#fucked up on vicodin

[mourninglamby]

people are talking about how good the cphil and syndicate endings were but i need to speak my mind to someone and say i dont give a shit and i hate cranboo so much it hurts

im too high and too tired to give a shit anymore the entire world should explode and we should all die there that’s my take whatever 🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️

[superhell]

house md is wild because house tells wilson that he’ll sacrifice many things but never himself and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he sacrifices himself for wilson. and then he

[heph]

It's so interesting how submissive House is to Wilson. In basically every scene where Wilson gives his 2 cents about a case, House without fail (for the most part) follows his opinion. Wilson gives him unsolicited advice and half the time he listens without saying anything, and the other half he argues but ends up listening to him anyway. House starts psychoanalysing Wilson and Wilson does it right back to him and House shuts the fuck up or gives a one line quip back at him (to have the last line) but knows deep down Wilson is right.

For a man of House's stature and how he interacts with Literally Everyone Else, the writers really hammer it into your soul that House only really listens to Wilson and no one else

[i-like-what-this-says-about-you]

tritter and his FUCKING GUM yeah yeah yeah he’s supposed to be like house but house isn’t annoying. house is funny. he saves lives. tritter is just a petty asshole.

[cowardnthief]

when you read a fic from an older fandom and it’s dated back before anything really happened. and you’re like oh sweet summer child. where are you now

[medicinemane]

Should make a pain killer that actually kills (or even touches) pain

[karmaphone]

saw an ask to someone asking what they think would change if house lost his whole leg instead of thigh muscle and. hoo boy

[praesaepe]

finally watching house and house and wilson barely interact on-screen but they are full on matching each other's freak every single time. no hesitation. its the funniest thing in existence.

[parasyte-brainrot]

You Are A Brown Owl

[uncle-sams-dirty-socks]

Every episode of house be like:

A small child is visibly ill. They start coughing and clutching their throat, but whips out an inhaler and they’re fine. Oh shit! The man across the street just started bleeding out of both of his eyeballs!

Cut to house grimacing in pain and swallowing too much Vicodin.

Differential! Go! Shut up chase you’re an idiot.

They do a bunch of tests, everything is inconclusive!

We need to biopsy the patients eyeballs!

Cut to foreman explaining to the family about how invasive and dangerous a biopsy is.

Biopsy is inconclusive. Cut to house and Wilson. Wilson gives a long introspective dialogue about how houses addiction is deeply rooted in his own self hatred and that he pushes people away to further punish himself.

Epiphany time! Give the patient the medicine drug!

Patient is saved. House and Wilson eye fuck each other while going out for drinks.

[trans-axolotl]

what do you mean reverse an overdose? How is that possible?

Hi anon.

So, in my most recent post where I was talking about reversing overdoses, I was talking about Narcan (naloxone).

Narcan is a medicine that can reverse opioid overdoses. It works on any opioids, including fentanyl, heroin, oxy, vicodin, etc. It isn't effective in reversing other kinds of drug overdoses, but would still work to reduce an overdose if your coke has fent in it, for example. It functions by blocking the opioid receptors in your brain and helps restore breathing. Narcan is not a dangerous medication, and it is not harmful to your brain, which means you can be dosed multiple times without increasing harm to your body. The experience of being Narcaned can be pretty fucking shitty, because it basically puts your body in withdrawal super super fast, and you might experience some of the effects of withdrawal like vomiting, body aches and chills, fatigue, etc. But there are not other harmful side effects outside of that. Narcan is safe to give to people of all ages, including children.

Narcan comes in both an nasal spray and intramuscular injections, but it's usually easier to get access to nasal spray. This is what Narcan looks like:

[ID: Someone holding a narcan nasal spray, which has a nozzle that can be placed into someone's nose, and a plunger underneath the nozzle that can be pushed up to administer a dose. Text on the image says: Do not test nasal spray device before use. Each device contains 1 dose of medicine. Each device sprays one time only.]

How to Use Narcan

Identify signs of Overdose

Check for Responsiveness

Administer Narcan

Support (other friends/911/medics)

To administer Narcan, you first need to identify if someone is overdosing. Signs of an opioid overdose can be when someone is unconscious, unresponsive, not breathing or slowly breathing, no pulse or erratic pulse, has pinpoint pupils, and/or has blue lips.

If you see some of these things and think that someone is overdosing, the next step is to check for responsiveness. You can do this by loudly calling the person's name, saying that you are going to Narcan them, gently shaking them, and by performing a sternum rub, which is where you rub your knuckles into the place in someone's chest where their ribs meet. If they're breathing and they respond, even if it's just making noises in response to you or physically pushing your hands away, that can be a sign that you don't need to administer Narcan right away. Still, in that case, it's a really good idea to stay with that person in case that changes. If, and only if, the person is completely unresponsive, you should administer Narcan.

Once you've determined that someone is unresponsive and overdosing, the next step is actually administering Narcan. Narcan comes in packs of two nasal sprays. Take the first nasal spray out of the box, put the nozzle in the person's nose, and press the plunger. If the person is still not responsive after 2-3 minutes, take the other nasal spray out of the box and give them another dose. I try to use the lowest number of doses possible to try to reduce the withdrawal experience, and I stop giving Narcan once someone is breathing and responsive. If they still are not responsive or breathing, and you know how to give rescue breaths, you can start administering rescue breaths. If you have to step away for any reason, turn the person on their side in the recovery position first.

After someone's overdose is reversed, it's really important that whenever possible, someone stays with them for at least an hour afterwards. Narcan is active in the body for about 30-90 minutes, so depending on what someone's original amount of opioids was, they might start overdosing again and need you to give them Narcan again. This is also why it can be important to try not to use again right away, which is really fucking shitty when you're trying to use cause you don't want to be sick, but unfortunately using right away can also put you at risk of overdosing again. When people come back after getting Narcaned, it can be a pretty disorienting and uncomfortable experience. You might not know who Narcaned you or why they're in your space, might be feeling really fucking shitty because of withdrawal, and might want to be left alone. If you've just Narcaned someone, introduce yourself and explain that you just gave them Narcan, listen to what they tell you, empathize with their feelings, respect people's boundaries, and give them space if they ask for it. Understand that they're probably feeling pretty fucking shitty in their body, that it fucking sucks when your high gets ruined, and they (justifiably) might not feel happy about the fact that you Narcaned them.

Pretty much all Narcan trainings will tell you that it's "recommended" to always call 911, but we all know that this is not always actually possible in a lot of situations and that cops always fucking make the situation worse. My policy is that I always, always ask for consent before calling 911 and if someone says no, then we brainstorm other ways of keeping safe and we don't fucking call the cops. If there's a situation where I do need to call 911, I never tell the operator that someone overdosed, because that usually gets them to send out the cops alongside ambulance, which can cause delays to care, put a lot of people at risk, and also put people, including bystanders, in legal danger. If I have to call 911, I say that my friend has collapsed/fainted/isn't breathing and keep it more vague, and when paramedics actually arrive on the scene, that's when I tell them more information about the overdose, what drugs someone took, and how many times I've administered Narcan.

You can get free Narcan a lot of places. Next Distro has resources for getting free Narcan by mail for almost every state. If there's harm reduction orgs in your area, they will have free Narcan. There's also a lot of Department of Health programs for free Narcan. Most pharmacies now also have Narcan available over the counter, but that's usually really fucking expensive and often pretty hard to shoplift cause they keep locking it up.

Even if you don't use drugs and you think that your loved ones don't use drugs, it's super important to have Narcan as a part of your first aid kit and learn how to use it. You never know when you're going to need to use it, and it's super good to be prepared ahead of time, in case your friend/family/neighbor/classmate/coworker ends up overdosing while you're there. Or in case you end up overdosing and having Narcan on you means that bystanders can help support you through it.

Here's a guide that goes a little more in depth into how to use Narcan.

Please feel free to ask if you have any other questions about Narcan or other harm reduction topics!

[warlenys]

house md’s worst and best hate crime is wilson’s “i should have spent my life being more like you. i should’ve been a manipulative, self centred, narcissistic ass who brought misery to everything and everyone in his life” followed by house’s “you’d still have cancer” and then wilson’s “yeah, but at least i’d feel like i deserved it!” house risks his entire life to let wilson do too much chemo. wilson didn’t even ask him to do it. house gives up the last of his vicodin to stop wilson’s pain. he lies to wilson about it. house tells wilson that all they need in life is each other. house promises to let wilson die in his apartment instead of being taken to a hospital. he risks everything because wilson asks him to. then wilson tells house that he deserves cancer. there is no fucking reason for this. it’s the best thing they ever did.

[whatwecanlivewith]

the way that wilson dies first is fucking me up... like god its always heartbreaking when someone you love dies but somehow i feel like its even worse when the younger person, the one who was meant to live longer, is the first to go. and with houses vicodin addiction and his injury and his age and his Multiple suicide attempts, im soooo sure that house was counting on himself being the one to go first, and wilson moving on amd having a life after him. because like, without wilson HOUSE HAS NO LIFE. hes an old grumpy drug addicted man who's been passively suicidal for literal years and who im sure felt that he could live out the rest of his days with wilson and finally die content. it just. fucks me up that wilson, who by all accounts had more life left to live, is the one whos dying first

[crookedteethed]

⋆ ★ Rafe says “he's done” with mistress reader

18+ smut(pinv), oral (male receiving), cursing, infidelity, toxic relationship, "su*cide attempt", mentions of daddy issues, reader is delusional asf in this one , no happy ending, age gap between Rafe and reader

It had been bad this time; it had been fatal. 

Rafe had said it was over; this time, he meant it. 

He said things were going well with his wife, and he didn't want you to ruin it this time. These were his exact words.

He was too old now to be chasing young girls' pussy around like he was still in his twenties. His exact words. 

He was too old, and you were just young girl pussy. 

In your final moments with him, you asked him if his wife knew how to stuff him whole inside of her mouth without gagging like you do. 

He said that wasn't the point. On their wedding day, he made a vow to his wife whether she knew how to stuff him whole or not.

"Dilation of the throat." You said. "That's when your throat slowly starts to close; you can hardly get any food down your esophagus, let alone air. It happens as you get older. Rafe, I hate to tell you, but your wife is dying."

Rafe had called you childish,He kissed your tear-soaked eyelid, then left your studio apartment--in which he helped you pay for.

Then that was it.

He was gone as quick as it all happened.

The first week without Rafe hadn't been that bad.

You cried some, binged watched cable TV, and then sat numbly on your sofa, wishing Rafe was there to coddle you like the father figure you always saw him as.  

His warm embrace taut around your body, he'd peck his lips around the supple skin of your face, telling you that everything was going to be ok, and then he'd fuck you, make you forget about whatever you were sad about, and then go back home and sleep in the same bed as his wife, while you were all alone. 

During the second week, you started to feel the emptiness even more acutely, and your stomach and gut became more hollow. 

To cope, you slept with a couple of old flings, guys, and girls that quite naturally never made it past the talking stages because they weren't Rafe. 

In the third week, you realized that Rafe had not blocked your number, so you called him. 

He picked up within the third ring. 

"What." he said sternly. 

"I'm just checking in on your wife, how's her dilated throat? Does her blow jobs feel tighter than usual? If so, her throat will be completely closing soon, meaning she won't have space to breathe. Rafe, your wife doesn't have much time to live ---"

He hung up. 

You called again. 

"I've missed you." You were the first to say. "Come over so we can talk--bring your wife too, maybe we can work this out, just the three of us--"

He hung up again.

Then, because you were drunk, you sent him a picture of your clit with the text message, "She misses you too :(." 

In the fourth week, you figured that there was only one thing you had to do, and that was to kill yourself. 

Of course, you weren't going to commit suicide, but Rafe didn't have to know that. 

On that Saturday afternoon, you knew Rafe would be off of work somewhere laughing with his wart of a wife and his friends and their warts of wives. 

That must have been the reason he didn't answer when you called him, so you sent him a voice message. 

"To whom it may concern, I've decided I no longer want to live. To the left of me, I have a prescribed bottle of Vicodin, of which I plan to take all 27 capsules, and to my right, I have my note. In my note, I have given my lawyers specific instructions to out you and I's rendezvous to your wife. I have a USB with all our text messages and sex tapes on it; I've planned for them to give to her when I die. If you don't want this secret to get out, I'd advise you to be at my apartment complex in one hour fucking my brains out. See you in one hour; tell your wife I said hi."

And then you waited. 

You jumped when you heard Rafe bang on your door three times, and then he'd remember he had a key, then he barged in your apartment, his head swinging from left to right.

He saw you sitting on your sofa with your matching lingerie set on, a bottle of vodka in your hand.

"You do care." You smiled, standing up to give him a hug, he shrugged you off.

"Where is it?" He asked. "Where's that USB?"

"There is no USB." You said.

Rafe had looked down at your coffee table to where your supposeit Vicodin had been.

"That's fucking baby aspirin." He scoffed, as he slowly start to undo his belt buckle. "This is what you were going to kill yourself with?"

You nodded shyly as he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to your knees.

A blowjob was the last thing you wanted from him, but you'd take anything.

Looking down at you, Rafe said, "Maybe next time I'll lend you my old man's revolver, that'll do the trick, right?" right before he grabbed the back of your head, and forced his cock--all nine inches of it--down your throat.

You'd hadn't gagged, though you wished you had, so he could have slowed down his relentless thrust into your mouth.

With every thrust, your body responded, craving more, yet yearning for a pause—an unexpected reprieve.

You could hardly catch your breath as he maintained his relentless pace, a rhythm that sent waves of sensation coursing through you.

You wanted to surrender, yet a part of you fought against the tide, desperate for control in a moment that demanded nothing less than your complete submission.

Rafe eyes never seemed to leave yours with his cock stuffed in your mouth. He loved the humiliation of blowjobs. You just stared at him, teary wide eyes.

Rafe's face was so handsome. His eyes were so beautiful. So full of life. A face that could be so easily broken. Your mouth. So full of his cock.

Fuck, have you missed this.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the hunger for more. His gaze was intense, burning into you, and it excited you to know your power--how quick he came to your rescue.

You felt his hands on the back of your head, not forcing, but guiding, encouraging you to take him deeper. His breath quickened, and you knew he was getting closer with he twitch of his cock. With a soft moan, he pulled you up, his eyes still locked on yours.

He wanted to watch your reaction as he took control, as he showed you who was in charge.

He pushed you against the wall, his mouth finding yours, and you tasted yourself on his lips. It was degrading, and you loved it. He knew it too, and a smirk played on his lips.

"You like being used, don't you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Being on your knees, taking me however I want. It arouses you."

You couldn't deny it, the wetness of your cunt dripping down your thighs.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice a mere breath. "I do." And with that admission, he took you again, this time with you on the edge of the sofa with both your legs pressed to your sides.

You let out a soft moan as Rafe entered you, his cock sliding deep with one slow, deliberate thrust.

That familiar stretch and burn always made you gasp—a sensation you loved and craved. Rafe's hands gripped your hips, his touch firm as he held you in place, his eyes never leaving yours.

You loved how he watched you, taking in your every reaction as if it were the first time all over again--almost as if he was all yours and no one else's to share. 

His thick cock filled you, and you could feel every vein and ridge of him as he slowly began to move. That delicious friction built as he withdrew and then thrust again, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—your soft moans and the slick, wet sounds of your bodies moving as one.

Rafe's breath quickened as he began to move faster, his hips snapping as he drove into you with purpose. You met his passion with your own, your bodies a tangle of limbs and sweat.

His hands explored your body, caressing your breasts, neck, and face, his touch both possessive and adoring.

As your pleasure built, you knew you would climax soon, and you wanted Rafe to join you in that exquisite release.

You whispered for him to let go, and with a few more powerful thrusts, he obeyed. His body stiffened as he filled you with his release, his cock pulsing as he found his own bliss.

Rafe laid your limp body outstretched onto your sofa, and through hooded--fucked out--eyelids, you watched as he put back on his clothing. 

"I think I love you." you croaked. 

Rafe ironed out his slacks and proceeded to put his foot in one pant leg, all the while saying: 

"I love my wife." He said sternly. 

Defeated, you laid your head back and closed your eyes. 

"This was the last time, Y/N." He said. You could hear him put on his last article of clothing and straighten himself out. 

"You always say that." you sighed. 

"Well, I'm serious this time." 

"You always say that part too." You said.

And with that being said, he placed his lips on your forehead, took your bottle of baby aspirin, and left your apartment for the second "last time" that month. 

Rafe went back home, made love to his wife, and then told her he loved her, but he knew he didn't really mean it. 

[kittenlittle24]

Fortnight

A/n: First angst!

Btw, gifs aren’t mine! Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

You knew your fiancé had a hard week, a patient with a difficult diagnosis, his mythical ex showed up, and emotions were strung high. Which is why you decided to surprise him at work with a fast food dinner.

Stepping off the elevator, you slowed your a stop upon seeing a brunette leaning to kiss your finance’s cheek. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes.

Your stomach felt like you swallowed a brick. No longer hungry nor caring whether he is or isn’t, you turned in the spot and went straight home. You tossed the untouched takeaway bag onto the counter, grabbed a pen and paper, followed by a suitcase.

It took you a good hour or two to pack your necessities, you figured you could ask Wilson for help with anything else that you were leaving behind. You took one last look around, tears streaming down your face before you locked the door and left.

When House arrived home, he quietly entered the apartment assuming you were fast asleep. All he wanted was to crawl into bed, curl up in your warm embrace, and forget about Stacy or the fact that Cuddy offered her a job. His brows furrowed when he saw the closed paper bag on the kitchen counter, he opened it to see food for two, did you go to sleep without eating?

Going back to the living room he took a drink from his whiskey and threw his cane aside before trying to take a step with his right leg. As soon as he put his weight on it a yelp escaped from his lips, crashing to the floor as his leg gave out underneath him, he caught the armchair to break his fall. Lifting himself to sit on the leather chair, he immediately took his Vicodin bottle and tossed a pill into his mouth.

“Y/n?” He called, hoping you’d wake up and help him move to your bed.

Crap, he thought when no reply came from the darkened hallway.

He waited till the pill started to work and the pain subsided a tad before he pushed himself up and extremely slowly even to his standards, made his way to your shared bedroom.

His body froze upon seeing the made-up, empty bed.

“Fuck.” He whispered and sat on your side of the bed.

Sighing and rubbing his hands down his face, he looked at your bedside table and saw the note and your ring on top.

He picked them up with gentle hands as if any unnecessary touch would harm the objects.

‘I’ve seen the way Stacy and you look at each other, and it’s killing me to know that you’d never love me as much as I do you.

You love her and I cannot be in second place.

I love you, but I’m scared it will ruin both of our lives.

Please, don’t be angry I took the coward’s way out. I just know had I stayed you would’ve talked your way to convince me it’s all in my head,”

Taking a deep breath, “It’s not in your head.” He admitted to no one.

He didn’t bother reading the rest, instead, he picked up his phone and called Wilson.

“House, it’s the middle of the nigh-“

Staring at the glistening ring in his hand, “Y/n left.”

[desertcrater]

wilson is diabolical in s3 ep2, especially because a few episodes prior its established that he eats neediness. if someone becomes independent from him, he can't stand it. typically this means he divorces them; but since house isn't his husband, this time it means he instigates house's psychosomatic depression.

both cuddy and cameron are on Team Tell House He Didn't Fuck Up, because they know house is on a quiet downward spiral. they know his leg pain's severity is tied to his self-worth/mental state.

but wilson? Mr I-Pathologically-Need-To-Be-Needed Wilson? he frames his Don't Tell House position as "teaching House humility" when really his motive is to get house back on vicodin and reliant on him. he even tosses a full vicodin pill bottle at house, claiming that it's so house doesn't skip rehab due to the pain. but if that were the case, why not give house something non-addictive? something OTC or non-restricted?

and i think there is an additional aspect in s3 ep1, too. house says he doesn't remember wilson "being this bitchy", and wilson replies that "the vicodin dulled it. in the sober light of day, i'm a buzzkill."

which could just be a dry humor remark, sure, but i think it highlights that their dynamic's going to change now that house is sober. and if their dynamic changes, it could threaten their weird codependent ecosystem that they live in. one where they both tolerate/exacerbate each other's worst qualities (house's misery and wilson's bitchiness). who will love me like he loves me? who will love him like i love him?

this is exemplified in that same episode. wilson shoots house down multiple times when house says he's a changed man, by replying: "no, house, you aren't."

wilson does this manipulative thing where on one hand, he's encouraging house to get better; yet on the other hand, he undermines any true progress. there is something so deeply wrong with wilson. he's so fearful of losing the codependency in his relationship with house, that he'll do anything to keep their fragile Boy Best Friend Status Quo. and that includes outright lying to house & actively sabotaging his rehab.

that also includes manipulating cuddy and cameron into keeping quiet. ironically, he's only able to do so because of his Boy Best Friend relationship to house. after all, who knows house better than wilson? who would know how to make house feel better more than wilson? who would know how to make house feel worse more than wilson? nobody loves house like wilson