#teen drug rehab

[endlessfuckup]

LIAM PAYNE FUCKING DIED WTF

[metanoiamindpodcast]

Metanoia Memoir : From Fentanyl to Freedom - Final Draft

Metanoia Memoir : From Fentanyl to Freedom - Final Draft

Preview in new tab The Metanoia Memoir : From Fentanyl to Freedom A Story of Addiction, Recovery and Deliverance For over a decade I struggled with drug addiction staring death in the face on multiple occasions, only to be revived by emergency first responders after suffering from a heroin overdose. It took me many years to identify the root causes of my addiction. Through numerous in-patient…

[pwrn51]

From Teen Challenge Rehab to Real Estate Pro

  Today’s guest is London Richards whom Betsy met through Facebook. When Betsy saw London’s Facebook stories she knew London had a phenomenal story to share with her audience. London  Richards went from Teen Challenge Rehab to Real Estate Pro! In this hearttouching interview, London Richards discussed that his dad worked for Teen Challenge Rehab for 30 years and London was brought up in a…

[basepointacademy]

Website : https://basepointacademy.com/locations/arlington-tx/

Address : 3900 Arlington Highlands Blvd Suite 237, Arlington, TX 76018

Phone : +1 469-747-1797

BasePoint Academy is a licensed mental health and substance use disorder treatment center serving children, adolescent and teens age 12-18 in the Arlington and Dallas Fort Worth Metro area. Our behavioral health treatment center provides therapy and counseling for teens, anxiety & depression treatment, and primary mental health rehab for teens with secondary drug addiction treatment. We offer some of the leading child psychologists and teenage psychiatrists in the DFW area. Our treatment modalities include resilience therapy, individual therapy, group therapy, CBT, DBT, Trust-Based Relational Intervention (TBRI), motivational interviewing therapy, experiential therapy, solution focused therapy, mindfulness therapy and more.

[samkerrworshipper]

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

[beefrobeefcal]

For the Stars feat. Dieter Bravo

Summary: Dieter got clean.

Character: Dieter Bravo | Rating: Teen but still MDNI | Word Count: 853

Content Warnings: discussions of drug and alcohol use/abuse, mentions of self sabotage, intervention, su*cide, crying, AA/NA meeting (it is not specified which), mention of an existential crisis, loss of hope, rock bottom, absent father

Author's Notes: for my beloved @bitchesuntitled; you are a treasure i am so glad i get to marvel at every day. kudos to you + the journey you are on that I'm honored to witness. You've got this by the balls, baby!

Thank you to @jennaispunk for their eyes and encouragement.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

Why did Dieter Bravo get sober? He has an answer, but he cringes when he’s reminded of it. 

Sure, he’s answered this question in interviews and the like, but the answers were half-truths or full lies. His son was born. He hit rock bottom. He was uninsurable. He was arrested. There was an intervention…

The part about the son was true, but not the part about him getting him clean. The kid had already started kindergarten when Dieter went to rehab last. He was a father in name only; the only evidence that proved this was a fact was the court-ordered monthly chunk of cash that moved from his bank account to his son’s mother’s and that the boy shared his nose. Beyond that, the boy and he were strangers, and would more than likely remain so until he turned eighteen and sought Dieter out.  And it didn’t seem likely.

Rock bottom in life was only a myth to Dieter. Every time he thought he found it, there was another layer below it, waiting to receive him and let him keep falling. He was convinced that ‘rock bottom’ was the bottom of a casket and you had to be dead to hit it. He hadn’t made it that far yet, despite his numerous - some intentional and some not - attempts to get there, and he knew that until he hit it, the fall was continuous… until you grabbed on.

The last job he took before his final stint in rehab was short-lived. It was a six episode arc on some primetime bullshit cop drama and it lasted a whole 32 minutes. That was the time between the call to say he was hired and the next to say he was fired. The show runner called him, legal caught wind that it was Dieter who was hired and informed production that he was far too great a risk to get any kind of assurance or insurance, the show runners had a meeting and one of the lower ranking assistants to the assistant of the executive producer called him back to tell him they weren’t going to need him. That wasn’t a wake up call. That was another reason to keep swallowing pills and whiskey and shooting up in his bathtub.

His arrest didn’t even make the front page news. It was a small, linked article near the bottom of another random news story and because they didn’t care, Dieter didn’t either. Despite the court ordered drug and alcohol counselling that came as a result, he didn’t stop. He paid anyone who said they were clean to piss in a bottle and he would pass the drug tests with flying colours. Dieter was spiraling in a free fall and he was so numb to it, he didn’t even notice.

And yes, there was an intervention. Apparently it was in a nice room in a nice hotel and they’d even had it nicely catered. Dieter didn’t go. Once he was told his sister was in town, he knew what was happening and he took off for a bender in another state with strangers who told him they recognized him but in reality they just knew he had money to burn. His sister never forgave him for that and still to this day hasn’t taken his calls or returned his messages.

But even with all this, Dieter was now sober. Clean. Dry. Straight edge. Square. Whatever anyone called it, Dieter was it. He was here, back in the basement of the church on 65th, to tell his story. And he felt a certain responsibility to tell everyone there the huge secret to getting and keeping sober - the core memory that changed his life and adjusted his course for the better. As he listened to the others, one at time, go to the front of the room and tell their story, he mulled over how to not have to tell them the irrational truth he’d been too embarrassed to share.

He’d wandered out one night into his yard and looked up at the sky. It was, ironically enough, a sobering moment, realizing just how insignificant he was compared to deep back inky sky above and the sporadic stars dotting it. He then remembered a fact about stars, as he stood drunk, chin up and gawking at the sky. Because of how far those stars were from the earth, by the time their light shimmered above him at that moment, those stars were dead. The dead stars still shimmered for him. Their light made it to him and he couldn’t even thank them for keeping him company. He sat on grass a sad, drunk, broken, lonely man, only comforted by a twinkling sky, and Dieter wept. 

In truth, Dieter got sober for the stars. 

He looks up to the front of the room as the chairperson nods to him. Dieter makes his way to the front of the room and smiles at the others in their chairs. Dieter was going to tell them the truth.

“Hi. My name is Dieter and I’m an addict. Today, I am five years clean...”

[iloveelvisss]

Lovestruck (an Elvis fic/imagine)

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Reader

Summary: It’s 1975 and Linda has rejected Elvis’ proposal, leaving him drug dependent. Worried and frustrated, his family and Linda get an in-home nurse to get him back on track with his health. But what happens when Elvis mistakes her kindness for love?

Warnings/Triggers: this is a yandere fic so expect dark themes such as, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed behavior. Elvis is delusional. References to sex and baby making. Forced marriage, and slight kidnapping? References to the colonel.

Priscilla left. And Elvis believed he was heartbroken, keyword: believed. And he sulked and sulked and sulked for weeks.

But then Linda came around. He was convinced he was in love with her, letting her move in and redecorate his house and make friends with his baby daughter. He even thought about proposing. But she said she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted.

And while she was a good distraction at first, when she rejected his proposal, the drugs became more of a distraction to him. And he made it okay by telling himself that drugs couldn't tell him no.

And that's how it went for the longest time. But people were worried. His family was worried— even baby Lisa knew something was up with her daddy.

So Linda, armed with everyone else's concern, took matters into her own hands. She called so many doctors and rehabilitation centers, and eventually she got a nurse to agree to live in at Graceland to try and get him off all the pills.

•

You walk into the grand house, following the gorgeous woman. She's sweet, has a good character and you can tell from just talking the few words you have.

The house looks different from the pictures that were once in the pages of a tabloid, with Elvis on the couch with a guitar. Back then the house was light, with royal blues and whites, but now it was like a vampire's lair— all red and gold.

"I just want to say thank you. We've tried to get him to go to rehab, but he refuses every time."

You smile sweetly at Linda. This is the first job that could actually mean something for you, and you feel as though you should be the one saying thank you. Before this opportunity, you were prescribing solutions to trust fund teens in California who got ahold of drugs at their high school parties. It was a good job, but you wanted more— you went to school for more. You felt as though your talents could be put to better use, and this was that breakthrough you were looking for since you graduated college.

"No, this is an honor, seriously. And sometimes it's better for people of his caliber to be kept away from prying eyes in times like these. Going to a center would put him at more of a risk for a press leak." You sit down with her as you make it to the living room, and there you find Elvis' father as well. He stands and shakes your hand.

You sit with them and talk about plans and the goals they have for his recovery, and all the while, you're stuck wondering why the man himself isn't here. This is a meeting about his health, after all. But they don't mention it, so you don't either.

And once they're satisfied with everything, Linda shows you to what's going to be your room for the next however many months.

An hour later, you go down to dinner, not expecting Elvis because Linda informed you that he usually took his dinner in his room nowadays. But to everyone's surprise, about halfway into the meal, the stairs creak, and almost immediately his presence engulfs you. Your eyes widen and you instantly stand up, still not quite believing that you're in the same room as your favorite singer.

His eyes scan the room before they zero in on you; it takes your breath away completely. And because of the nerves wracking your body, you give him the most awkward smile ever, mentally scolding yourself for being so stupid. He's human just like you. That's what you repeat to yourself over and over as he slowly stalks over to you from around the table.

Everyone— the few members of the Memphis mafia that decided to stay for dinner, Linda, Vernon, the cook who was plating the food— all stare with bated breath, all of them knowing how Elvis feels about rehab. He doesn't believe he has a problem. "Well what do we have here, hm? Ya sneak through the gate, honey?"

It takes you a minute to shake yourself from your trance, but once you do you shake your head. You're acting like a little girl that's seeing Santa Claus for the first time. "N- no, sir... pardon me, my name is Y/N," you stick your hand out for him to shake, "I'm your new nurse."

Linda winces and you shoot her a confused look. She expected him to blow up, or for his jaw to tick, or for him to say something snide— anything other than the gentle smile that graces his lips. He takes your hand and places a kiss on the back. Vernon clears his throat awkwardly. What is happening, you wonder to yourself. Everyone is acting like they're at a funeral. Except Elvis. He's acting like he got the latest Cadillac model.

Bless Linda's poor heart, and the fact that she can tell you innocently have no clue what the look in her boyfriend's eyes is. If she were anyone else, she'd want to tear your hair out. But she keeps quiet, just grateful that he's taking the news well. "Well I'll be damned, I didn't know I was sick. Honey, am I sick?" His eyes turn to Linda— only for a split second before they're piercing into you again. Is this love at first sight... because it sure seems like it to Elvis. He had to talk to all the other girls for at least a day before he felt something. Linda bats her eyelashes, "it's just in case, E, that's all. Gotta have ya perfect for the stage, yeah?"

He hums, and then finally lets your hand go. He gestures to your chair and then sits at the head of the table that's conveniently beside you. "Welcome then, Y/N."

You smile, this time a lot more gracefully, and then sit like he did. "Well why y'all starin' like dummies? Eat." He instructs everyone at the table, and like little minions, they all obey.

But he talks to you. About everything under the sun. And during such a time, you both come to an agreement on what he needs to do differently in order to maintain his health. A nice and easy regiment that should keep him from facing very terrible withdrawals. He seems to like you, or maybe he's just a really nice guy, but either way, you decide you're going to really enjoy staying here.

Weeks pass much the same. You like being friends with Elvis, and you realize that he's extremely humble and down to earth, not at all like the negative press he gets. You get a solid routine down; once a day, you give him a checkup, and you also lessen his pill intake everyday until he's down to strictly only what he actually needs. And much to the Colonel's dismay— a man you deemed icky the first time you met him— Elvis fires Dr. Nick and takes on a doctor you personally recommend.

•

Elvis knew this time. And despite his earlier feelings, he was mentally thanking Linda for rejecting him. And whether or not you liked it, you were going to be his.

You were his guardian Angel. That had to be it. You were saving his life. Of course he had a problem, and now he knew it. You were sent to him by God and were there to save him. He knew it. He knew that had to be the truth. Why else would you be so willing to better such a man?

Oh, and the way you smiled at him. The way your eyes lingered on him. The way you so very clearly wanted to be his. He wasn't blind, and the way you always looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes, that had to be you pleading for him to take you away— make you his. And once he knew for sure his plan would work, he'd do just that. He'd save you just the same way you saved him. And you'd be together, like you both wanted. Forever.

His hands would linger. When you'd check his blood pressure and breathing, he'd put his hand on your shoulder. And you never told him no, you never pushed him away. And he knew signs when they were given— you were definitely giving him signs.

There was this language between the two of you, a silent pining. He knew it. 'Just a while longer, angel. We'll be together.' It was a mantra inside his head every second of every day.

Four months into your residency as Elvis liked to call it, and fours months of mutual pining, Elvis knew it was time. He put his plan into action. You came home from the pharmacy to see bags in the foyer— your bags. With tears in your eyes, you walked up the stairs, "Elvis? Hello?"

You paused as he walked out of his room, looking the picture of health and happiness. He could see the confusion written all over your face. He was about to explain when you cut him off. "M' fired? Ya want me to leave?"

And then he saw resolution mix in with the emotions filling your face. You dry your tears. "Well thank you for the opportunity. It was great, and I hope I helped you well enough, Mr. Presley." You seemed almost fine with the idea, just a little beaten up about losing a job. But he knew better, you were playing hard to get.

"Mr. Presley? Baby, don't call me that, Mr. Presley is my daddy. Can't ya tell? We're goin' away... you and me." He grabbed your hand, a smile painting his face.

And there was that confusion again, and if he weren't so crazy, he'd also see that the look he thought was love was actually a little bit of fear. He'd been extra touchy and sweet, but you thought that was just the type of person he was. But now you could tell that he was just rather crazy. What did he mean going away? You were his nurse. "What're you talking about, Elvis?"

"C'mon, darlin' let's not dance around this no more. I see the way ya look at me— we're in love." He grins wolfishly, his grip tightening. He looks down at your lips.

You shake your head slowly, your eyes widening. You take a step back, looking behind you for any sign of anyone else, but it's then that you realize the house is eerily silent except for the two of you. He pulls you back, your face making contact with his chest. His free hand tangles into your hair and tilts your face so you can look at him. "Angel, I know moving away seems scary, but we can be together. We can start that life we both want, hm? I know ya feel the same, ya don't gotta say it right now."

And you can't even say anything or even try and run because he's got you thrown over his shoulder and in his car within minutes. He buckles you in and gets in the drivers seat after instructing Sonny to load your stuff into another car and to meet him at the airport.

He looks at you from the rear view mirror with a crazed smirk, one he thinks is harmless and loving. "How's Vegas sound, angel? We can get married in a chapel and ya can watch my shows every night, and we'll make Lisa Marie a big sister. I can tell yer beggin' for me to make ya a mama," his fingers drum on the steering wheel as he speeds through Memphis to the airport, "Oh yeah, I can see it now. Ya won't leave the bed for months after we get hitched. And I'll make this one last 'cause yer my soulmate. I was a dumb sonofabitch for thinkin' it was Cilla."

And as you stare at him through the mirror, tears fighting to fall from your eyes, you realize that this is one situation you don't think you can get out of. You screwed up.

Heyyy lovies! So I wrote this today because I wanted to read a fic like this but I couldn’t find one, so I just wrote it myself. First time writing darker themes, so bear with me if it’s not that good. Enjoy anyway, or at least I hope. Much love❣️ (I also just wanted an excuse to use that picture because he looks so scrumptious in it).

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[marrrrss]

dad! Voight x Kid! Reader request —

Voight has to deal with a traumatized kid he recently took under his care. Maybe he brings them to the department and they see someone/something that freaks them out so he calms them down <3

♡ no pressure. you don't have to do it if you don't want to.

Next time call me kiddo

Dad! Hank Voight x Kid! Reader

Fluff

Summary: request

TW: kid has some traumas pills, drugs, alcohol (mentioned)

Writers note: did a minor minor tiny tiny change to the request. Enjoy!

Word count: 1306 words

**english's not my first language**

(Gift's not mine)

Y/n. A teen that was found by the intelligence team of Hank Voight during a case. Drugged and beaten up by her parents. Addicted to pills and alcohol. Since a small toddler watching the parents drugged as hell and the dad beating mom. The dad got busted by his drug deal buddies and the mom went in with him due to being into the drug deal with him. Love in sickness and in health and drug deals.

The interrogation of the dad made Hank's blood boil. Not literal.

"you know y/n is going into the system right? You and your lady will die in a room smaller than this" the agent says with his rough voice pointing around the interrogation room

"y/n was supposed to never happen. The kid drugs herself? Then what. It's on the family blood" the dad says with a grin making Hank's vision becomes red. Red with anger. It takes everything to not kill this guy in this interrogation room.

This was 4 months ago. Hank chose to take the kid in instead of seeing the kid going through the system and never getting out or getting the help y/n needs. Or probably what would happen. Ending up in the streets getting the addiction worse.

For the past 5 months your life changed completely. School, rehab, therapy. Repeat. Even if you wanted to find anything around Hank's house nothing was around. Hank hide all the alcohol and medical pills to make sure no relapse would happen (of course not your mental health medication).

Hank became the family you never knew you had or deserved. He gave you a safe space , a shoulder to cry on and a group of people that care for you. More than you ever thought.

One evening you leave school earlier because one of your teachers got sick. Hank was supposed to go pick you up but as you left earlier you walked to the station that wasn't too far away.

Getting there you great Trudy and ask her if you can go up to intelligence which she with a "go on, and don't bother them!".

Entering intelligence you notice the space oddly quiet and empty. Getting further into the unit you see the border full of pictures of probably a case and you freeze when you see the photos of what you assume are the dead people on the case. Blood all over their face or Simply pale. Freaking out you get back downstairs and leave going home . 'why didn't I call him' goes Trought your mind as you walk back to Hank's home. 'Damnit I should have called or texted before appearing announced on the station'

As you enter the home, back in the station the team comes in from a case scene.

"Voight, Y/n came around" Trudy says as intelligence team enters the station

"what do you mean she came around?" Voight asks raising an eyebrow getting closer to the front desk

"she said one of her teachers got sick or whatever. She went upstairs but then left and without a word"

"did she say where she went? Wait she went upstairs?" Voight asks trying not to panic

" she didn't. And yeah she went upstairs to wait for you" Trudy asks now getting worried too

"damnit I'll be back" Voight says leaving again, now alone letting his team standing in the station entry looking at Trudy, questioning what's going on.

He knew you would be home. It was the only place you would be. As he parks the car in front of the house he rushes in, questioning if you say the case photos that he was working on.

"y/n!" He says getting inside the house, closing the door behind him.

As he turns to the living room he spots you looking blankly at the TV that was on in a random Chanel.

He knew that look.

The look of freaking out. Like he saw when he got you out of your parents house when they got busted. When he went to see you at the hospital after you got treated and he told you he wanted to take you in so you didn't go through the system . The look when you started taking your mental meds. The look when you were tempted to relapse. The look when you had the first nightmare in the house and he helped you calm down. The look when he got hurt on his hand on the job and you saw when he got home. The look that he hated seeing on you so much.

"hey" Hank says quietly as he sits next to you. "Teacher got sick uh?"

You nod slowly answering him yes.

There was a long pause before y/n says in a low and unstable voice "those people... The... Board on the station with uhm... The victims... Is the-" a big breath is taken "-do y'all have a lead on the killer?" The kid asks in a shaky voice. The images of people with shots in the head. Blood in their faces. Black eyes. Pale faces. Innocent people.

"we have a lead. The team is taking care of it. You could have called.... I had picked you up kiddo" voight was fighting not pulling you into a hug. Trying to give you space but the look on your face . The panic was killing him. "Next time call kiddo. I don't want you to see this things"

"I'm sorr-" your cut off by Hank "don't say you're sorry for fucks sake. You came in and saw it. It wasn't supposed to happen. So next time if you have a dead last period. Call me. I or someone else is gonna pick you up, ok?" The man says caressing your arm before pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back instantly. You felt safe there as you never did. It was still weird having someone carrying for you but you were committed to open up and letting him in. At the end of the day he took you in.

"thank you" "no need to thank me kiddo. I just don't want to see you like this again. You didn't drink or did something stupid, right?" Voight asks worrying you might have relapsed .

"no no. Promise I didn't" y/n says as they break the hug. "I didn't and I won't."

"alright I believe you. And I'll talk to your therapist to advance your appointment to this week instead of next week. Ok with you?"

"yeah- yeah.. thanks" y/n says looking down

"I need to go back to the station. I promise I'll close the case ok? The person who did it will pay" he says reassuring you the person who did it

"I know you will"

"will you be ok alone?" He asks getting up from the couch looking down on you.

Yeah I will, Thanks" y/n says looking up at voight

"When I leave the station and close the case I'll text you. And will bring take out for dinner. Any requests?"

"That burger place we like close to the station?" A hint on y/n face appearing. As a mirror it appears in Voights face.

"got it. The usual from that place. I'll go but please... Anything... Even just bugging me on work. Text or call."

"I will. I learned my lesson today." A chuckle excaped y/n lips as she says it.

"you sure did. See you at dinner, anything call me" Voight smirk smashed in his face. Y/n will be fine. He starts walking to the front door leaving .

He walks to his car still worried about you but he knew that getting that guy would make you ease a bit . Everything would be alright in the end of the day. It always did.

The End<3

[redsrooftopprincess]

Drugs HCs

Warnings: alcohol, marijuana, pills, nicotine

@ninnosaurus inspired me, so here's a few headcanons about the boys relationships to intoxicants.

Leo

Alcohol.

Doesn't drink much. A cup of sake with Dad on special occasions, and occasionally he'll have a glass of wine with April if he's over at their apartment, but it slows him down and makes him feel like too many things are out of his control.

Nicotine.

Keeps a pack of cigarettes squirreled away in a hollowed out brick on the roof of the garage. Occasionally, he'll stay out late on patrol and smoke while watching the sunrise before heading inside. Raphael will sometimes join him, especially when they're trying to work something out, either interpersonally or with a mission. Don and Mikey don't know.

Marijuana.

Never. It dulls his senses and makes him slow, sending his anxiety through the roof. Paranoia is a real problem when he smokes weed, so he just doesn't. He also HATES the smell.

Other/Misc.

Used to look at addicts with contempt as weak and lazy, until he got stuck by a needle while stopping a mugging. He never found out what was in that needle, and he wishes he could forget what it felt like, because there's a part of him that would hunt down every dealer in the city to feel that way again. Now he makes a point to drop addicts off in front of rehab facilities instead of police stations.

Raph

Alcohol.

He'll drink pretty much whatever. When given the choice, he's a whiskey guy. Usually neat unless he's got company.

Nicotine.

Had a pretty bad habit as a teen, gave Leo his first cigarette, but has since kicked it. Occasionally he'll have a cigarette with Leo before bed or by himself after a particularly satisfying ass-kicking, but it's by no means a habit.

Marijuana.

Hell. Yes. You mean he *doesn't* have to be in a fuckton of pain, *and* he can get his mind to shut the fuck up for a little while? He doesn't get to do it often, but he'll smoke if he has a night off, or he'll head down the south tunnels and smoke with Mikey if he notices little bro's depression is getting the best of him. He's not shy about smoking in his room. Especially if he's trying to annoy Leo.

Other/Misc.

The healthist of the four when it comes to substances. As a teen, he had a minor substance problem, but he grew out of that. Tried pills once, hoping they would help with his pain, and ended up puking in the bathroom for three hours. He decided the pain was better. Also takes a LOT for anything to effect him.

Donnie

Alcohol.

Microbrews. He makes his own.

Nicotine.

Occasionally. He'll bum one off Raph when he's really stressed out.

Marijuana.

He and Mikey are working on developing a strain that is strong enough for them to not have to smoke an entire bowl, it's more of a brotherly pet project than anything else. He has to test each batch to keep records, of course. Beyond that, he'll occasionally smoke in the lab when he wants to get more creative than logical with what he's working on.

Other/Misc.

Adderall. RARELY, but he keeps a bottle in the lab. He hates the crash, but sometimes his brain just wants to focus on too many things at once, and he needs to work on something important.

Mikey

Alcohol.

Keeps a bottle of Jameson in his room for the nights when his depression is just too loud, so he can drink himself unconscious. It usually takes more than the bottle. Sometimes he's tired enough that he gets lucky. Outside of that he drinks occasionally, but really doesn't like the taste.

Nicotine.

Hates the taste of cigarettes, but owns a hooka and has a great shisha supplier on tap. Will occasionally host hookah sessions with appetizers and drinks when he's feeling super social. Even Splinter joins them occasionally.

Marijuana.

Yes.

Other/Misc.

Has, by far, the most unhealthy relationship with substances and has tried most of the party drugs out there. However, he's got hard limits on the harder drugs. LSD is by far his favorite, but he only takes it once every couple of months.

Bonus! Splinter

Alcohol.

Sake on special occasions, but he really likes this fizzy lemonade drink Michaelangelo handed him once while at a party. Occasionally one happens to appear in, and then disappear from, the refrigerator. The boys don't ask questions.

Nicotine.

Cigarettes are a hard no. The smell sticks to his fur and he hates it. If the boys smoke he makes them shower as soon as they come inside. He will, however smoke hookah with company when he's feeling up to it.

Marijuana.

Mikey convinced him to try it for his arthritis. He smokes in the evening before bed. Leo doesn't say anything.

Other/Misc.

He knows. Of course he knows. However, he only recently discovered Michelangelo's drinking problem. He is currently meditating on the best way to approach him about it.

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja

[pulsingvoid]

the s1 mistynat dynamic is SOOO. Big Jacket doesnt want you to remember this but adult natalie was insane about misty FIRST. everything starts after natalie gets a shady postcard and decides misty quigley has something to do with it. her cringe ex classmate misty quigley that loves violence and murder and musical theatre and drugging people and is overall a walking red flag and really annoying to boot. it simply has to be from her. nat doesn't even stop to think it over she just gets out of rehab and drives all the way to jersey and stalks misty at her job and breaks into her house with a gun just to accuse misty of being the one messing with her (she isn't). then after they clear that up (and after misty's obsession with nat is successfully reignited - who could have predicted this?!) nat is like well i ought to let her stick around because she can help me find my ex. then they find her ex (dead) and nat is like well now i need to let misty stick around because she can help me solve his murder (there was no murder). then nat is like well if i promise to kms later i guess i can indulge in dressing up all nice and being misty's date for our high school reunion since she buried a body for me insisted. mind you natalie was once the most charismatic leather jacket-wearing bisexual in town that somehow managed to be so full of self-loathing and destructiveness that she alienated every single person that tried to love her. but not misty! misty is immune to nat's toxicity she's too busy being worse both solving and covering up murders for natalie and snorting natalie's coke to prevent her from relapsing and messing with natalie's car so they have to go on a roadtrip together and texting a man on nat's behalf and installing a camera in nat's room to keep an eye on her (and watch her have sex with said man) and you can tell they've both been painfully lonely and they're having the time of their lives making up reasons to be insane together. and season 2 said NEVERMIND ALL THAT YOU'RE NEVER GETTING IT AGAIN. HERE'S FRODO. NOW HERE'S NATALIE IN BEACHY WAVES AND BIRKENSTOCKS. OOPS! NOW SHE'S DIED. and now i have to sit and watch them torch teen mistynat too probably. sad! oh well good thing ive already stolen them and im putting them in a story where they can orbit each other forever and ever like lewis and ricci intended

[stoutguts]

headcanon rambling/my personal hc for Johnny's backstory bc I think it'd be interesting also I like the idea of Ghoap where the both of them had a shitty childhood bc of an abusive parent and the both of of them hv trauma/I love angst 💕

CW: drug add\ction, s*lf-h*rm/s*icide, parental/child abvse

Soap was born into a big family in the Scottish countryside, being the youngest with 6 older sisters. His father was a deadbeat, and walked out on him at a young age, being effectively raised by his mom and big sisters. Having strong female influences on his life benefited him greatly in the long run, he grew up to be a very well-adjusted, kind, and respectful man (particularly towards women, as he is a staunch feminist (you go Johnny).

However, on the other hand the only true parental figure in his life, his mother, was a horrible person. She was mentally and emotionally abusive, as well as unstable. She would even get physical with her children at times, including Soap. Johnny was also raised Roman Catholic, though today he considers himself agnostic or a flat out atheist. His mother was incredibly homophobic and transphobic and would use religion to justify her bigotry towards him, leading Soap to hating himself and struggling with self-harm and suicidal ideation for years. Particularly, by cutting himself (he has s/h scars all over his thighs, arms, and shoulders). Has attempted at least 10+ times in the past. Not to mention, he did a lot of hard drugs during his middle and high school years to cope with his mother's abuse. (Particularly coke and heroin). He's come incredibly close to ODing on a few occasions. An addict and a total mess, until his sisters intervened and forced him against his will into rehab.

After 2 or so years he was clean and eligible for the military.

He still relapses from time to time (whether it's self-harm or drugs), and when he does its bad. He even still regularly smokes weed to this day, though it's not nearly as bad as some other substances. It's a wonder he hasn't been discharged, (because he doesn’t try to hide it too much), but probably because he's too much of an asset.

Ghost is the one to bring him out of his slumps now. Not minding one bit, as all Simon cares about is Johnny's safety and well-being.

Needless to say, he could never see religion in the same light after that. He’s even quite apprehensive and wary of people whom are religious and religion in general.

He and his mother were never close and soon would never get along with each other, as he’s proud and not the type to even tolerate shit from anyone. It was an almost daily occurrence that he and his mom would fight, particularly when he finally reached his pre-teen/teen years, sometimes evolving into full-blown screaming matches.

Being the protective type of person that he is, most of the time he’d get into fights because of his sisters coming to him about how mom had hit them or made them cry (despite the fact he feels nothing but pure hatred for his mum, he has a very deep bond/connection to each and everyone of his sisters and loves them all dearly).

That was what pissed him off more than anything.

His mom could do whatever she wanted with him, frankly he stopped caring and her cutting words no longer held any weight or meaning to him at some point, and being hit was soon the equivalent to getting bit by a mosquito, he became numb. He didn't know when he stopped feeling, but he did. (He of course wasn't entirely immune, she'd eventually break him). But he was determined to stay strong for his siblings.

Bringing harm upon his sisters? No way in hell that was ever gonna fly, and he didn't care if she was his mother or not.

Johnny naturally grew to resent his mother, and to this day he still calls her a “witch” or a "cunt" instead of his mum. Eventually he’d had enough and couldn’t take his mother’s abuse any longer, (she is half of the reason he went into the military as soon as he possibly could, besides it being a lifelong and childhood dream of his).

He kept in touch with his sisters (and still does), of course, calls them everyday or whenever he gets the chance to let them know he’s alive and well and to see how their doing. Visits when he can or when he’s off duty. Though he completely cut ties with his mother after joining the military,—a couple of his sisters would keep him posted on what was going on with her.

Later on, his mother went to go on to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, and passed shortly thereafter.

He attended the funeral up in Scotland, but mainly for his sisters’ sakes. He actually ended up staying in Scotland for a while after that to provide support for his sisters, (emotional or otherwise), and to try to ease the grieving process. Even though she wasn’t the greatest mom or person in general, it was still a tough loss. Though Soap still didn’t regret cutting her out of his life,—it was fucked up but he was glad that she died in a way, and even visited her grave just once after the funeral, by himself, just so he could spit on it. Maybe even say some things he never was able to say to her, half as retribution and half to just get it off his chest.

Ghost is the only one who knows of Johnny's past and his abusive mother, and is incredibly understanding and gentle about it (as naturally it's a particularly touchy subject). On all official stuff regarding his background, the most it ever details is where he was born or that he was raised Roman Catholic. Not to mention, although Soap is a yapper and almost never shuts up, he’s a very private person and just simply doesn’t like others knowing his business (with the exception of Ghost of course).

Even though Johnny didn’t let his mother’s death bother him regarding the funeral and his prolonged visit to Scotland, when he got back he broke down completely.

He stayed strong for his sisters as he felt like he had to and just as he's always done, but the facade came crashing down once he was in Simon's arms again.

He hated his mum, she didn't really deserve his tears, yet she was still his mum. That fact still reigned true even after everything.

And Ghost was there by his side the whole time. Hell, if anyone knows what it's like to lose a family member, it's Simon "Ghost" Riley. Whether they be toxic or not. Simon's heart positively ached for Soap, and they couldn't help but get all misty eyed at Johnny's pure, unbridled grief.

Ghost had never felt so sorry for anyone in his life, and Soap was eternally grateful for Simon's patience, empathy, and it consoling him to the best of their ability. 💖

DADDY ISSUES GHOST AND MOMMY ISSUES SOAP MY BELOVED(S)

[metanoiamindpodcast]

Metanoia Memoir : From Fentanyl to Freedom - Final Draft

Preview in new tab The Metanoia Memoir : From Fentanyl to Freedom A Story of Addiction, Recovery and Deliverance For over a decade I struggled with drug addiction staring death in the face on multiple occasions, only to be revived by emergency first responders after suffering from a heroin overdose. It took me many years to identify the root causes of my addiction. Through numerous in-patient…

[samfucker]

more darlin hcs..... evil laugh

tw for mention of death and drugs

im gonna give u guys the family names cus itll get confusing w the siblings i think.

their oldest brother is called lucien, then its their sister camilla, then julius (darlin) then their little brother kenji (kenny) and then the youngest, aisha.

IM SORRY IF ITS CONFUSING!!!!

their dad is called ronan and their mom is called kalliyan

ronan was a vet! he lost his leg in an explosion and wears a prosthetic which julius helped him take off and put it on. he also would take his dad to the store in his wheelchair and stuff

julius used to also get into arguments w racist strangers who would insult his parents when they didn't even know enough english to understand what was going on.

despite his parents' abuse and neglect, julius loved them he saught out their approval a lot. he wanted to make them proud and happy even if it seemed impossible. he hated himself for it and tried to stop, but he always felt ashamed and guilty when his parents would be disappointed in him. he wished he didn't care like lucien and camilla.

he used to have a little brother who was aisha's twin, but he passed away from cancer when he and aisha were very young, around 4 years old. julius was 14 and he didn't get a chance to properly until he was nearing his adult years because of how much responsibilities he had

he blamed himself for a long time. he did everything he could to give his younger siblings a good life despite their parents and he felt very useless, like he should have been able to stop it even though he was literally unable to. he cried for hours when the family dog accidentally ruined one of his little brother's stuffed animals

one of his first tattoos was one for his little brother

julius was sent to an empowered tti (troubled teen industry)

he tries to come off as very cold and aloof, but he feels things deep

his dad pushed toxic masculinity onto him and his brothers, so he was convinced he was unable to cry until being with sam

rather than letting himself feel sadness, he often let it turn into anger. it was something he was more familiar with, something that felt more manly, which is why he was so reckless

he also threw himself into dangerous situations because he cared very little for himself. he felt like he deserved the consequences because he hurts people with his anger. it was like revenge to himself for hurting people he cares about

he had unhealthy coping mechanisms, often turning to drugs whenever things became too much. he used drugs more while dating quinn. (he went to rehab in washington)

julius never really got much sleep. as a teenager, he'd either be dealing with his parents during the night or working night shifts. when it'd be neither, he'd be woken by kenji because he often got night terrors. after breaking up with quinn, he slept even less. he felt extremely guilty for his unempowered friend, trevor, being attacked by quinn. he'd have nightmares and sleepless nights filled with guilt and regret. the first time he slept a full proper night was in the cuddles and confessions audio with sam.

the first time he was healed by marie, she was so gentle and talked to him softly, like a mother should, and it was something he had been longing for from his mother for so long that he cried when he got home

ON A MORE LIGHTER NOTE...

julius used to have a crush on milo. they like pretty boys with accents, its a given

julius had more muscle than quinn. quinn was just a vampire, so he was stronger

idk if this belongs in the angst section but he used to wear one of his dad's vet hats a lot. it's still in his closet somewhere

he and his siblings would have arguments over stupid shit then forgive each other in 5 seconds. like yelling at each other than a minute later julius is like hey do you wanna go to this restaurant with me lol...

when sam zipped away from him in their very first audio, julius was sooo giddy cus he loved sam's accent

HE LOVES LIZARDS!!!! he used to go around and look for them. one of his first times at david's house as a teen there was a tiny lizard on the wall nd he just picked it up and was just like "...lizard."

hes just an awkward little loser i lvoe him.

FNAF PHASE! CREEPYPASTA PHASE! NIGHTCORE PHASE!

he has a shirt that says "blowjobs are real jobs" and he wears it unironically

one of his first roommates ever had a whole room for her big ass iguana. to this day, julius is bitter that he never got to pet it

he need glasses but he never wears them outside. he's walked past the pack and the mates multiple times without even knowing, especially cause he goes into his own little world when he walks

one time he walked past lovely with his headphones on and he couldn't tell it was them. all he thought was "dude why is this stranger staring me down??"

he calls sam his bitch sometimes cause he thinks its so funny. sam stares at him with a deadpan expression

he has a metal plate in his eye socket that he needed to get when he was a baby. he sticks magnets to his face when he's bored but it gives him really bad headaches in the cold

loves side-eyeing

will talk about his trauma casually.

"that actually reminds me of the time my mom tried to shoot my dad! haha, oh that was so crazy. the cops came. :)"

also, leather jacket luvr

he has a motorcycle

tongue piercing (sam loves it)

[palfriendpatine66]

Your Pal’s Hayden Review: Higher Ground

What? Yes. I’m going to take a second away from my 24/7 Ewan obsession to throw a little love Hayden’s way and talk about Higher Ground. I had heard a lot about the series before I decided to check out the series and I’m so glad I did. It can be really difficult to track down but right now it’s streaming for free for a limited time on the CW website (and app) as well as tubi.

TLDR: I highly recommend a watch for a great Hayden performance in an angst ridden, emotional teen drama about kids working through their trauma in a therapeutic wilderness school. Many many content warnings for difficult topics and content warnings after my general review below the cut.

This was seriously the role Hayden was born to play. He plays a broken, sulky teen who lashes out in flashes of anger before he breaks down and cries AKA he is modern AU Anakin. It’s no wonder he was cast as Anakin after his work on this. His performance is emotional and vulnerable and shattered my heart multiple times.

The show is never quite able to make the viewer forget that they’re watching a teen drama with a cast of actual teens playing the teenage characters filmed in the year 2000, but I was able to forgive it for it’s occasionally overacted and/or not quite realistic dialogue and key moments accompanied by in your face soundtrack choices to pump up the drama and I think you will too. A very diverse collection of issues that impact real teens but are rarely talked about were depicted surprisingly realistically and sensitively. I was really impressed that the show consistently emphasized - over and over again - that the traumas the kids went through that were behind the problematic behaviors that landed them in their one stop shop rehab/intensive therapy/social and life skills group/high school program were not their fault, but only they could be responsible for how they coped and chose to go forward with the rest of their lives. The councilors on the show had healthy, caring, supportive relationships with the kids in their program, and the advice they gave was (generally) actually helpful and real life strategies. What I liked the most about this show was that it was realistic in there is no magic cure or happily ever after, but there is hope and there is healing and there are opportunities for a positive future even when everything is awful.

Content warnings below - feel free to dm if you want more details if you’re considering a watch. Also if you have watched please let me know if I missed any. For the most part these weren’t graphic depictions (they were rated TVPG in 2000) but the emotional impacts and aftermath are focused on in detail and can be very heavy.

- depictions of depression, anxiety, and panic attacks with flashbacks - drug addiction - drug use - overdose death - alcoholism - teen runaway - rape - sexual abuse of a minor - sexual abuse of a minor by a parent - sexual abuse of a minor by a step parent - emotional abuse - gaslighting - abuse allegations being dismissed, not believed - eating disorders - discussions of self harm - graphic depiction of cutting - scenes and discussions of suicide and death - death of a parent - gang involvement - domestic violence - physical abuse - infertility - drowning death - teen prostitution -

[effy-writes]

Addict (Blitz x Reader)

1: Blitzø

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 2 weeks since you left rehab and didn't have anywhere else to go. You've been debating whether or not to call someone, but the only people you know you had personally hurt them with this addiction, and you're afraid you're going to hurt them again.

You found a secluded alleyway and sat down on the ground with your bookbag on your lap. Your stomach started to growl, dying to get food in its system. You would steal food, but you really don't feel like getting injured.

"What are you doing out here?"

You jerked and looked up, seeing a guy that's a couple years older towering over you.

"Nothing." Your heart started to race. You've been through shit living out on the streets, but it is your fault isn't it? Got hooked on stimulates, left the circus, left your family, left everyone.

The guy kneeled down to where your faces was inches apart, "Instead of doing nothing you could be doing something," He stood up and put his hands on his belt.

In a split second you stood up as you hit the guy with your bookbag before sprinting. You turned at every corner, trying to get away from him. Lucky for you, he wasn't following.

With your hands on your knees you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, I have to find a place to stay at. You pulled out your phone and started going through your contact list again. Mom, Dad, Dealer, Blitzo.

You can't call your parents, they refuse to let you move in because of you stealing money for drugs. Last time you stayed at your dealers was just not a good time for you.

Blitzo...you really don't want to see him.

You don't hate him, never did. You just don't want to see him again because you did something shitty. So asking for help is the least thing you want to do right now. But if you wait any longer you don't know what can happen to you living out on the streets.

You took a deep breath in and out, and pressed call. It took about 4 rings before he answered the phone.

"Y/n?" Once you heard his voice you wanted to break down.

"I know this is probably a bad time but can I stay with you for a bit?" Your voice cracked.

There was some silence. Blitz felt the 5 stages of grief within 10 seconds. He knew that you were hooked on drugs to the point where nobody would know where you're at, or even if you're alive.

"Sure." He finally agreed. "Do you need me to come get you?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm at the park right now."

"See you in 20." He abruptly hung up.

You sighed and sat down on the park bench. You would see family's at the park, pushing their kids on the swing sets.

In the distance you heard a car squeal and eventually ran into a pole. The window rolled down on the passenger side and saw Blitzo for the first time since you guys were in your late teens.

You grabbed your bookbag and walked to the beat up van, getting inside the car and stared at your lap, not wanting to make any eye contact with him.

"Not going to talk?" He broke the silence, putting the car in drive.

"Thanks for picking me up...I appreciate it." You smiled a bit.

"Where the fuck were you?"

"It's a lot to explain."

"I needed you, Y/n. You knew what happened and yet you decided to leave for good and ghost me? Because you were too caught up in doing drugs?"

"Don't be a hypocrite, you did plenty of drugs." You huffed.

"Yeah but I didn't leave my fucking best friend when they needed me the most!"

"Blitzo-"

"It's Blitz, O is silent." He said with sternness in his voice.

"Blitz, I appreciate you coming to pick me up and letting me stay with you until I can get back up on my feet. But can we please finish the conversation later? I know I ran away whenever you needed me, and yes I feel guilty for it. That's why I didn't call you sooner, I didn't want to hurt you again."

He kept quiet, he wanted to say more, he wanted to yell at you, but he didn't. He doesn't want you to leave him again.

Growing up you guys were best friends, always close to each other, always telling each other things. Blitz only had you and Fizz, and whenever Fizz got severally injured and Blitz wasn't allowed to see him, he needed you. He was already mad at you for leaving the circus just days before Fizz’s birthday, and after? You left for good without a trace.

Blitz knew that you were on drugs way before you originally left. At first he didn't care too much because you needed it to perform "better." As the months went you became addicted to them and he saw that you looked malnourished due to the drugs but he didn't say anything about it, he didn't know what to say.

After the fire, Blitz kept calling you, he needed someone to talk to, to get his mind off of things, but ignored him. You didn't want to and didn't want to be selfish, but you don't want him to see you like this.

"I also have a daughter..so she's sleeping in the only room I have. I sleep on the couch so you can sleep on the floor."

"The floor?"

"I'm not taking the floor."

You were gonna argue back about how you could sleep on the couch with him but you know he probably doesn't want you to even get close to him physically because of the past. "So...your daughter. Who's the baby mama?"

"She's adopted and 22, got her when she was 17."

"Ah..congratulations."

"She might not like you being here..she can be a little..hot headed. But she's sweet! Sometimes.."

~~

"So...this is your new home." He closed the door. "Bathroom is over there, that's the kitchen, living room, and that room over there is her room."

"And you sure that she don't mind me being here?"

"Oh she's gonna love you!" He doesn't actually believe that. Blitz knocked on her door, "Loonie, wanna come meet a childhood friend of mine? She's gonna be living here with us for a few months."

"No."

Blitz turned around towards you and shrugged, "Yeah knew that was gonna happen."

"Yeah..yeah that's fine. You have a lovely home." You smiled.

"Eh, it's a house. Nothing too important about it. Anyway, go take a shower you smell like shit." He looked you up and down, "and look like shit."

You started walking to the bathroom but he stopped you, "Stay off the drugs, please?"

You nodded your head, "I will."

After you dried off in the shower you began to realize that you have absolutely no clothes. "Fuck." You whispered. You left most of your clothes in that drug house you used to live at and the place at rehab just gave you scrubs since you didn't have any clothes there. This is gonna be so fucking embarrassing. You wrapped yourself in a towel and slightly opened the door, "Blitz?"

"Yeah?" He said from the couch.

"I don't have any clothes."

"Ah shit. Alright um.." Blitz walked over to the bathroom and talked through the cracked door, "you can wear some of mine and then tomorrow buy clothes. You got cash?"

"I just got out of rehab dude. I don't have any money."

His eyes lit up, "Wait! You can work for me!"

"Blitz can we talk about this later? I need clothes!"

"Right, okay, fine damn. I'll bring you a shirt and some shorts or pants or whatever." He started to walk away.

"Blitz, come here." You cringed at what you were about to say next, "I need underwear."

"Go commando."

"I'm a girl..i can't not wear underwear. I'm gonna get like...fuck it why am I even explaining this." You mumbled. "Can i just wear your underwear until I can buy some?"

"Well after you get dress we gotta talk business." He left and fetch a horse shirt, the smallest underwear he could find, and some shorts. He knocked on thr bathroom door again and handed you the clothes.

"Need anything else?"

"Actually yeah..can you bring me a long sleeve shirt instead?"

Blitz rolled his eyes and found his favorite yellow hoodie and gave it to you.

You first put the hoodie on so even you won't have to look at the needle marks. Once you picked up the underwear your eyebrows furrowed, "What the fuck is this?" It was a black thong that said "Suck Here" on the front. I'm hoping this is his and not some other chick's underwear.

After putting everything on you shuffled your feet back to the couch and sat on the other end of it so you wouldn't be close to Blitz.

"Did you like the thong I picked out?" He winked.

"Dare I ask whose is it?" You rolled your eyes.

"It's mine, swear to Satan it's mine. Wait what does it say on the front?"

"Suck here." You deadpanned.

"Oh yeah, it's mine. Alright so, business." He scooted closer to you. "I have a business called I.M.P. get it?" He nudged you, "anyway, it stands for Immediate Murder Professionals, and people down here hire us to kill other people!" He said proudly.

"Blitz, I really don't feel like killing."

""But I need more assassins! Give it a try?"

"No! How about a janitor?"

"Actually that'll work. Think about it," he scooted over and put his arm around you, "A boss and a janitor getting it on!" He lightly thrusted the air.

You narrowed your eyes, "That's disgusting....No."

"This isn't a yes or no you have to work with me."

"What? Why?"

"You don't have a car and it's easier if you work with me."

"Well..it's not like I have a choice."

"Fuck yeah! Working together again!" he playfully shoved you, couldn't help but to make you smile.

"...Soooo when do I start?"

"Tomorrow because I don't want you to keep wearing my favorite hoodie and thong."

You tilted your head, "You gave me your favorite hoodie and thong?"

"I..well..fuck you. Wasn't trying to."

You laughed, "Sure.”

"Ya know I was gonna give you the couch but you're acting like a dick so the floor it is." He crossed his arms.

You knew he was playing, "Good, didn't want to sleep next to you anyway!"

"Get off MY couch, bitch!" He laughed as he reached over and gripped the hoodie before throwing you off the couch.

You landed with a hard thump, "Jesus, Blitz." You coughed.

"Oh shit. My bad."

You got up from the floor and flopped back onto the couch. "Either way, i'm going to sleep right now."

Blitz stuck his tongue out at you before laying down on the other side.

"Aww, you're gonna let me sleep on the couch? How sweet." You teased.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. You were easy to throw because you weighed like nothing and I actually felt bad."

"There it is, I miss the sweet Blitz that I used to know."

He kicked your leg, "Night, bitch."

"Night, whore."

"Night, slut."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."