#and forced into withdrawal and rehab

[soldier-poet-king]

I broke down and expressed my stress and sadness and ennui to my aunt and mother and they were like "well that's just being an adult :))) get used to it :))) life isnt always a cakewalk"

Oh???? That's what my life has been this far??? With all the work I put into my education, paying tuition, and untreated mental illness??? It's just "supposed to be like this"???

And like? Absolutely not??? Humans were not made and evolved for this kind of society and I am deeply angry and upset and also maybe laid on the floor and cried a bit

#truly. understand franz kafka more everyday #something something alienation of human labour smthn smthn #oh dorothy day we're really in it now #also got into a fight with bro 1. at dinner in front of his gf. #bc he said harm reduction programs are bad. all homeless ppl are crackheads #and argued they shluld be rounded up and imprisoned #and forced into withdrawal and rehab #and only then let back into society #hes really the most selfish terrible person i know #he has no sense of human dignity and personhood neither religious or secular humanist #sure im a horrible socialist but hes just. vike #vile

[pineappleciders]

ayo can i request a male (or gn if you prefer) adult reader adopting tweek, butters and kenny? bc i love those kids but they all deserve much better parents than the ones they have in canon.

masc adult reader adopting tweek, butters, and kenny (and a bit of karen)

A/N: i've never gotten to do a male reader b4 so i'm glad you asked!!!! these r kinda separate to keep it simple, also reader is referred to as dad :)

TRIGGER WARNING: SA and abuse mentions, drugs (obviously)

tweek tweak

first things first, you start weaning him off the coffee. you still give him smaller doses for awhile just to keep him stable and with no withdrawal

if you send him to rehab, he'd definitely be a little scared. so you pack his backpack and lunch and pat him on the head and send him off, telling him to text you if he needs anything

he's always coming into your room in the middle of the night gripping his pillow and pulling his hair.

"dad, the gnomes! t-they're back, AGH!"

"tweek, i thought we went over this..."

it can be a little difficult to calm him down sometimes, so you two practice breathing exercises in case you aren't there to help him

he carries around a little card keychain that you made for him with comforting words and grounding techniques. he carries it everywhere and attaches it to his bookbag!!

you put the coffee pods on the highest cupboard shelf so he can't reach them. he hasn't tried to reach them (as far as you're aware)

you try to smooth down his hair and brush it out but it somehow always pops back up. also his hairline is fucked. so are his teeth. he's a little fucked up in every way but you love him anyways

butters stotch

with butters, it's apparent that negative discipline is not the route here. you instead opt to use positive reinforcement when he obeys and does stuff right

you're not a pushover by any means, but you are a lot less strict than his biological parents.

he gets a little confused sometimes when he doesn't get shouted at or blamed for something he didn't do. like he walks in the door expecting to get yelled at but you just hug him and ask how his day at school was

he's really glad he can actually have friends over now. his friends are always commenting on how cool his new dad is compared to his old one

butters has learned to not talk about his trauma and past. he was always taught to bury it deep down and never mention it to anybody. so when he randomly blurts out how his uncle molested him at dinner, he's confused when you look horrified

he loves to play sports in the backyard with you!!! his old dad never really spent time with him, so he has the absolute time of his life playing ball with you. it becomes one of his best core memories

he likes to draw with crayons a lot so he always draws pictures of you and him like under a rainbow or something and you always hang it up on the fridge. you're quickly running out of room for his art

kenny mccormick

as soon as he gets home and you give him the OK to eat he is eating everything in your house

turns out it's really difficult for a 9 year old to properly grow on a diet of frozen waffles and dust bunnies. you're shocked when you're preparing his bath and he's a lot skinnier and shorter than the other kids

honestly if u adopt him then you have to adopt karen too. and kevin if you want. but preferably karen.

nothing makes kenny happier than knowing she's sleeping in a warm bed with a full stomach. it's just a bonus that he is too!!

like butters, he loves to play sports with you. specifically catch and baseball. he also forces you to play barbies with him and do a high-pitched girl voice

loves to fall asleep in your lap/in your arms. like he'll fall asleep mid-piggy back ride and just snore on your shoulder

always flexing on cartman that now that he isn't the poorest kid that cartman is now. cartman hates u for it

always wants a sip of your morning coffee and waits for karen to finish her food before finishing his. it's a force of habit and it's kind of sad but also really sweet

#south park #south park x reader #platonic x reader #south park x platonic reader #platonic sp x reader #platonic headcanons #south park headcanons #sp headcanons #sp fandom #tweek tweak #tweek tweak x reader #butters stotch #butters stotch x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #leopold butters stotch #tweek sp #butters sp #kenny sp #pineappleciders

[poichanchan]

Hiii, someone relatively new to the phandom having just played through p5r, but can I ask how the swap au premise works? I'm curious what your own takes might be on how the situations for both joker and akechi happened to lead for them to be on opposite sides in comparison to the game! I tried to look it up a bit, but there's a lot of different headcanons, but I love your concepts so much I wanted to see if you had any particular thoughts on the setting :3

Hiiiii welcome to p5 brainrot jail haha! (genuinely though, welcome and im happy you enjoyed p5r!) Everyone has their take on swapAU, I specifically wanted to play with the idea of Goro and Akira swapping their ROLES ONLY.

In my AU Goro Akechi is still the son of Shido who is largely out of his life. Goro's life is a mess, his moms in rehab, and he is sent to Tokyo on probation (to his mother's friend Muhen the owner of JazzJin). I've adjusted Goro's life just enough to have him keep his childish love for justice. He finds his found family in the PT. Goro is a Snarky, whole, intelligent, a little mean, energetic, gets flustered, but also is passive and observant when he needs to be. HIS ROUGH LIFE MADE HIM GRUFF AND HONEST BUT HE ISNT JADED. Akira hates how shallow and transactional his life is. He has his awakening, ends up on Shido's radar via the research group he has in place to explore and exploit the metaverse. Akira's parents probably work around the research team somewhere and didn't think too hard about what they were getting their son into... a mix of negligence and wanting to get more opportunities as a family/bootlick. From there he has his forced 2nd awakening and gets ensnared in Shido's conspiracy. There is a lot of resentment in his life because of this, and when he is faced with Goro's existence, the literal SON OF SHIDO WHO HAS THE SAME POWERS yet life turned out so different for him because their roles are swapped its terrible. Akira is also very good at adapting to who he talks to like in canon. He is good at socializing and charming, thus the detective prince facade becomes a thing to help him gain access to deeper levels of mementos blah blah blah

Akira is also rationalizing a lot, he is seeing himself weeding corrupt people out, a hero getting hands dirty and sacrificing self for greater good. The metaverse is his stage. And he is THE showman. Detective prince Akira is more sweeping/showy/charismatic/flirty, his joker vibe comes through more normally. APART from the resentment Akira has for seeing Goro live his life the way he does, the resounding ITS NOT FAIR he feels in his heart, he also reeeeeally want the stupid phantom thieves to 'cherish your normalcy. stop messing with my plan. how fucking naive do you have to be to think THIS is justice?' COLD SEETHING FOCUSED FURY FROM AKIRA Its such a mess lol But i think hit Akira in the places that would make him play out the detective prince and Black mask bits without losing too much of his own flavor. His rationalizing is important, otherwise i felt he would feel the moral conflict harder and withdraw instead of being showy and sweeping. Also for their social links i have thoughts, i think detective Akira's special place would not be... jazzjin. I think he would drop by like canon Akechi drops by Leblanc, but nothing more. I have in mind a place up high at a height, something like the Shibuya Sky observation deck as a place he personally visits often to reflect and stare at the massive view of the city from. It felt right to have him up there looking down alone but comforted by it. Plus eventually share the view with Goro who he sees as this actual fated rival for all the reasons above. Their outfits are the way they are because i did not want to change them too severely in colorpallette or essence but wanted to play up some parts of their personality and represent it in the outfits. AND BECAUSE THIS IS A SHUAKESHU BLOG I NEED TO STRESS THAT because they are less jaded, because Akira is bolder and flirtier and Goro is more stubbornly optimistic about this dark world akira sees, they get closer alot faster, which makes the whole black mask and interrogation room bit very messy/

added pix to make post spicier THIS IS A MASSIVE POST BUT IM GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE I DUMPED MY THOUGHTS IN ONE PLACE FINALLY. there are some other things ive thought out a tiny bit, like hobbies etc but i put them down later when ive developed it more etc @ anyone reading, thank u for reading and these are my personal thoughts i am thingying to entertain myself!!!!! dont be mean to me thanks ;v;

#swap au #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #IS THIS A MASTERPOST #masterpost #ref #sorry if i have typos in there its 2am and the question has me brainrotting again

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

prompt ask game — drugging and addiction

[tw noncon drugging, drugs, addiction whump, needles, medical whump, emotional whump, psychological whump, bad caretaker, betrayal, horrible coping mechanisms, forced treatment]

25 scenarios and 25 dialogue prompts :) this one is heavy. please proceed with caution.

scenarios

whumpee is sedated because they keep acting out (for the first time)

whumpee is constantly kept sedated because they can't be trusted (it's their new normal)

whumpee is pumped full of every mystery concoction under the sun and they have no idea what any of it is

whumper gets whumpee hooked on something and now whumpee is dependent on them

whumpee is begging to be sedated/given drugs again

whumpee has been rescued once... and then they ran right back because whumper is the only one with the drug that they know

needles/syringes

whumpee is given a paralytic

whumpee is given an aphrodisiac

whumpee is given something painful

whumpee is now out and they need medication as a part of their treatment but they refuse all of it because of their new pill/needle phobia

whumpee is now out and nobody will give them medication because of their past with whumper

the stigma that comes with addiction

nobody is taking whumpee's captivity seriously because how bad could it be to be constantly high

whumpee develops toxicant-induced loss of tolerance

quitting cold turkey

whumpee has been an addict before their kidnapping and now that they're captive... they don't have anything

whumpee going into withdrawal

whumpee has promised they'd quit. they lied

caretaker finds whumpee absolutely wasted

whumpee hates lying to caretaker all the time but they don't know what else to do

whumpee develops an addiction after captivity from the sheer stress of it all

caretaker develops an addiction because of all the responsibilities they now have and all that stress. they're desperately trying to hide it

overdose

rehab feels like another round of captivity

dialogue

"oh, this won't kill you. probably."

"we're testing out something new today."

"it'll just be a pinch."

"you can take this on your own or i can shove it down your throat like a dog."

"what's the fun in it if i tell you what it is?"

"oh, you want this? you have to earn it."

"do you think i care whether you live or die?"

"get the fuck away from me! i'm not taking that!"

"please, i just need a little. i– i need it."

"i don't feel so good..."

"what was in that? what's going to happen to me?"

"oh, fuck... this isn't half bad, actually... maybe you should give me more...?"

"what do you want me to do? i'll do anything. please. i'll do anything for more of that."

"keep that fucking 'medication'/syringe away from me. i'm not doing this again."

"no, please, caretaker, don't let them– don't let them do this to me, please, i can't do it again–"

"i won't touch the stuff again. i promise."

"i... i made a mistake."

"you don't fucking understand! none of you do! you can't live with this shit, not sober at least!"

"no, i– i need the money for something else! it's– it's important, okay? please, it's just this one time. help me out this once."

"whumpee... did you take something?"

"you promised you would quit."

"i can't do this with you anymore. you're... you're just lying to my face all the time. i can't do it."

"i can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

"it's me or the [object of addiction]."

"you're killing yourself and i can't stick around to watch it happen."

#whump #whump prompt #whump prompt list #whump scenario #noncon drugging #drugs #addiction whump #needles #medical whump #emotional whump #psychological whump #bad caretaker #betrayal #bad coping mechanisms #forced treatment #ask game

[joestars-and-stripes]

Cover Me (Ohma Tokita x reader)

Hi all!!! It has been a hot minute since I've written a fic or anything, but I hope y'all enjoy this!

Anime: Kengan Ashura

Warnings: None

Why do I feel so lonely tonight? There is a breeze that I can feel, is it the magic of dawn making me warmer than usual?

You sat on the chair beside the bed that Ohma was laying on, it felt like an elephant was sitting on everyone’s chest ever since he collapsed and went into a coma. You, Kaede, and Kazuo …. Everyone worried about him. What will Mr. Yamashita do now? It was hard to say because you all didn’t want to push him further, but at the same time you were pressed to make a decision on whether or not to withdraw. 

It was quiet, the only noises in the room came from the machines that Ohma was hooked up to and the quiet breathing. The air was heavy and it was as if everyone was afraid to even say anything first. 

“Ms. Akiyama, Mr. Yamashita… you guys go on ahead without me. I’ll stay here and look after him. I can connect this iPad to the WiFi and just watch from here,” you said quietly as you looked up at both of them. They looked so sad and worried, not only about him, but you as well. Of course, mostly because you never know who’s going to be weird, bust into the room and attack you both.  “I’ll be fine here, I promise.”

“Please, Ms. Y/N. Let one of us stay here with you,” Mr. Yamashita whispered in response. You shook your head. 

“Like I said, I’ll be fine here,” you responded. “As long as I can connect to the WiFi.” Kaede nodded as they both headed out of the ICU room back to their seats in the auditorium. 

The starry night hanging in the window, tossing and turning in the bright light. The day breaks in unexpected loneliness, I sit waiting for you who doesn’t come. Lost in the thick blooming wonderings, dizzy, someone please come and hug me. 

After some time has passed, you were able to connect the iPad to the WiFi and watch the most recent match. You kept the volume low out of concern for Ohma because you care about him so much. Some time after you two had first met, it was weird but you had confided in Kaede about your feelings. Although, you asked her to keep it a secret as you two agreed that it would be professional to keep it to yourselves. Overtime, you wondered how he feels about you, especially working with him as the Nogi Group’s athletic trainer. You smiled as you shook your head, as if those thoughts would magically go away.

“Wow, look at those lights and all the colors. The electric bill for the stadium must be insanely high,” you chuckled to yourself. 

—-

“Hey Kaede, where’s Y/N?” Lihito asks as he grabs some popcorn.

“Oh, she’s back with Ohma. She told us to go on ahead,” she responds.

“Oh – okay,” he responds in a soft tone as he finally eats some of that popcorn. 

“I hope she’s okay by herself. She looked so sad and worried,” Kazuo added. Kaede’s ears perked up in response to Kazuo’s commentary. 

‘That’s true, I wonder if maybe he has also picked up on how Y/N feels about Ohma.’

What Y/N doesn’t know is that even though Ohma has trouble putting words to his feelings, he has confided in both Kaede and Kazuo about his feelings towards Y/N. He really feels that Y/N cares about him beyond just helping him rehab from his injuries or doing strength/conditioning exercises with him. 

I don’t know what to do even if I force a smile. On a night when the moon shines so brightly, who shouts for someone to cover the light? When the night suddenly ends and the day comes, receive the warm light that pours down. 

—--

You watched the iPad quietly, but little did you know that Ohma was wiggling his fingers as if he could come to at any moment now. It was almost like you were enticed by the lights and every single exaggeration of the commentators over every single punch, kick, etc. Before you knew it, tears had started rolling down your face. You weren’t sure if it was because you were actually sad or if it was because you were scared or frustrated or all three. So after placing the iPad down, you tried to keep quiet while wiping away your tears.

“I’m so sorry Ohma. I’m not sure if you can hear me now, but I care about you so much and I wish I could do more for you than what I’ve been doing so far,” You whimpered quietly, trying so hard to keep in more tears, but you failed as they fell faster than you could wipe them off. Your head fell into your hands, covering your face. “I-I feel like I failed you.” 

Needle in a haystack, find me. I’m not lonely, but everything feels so cold. If you tilt the hand of that light towards me, melting away the frozen emptiness that I’ve had for so long. Yeah, I’ve tried to hide away from the sorrow and pain, but little did I know that I was going insane. The sun will always be there waiting after the rain, so I close my eyes and smile in the sunlight. 

It was so hard to not feel lonely and helpless when the one you care about the most is putting his body through so much, and for what? Oh. that’s right. Of course, to make Mr. Nogi the next president of this whole thing. While you liked working with his company to some extent, he was always such a pain in the ass when it came to the Kengan matches. You wiped your eyes and nose.

‘My god Y/N, get your shit together bestie.’ You needed to be strong for yourself, and your coworkers, but sometimes you felt like it was too hard. At times, you wondered if being emotionally involved was getting in the way of your job. Shaking your head at these thoughts, you just sighed. 

‘Y/N, stop second guessing yourself! You’re always so strong and dependable! We need you, Ohma needs you…’ It was as if you heard Kaede’s voice in your head telling you this. It was almost as if this figment of your imagination of her was telling you what you needed to hear the most and was telling you how he feels about you. It lit a fire in your heart and a sparkle in your eyes. A new hope perhaps?

I don’t know what to do even if I force a smile. On a night where the moon shines so brightly, who shouts for someone to cover that light? When the night suddenly ends and the day comes, receive the warm light that pours down. I can’t take it anymore, what should I do?

“Ohma, please wake up soon,” you whispered, ambition and hope in your tone. “We need you … I need you.”

Today, pretend not to know and close your eyes. So, cover me now. Cover me now. 

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #ohma tokita #ohma tokita x reader #anime #kengan ashura x reader

[viceroywrites]

pickles x fem!reader

the two of you meet in rehab; him being a metal drummer punished for drinking while operating a hovercraft and you being a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who recently relapsed.

in the short weeks you spent with him, you came to two realizations; he was more addicting than any drug, and you never wanted to quit this drug.

ao3 version here - first two chapters are rewritten on tumblr and the rest will be the same moving forward.

content warning: this story involves discussion of alcoholism, drug usage, and drug addiction. reader is a recovering addict.

chapter one - admission

As you stepped inside the cold and sterile rehabilitation center, you shivered a bit. Despite your arms being covered by your thick hoodie, you still felt the icy chill run down your spine. It was a sensation that felt all too familiar unfortunately.

You didn't want to be here. It was a moment of weakness that put you back right where you had started years ago. The sterile white walls, judging looks given by the nurses and aides, the ashen faces of the recovering drug and alcohol addicts, seeking out anything to help them through their withdrawals. Everything about this place screamed death and despair, and you had escaped it alive only to be thrown right back in.

You had just started a new job, moving out of your parents’ home and finally gaining the independence you had worked so hard for. From the outside looking in, everything was looking up. However, unbeknownst to those who knew you, you were severely stressed from the workload placed on you, coming home to an empty apartment since your roommate worked nights and away from the support system you had created back at home outside of your family. Week after week, the stress began to pile up and one night, after several years of being sober and carrying that sobriety coin in your wallet, you had a couple glasses of wine, justifying in your head that you deserved it after getting through the week.

It was only to loosen up.

Once your roommate stepped into your apartment the next morning to find you, not at work, but  knocked out with an empty bottle of wine by your side, it did not take her long to put two and two together. Out of concern, she encouraged you to call your support system and family. What harm would it be, right?

The reaction you got was a brutal blow to your ego. Your friends began to worry about you; their feelings being mixed as you had been on top of sobriety since your last program but ultimately agreeing to support you in getting back on track.  Your parents didn't trust you the moment that you admitted your mistake, immediately demanding you come home and that you weren't ready to take on the world yet.

Deciding to 'get your life together', you agreed to take medical leave from work and go to rehab to keep your parents from dragging you back home kicking and screaming. Your friends breathed a sigh of relief but your parents didn't let their guard down. They forced you to stay for the whole program to make sure you were put on the right path again and everything was alright with you.

An elderly woman, a nurse in the facility, saw you standing there, immediately recognizing you, and shook you gently by the shoulder. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked back and smiled a bit at the familiar looking woman.

"Hey there, Cecilia. You miss me?" You chuckle bitterly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. The nurse's eyes looked down and she sighed, "I thought you were clean, kid. You were one of the lucky ones to escape this hell hole and now, you're back." Her tired eyes looked back up at you before her lips spread into a grin, "Well, at least I got someone sane to keep me company for a while. Follow me, they’re have been some changes since you were last here but at least we got better mattresses and food this time around.”

With a nod, you headed down the hall where you surveyed each room. Inside, irritated doctors and psychiatrists argued with uncooperative and stubborn alcoholics and drug addicts. You rolled your eyes, "Typical..." you mutter under your breath.

You silently stopped at a room, and Cecilia opened it. Setting your duffel bag down, you turned to the elderly woman and smiled tiredly, "Thank-"

Your sentence was cut off by a doctor rushing over to Cecilia and talking to her, ignoring your presence, "Pickles is wreaking havoc... again."

Cecilia shook her head and looked over at you, "Sorry, kid... duty calls. We got a new troublemaker on our hands for a few weeks while you're here. Be back soon." She quickly left you by yourself  to chase down the troublemaker.

You nodded and started unpacking your duffel bag. You remembered to pack some thick blankets and your own sheets as well as a few comforts from home - your favorite body wash, noise-canceling headphones, and a few snacks that you were surprised didn’t get confiscated considering they could have easily been edibles. As you were in the middle of unpacking, you hear a succession of loud knocks on your door. Assuming it’s Cecilia, you open the door with a hum, “You catch him, ‘Cilia?”

Instead, you were greeted by a handsome red-headed man.

You quickly surveyed his thin form, skullet red hair, pale skin and sharp green eyes. Unlike almost everyone here, including you, he looked alive. Rejuvenated. Like he was ready to get out of this hell hole now, kicking and screaming. It finally hits you who this was and before you can question what he’s doing here, his distinct North Midwestern accent cuts you off from your thoughts, "Hey.. um.. can I hide in here?"

You blinked and gave him a puzzled look, "Uhm.. may I ask why?"

Pickles had been running from  a few of the guards who had caught him pissing in a garbage can since the main bathroom was occupied by one of the other patients having a panic attack. Trying to find a place to escape, he wasn’t expecting to open the door to someone close to his age, especially someone as attractive as you. His face broke out into a grin and he put his hand out, "You must be new here.. I'm Pickles.." 

He expected a bigger reaction out of you considering his status but you simply blinked before chuckling and crossing your arms, "So you're the new troublemaker? The guy everyone's trying to hunt down?"

Pickles was surprised at how you addressed him but nodded with a smirk, "That would be me."

You smirked, "Pleasure to meet you, Pickles. I'm [Your Name].. and I'd be glad to let you hide out here till later but what's in it for me..?"

The drummer chuckled and his grin got wider, "I can't really give you anything while we're in this place. But I promise I'll make it up to you once we get out. Deal?" He put his hand out to seal your agreement.

You pondered for a minute, hearing the guards’ voice grow closer before shrugging, "Well, what have I got to lose? Deal."

Your hands met before clasping together and shaking.

'Well, at least there's someone sane and reliable in this hell hole..' he thought with a smirk as he stepped inside your room, the door shutting behind the two of you. 

#metalocalypse #mtl #pickles #pickles the drummer #pickles metalocalypse #pickles x reader #metalocalypse fanfic #mtl fanfic #reader insert

[magnoliapromenadegalleria]

Theories & Thoughts (Thories)

Wherever Sand and Ray are in episode 9 has something to do with Ray's community service.

Sand and Ray's huge fallout will happen in episode 10. It's gonna have something to do with whatever conversation Sand had with Ray's dad.

If there were to be any episode where Sand sleeps with someone else and it isn't a flashback, it's going to be episode 10. Which honestly, good for him.

Ray is going to do something incredibly reckless and be court ordered to go to rehab (please) at the end of episode 10 or at some point in episode 11. I'd be very surprised if he went on his own. He'll deal with detoxing and withdrawal, and it will be hard to watch. He'll be forced to actually face his pain, feelings, and drunken/drugged actions sober, and start coming to terms with his mothers death/perceived dislike of him.

Mew and Top will be on the road to reconciliation by episode 10, but that's when Sand and Top's mutual ex enters the picture again and things regress on that front. They'll be back together by episode 12.

Yo and Plug are going to work things out. We don't see them much, but they'll work it out in the background, and Yo will take that leap of faith and Plug (better) will be worthy. Ain't nothin' like a little set-back before the comeback, they'll be alright.

Boston is going to restrain himself with Atom...maybe. Hopefully. I'd hate to see Atom be an innocent casualty in this silent war Boston is having with his associates.

Daddy Dan is going to be the same Daddy that is in Boston's phone. Boston is going to be the absolute worst about it.

Boston's dad finds out about him. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Daniel is going to put Nicholas in an uncomfortable position, possibly threaten to end Nick's career before it begins if he isn't fully on board with a more intimate relationship. Massachusetts is gonna get pissed off by that (no one can mess with Nick but him) and the Spykid's are going team up to blackmail Father Daniel. They situation will force Boston to examine his feelings for Nick.

We're going to get a bigger time jump than we've been getting. Instead of one or two months, maybe we see where everyone is six months to a year later.

#only friends the series #only friends the series spoilers #only friends #ofts #thai drama #thai bl #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #mark pakin #neo nimtawat #lookjun bhasidi #sandray #sanray #topmew #bostonnick

[jgyapologism]

Only Friends (book & show canon) Parallels with Hurt and Grieve but Don’t Suffer Alone (my fic) 

So…I noticed a while ago that my Sandray fic and the canon of the show (and now the book) shared some very eerie commonalities, and I just needed to make a list to keep track of all the things that were happening that matched up between my canon and the show/book’s canon, because I don’t think anyone would believe me otherwise.

Obviously, if you haven't read my fic, then this post won't make sense, but in case you want to, you can find it here.  

I’m not saying anything with this post. I don’t think P’Den or P’Jojo have read my fic, and even if they have, the book and show canon were finished long before I started writing, but it just really is too uncanny, and sometimes very specific, in how my understanding of the characters/story match up almost exactly with theirs.

NOTE: All parallels listed are unintentional parallels I wrote/posted before canon in the book/show. Some aspects of the show/book are intentionally used in my fic — those are obviously left out of this list.

Sand with his back to ray in bed in ep 5 / his birthday; ray reaching out and touching his shoulder vs. ch 3 of my fic where he gets in bed with his back to ray during his withdrawals and ray hitting his back during his nightmares (posted before ep 5 ever came out)

Ray’s dad beating him in the novel version vs. “If his father knew he was eavesdropping, Ray would get a beating, for sure.” (ch 4, fic)

Sand researching rehab centers for ray in ep 10 vs. sand telling ray he’s already looked into rehab centers in chapter 3

Ray’s dad being the one to try and buy off Sand to force Ray into rehab in the show (ep 7) vs. Ray’s dad forcing Ray into rehab after his withdrawals in my fic (ch. 8)

jojo on ray (twitter): "but i think rayman should be more open with a doctor than with strangers" vs ch 10 when ray refuses to open up beyond his name at group therapy

Ep 10 when ray yells at sand saying "i'm the one who should be upset. you don't have the right to cry" (show) vs. ch 12 when ray says to sand (after seeing the photos of him and jane) “About what? What could you possibly need someone to comfort you about?” 

Sandray hug / show pda at the therapist's office (ep 10 show) vs. when they hug for a long time / show pda on the lawn of the rehab center (ch 12) 

“Why are you asking so many questions? Just say what you want me to do. You're wasting my time” (ray to his therapist in ep 10) vs. “Then you tell me, what is the reason?” He snaps, unable to hold it in any longer. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me what’s wrong with me?” (ray to his therapist in ch 13 of my fic)

"sand please understand me" (ep 10 show) vs. ray just wanting to be SEEN throughout this entire fic 

“Like two stars caught in a gravitational pull and attracted to one another” (novel camping scene part 6) vs. ch 16 “It’s like he’s hyper-tuned to Sand’s body, moving and orbiting around him like a twin star.” (seriously what the fuck)

Ray being insufferable about being boyfriends in ep 11 vs. ray being insufferable about boyfriends/pet names from chapter 17 onwards

Ray pointing out the plum wine in ep 10 and it being sand’s main source of income / sand destroying a jar vs. sand hiding the plum wine from ray in the fic because it’s his main source of income (ch 18, posted after ep 9 but before ep 10)

Bostonray apology in ep 12 (non-apology/insults/easy forgiveness) vs. ch 18 of my fic boston calling ray and saying “i won’t apologize for it” and ray saying “fuck you” / “asshole” and moving on / reconciliation - just overall getting their dynamic and friendship on the nose

The use of Micro’s song เติมน้ำมัน and playing at the record shop / ray singing it in ep 11 vs the same lyrics/song being played over a record player in chapter 19 during Ray’s welcome home party - posted RIGHT before ep 11 came out (literally what the fuck at this one)

Ray telling sand “i’ve never loved someone so much i drove all the way out…” in the novel and indirectly being the first to tell sand he loves him / say i love you vs. ch. 20 of my fic ray almost being the first to say i love you (and he would have, if not for the interruption)

Just general character things that I didn’t fully expect to see happen in canon:

Ray only realizing he needs help through Sand and getting professional help in the show vs. ray only accepting that he needs help after sand tells him rehab will be good (and then getting professional help)

Nick confirmed as part of the friend group even without boston (show/book) vs. sandnick joining the friend group from ch 14 onwards in my fic 

Ray realizing the full weight of his feelings for sand during therapy in the show vs. ray opening up and talking about his feelings for sand to Dr. Duangkamol in the fic

Sand’s subtle alcoholism throughout the show vs. sand’s subtle alcoholism throughout the fic

Sand not focusing on himself / taking care of himself at all throughout the show vs. sand not focusing on himself / taking care of himself at all throughout the fic (ok i know this is generally agreed upon but i started this fic from ep 2 and just..kept it going yall)

Top suffocating Mew with his presence in the show (ep 9 & 10) vs. the same in my fic

Boston distancing himself from the group after they shut him out vs. the same in my fic (literally posted the chapter sand punches him before even ep 5 came out)

Cheum trying (awfully) to be a good friend at the end of the show (ep 12) vs. cheum trying (awfully) to be a good friend in my fic (ch 15 onwards)

Sand and nick being friends since high school (book canon) vs. sand and nick being long time friends in my fic confirmed in ch 21 (this one is tricky b/c i was still writing the chapter when it was confirmed in book canon — but i’m going to count it anyway since i had already written this section before reading book canon)

Ray being protective and taking care of Sand in the show (during the whole Boeing thing) vs. Ray being protective and taking care of Sand in my fic (once they become boyfriends, e.g., when Sand is sick, during sex, and overall wanting to take care of / spoil Sand)

Sand and Mew actually getting along in the show (ep 12) vs. Sand and Mew befriending each other in my fic (ch 14 onwards)

I stopped tracking after the finale aired, so anything that happens beyond chapter 21 in my fic is unable to be counted as a coincidence, since the canon is complete. The book canon is however still being translated and released from multiple sources, and I haven’t gotten around to it all, so there may be more. 

Anyways, I just think this is really freaky and deserves to be seen because I feel slightly crazy for how fucking close I got these characters to canon before it was ever established in canon??? And some are just a bit too on the nose?? 

P’Jojo and P’Den pls hire me 

#ofts #only friends the series #sandray #ofts ray #ofts sand #ofts boston #ofts nick #ofts mew #ofts cheum #ofts fic #ofts fanfic #just me rambling about coincidences

[otdiaftg]

Neil finds out Betsy's plan for Andrew.

Abby jumped and flicked a guilty look his way. "Neil, I didn't hear you come in." Neil ignored her and insisted, "Where are you taking him?" "Easthaven Hospital," Betsy said. "I'm going to take Andrew off his medicine." Neil felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. "What?" "It's not official just yet," Betsy said. "I need Mr. Blackwell to sign off on it. He was the prosecuting attorney at Andrew's trial. He's here now with Mr. Waterhouse to evaluate the situation. I strongly doubt he'll contest this, so we should be able to commit Andrew to Easthaven by this afternoon." "Commit him as in lock him up," Neil said. "When Dr. Ellerby and Mr. Waterhouse wrote up the original agreement they did it in a way that would garner the least resistance from the prosecution. One of the terms Andrew agreed to was twenty-four-hour supervision during his rehabilitation. Easthaven is one of the best hospitals in the state. He will be in good hands." "But for how long?" "Up in the air," Wymack said. "Andrew was scheduled for rehab in May so he'd be out of classes. It'll take time to get the drugs out of his system. Once his head's cleared the staff has to figure out the next step in his treatment, whether it's ongoing counseling or some new type of happy pill. Take Andrew's complete inability to cooperate into account and we're looking at maybe four, five weeks." "If we get him back by New Year's it'll be a miracle," Abby said, with a hint of her former frustration. "You're forcing him through withdrawal and recovery at the same time." "It's both or neither," Betsy said. "You know that." "Do it," Neil said when Abby started to argue again. His breathless command had all three of them looking at him, but Neil had eyes only for Betsy. He'd wanted to hurt her in the car for reinforcing the awful rules of Andrew's medicine. She hadn't defended herself because she knew she didn't need to. She knew just like he did how cruel it was to keep Andrew on his drugs, and she'd already reached out to the people who could help him. Betsy's smile was small and approving. "I promise I'll try. Wish us luck?" She plucked a new chocolate bar off the counter and led Wymack and Abby upstairs. Neil didn't really believe in luck, but he watched them go and hoped for it anyway.

Day: Monday, November 13th Time: 9:55 AM EST

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds

[mysupremenesta]

In no way is what the inner circle did to ‘help’ Nesta ‘help’. If it had been an intervention for forced rehab then Cassian and Azriel would never have been able to drink around her and in no way would Cassian’s behaviour have ever been acceptable. Ever. Because if it had been rehab then they should have treated those things as an addiction, except it wasn’t addiction because Nesta had no withdrawal symptoms, only anxiety because she was forced to experience her emotions and trauma without any of the coping mechanisms she normally used to dull the pain.

Rhys just wanted Nesta away from Velaris because she was causing arguments between him and Feyre and because she was an ‘embarrassment’ to their court. If he wanted to help her, I don’t think he’d have even read the bill, let alone out loud. If he genuinely wanted to help her, and not only that but if he was genuinely a good husband, he’d have given the bill straight to Feyre (who was the only person who’s business it was) and let her come to him with the information. Instead he read it out loud, humiliating her and then was gleeful about this plan he’d formed. He worsened her self hatred and self esteem and took joy from the fact she was embarrassed because at his big old age of 500, the one thing he wanted to do was embarrass a traumatised 25 year old who he should have considered his sister.

That was not help.

What did help her was the Valkyries. I’ve seen people comment things like ‘The inner circle were the reason she met the Valkyries’. Like???? Amarantha was the reason Feyre met Rhys?? That doesn’t make utm a good thing.

#nesta archeron #pro nesta #anti rhysand #a court of silver flames

[thegoblinboy]

💊

If anyone else wants to force me to write, click here and proceed through the instructions (: I’m almost out of Asks and would love some more! This has really made me write A LOT today and yesterday.

💊vampire rehab💊

Steve checks the clip board, going over the list of names carefully. Along with the list of names he goes over the warnings.

“Mr. Crowley,” He mumbles under his breath, continuing to scan the warnings “Charming, Nocturnal and pretends to talk to the dead. If you interrupt a ‘conversation’ he will become aggressive.” Steve whispers gently. Not able to gather the words on the page unless he spoke them out loud.

The lists wasn’t in alphabetical order, it was in order of when patients checked in. Which confused the hell out of Steve a lot. The next person on the list was a “Mr. Munson” he scans through the information before the warnings. “Unknown.” Sighing, Steve knows that he will most likely figure out what should be under the warnings himself. Or another nurse would. Either way they were fucked. Vampires were the worst species to mess with. Especially when they were going through withdrawals. Specifically from Human blood, which was the case for most of the guys in here.

A few, whom were very scarce, were in here for detoxing off from enhancers. A pill that made vampires ten times stronger then what human blood would make them, make their powers more powerful and useful. The only case Steve has ever had for enhancers was with Henry Creel. A scarier man almost his age. Just older by a few more years. His name was well known in Hawkins, actually through out the entire world. He was the specific vampire you didn’t want to end up like.

#vampire Eddie Munson #werewolf Steve Harrington #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #WIP Thursday #WIP game

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days, or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter characters: Dean Winchester, Jack Kline, mentions John Winchester, child Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle and Bobby Singer, Max Baines, Ann Milton, Emma Winchester, Lydia Prime

Chapter warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, withdrawal (including dry heaves and panic), flashbacks, sexual situation, drugs

Words: 2,300

ANs: Thank you for your patience with the delay in getting this out. My partner and I have been passing a nasty cold back and forth for a month, and cold medicine doesn’t support creativity in the Minefield. 

Many thanks and love to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker

Text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER THREE

Dean’s first dinner in recovery included three servings of angst and less than a mouthful of actual food. Crowley called Meg a whore; she threatened to stab him with a fork through his “self-inflicted trach scar, (you) creepy little bastard”; then, said creepy little bastard threw his lemonade in her face before storming off. 

Now, Dean’s lying face-down on his thin yet lumpy twin XL, clutching a pillow across the back of his head, silently imploring the kid to stop eating candy bars and go the fuck to sleep so he can be miserable in peace.

There’s nothing in his stomach but bile when he finally drags his ass to the cold, hard bathroom. He flings the lid and seat of the toilet open without agitating his dislocated shoulder too much, drops to his knees, and lurches over the bowl.

The discharging doctor’s words begin running through his mind, as he prays his eyeballs don’t burst from their sockets. 

“Expect to be nauseated. They will have anti-nausea options — your preference. You’ll have chills and shakes. Drink lots of water. Think of it as a 24 or 48-hour bug... or a really bad hangover.”

The cycle is vicious — nausea and chills make his body seize, and the convulsions ignite more pain from his head to his toes. To top it off, he has no control over the gross sounds being forced from his chest with every gag and recoil. 

He’ll definitely wake up the kid if he doesn’t keep it down, and that kid needs sleep. He’s a fucking teenager, growing and healing.

Dean hates that an impressionable kid like Jack is seeing him at his worst. He hates that everyone he knows is aware that deep down, he’s an absolute fucking wreck. He hates that he fucked up so colossally that he’s lost his right to be in his own damned home, quieting his mind and calming his heart his own way.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever look them in the eyes again — Emma, Sam, Jess, and their kids, Tessa. 

Dean swallows back tears and sobs, so he can get control over his breathing.

“Panic attacks are common during this time as your body rids itself of alcohol. I’m sending scripts for thiamine — just as a precaution — and gabapentin to keep you calm.”

He’s not calm though, so he draws shallow breaths through his nose until his body finally seems to get the message. Finally, he slumps against the steady cold porcelain, resting his head on his serviceable forearm.

On his umpteenth round of breathing exercises, there’s a light tap at the door. When he squints up at the doorway, he finds double visions of Jack and his bleary blue eyes, shrouded with concern. 

“I can go get you some Pepto or something.” 

Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry I woke y’up,, kid,” he rasps, slowly pushing himself up with a series of grunts and gasps. 

“It’s OK. It happens to all of us. Do you want anything? They’ll let me come down for you if you need help.”

Once Dean’s standing, he curses how frigid the tile floor is under his bare feet. He should’ve put socks on because he can hardly feel his toes as he flushes the toilet. 

“Thanks... Jack.” Dean huffs a sigh and tries to swallow back the saliva, pooling in his mouth as he turns to the vanity and twists the knobs of the sink on cold. “I just gotta get through this.” 

As Dean washes his good hand and forearm, he sees the scrawny teen shrug in his periphery. Dean scoops water into his mouth to rinse and spit, nodding to reassure himself.

“OK.” Jack’s voice fades. “But whenever you decide to stop punishing yourself, I’m happy to help.”

Before Dean can muster up a scowl and a disparaging comeback, the kid’s already climbing under his covers with his furry dragon.

“Is he gonna be OK?” Sam whispers with wide eyes and chewed lips.

Dean knows that Sam isn’t old enough to process John’s bullshit, but that doesn’t stop John from drinking a fifth of Jack on any given Sunday, kicking a hole in the bathroom door, and passing out on the toilet.

“He’s fine, Sammy — just gotta sleep it off,” Dean murmurs as he quietly closes the door to John’s bedroom and drapes an arm around Sam’s shoulders as he makes his way down the short hallway.

John bet on the Chiefs’ game and lost. Betting never ended well for John because, the way Dean saw it, John placed bets with his ego, not his head, and he almost always lost.

At least this time, he blacked out before the game was over, which made him more pliable for Dean to maneuver and easier for Dean to keep Sam out of John’s sight.

“What’re you hungry for, Sammy, mac and cheese or mac and cheese?” Dean strides through the tiny living area to the galley kitchen on the other side of the two-bedroom shack.

Sam whines, following his big brother’s footsteps through the galley. “We just had mac and cheese, can’t we have hamburgers?”

“No hamburger, buddy.” 

Dean hates telling his little brother no. He wishes he could make burgers every night just the way Sam likes, with extra American cheese and pickles, and those waffle fries with the spicy seasoning.

“Do we have hot dogs?” Sam asks, furrowing his little 7-year-old brow as he hikes himself up onto a kitchen chair.

Dean tilts his head before digging deeper inside the fridge. He finds a package with two hot dogs, but he isn’t sure how long they’ve been open. He’s relieved to discover that they don’t reek like a dead mouse when he pulls at the plastic and takes a sniff.

“You’re in luck, baby brother. Want ‘em fried up in the pan first?” He grabs the milk and butter, too, before letting the door fall closed.

“Yeah!”

Dean knew how Sam would answer. Sam loves when Dean slices up the dogs and fries them in a pan. They get crispy and salty, and it makes Sam feel like it’s a delicacy; it makes him smile. And when Sam smiles, Dean smiles.

As Dean sets out the pan for the hot dogs and the pot for the macaroni, he notices the bottle of chocolate sauce is almost empty. He smirks to himself as he quickly mixes up a small cup of chocolate milk for Sam, leaving just enough milk for the macaroni and cheese.

“Here,” he says, setting the cup next to where Sam is working on his weekend math homework. “Don’t drink it too fast, you puked last time.”

Sam beams at the cup of chocolatey goodness before turning his bright grin up to shine on Dean. “Thanks, Dean. You’re the best big brother ever.”

Dean shuffles out of the bathroom to his bed with a cup of water from the tap. The thought of drinking it threatens to make him gag. He should probably go get something for his stomach, but the night nurse has a lot more to worry about than his dumb ass, and this will pass soon enough. He’ll just lie back down and wait it out.

He sets his cup on the nightstand before straightening his bedding and carefully sliding under the cool sheet and light blanket to stare at the ceiling. He draws small, manageable breaths in through his nose and pushes them out his mouth.

Shadows from the trees and the moon outside dance across the ceiling like a Halloween decoration. The stark images remind Dean of a project from his first-grade art class.

His favorite teacher, Ms. Alba, brought the music teacher in to collaborate on a holiday assignment with the kids. The art teacher passed out reams of construction paper, plastic scissors, glue sticks, glitter, and crayons, while the music teacher told the story of Death.

“He appears at midnight every year on Halloween in graveyards all over the world, fiddle in hand, to beckon the dead from their graves, to dance with him ‘til dawn.”

The class gasped and squealed in delight, as the music teacher dropped the needle onto the vinyl to play a seven-minute-long symphonic poem called “Danse Macabre”.

Dean had never heard anything like it. It was joyful and tragic, and it made him feel like spinning in circles. He thought it sounded like the instruments were real people with broken hearts and desires, willing themselves to live, if only for a few hours.

According to Ms. Alba, Dean’s creation was vibrant, layered, and mournful. He didn’t know what all those words meant at the time, but her eyes told him that it was good.

Thankfully, the Winchesters were still living with Bobby and Ellen. Ellen oohed and ahhed over the glittery disaster and taped it dead-center on the front of her olive-colored freezer door. She made a point to show it to John and Bobby when they got home from the garage, too. Bobby agreed it was a masterpiece, and John kept his mouth shut because he wouldn’t dare say boo to Ellen Harvelle.

Dean shivers under the covers that are not enough, and yet too much. He’s cold and sweating, trying to remain motionless so as not to agitate his injuries or further disrupt Jack. He thinks about getting one of his flannels or a pair of socks, but then he realizes that requires movement, which causes pain, which wakes up the kid, and he’s right back where he started. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. 

His mind races and so does his gaze, now used to the dark and searching for something to distract himself. He spots a cabinet full of books on Jack’s side of the room, and sighs.

He sweeps the blankets off himself and rolls off the bed to trudge to the bookshelf. The moonlight is enough to show him the many familiar titles of books he’s read before, and his eyes land on Slaughterhouse-Five.

He instantly reaches for it. “Nice.” 

Dean grins as he hobbles back to his bed. Since he’s up, he decides to pull on a pair of socks, and the relief is immediate. He shakes his head at how stupid he is — can’t even seem to see straight enough to help himself.

He darts his eyes to the bed next to his. The kid’s sleeping curled around his stuffed animal with his back to Dean, peaceful and innocent, but wise beyond his years. 

Dean turns his bedside lamp on low and fluffs his pillow again before propping himself up against the headboard to read.

“Daddy? Are you here?”

“Shit,” Dean swears under his breath. “Get dressed.”

It’s not his weekend to have Emma. He’s not in any condition to be around his daughter right now, and neither are the two other people in his bedroom.

“I have something to show you.” His daughter’s excited voice gets closer with every anxious breath he takes. 

Dean tosses articles of clothing at his bewildered guests, claws at his bedding to straighten it, and tries to hide the white powder and paraphernalia.

“Just a minute, Em!” Dean calls from his room and then turns to hiss at his partners in debauchery. “Hide.”

Max blinks, and his brow furrows. “What?! Where?”

Anna grabs Max by the wrist as she scoops up her underwear. “That’s his daughter, Max.”

Before Dean can conceal the evidence that he has no right to the title of father, his daughter is opening his bedroom door and letting herself inside.

“Oh!” Emma’s eyes go wide, and she gasps. She blinks rapidly for several beats as Dean and his guests stand frozen in place.

“I’m... sorry, I just wanted to...”

“Baby, it’s not what it looks like,” Dean starts, clutching a pillow across his middle.

Emma starts to back away, and Dean takes a step toward her.

“Don’t,” she says, and her blinking eyes begin to fill with tears. “It’s OK, just... don’t.”

Dean groans as she backs all the way out of the room and disappears down the hall. He tosses the pillow aside and snatches his jeans from the armchair beside his bed to quickly step into them, snagging a t-shirt from atop his dresser as he dashes out the door.

“Emma!” Dean calls to her as he runs down the hall, shrugging into his shirt. 

In the living room, he meets Lydia’s angry glare and Emma’s retreat out his front door. He stops cold and drops his gaze to his bare feet.

“I can only imagine what she just walked in on,” Lydia says, her delicate features twisted into a scowl. “Here. This is what she wanted to show you. She made it for you in art class.”

Dangling from Lydia’s grip is Emma’s latest attempt with textiles. She’s been working with wood and fiber. The letters DW were carved from basswood and wrapped with hand-spun yarn.

Dean looks up at his ex. “Lydia-”

“Take it, Dean.”

He reaches for the gift with a heavy sigh, staring at the intricate twining of carefully chosen colors. “Thanks.”

Lydia echoes his sigh and shakes her head. “Don’t ask me to go to bat for you this time, Dean. Joint custody means just that. You don’t get to fuck off just because it’s not your weekend or whatever.”

Dean winces but nods. “I know.”

“You always say that.” Lydia rolls her eyes and turns to leave. “Give her a day or so to cool off. I’ll let you know if she wants to come up this weekend.”

The door clicks closed behind her, and minutes pass before he hears Lydia’s Mercedes drive away.

Two days later, he receives a text from his ex: “Emma isn’t feeling well, so she’s staying home this weekend.”

Home. 

Dean’s house is not Emma’s home.  

Chapter 4

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

#au dean winchester #Dean Winchester is saved

[writercole]

Little White Lines (2)

Summary: It’s a long road to okay. Squares: Recovery @thebo3bingo Words: 2314 Warnings: drug use, addiction, angst, withdrawal, NA meetings Credits: @therebeccaw for the beta and hype. A/N: I have never dealt with addiction myself but I hope that I’m not getting it all wrong or offending anyone. 

I no longer do tag lists. Please follow @coleslibrary and make sure notifications are turned on.

Find Part 1 Here

This was rock bottom, Rhett just knew it. It started with a tremble in his hands. Then he got nauseous. There was nothing in his stomach but his body didn’t care, forcing him to his knees to expel bile and dry heave.

The sweat poured out of him, drenching the sheets and the mattress. His entire body shook violently, the bedframe rattling against the walls, and the nightstands vibrating like a stampede was running through the ground floor.

All Rhett could focus on was the pain, the aching muscles and throbbing joints, the nausea and dry mouth. On the rare occasion that the physical symptoms ebbed, shame and disgust took their place, bringing the nausea back to the forefront.

After nearly a week of detox, Rhett stood. He nearly vomited with the movement, even though he took each step with a deliberate slowness, holding on to the wall for support. After starting the shower, he looked in the mirror and was astonished by what he saw. His cheekbones poked out, his eyes were sunken. He looked ill. He couldn’t believe that he’d let himself get that bad and he suddenly understood why she had been concerned.

He stepped into the scalding water, taking his time to scrub every inch of his skin, trying to cleanse himself of the deep, personal hatred that he felt. His skin was red and raw before he gave up, resigning himself to feeling unclean.

He ambled down the staircase slowly, over a week since his last line, loathing who he’d become. He sank into a chair and rested his head in his hands. He had to get help.

Cecilia placed a plate with toast and juice in front of him taking a seat on his left. “It’s over then?” she asked quietly.

“What, exactly? My relationship? My career? My life?” he scoffed as he took a small bite of toast.

“Rhett, I know what that was, but son, I don’t understand why.”

Rhett’s stomach roiled and churned, attempting to both purge the solid food and get it digested for more energy. He wasn’t sure how to answer his mother, especially when he looked around and found that she’d cleaned up the house that he’d trashed, put everything back where it was, discarded the broken furniture and reframed the picture he’d tossed across the room, the one from their first date. 

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he thought of everything he’d ruined. Looking into his mother’s eyes, finding only love and concern, he broke. “Perry convinced me to try it before a ride,” he choked out, “one that my shoulder and neck were acting up. I felt like superman. And then I needed it more and when I ran out of money, my dealer cut me off.” Sobs wracked his frame as he hung his head, shame burning him from the inside out.

“I will deal with Perry later,” Cecilia growled, “but first, how do we fix you?”

“I don’t know but I need help, Momma.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, stroking his hair and whispering that it would be okay, that she was there. “I’m not leaving you, Rhett. I’ll find meetings or rehab or something out of town. We’ll get you better. We’ll fix it all.”

Cecilia found a Narcotics Anonymous meeting two towns over. She dragged Rhett there twice a week, usually on days where Royal was preoccupied with something or wouldn’t need his son’s help fixing a fence or rounding up cattle. 

She would drop off Rhett and sit in the library next door, researching addiction and more ways she could help. She planned meals and scheduled Rhett to help with church projects. And, of course, she kept the woman who left updated.

She couldn’t say the texts from Cecilia were unwelcome but they hurt. He only got clean when he couldn’t afford it anymore. She hurt because she wasn’t there to help him. She hurt because she couldn’t be there to support him. She hurt because she gave up.

But mostly she hurt because she still loved him with all her being.

Yet she still ran. She drove for days, sleeping in her car, surviving on beef jerky and gas station coffee. She stopped when she reached Birmingham, pulling into a cheap roadside motel for a shower and a good night’s sleep.

This was far enough from Wabang. She could breathe here. She could start over.

Rhett attended NA meetings at the Methodist church two towns over twice a week for three months. They would share their stories, how they started, what drove them to quitting. He was honest about the things he’d taken, the need that pushed him to become someone he despised. He only cried when he talked about her, his angel, the woman he loved and drove away.

He got his chips for completing days and weeks and months. He sighed in relief as the guilt and shame ebbed away, leaving regret and hope in their place.

On the day he made four months sober, he was able to talk about her without pause, without a tear falling down his cheek, with a smile as he recounted the first time they met.

The group leader pulled him aside after the meeting. “Rhett, you’ve made some real progress. In case no one tells you, I am proud,” he said, clapping Rhett on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Rhett blushed, ducking his head.

“It’s time for you to move on, though.”

Rhett looked up, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. “What?”

“It’s time for you to move on to the next steps. Make your amends. Find yourself again as a recovered addict. Move on, one day at a time,” the leader explained.

“One day at a time,” Rhett repeated, holding out his hand and receiving a bear hug instead.

“Where are you starting?” his group leader asked as he released Rhett.

“With someone I should have listened to long ago.”

It took Rhett days to get Cecilia to tell him where his girl had gone. He’d begged, pleaded, promised, swore, bribed, and cried before she let slip that the woman he loved landed in Alabama.

He raced to his room and grabbed a backpack, shoving clothes into it as Cecilia watched from the door.

“What are you going to do when you find her?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Apologize. And then whatever she asks me to do,” he replied as he pushed past, grabbing his things from the bathroom.

“Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Either way, I owe everything to you, Ma. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

With tears in her eyes, Cecilia wrapped her arms around her son, hugging him tightly, just in case. She released him and grasped his hands, a watery smile on her face before she turned and walked away.

Rhett felt something in his hand and looked down, shock filling his face as a warmth spread through his chest. “I can’t take your wedding rings,” he protested as he followed her down the hall.

“You can and you will,” she insisted from the stairwell. “If she accepts your apology, you’ll know when. If she doesn’t, well, I reckon it’ll be back on my finger.”

Rhett drove down I-65, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the sound of his balding tires on the asphalt. He was only a couple of hours from Birmingham and his nerves were beginning to fray.

It had been six months since she left. Neither of them reached out, their reasons vastly different. He couldn’t handle the shame; she couldn’t handle the hurt.

She had been on edge for days, ever since Cecilia had called. All of their communication had been text messages so when the name appeared, she feared the worst.

But it was a heads up that Rhett was on his way. He was coming to find her.

Rhett had been on the road for two days. From Wabang to Birmingham was twenty-six hours. Rhett stopped for gas often, cursing every time the needle closed in on empty. He napped at truck stops, drank sludge pretending to be coffee, and ate more fast food than he ever had before.

He was tired, he was wired, he was sick of being on the road.

He was nervous, he was hopeful, he was terrified she’d moved on.

He turned into the driveway of the tiny cottage and shut off the truck, sitting in the cab and staring at the figure pacing in the window, the curtains obscuring all but her silhouette.

“You drove twenty-six hours to be here,” he told himself, “get out of the damned truck and do what you need to do.”

With a shaking hand, he pulled his keys from the ignition and stepped out of the truck. He watched as the figure in the window stopped.

Rhett moved up the flower-lined walkway, his legs stiff and weak from the hours on the road. He took a deep breath before knocking, his stomach cutting flips while he waited.

The door opened and she appeared, his angel, bathed in light from behind.

“Rhett,” she breathed out, her face neutral.

“Hi,” he said. His palms were sweating as he stood there, the speech he had rehearsed the entire drive gone from his head. “Um, I shouldn’t have come so late,” he rushed out, “I can come back later, I mean another day, I mean -”

“Rhett, come inside.”

He stepped over the threshold tentatively, his eyes taking in the small, cozy space that she had made feel like her, like home.

She stepped around him into the living room, curling up in an armchair next to an overflowing bookshelf.

Rhett took a seat across from her, the coffee table between them feeling like the Grand Canyon. He didn’t know how to start apologizing for everything; he didn’t know how to apologize for driving her away. Insead, he rested his elbows on his knees, his focus on the water rings and coffee stains on the piece of furniture before him.

“You’ve lost weight,” she commented, starting the conversation they needed to have.

Rhett cleared his throat and nodded, unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah, apparently that’s a side effect of being a damned fool for too long,” he replied. 

A bitterness had settled in his mouth, a nagging in his mind. He stood without warning, shoving his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have come,” he mumbled.

“But you’re here,” she soothed, standing slowly and reaching across the space between them. “You’re here. The man I love is here.”

It took Rhett a moment to process her statement, to realize the words she used were present tense. His head snapped up, eyes meeting her soft gaze. “You still…after everything I did, still?”

“You don’t fall out of love just because you leave,” she told him gently as she guided him to sit on the couch. “I knew the man I’d fallen for was still in there. And I’m not saying that I didn’t try to get over you. I even went on a couple of dates but something always felt…wrong.”

“You still love me after I fucked everything up so badly?” His voice was barely above a whisper, a lump pressing in his throat. His eyes stung with forming tears, her face, her beautiful face, becoming blurry.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I treated you so bad, I didn’t listen to you when all you wanted was to help me. I pushed you away.”

“Rhett, that wasn’t you,” she cooed, her hand rubbing soothingly up and down his back.

“It was. On some level, it was,” he countered. “The drugs didn’t really change me. I’ve always been that same horrible person deep inside. Just never to you.”

She was stunned at his confession. But she didn’t believe a word of it. “Rhett, I have seen you on your worst days and never, not one time, have you ever acted the way you did when you were high.”

“But -”

“No,” she interrupted, gripping his chin and turning it to face her. “You listen and you listen good, Rhett Abbott, because I am only going to say this once. The absolute piece of shit that you became on cocaine is not inside of you when you are sober. Whoever told you that is lying and manipulating you. And sure, it may work to keep people off of the drugs for a while, but making someone hate themselves is not a long term solution.

“Now, I love you, and I accept your apology. And I’m willing to try again. But you will not put yourself down like that.”

Rhett stared at her, dumbfounded. She didn’t blame him; she wasn’t pissed. She was still willing to work it out with him.

“I’ll need your help,” he whispered.

Her palms cupped his stubble-covered cheeks and she rested her forehead against his. “You’ll have more help than you’ll know what to do with.”

“I might still push you away.”

“I’ll fight to stay.”

“I’ll try. For you, I’ll do anything.” Rhett dipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out the rings that had been weighing him down. “My momma sent me down here with these, said I’d know when to use them. Right now ain’t the time to be proposing but I reckon if you give me another chance, they can be a promise. That I’ll try every day to be the man you deserve. And when I finally am, well, then this little diamond will look beautiful on your hand.”

“Oh, Cecilia,” she sighed as she glanced down at Rhett’s hand. “She’s always so sure of everything.”

Rhett smiled for the first time since he left Wabang when his lips met hers. It was a moment that felt like coming home.

#writercole #rhett abbott #b03 #recovery #outer range #lewis pullman

[michidafantasy]

Don't Lose Your Light - {Stardew Valley - Shane x Farmer x Alex }

Credits for this to @queenofcommoners. This lovely lad gives hella good inspiration for angst.

Plot: What happens when someone isn't willing to change? Their loved one who tried to save them turns to the very thing that breaks them. Just when hope seems gone, an unexpected thing sheds some hope.

tw: substance abuse, blood, mentions of verbal/physical abuse. Discretion advised

For a little extra umph to this, I recommend listening to "Devil Doesn't Bargain" while reading.

She really thought she could change him. He swore he was going to quit, that this would be the last time. Man, had she heard that so many times before. Before her, a man on his knees, hugging onto her hips and hiccupping between his tears.

The blood-shot eyes showed her a bottomless ocean of lies. Was he at the therapist like he initially said? Or was he guzzling things down with Pam again at the Saloon?

She wasn't sure how many times she had heard the same story, only for her to find out down the road that he was willingly lying to her. Deep down, she knew he wasn't going to be able to stop his drinking. For an alcoholic, it's not that easy of a journey. She was prepared for the relapses and the ugly times, but she didn't expect it to get as bad as it did.

She tried to keep the house as dry as she could until the withdrawals got so bad he was violent. The screaming could be heard all through town that night and the nature of the scream was violent enough for Lewis to come running with Alex and Sam in tow to ensure something had not happened. It was a good thing they arrived when they did too.

The door which had once been locked was kicked down with all the strength Alex had in him. Lewis and Sam had to pull Shane from her as she was cowering in the corner, fresh bruises forming from where he had grabbed her too tightly.

Alex stood there while Shane was dragged from the house, profanities of "Bitch" and "Pricks" littering his mouth.

He wasn't one of many words and up to this day hadn't been exactly close with this girl, but to see her in that position took him back to the days when he was forced to endure his father's exact same path. He was an emotionally numb man, but that didn't mean he couldn't understand feelings...he just couldn't really act upon them like most.

One thing he did know was to get her to safety. His grandmother would royally beat his ass if he left her there just to sob to herself. He wasn't raised to be that way.

So, without many options on where to take her, he decided his grandmother would be the best one to assist. She had impeccable nursing skills and it was a no brainer given that the farmer and her were fairly good friends at that point.

He didn't account for forming a decent bond over the following weeks with that girl, though. Shane had been taken to a rehab center, but she was still so shaken up. Alex somehow found himself assisting her the following weeks to somewhat ease her mind.

It definitely seemed to help her. She was opening up through their conversations about gridball and various farming activities. They both sought in each other a sense of belonging. Alex, helping her on the farm while she taught him how to tend to the crops, was able to find a new way to exercise.

Things were pretty good. He actually felt a little bit happier. Those little dinners after a long day and chilling with her while his grandmother tended to her wounds gave him a bit of routine he could look forward to.

Yes, it was all good until Shane was back. The moment his feet stepped onto that farm; it was like she took him in with amnesia of the past. Alex wasn't too keen on the idea of them being alone, but she was so reassuring the this time it was different.

That was a pattern that existed again and again and again.

Now, she sat alone in the bathroom with a bottle in hand. She found them stashed away while Shane was out. Months of swearing she was insane and calling her crazy for assuming she smelled the booze on his breath came to this.

One major screaming match and him storming out of the door. Now she was alone. Her pain and anger filled her to the brim. She wasn't sure what was happening next because the once full bottle was now empty. Her gut turned into a fire pit.

She couldn't control the anger and sadness. Within seconds she would be feeling the sharp sting of broken class against her palm. There she lay on the floor, sobbing to herself.

No one in the town seemed to notice the morning after that she wasn't at the store or stopping by the Saloon to check in with Gus on things happening. People assumed she was tending to Shane, none the wiser of the prior night event. Everyone went about their day.

However, someone noticed. Well, two did. A concerned grandmother and her grandson. The farmer had been in contact before the incident and promised to stop by for Evelyn's warm, fresh chocolate chip cookies that day. But, she never showed. Warm cookies turned cold and hard. As the day went on, the grandmother grew more worried.

"Alex...dear..." she said from the kitchen table, "I know you don't like being around her situation..."

He hummed in response, tapping his knuckles against the table as his grandmother continued on, "She hasn't called. I'm worried. Can you at least make sure she didn't overwork herself?"

His heart didn't know what to think or feel, but his gut told him the best thing would be to check on her. So, reluctantly, he did.

He trudged through the darkness to the farm. It appeared to him the crops hadn't been watered nor harvested. Animals seemed to be rather distressed from being unfed. Something was entirely eerie and unsettling about the scene.

It wasn't until he could hear her little dog inside frantically barking that Alex's heart sank to his stomach. He was afraid of another scene like what happened months ago. He fought with himself. Did he really wasn't to subject himself to the triggers again? Was Shane in there making more trouble?

"Farmer?" He called out intially, knocking on the door.

No answer.

Another louder knock. No answer.

Now he was concerned, finding himself shouting her actual name.

Once again, he had slammed the door in; Robin would be killing him for that later.

"Where is she?" He pleaded aloud to himself.

The steady mumbles and hiccups caught his attention. Up the stairs and to the left, a horrifying scene. Bottles strewn about the room. Dried blood caking the counter, mirror, and door. He saw the broken glass and her bloodied hand.

She was laying in the floor, curled up in a ball.

"Oh fuck.." he cursed, rushing to her side, "hey...hey ----, wake up, Are you with me?"

Her eyes, heavily glossed over, struggled to focus on him, "Ah? Alex..." she managed to say, followed by incoherent mumbles.

"Jeez...what the fuck..how much did you?"

She chuckled and rolled over, groaning in pain.

Alex sighed and gently picked her up, "I gotta get you to Harvey..."

It must have been hours. Caroline was kind enough to help clean the farm house while the available men searched for Shane, but Alex refused to leave her bedside.

Harvey was concerned for him, "You know if anything happens, I can call. You need to rest too. You're no good if you're a wreck yourself."

He just focused on her, "Why didn't she just...call me?"

Harvey sighed and sat down, "Some of us struggle to reach out when we need to. Either we feel like we're a burden, we just don't know how to process, or it can be denial. No one really knows..but my assumption under her stress is that she just snapped and couldn't handle anything. We do things in the spur of the moment when we're at our lowest at times...rational thinking isn't easy when you're under duress."

Alex continued watching her, chest heavy. Harvey rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "She's going to be okay."

For the first time since Yoba knew when, Alex found himself actually praying for her to come to her senses. He couldn't lose someone else at the expense of alcohol.

#stardew valley fanfic #stardew imagines #stardew valley shane #stardew valley alex #shane x farmer #alex x farmer #stardew

[crossdressingdeath]

...A thing I'd missed: in the Draw Out the Red Templar Lieutenant war table operation, which you unlock after completing the Victims of War side quest in the Emerald Graves, you have to lure out the Templars responsible for Freemen activities with either Leliana or Cullen. Leliana suggests doing so by pretending to be a surviving Freemen cell and reestablishing contact, which is a very clever and elegant solution.

Cullen, meanwhile, recommends capturing some Red Templars and denying them lyrium until they talk.

Cullen, whose entire personal arc (for lack of a better term) revolves around how awful lyrium withdrawal is, wants you to get information from some of his former brothers-in-arms by torturing them with lyrium withdrawal. That's his plan. That's what he thinks is best. The game wants you to feel sad for him because the Red Templar lieutenant in question is Carroll and Cullen knew him once and he asks you to make it quick for his sake, but I'm just sitting here wondering where this sorrow for his fellow Templars was when he was telling Quiz to torture them. It's the same as with Samson; Cullen only fusses about how bad the lyrium thing the Chantry shoves on Templars is when it affects him, or people he likes. Everyone else is weak, or deserves it, or their suffering doesn't matter. In this case it's a tragedy that poor Carroll was turned into a Red Templar lieutenant (which quite possibly was his choice!), but all those other Red Templars, who are only addicted to lyrium because the Chantry forced it on them just like it did Cullen? Nah, let's just torture them by withholding lyrium until they talk! No rehab for these Templars, that sort of thing's for good Templars like... the head of Meredith's death squads. Hm. I'm sure that doesn't say anything about Cullen's morals. But it does fit with the generally messed up morality of DAI: Cullen being addicted to lyrium is bad and he should be gently helped to overcome that! The Red Templars, though? Nah, they're bad. They deserve to suffer. As with how the closest thing to punishment you can give to Cullen is leaving him addicted to lyrium despite that being the one thing in his life as a Templar that isn't his fault, torturing Red Templars using the addiction that was forced on them is considered fair game and completely moral as if that doesn't suggest anything about the people suggesting it, signing off on it, or doing it. It's all just very uncomfortable.

#dragon age inquisition #cullen critical

[anauro]

Bonjour again! More questions! ✨✨ I did not realize James was going to move out omg, for me, he was staying with Reg forever! But can he really move out? His wound is getting better but what about his addiction? Actually, how long does it take to fully recover? The gang looked healthy and sober in this chapter but it's only been a few months... I'm scared. 💔

Cou cou!

James was only meant to stay till his wound gets better. He decided to use this time to try and get clean too, but full recovery from addiction takes months if not years.

I just wanna point out James has been staying with Regulus for about a month only. It feels like months cause I’m a slow writer, but in fic time, he moved 2nd of October and we’re 31st October now.

Ok, but I actually know a fair amount about detox, so will answer it below the cut for those interested.

Detox from heroin and cocaine (and GHB) is quite personalised for each person. Alcohol detox is much more regimented, but with opioids it’s like rolling a dice

Detox starts with converting from street drugs to opioid replacement (OTS): buprenorphine (what James takes) or methadone (more common and what Sirius is on). That usually takes a week or longer, because doses start low and get up titrated. I mentioned that on James’ appointment: the doctor warned him he will be withdrawing and pretty much everyone uses on top. Of course sadly, a lot of people only go on OTS to ‘save money’, so they can use less heroin. But in dass, they all are willing to quit completely

A lot of people stay on methadone or buprenorphine forever. They get stabilised on a dose, they go on rehab for the psychological addiction, but continue to lead normal lives (have jobs and children) on OTS. James currently has to pick up his buprenorphine every day and be seen taking it, but once trust is built, people get a weekly or monthly stock, just like they would for any other health condition.

If someone chooses to go completely clean, the speed of detox depends on them. Usually this is discussed between the patient and the medical team and they gradually reduce their medication until 0. Some people go fast, some reduce by 5mls or less every few months. The closer to 0 it gets, the more symptoms people get. If someone is on, say 16mg buprenorphine, they could reduce by 2mg every two days or so and once they get to about 4mg, they slow down. Generally speaking, once the dose is reduced jt doesn’t go up. Régime can be slowed down, if symptoms occur.

Most people detox at home and get medications for common symptoms: leg cramps (very common), nausea, stomach upset. The issue is for the homeless population. It’s much harder to detox when everyone around you is using, hence why Remus, Sirius and Peter aren’t doing ‘as well’ as James. There are very few, if any, inpatient detoxing units for homeless population so it’s generally hard to fully detox them. Most end up on OTS, at least till they get a job, a flat and have more stability.

Once detox is completed, rehab can be fully started. There is community “day centre” rehab or an inpatient one. Generally speaking, you have to be fully clean to go into an inpatient one. Rehab like this takes months, I think 6 months is like a minimum, but I’m not sure.

Important factor to mention is that pretty much nobody ends up an addict ‘for fun’. Most people have complex mental or social problems and once drugs are removed, they are forced to face these. Imagine being depressed, unemployed, homeless. Very often with little to no family or friends. It’s extremely hard to find the motivation to detox and a lot of people relapse or quit halfway through. James and the Marauders have their meetings with Poppy and the point of all that is to prepare them for this side of recovery. And, of course, this is where Regulus would play a major role too.

That’s it for my ramble! TL;DR: rehab can take anything from weeks to years.

#roc answers #drugs and surgical scrubs #dass #jegulus fanfiction #tw addiction #tw drugs #addiction awareness #addiction recovery #french anon tag