed so commonly and so harshly that that is all people think that character is.

This is a reason why I still have friends that don't like Killer, Underswap, Dreamtale, Ink, Error, what have you. They have outright said many a time that they don't like what common fandom treatment has done to them and that is why they avoid looking into them.

Swap!Papyrus suffers from this kind of shit too but because he's not Swap!Sans, we don't see all that many complaints about fandom making him an overprotective crack addict with depression so intense and so fetishized his needs are ignored or even shamed by his older brother.

In renditions of Underswap where Sans is the younger brother or Sans and Papyrus are the same age, they suffer from these same character clichés regardless. Because they are never expanded upon aside from being a bland joke at mostly Papyrus's expense and sometimes at Sans's expense for having symptoms of AuDHD or just being such a nice guy that kindness is considered a fucking weakness and Swap!Papyrus is just soooooooo damn cynical he has to either ground his brother at every turn or imply insult to his helpful nature.

I've seen way too many fanfictions that do this and in a way, they implement these character traits to make Papyrus a lazy form of antagonist.

In canon Underswap, the main traits about the main cast is their ROLES are all swapped, and their personalities are only swapped on a PARTIAL BASIS. Sans becomes eccentric and Papyrus gets a little lazy.

And yet, despite these minuscule changes in personality to the two, Swap!Papyrus has become the stereotyped Classic!Sans, where his entire personality is angst and the occasional joke and jest is made to cover up how depressed and tragic he is. The only light in his life is his brother, who he constantly infantilizes and isolates because he's nice, appears naive, and may or may not be neurodivergent, and therefore too symptomatic and utterly defenseless to make his own decisions as an adult.

Recognize a pattern here? Cause it's certainly ableist and disrespectful and I am fucking tired of seeing this shit in just about every Sans and Papyrus duo, ESPECIALLY those with swapped origins.

And the fuckin Swap!Papyrus is a drug/smoking addict thing? It's been played off as a joke so much that no one seems to want to expand on how these addictions could affect Swap!Papyrus and his relationships in the long run. Sure, he doesn't have a brain or lungs to fuck up, but did you know daily use of drugs and other chemicals can screw with your bone marrow or how strong your bones are in general? Why not do something with that?

Maybe have that while Papyrus himself plays his addictions off as jokes, it's a bad coping mechanism where HE wants himself to ignore the health issues he'd have to deal with years from that point and his brother vocalizing his worry about those possibilities is just that bit agitating to him.

Because Papyrus knows Sans is right, but the resources for addicts in the Underground might be extremely limited. Perhaps he's tried to curb his reliance on cigarettes or weed without any assistance before but always fell back into them because of withdrawal symptoms or he couldn't handle another depressive episode without a distraction and didn't want to burden Sans with it.

Maybe Sans, instead of shaming and insulting Papyrus for these problems, really does try to support and help him however he can. Maybe another reason why he joins the Royal Guard is so they can afford the few resources and modern research that'll help Papyrus manage his issues. Perhaps Sans is dealing with his own internal struggle here too, that he is great at so many things but doesn't know how to help his brother in a time where he needs him the most, that he blames himself for not stopping Papyrus from forming these addictions in the first place, but didn't catch onto it in time because he was working so hard for most of his waking hours?

Why can't we do this instead of relying on fandom generalizations to make cheap conflicts between these guys? Why can't we do this instead of making substance abuse look like a fucking joke?

-- Sarco

Here is my hot take:

When people talk about who's the most mischaracterised they are always wrong because it's not Ink or Swap. It's Error. I have yet to see someone draw Error that isn't: a) extreme exaggeration of fear of touch, b) too sweet to be in character c) too evil to be in character and d) way too confident. Most of these are apparent in fanfics. It's fine if people want to take creative liberty with him, but making Error one singular characteristic and make him always react in one way (ex. Always aggravated and violent at everyone and everything) is not only flat writing, but also just unrealistic. Anyways this was brought to you by a Ink fan who is tired of either or both Error and Ink being done so badly.

Honestly, to me the most mischaracterized tends to be either Killer or Papyrus (literally any Papyrus, because tell me why Underswap Papyrus is almost always an overprotective asshole who babies his older brother in most fics??).

But that's also mostly because it's been a good while since I last read either an Error or an Ink-centric fic. While I love them very very much, it's just too hard to filter stuff out the way I want on AO3, all because UTMV isn't recognized as an actual fandom (despite it being very detached from Undertale). It's frustrating and I don't have the patience to go through every fic just to look for the dynamic I'm hoping for.

So yeah, I'm not an expert on how people write Error anymore, but if they really do flatten him to just one characteristic I do get why that's frustrating since unfortunately that always happens to my faves as well.

The only solution to that I've found so far has been writing the fics I wanna see and ranting endlessly about the blorbos here on Tumblr with all the wonderful people who get them

[benkeibear]

『 Tentacles 』

☼ synopsis: Mahito loves to experiment on you simply because you let him - loving how he pushes past your limits and pleasures you beyond belief.

☼ character: Mahito

☼ wc: 2.6k

☼ cw: DARK CONTENT! fem!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, slapping, dacryphilia, clit slapping, bondage, tentacles, choking, throat fucking, spitting, humiliation, degradation, penetration with tentacles, anal, overstimulation, womb fucking, squirting

☼ notes: I'm bringing this cursed piece back because I miss my skrunkly rat 🫡

Mahitos eyes went wide when he saw the way you were looking right at him instead of through him like everyone else. He knew right that moment that you will be his, if you want to or not so he gave you a silly grin while waving at you. Talking to him was so easy, he would always have interesting topics to discuss for hours as time flew by whenever you two hung out, always listening to you, always agreeing with you without making it too obvious but before you knew it you were craving his company. You fell so hopelessly in love with the man who did nothing but sweet talk you, luring you in and giving you a sense of being heard and seen along with this false sense of security - his plan worked. He's not a master of manipulation for nothing, not even surprised that you were seeking out his attention all the time, almost addicted to it like a lost puppy.

The fact that he wasn't human didn't even surprise you when he broke the news to you, already aware that he was a little different from your average man but you never once minded, finding it quite appealing actually. Mahito’s lighthearted attitude along with his dumb jokes never failed to make you smile, always pushing you to your limits or having you be the butt of the jokes. It was playful banter to you, an experiment of how far he can take it for him. Testing you… you were never more than just an experiment to him, while you called him your boyfriend in such a loving way it always amused him. Your giggles lit up his heart but he wouldn't admit it, blaming it on everything but you. He's a curse after all, made out of hatred… he can't love.

It was just a question of time until he took these little experiments into the bedroom though and before you knew it, you found yourself pushed far past your limits but his sweet encouragement in your ears made it bearable. “You're taking me so well. Just a little bit more, cupcake” he chuckled and rubbed little circles on your clit to distract you from the almost unbearable pain he caused with his slaps to your thighs and ass - skin painfully sore to the point where it's bleeding. But you were his good girl, his perfect little human, you didn't want to disappoint him so you took everything he had to give despite your cheeks being stained with tears. Seeing you this broken, eyes all red and puffy from crying and far out of your comfort zone got him hard like nothing else, knowing he had you in the palm of his hand like a little puppet he can control made him feel invincible. The orgasm that followed was earth shattering, little slaps to your over sensitive clit gave you a high like never before after getting edged for hours on end, drooling on yourself and the bed beneath from the exhaustion and barely noticing how Mahito cleaned you up with utmost care, bandaging the wounds he caused before kissing each of them. “Can't have you breaking from this… you did so well for me” he praised while wrapping you in a fuzzy blanket and cupping your cheek to prevent you from moving while he kissed your forehead with a tender kiss. The collar around your neck jingled when you moved to cuddle up to the curse, a tired smile spreading over your lips at the reminder that you're his and he is yours - your name carved into his soul and there to remain.

You didn't need to know that even if you ever used the safeword, he wouldn't stop. It just existed to give you this false sense of security but worry not, he would never quite literally split you in half. Mahito was so much sweeter with you than with any of his experiments before, adoring you for the way you wanted his love so badly, how you humiliated yourself just to get some words of praise from him. All you were to him was a little project to study humans on, liking to see your reactions to various things and how you seemed to mind it less whenever he encourages you, how the unbearable pain suddenly became bearable with simple praise never failed to make him laugh, how desperate you cling onto his words to guide you out of it and towards your sweet reward for being such a good little human to him. He could own you and you would thank him for it, making him feel like a god.

This was your mistake - trusting him to never take it too far, that he's doing this for your pleasure rather for his curiosity but this mistake is what made you end up in this delicate situation. Your hands were tied behind your back, a spreader bar preventing your legs from closing as Mahito manhandled you onto all fours, a sickenly sweet smile on his face when you just let him move you the way he desired, not thinking much of this since he does this a lot. Your eyes locked for a moment while he caressed your cheek with his hand until something changed…

You tried jerking your head away when you felt these cold and slimy appendages slither over your cheek instead of his beautiful slender fingers you loved to feel on your body. “Hold still now, bunny. You don't want to get hurt… or worse, now do you? He asked in a playful tone, letting his fingers - now tentacles slither over your face and neck. Tears started forming in your panicked eyes, the sensation of tentacles on your skin new and frightening when they slowly started choking you. Mahito was laughing menacingly as he watched a fresh wave of fear mixed with disgust wash over your face when one of the appendages slithered over your lips which you pressed into a thin line. “You need to open that little mouth of yours… or i might let them go through your nose” He hummed in amusement, proving his point by letting one of them move towards your Nostril. Your head was shaking violently from side to side, panic increasing as your tears streamed down your cheeks in thick streams now and he sighed, one tentacle pushing into your nostril to let your know he was serious while a look of disappointment started forming on his face - His once so obedient little human suddenly refused him.

Every single hair on your body was standing from the feeling which caused you to reluctantly open your mouth, the tentacle immediately removing itself from your nose and slithering over your lips, slowly ascending into your awaiting mouth. Your body was repulsed by it, gagging wildly at the salty taste the slime left behind on your poor tongue, making sure to rub itself all over your wet muscle so you had no other choice but to taste it. “Look at you, taking it like a good girl. Now close your pretty lips around it, treat it like my cock you love so much” He chuckled but it turned into a laugh when you were pleading him not to make you do this but Mahito wasn't asking you, he was demanding so you behaved like his good little human and did what he wanted, sucking on the tentacle as if its his cock. It took everything inside of you not to gag when you felt a second one slide into your mouth and down your throat, moans from your lover filling your ear when he saw how beautifully your throat was bulging from the intrusion until he decided you had enough, taking the tentacles out of your mouth and kissing you forceful, his tongue invading your mouth like the slimy tentacles did just seconds ago.

His face showed pure euphoria upon tasting your saliva mixed with the salty taste of his tentacles. His kiss distracted you from the way his other hand transformed now too, letting slender tentacles slither over your naked body that was at his mercy until you couldn't ignore the cold sensation anymore, crying out for him to stop but still not using your safeword, which would have been useless regardless. Mahito positioned himself behind you, your ass still propped in the air, your face now resting against the mattress. Wet tentacles slowly slithered over the globes of your ass and along your thigh, ultimately resting at your folds to pull them apart, giving your lover a perfect view of your pretty slit. “Look at you, little pet. Crying and screaming but your cunt is drenched” he mused, smirking at your miserable frame before spitting onto your core that was fully on display for him which made you whimper out of humiliation, feeling his saliva along with your juices slowly dribble down your thighs and staining the mattress beneath you. He was right - it felt disgusting and you wanted it to stop but at the same time it felt so good to be forced into submission by him, letting him do everything he wanted to your body. Unbeknownst to you, a moan slipped out of your lips when one of the tentacles slowly wound itself through your folds, missing every sensitive spot on purpose. This made Mahitos wolfish grin spread further, the tentacle stopping dead in its tracks, resting right next to your bundle of nerves. “What a naughty little thing you are, bunny. Enjoying this like a needy slut” He whispered the degradation in your ear before wiggling the slimy appendage over your clit in a barely there touch, making you cry out from the weird, yet intense sensation.

The way your juices mixed with the slime of the tentacle caressing your clit made it unbearable to you, whines and moans cascading out of your mouth in a desperate way, needing a little more to tumble over the edge than just the feather light touch but Mahito heard your prayers, the slimy appendage now adding more pressure to your sensitive clit, making your jaw slack with a silent scream. The wetness of it aided as lube, easily flicking over the nub until it had you screaming out loud in pleasure, the knot in your abdomen finally snapping and Mahito laughed at the mix of emotions on your face, pleasure and disgust when you realized just what gave you this mind blowing orgasm and that this would not be the end. Your fears were correct when you felt four tentacles play with your entrance, taking turns on slipping in the tiniest bit until two of them slithered in to spread your cunt open, opening you up for the third one. A scream escaped you, begging him to stop but it was only amusing him further, letting the tentacle grow in girth as it slowly pushed itself inside of you. You felt every nub inside of your walls and the way it wiggled inside you let you feel things you've never felt before. “There you go. Give up your little fight… accept the pleasure it brings” Mahito cooed, feeling the way you slowly stopped clenching around the tentacle, making it much easier

To slip it further inside of you, the two smaller ones which spread you open slowly joined the thicker one and stretching you further than you've ever experienced.

Your jaw hung wide open at this sensation, one tentacle pressing against your sweet spot as the other two rubbed against your walls and prodding at your cervix to give you pleasure. With your eyes closed you slowly allowed the sensations to make you feel good, another tentacle playing with your clit again had you whimpering for more, growing greedier by the minute. “Awh are three inside of you not enough?” your lover teased and slid another one back into your mouth to fuck your throat but this time you welcomed it, sucking on it like a pacifier. It muffled your moan when you felt another tentacle enter your stretched cunt, but there was no pain, the little appendage rubbing your nub made sure you're enjoying it all as two more sucked and pulled on your hardened nipples. Pure ecstasy spread through your body, moaning loudly around the tentacle in your mouth but your eyes shot wide open when you felt another small one massage the ring of muscles at your ass, slowly prodding into your puckered hole. “I can't believe you let a disgusting tentacle take your little anal virginity, aren't you disgusted by it? By yourself for feeling this much pleasure?” Mahito asked sinister as he pushed it further into your behind but you only shook your head - it didn't hurt and you the disgust was long gone. You knew he didn't mean it, he loved the way you were so eager to please him by letting him do everything to you, he would never shame you for feeling pleasure since that's exactly what he wanted, for his little experiment to discover new pleasure and the way you slowly succumb to it.

The torturous assault of tentacles lasted hours, your holes stretched and your poor body begging for a break from the continuous orgasms Mahito brought you with his newest experiment. “Give me one more and I'll let you rest” he cooed, pushing against your sweet spot repeatedly with a smaller tentacle as the thick one nestled itself into your womb, making you feel as full as never before. It was enough to have you screaming until your voice was hoarse and with a last flick against your clit he had you squirting all over the bed again, taking one tentacles after the other out of your abused cunt until only one remained on your clit along with the other inside of your behind. “I need to see you break, bunny. Think you can cum again just from this?” He asked, nibbling at your neck while one of the slimy appendages kept rubbing your clit as the other one thrusted into your puckered hole. Your head was shaking violently, overstimulated to the point where it started to be painful but you still didn't use the safe word and allowing him to continue with this torture until he had his fill from seeing you cum over and over just from the anal penetration until you passed out.

You don't know how long you were gone but your legs were aching, your holes sore which reminded you that this wasn't a nightmarish wet dream - it really happened and you felt like crying when Mahito pulled you closer into his arms. “Did we go too far today, my bunny? Does your tiny body need a break?” He cooed in a fake sympathy but you still appreciated his care, nuzzling your face into his chest to return to the safe space in his arms. You knew he didn't want to hurt you and he didn't, at least not physically. “You did so well for me today… such a good girl. My perfect little human” he whispered as he played with your hair, hoping you can fall asleep soon since he already cleaned you up while you were unconscious. Mahito may be a curse created out of hatred, unable to love but he felt something towards you, something that runs deeper than just his curiosity - your name was carved into his soul after all.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[timmydraker]

CW: drugs

When Tim is seventeen, Bruce gets a call from his principal asking for a private meeting to discuss Tim’s education. It’s not abnormal, but the parent teacher meetings weren’t due for another month and something about the tone of Professor Wilcot’s voice leaves Bruce concerned.

He organises it for the next afternoon and politely tells the timid looking man to please get to the point.

Wilcot answers with a tight lipped frown, “I recently discovered that Tim has a few nicknames. Now, that in itself isn’t a probably but the names themself are… concerning.”

Bruce immediately thinks of Red Robin and worries his son has been caught, but that makes little sense when Tim has shown to be the best at contingencies and secret keeping.

“Such as?”

With a deep sigh the man continues, “Well, there’s ‘Benzo’ and ‘Opi’. As well as ‘27’, which is recently learned references a so called ‘club’ of celebrities who die at that age for-for drug abuse.”

Even if he wasn’t a detective, Bruce could easily put it all together. Benzodiazepines and opioids, both drugs and a number well tied to such a thing all regarding a famed person.

It’s like he’s just gotten inside from being drenched in snow and had hot water dunked on him as dozens of different moments come to mind. He remembers Tim going from being down and low, tired and drained to suddenly being extra alert and chatty. He assumed it was coffee, but Tim often had a red nose and sniffled like mad.

He also got shakes, was made fun of by his brothers for being a sweaty person, and irritable at the best of times. He was jumpy and easily spooked, which everyone connected to him growing up safe and getting no sleep.

Tim also had forgotten basic case information a few times but usually managed to cover it up.

Bruce had noticed and responded by trying to lessen his work load, only for Tim to scream at him, storm off and come back looking drowsy a couple of hours later.

Wilcot doesn’t speak for a while, seemingly giving Bruce the chance to process his words but when he does it’s just to put forward the last bit of evidence Bruce needs.

“I admit it isn’t exactly ethical, but I check Mister Drake-Wayne’s locker and… I thought it would be best if I let you chose how to proceed lest I harm his reputation.”

A bottle, almost empty, of Oxycodone and a half full bottle of Oxymorphone.

Bruce looks away when the last bottle lands on the table, it’s a benzodiazepines called Dalmane and there are no pills because they’ve all been crushed into a powder.

Bruce doesn’t even want to think about how those drugs interact.

Wilcot says one last thing before he leaves the room, quit clearly giving Bruce a moment as the reveal settles in his mind, “Tim is a good kid. He’s kind to everyone and I truely hope he can get help. Please, if there is anything I can do, contact me. Other than that, I will keep this quiet. Please take care of him.”

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne loves his children, he genuinely cares for them and most importantly, he likes who each of them are.

But he’s not always the best father to them, not when he’s too far in his head and his head is too far up his arse.

He tries to confront Tim calmly and with compassion at first but it becomes clear he isn’t qualified to deal with it and he should have gotten Alfred or even Dick. When Batman deals with addicts all he has to do is get them to a hospital and show he isn’t judging them, but with his own son and when he’s not being Batman…

Tim instantly locks up when Bruce shows him the bottles and his defences go straight into overdrive, “Bruce, don’t. That’s not fair! Did you go through my fucking stuff?! That’s fucked up!”

Bruce looses his composure quickly, “Don’t you dare curse at me, Timothy. You are a goddamn hero and you’re doing this? Why did you tell me?! I could have helped you! Why, Tim?! You e seen what people who abuse drugs end up like-“

Tim screams so loud Bruce can practically hear how it hurts his throat, “WHAT FUCKING DRUGGIES?! IS THAT WHAT THEY END UP LIKE?! TOO FUCKING LATE BRUCE, YOU’RE TOO LATE! I GAVE YOU EVERY FUCKING SIGN AND YOU DID NOTHING SO FUCK OFF! I. AN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN!”

“This ain’t handling it, Tim. You’re addicted. You’re erratic, you’re bouncing from mood to mood and, have you seen how skinny you are? I’m worried, Tim.”

Maybe Tim would have been able to handle it better if he hadn’t been a few hours into withdrawal, but all he does is swing. He manages to catch Bruce of guard and hit him square in the jaw, only to realise what he’s done and start hitting himself the same way.

Bruce breaks as he watches his son who is usually so calm and controlled break down in a fit of aggression and pent up energy.

When Tim manages to hit himself hard enough Bruce. An hear a crack from his hand.

As he speaks again he dooms himself to a life time of regret, forever wishing he had gotten Alfred’s advice first.

“I’m sorry son, but until you’re clean, you will no longer be Red Robin.”

There’s a silence before Tim releases a wheezing laugh of disbelief.

It’s soon followed by the most enraged, harrowing scream Bruce has ever heard. It feels as if it shakes the walls before Tim kicks at his father’s stomach and bolts.

Bruce is too stunned to follow and foolishly assumes he can track his son anywhere.

Tim, even after he manages to shakily pull out the Dalmane he had in his pocket just as he passes the gate and take a big inhale, manages to put his mind together enough to remove his watch and key.

Bruce is forced to shamefully admit what happened a few hours later when he can’t find him and realises that Tim isn’t coming back.

Alfred for the first time in Bruce’s entire life actually glares at him.

Dick shouts at Bruce about how unbelievably stupid he is.

Jason just scoffs and says the kid will come back while Damian makes a comment about Tim being weak.

Maybe they would have reacted better if Bruce told them why Tim left, but he shamefully doesn’t want to admit he didn’t notice that Tim was a dealing with addiction under his own nose.

But Bruce has never been good with honesty.