#tw//substance abuse

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #notes from the writing raven #question #tw//depression #tw//suicidal ideation #tw//suicide #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Cheka Kingscholar #Falena Kingscholar #Farena Kingscholar #tw//substance abuse #tw//dieting #Jamil Viper #Idia Shroud #Ruggie Bucchi #Jack Howl #Savanaclaw #tw//homophobia

[borderlinejackiee]

#bpd feels #actually bpd #bpd #bpd problems #bpd vent #bpd fp #bpd mood #bpd shit #bpd stuff #bpd tag #bpd thoughts #borderline personality disorder #substance abuse disorder #tw abuse #tw drugs #trauma #trauma vent

[uran8ate]

in Disco Elysium I was expecting there to be some kind of “addiction mechanic” that would add a long-term downside to taking drugs, and was surprised not only by the absence of any such mechanic but also that the benefits of drugs greatly outweighed the cost. anyways fast forward to the late game and I was downing three bottles of pyrholidon and smoking an entire pack of cigarettes before attempting any check, and it was only then I realized there was in fact an addiction mechanic

#disco elysium #pyrholidon #listen if smoking increased your iq at the cost of moving you an inch closer to having a heart attack you would be smoking that shit all day #especially if the health effects could be instantly reversed with some nasal spray #tw drugs #tw substance abuse

[its-simply-just-krys]

anonymous ; found on pinterest

#not mine #growing up #vent poetry #dark poetry #borderline personality disorder #bpd blog #bpd thoughts #relatable posts #bpd vent #actually borderline #quiet borderline #living with borderline #tw substance abuse #dark academia poetry #beautiful poetry #deep quotes

[trishilo]

Loser core

#tw substance abuse #he’s so pathetic #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls fanart

[permanently-sprained-ankle]

“I’m chronically ill, not drug seeking! I don’t want to be mistaken for an addict trying to get opiates in the emergency room!”

I totally understand not wanting to be mistreated, bullied, and denied treatment, or being misdiagnosed with a disorder you don’t have (in this case, substance use disorder). It shouldn’t happen, period.

The problem is when chronically ill people act like they’re better than addicts just because they themselves are going to the ER for a “real” reason. (If you don’t do that then I’m not talking about you)

Have you considered that the addicts and “drug seekers” shouldn’t be treated that way also? They too are seeking medical treatment for a disorder and/or withdrawal. Everybody deserves adequate treatment, yes, even if they are doing so because they are addicted to a substance.

[Image ID: White text in a Galaxy background reads If you: Derail my posts; are an “aspie”; run a sh/ed blog; are under 16; are a TERF; think cripplepunk is for mental disabilities; think that autism isn’t a disorder; are pro-transabled, trace, transage, etc; are pro-map or pro-zoo; are a transmed; want to completely demedicalize autism, I will probably block or mock you. End ID]

#tw substance abuse #disability #disabled #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #mobility aid #cripple punk #crip punk #cpunk

[d3pr3ss3dg0th]

If you're a vent blog and you struggle with mdd, gad, bpd, npd, ocd, ptsd, schizophrenia, have an ed or struggle with sh or substance a*use, please reblog this post if you're okay with making friends and if you're okay with people messaging you 🖤

#mdd #mdd thoughts #anxitey #anxi4ty #bpd #bpd thoughts #npd #actually npd #ocd #actually ocd #ptsd #actually ptsd #schizophrenia #ed #sh #tw sh related #substance abuse #sh cvt #depressing shit #tw sui ideation #anxienty #bpd vent #actually bpd #npd safe #ocd vent #tw ptsd #ptsd recovery #actually schizophrenic #tw disordered eating #substance addiction

[autopsyfreak]

if you shit on people for being drug addicts then just know that i hate you.

#actually aspd #actually npd #aspd #npd #clusterb #actually mentally ill #actuallyaspd #actuallynpd #cluster b #actually bpd #bpd #actually borderline #actually narcissistic #actually antisocial #actuallybpd #actually schizophrenic #tw drugs #addiction #drug abuse #substance abuse #substance use disorder #mental illness #help drug addicts don’t demonise them #substance addiction #addict #addicts need help not stigma #mental heath support #mental health #actually cluster b #cluster b personality disorder

[borderlinejackiee]

#actually bpd #bpd #bpd feels #bpd problems #bpd vent #bpd fp #bpd mood #bpd shit #bpd stuff #bpd thoughts #bpd tag #borderline personality disorder #substance abuse disorder #tw abuse #tw drugs #trauma vent

[thankgod4pattsu]

I feel alone and scared.

#aesthetic #beauty #drugblr #drug blog #xanned out #boyblogging #need friends #xanny make it go away #bpd thoughts #quite bpd #bpd vent #bpd obsession #actually bpd #bpd blog #bpd #bpd feels #alone with my thoughts #feeling alone #i hate it here #ask me anything #girls who do pills #s3lf hate #tw s3lf harm #cvtaddict #sh cvt #cvutting #pls help #su1c1d3 #substance abuse #sorry for being depressing

[wheatnoodle]

TW//

substance abuse, addiction, self medicating

-

eddie munson does not trust steve harrington.

more specifically, eddie munson does not trust steve harrington to be driving his sheep.

now don’t get him wrong, eddie likes steve, he really does! they get along wonderfully and spend a lot of time together since dustin brought them together. thats not the problem.

the problem is that when billy hargrove rocked harrington’s shit a few years back, eddie gained a new customer. a customer who asked for “something stronger” because weed wasn’t helping his migraines and his night terrors.

when robin notices eddie staring daggers into the side of steve’s head because he watches him wipe his nose on his hand as he steps out of the bathroom, she tells him it’s a nervous motion to calm himself down. eddie doesn’t buy it for a second.

he stares at steve all night. waiting for his nose to start bleeding or to catch a glimpse of something dusty on his hand or around his nostrils. but he doesn’t say anything though. at least not until it starts getting close to curfew and steve is standing from the couch.

“alright, kiddos! time to pack up before your parents start to panic,” he claps his hands together before reaching into his front right pocket for his car keys. eddie’s up in an instant with a nervous smile, ignoring the groans of protest in the wheeler basement to focus on steve.

“hey, why don’t i drive the rats home? you- you said you’ve got an early shift, right? go home, go to sleep.” he hopes he sounds convincing. eddie shoves his hands in his back pockets, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his feet. steve’s brows pull together in confusion and he lets out a chuckle.

“it’s alright, man. you drove them, i can take them back,” steve says and shakes his head. eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“i just mean, you seemed tired during the movie. sort of…nodding off…” eddie can see the tension in steve’s body. his jaw clicks closed behind his lips and he’s suddenly staring at eddie with a stronger intensity than he would like.

“i’m fine, munson,” steve says firmly, quiet for only eddie. eddie holds his ground. this isn’t king steve, this is just steve. there’s nothing to cower from.

“steve,” he says softy, almost pleadingly, “i’m not okay with you driving them tired.”

“i’m. fine,” steve punctuates. his eyes are wide, hurt, as they flick between eddie’s. he knows he won’t back down.

“steve.”

after a few beats of silence, steve scoffs and turns on his heel. without even a goodbye to the group, he’s out of the basement and out the door.

eddie turns back to the party who’s staring at him like he has three heads.

“…okay. rats, buckley, let’s head out.”

#stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #steve harrington au #eddie munson #eddie munson au #steddie au #drug abuse #drug dealer eddie munson #substance abuse tw #tw addiction #steddie #steddie ficlet

[placeboelysium]

When you paralyze the suspect with your clipboard ... So awkward

#can you tell i got new brushes #this was more of a test than anything #disco elysium #de #harry du bois #bisexual #bi #harry #harry de #harry disco elysium #gay #queer #blood #tw blood #tw bloody #cw artistic blood #cw blood #illustration #art #harry du bois disco elysium #harry du bois de #suit #the horrific necktie #substance abuse

[neonghostlights]

I saw you got your first request! That’s so sweet and lovely I love your writing :)

I was wondering if maybe I could request something pretty please? Angstyyyy and fluff

what if eddie has substance abuse problems like rockstar!eddie or Eddie needed something to cope with the events of s4 but it’s wrecking him and your relationship and you love him and have tried to help him but is basically like it’s me or the drugs

My second request ever! Thank you so much (: I went with Eddie coping after the events of season four and tried to leave it open to him using either drugs or alcohol. I've watched someone struggle with addiction before so I based it a little off of that.

Warnings: Substance Abuse, Addiction, Rehab, Established Relationship, Intervention, Angst, Fighting, Sad Uncle Wayne, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.2k

Pick And Choose

It started with him being late to everything and then he stopped showing up completely. Phone calls became few and far between. He didn’t even play DnD anymore. Then it was the fighting, the lying, and the stealing. 

It all came to a head last weekend when you drove around town looking for Eddie, who had fought with Wayne over his behavior and disappeared without a trace. Steve eventually found him passed out in someone's basement at a party with no memory of how he got there. The fight that took place between the two of you the next morning was the worst you had ever gotten into. 

You hadn’t talked to him since then. A week of complete silence on your part. Eddie had called you a few times and left you some unintelligible voicemails that you didn’t respond to. 

You had watched Eddie slowly wither into himself. At first, you didn’t allow yourself to believe what you were seeing. The happy and healthy man you knew was decaying right in front of you. 

The last six months had been hard on Eddie. From watching Chrissy die, to almost dying in the upside down and then waking up to a town that wanted to lock him away forever. 

The charges were dropped and the physical wounds healed but Eddie still wasn’t okay. You knew it, Wayne knew it and your friends knew it too.

You made excuses for Eddie whenever Dustin, Mike or Lucas wanted to see him and he wasn’t answering the phone. But they were starting to pick up that something was wrong. They were smart kids and you couldn’t lie to them forever. 

Wayne opened the trailer door for you when you knocked, letting you in silently. He nodded his head towards Eddie’s room, the new one since the old trailer had been destroyed. 

“Has he been up at all today?” You asked quietly, not wanting to risk Eddie knowing you were there yet. 

Wayne shook his head with a pained look on his face. 

You let out a deep sigh, setting your things on the counter. 

“Maybe we should call that Harrington boy up here too. Just in case he tries to fight,” Wayne suggested. 

You thought for a second. Steve was able to be some of a voice of reason when Eddie went too far but there had also been times when Steve sported a black eye after Eddie lashed out. Steve had already been hit far too many times over the years and had such extreme headaches that you didn't want to risk it. 

“I-I think we should just do it. Just us. I don’t want him to feel cornered,” you finally said. “If it goes too far we’ll back off and try again another day.” The thought of having another day with Eddie was wishful. You woke up everyday terrified that you would get a phone call informing you of the inevitable. He could only go on this way for so long. 

You grabbed the pamphlets out of your bag and handed one to Wayne. He stared down at it, not opening or reading it, just observing. 

A loud bump and crash could be heard coming from Eddie’s room. You looked at Wayne who was still staring at the pamphlet. It was show time. 

You sat down on the couch alone. “Wayne?” You asked, breaking him out of his trance. 

The man slowly sank down in the recliner across from you. 

Eddie’s bedroom door crashed open, hitting the wall and surely adding to the dent that was already there. You watched as he stumbled into the kitchen, sweatpants and t-shirt baggy on his thinning form. When he noticed you on the couch he paused suddenly, swaying slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” He croaked, eyes squinted like he couldn’t see you. 

“I’m here to talk,” you said, keeping your voice light. 

“Come sit down with us, Eddie,” Wayne spoke up, craning his neck to turn and look at his nephew. You could see the slight wince when he took in Eddie’s shape. 

“Okay?” Eddie said, dropping down on the couch beside you. 

Up close you could see just how bad he had gotten in a week. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red. His hair hung in lifeless strands surrounding his face. His cheeks were hollow and pale. You just wanted to wrap him up in your arms and heal him with everything you had. But you weren’t a superhero. You didn’t have the powers to fix this. 

Eddie looked away when he noticed the look on your face. 

“What’s up?” He asked, like this was some sort of friendly neighborhood chit chat. At least he was in a good mood for now. 

You took a shaky breath. “I love you, Eddie.”

His eyes softened slightly at this. “ If this is about our fight I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” he said, gesturing towards his uncle who sat with a stoic look on his face. 

“We need to talk about it though. I’m worried about you,” you said. 

Eddie let out a humorless chuckle. He leaned his head up against the back of the couch. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everyone is fine,” he muttered. 

“No. Everyone is not fine. I think you should go get some help,” you informed him in a soft voice. 

Eddie’s head snapped up to look at you. “If you’re here because you think you can tell me what to do then you can just leave. I don’t want you here anyways.” His mood changed in a heartbeat when he was like this. The second he felt like he was being criticized he snapped. 

You swallowed, trying to fight the harsh sting of his words. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t him talking. He didn’t mean it. 

Eddie used to be so full of life. He never would have spoken to you like that before this. Sometimes you wished you could crawl into a time machine just so you can have old Eddie comfort you the way you needed. You’d give anything to hear him tell you everything would be okay again. 

You pulled the pamphlet out from under your leg and handed it to him with a shaking hand. “Um, I got you a bed here. They’re ready to take you tonight if you’ll go.”

Eddie snatched the papers out of your hand and ripped them in half without even looking at them. He stood up now, his form trembling with the effort. You wanted to ask him when the last time he ate or drank anything was but now wasn’t the time. 

He pointed a finger into your face. “You think you can just show up here after abandoning me for a week and tell me what to do. You just think you are so goddamn perfect all the time. Everything would be fine if you would just shut up and let me do what I want to do.”

You clenched your hands into tight fists, fighting the anger and hurt. The counselor at the facility had told you this might happen. It was very important not to engage in this behavior. 

“Eddie,” you said softly, a stark contrast to the tone he had used to speak to you. “We can’t keep doing this. You have to choose either me or the way you’re living. You can’t have both. I can’t sit here and watch you die.” You started to cry then at the thought of this killing him. You turned your head, quickly wiping the tears off of your cheeks. 

You could hear Eddie take a trembling breath. “If that’s what you want then go. Get the hell out,” he demanded. 

You looked up to him to see his eyes wide, nostrils flared and hands balled up at his side. You weren’t going to get through to him. You weren’t going to be able to save Eddie like you thought. 

You stood slowly, giving him the chance to change his mind. He just stood there, staring at you as you went to walk out of his life for good. 

A few sniffles had you pausing your journey to the front door. You turned to see Wayne with his head in his hand and his shoulders shaking violently. You had been so caught up in talking to Eddie that you had forgotten that he was even there. 

Eddie’s expression crumbled as he watched his uncle sob.  

“Wayne,” he stammered, placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I can’t do it anymore, Eddie. I can’t sit here and watch you end up just like your father.”

Eddie winced like he had been struck. “But I’m not like him.”

Wayne looked up at him with red swollen eyes. “You are though. This is exactly like he was. I can't sit here any longer and watch history repeat itself. And watching the way you just spoke to someone you’re supposed to love. That’s exactly how your father spoke to your mother.”

You watched silently, waiting for Eddie to snap back at his uncle or lash out but he never did. He collapsed onto the couch, folding into himself as he wrapped his arms around his waist. He slowly started to rock his body back and forth. 

“No,” he denied, looking at you now. “You know I didn’t mean it right. You know I love you. I just don’t feel good.”

Eddie was crying now too. His uncle's words making some sort of breakthrough. It was now or never. 

“Then go get help, Eddie.” You approached him slowly, sitting down beside him carefully. “It’s already all set up for you. You just have to go.”

“And how are we going to afford that? I can just get clean here,” he argued. 

You shook your head. “No. Don’t worry about the money it’s already taken care of.”

He would blow a fuse if he found out Steve had given you a significant loan to fund Eddie’s treatment. Steve insisted you wouldn’t have to pay him back but you were going to work the rest of your life to make sure he got every penny. 

Eddie chewed on his already chapped lips before he took another look at his uncle's tear streaked face and started to nod. 

Ninety days came and went in a blur. 

Eddie’s room had been cleaned out prior to his arrival home. Anything that wasn’t good for him was tossed out. 

You leaned against the side of Wayne’s truck while he went inside to collect Eddie. The warm breeze swept through, warming your skin. It was a beautiful day for Eddie to be free again. 

You and Eddie didn’t speak for the first thirty days of his treatment. He was in worse shape than you thought when he first got there. There had been a few times when he almost left. Around day thirty five he called you to let you know that he was okay and that he would be sending you a letter he wrote. 

It was a letter of apologies for everything he had done and said since he started using. With promises to get better. He told you that he loved you and he never stopped loving you even when things got rocky. That the addiction made him act that way and he would do anything possible to never hurt you again. You sobbed when you read it. You kept it folded up in your nightstand for when the nights got really lonely and you needed a reminder that Eddie was going to get better. And that he still loved you despite the way things were left. 

The glass doors to the facility opened to reveal Wayne with a tall figure following closely behind him. You pushed off the truck to get a better look when he started speed walking towards you. 

You didn’t have time to react before you were being lifted off the ground in a tight hug. You melted into his arms, savoring the feeling of him. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne called out as he approached. 

Eddie put you down, holding you out at arms length so he could get a good look at you. His skin was no longer sunken in but healthy with a glow. His hair shined in the sunlight. Two brown eyes full of life stared back at you. 

Words escaped you. Part of you didn’t expect him to look better. You had expected to still see the sick and crying Eddie you had dropped off three months ago, not the one grinning at you now. The counselors had told you that this wasn’t a cure and he had to work hard for the rest of his life but it was a start to being better. 

“Holy shit,” you blurted out. 

Eddie's smile turned shy, his hands reaching up to cup your face. He looked at you for a second, making sure what he was about to do was okay. You nodded slightly, leaning in for your lips to meet. Eddie kissed you like he had been away for ninety years and not ninety days. 

When you finally broke apart, he whispered into your ear the words you wanted to hear. “Thank you for saving me.”

#tw addiction #tw substance abuse #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request

[riality-check]

tw for mentions of substance abuse (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

ao3

Steve Harrington has been awake for fifty four hours. With luck, he'll be able to eke out another eighteen. Three days seems to be the sweet spot, even if he only makes it there half the time and, of that half, it only works half the time.

It's better than nothing.

Maybe four days is the sweet spot. Ninety six is close to one hundred, and that seems like a good omen.

Omens don't really matter though. What matters is staying awake.

So, Steve chugs his coffee and walks into the conference room. Coffee isn't enough, not nearly, but it'll do until he gets desperate enough to take something.

He really does try to only take them when he's desperate. It's easier that way, to just do it when he feels like he needs to rather than measuring dosages and remembering times. Hours start to blur around hour forty of being awake.

He walks in, sits down in the chair closest to the door, and is met with a withering glare from Eddie Munson.

Listen. Steve isn't happy about this either, but at least he doesn't look like he stepped in dog shit on the way here. Then again, Steve doesn't have the luxury of ever looking truly unhappy.

Eddie is a rock star. Mean is part of his brand, while mean is the antithesis to Steve's.

Whatever.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie says, still staring at him, but Steve knows he's not who he's asking.

"He's the best person for the job," Chrissy, Eddie's manager, says.

"We don't need him."

Someone taps Steve's left shoulder. He turns to see Jeff, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, give him a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Steve," he says, and Steve shakes his proffered hand.

"Happy to help," he says, and it's only half a lie.

The drummer and the bassist - Steve would probably be able to remember their names if he wasn't so exhausted - wave their hellos from a few seats away.

"Hi, Steve," Chrissy says.

He takes another swig of his coffee and gives her a little wave in response.

"We don't need a pop singer to write lyrics for us," Eddie says, still not letting this go.

"Yes, you do," Steve says. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and opens the folder he brought with him. "I read through the lyrics of every one of your songs."

"You didn't even listen to them?"

"Would have taken too much time."

That's a lie. Listening, even with the lengthy guitar solos, probably would have taken less time. But Steve needs something to fill the hours when he's supposed to be asleep, and reading, that slow process with its ample, awakening frustration, is the perfect thing.

"You became so much less interesting after your first album," he says. "Every one of your songs talks about the same thing. Conquering evil, killing demons, blah blah blah."

"That's what's in right now," Eddie snaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches the drummer and Chrissy make the same motion. They pinch the bridges of their noses, clearly frustrated.

Steve sees why Chrissy wanted to talk to him.

"It is," he concedes. "But I also read the lyrics of every song by the bands with top ten hits. They don't talk about it nearly as much. They sing about other stuff. And they don't use an F major chord in every one of their songs."

"We don't-"

"We kinda do, Eddie," the bassist pipes up. "I'm a little sick of playing F."

Eddie takes a breath. Steve takes the opportunity to take a pill.

He found a way to make it less obvious for people who have something to say about it. Steve will take one from his pocket, yawn, cover his mouth, and swallow it dry. Easy peasy. They don't notice, he doesn't have to deal with people who don't get it making comments.

Except when he does, this time, Eddie narrows his eyes. Like he knows what he's doing.

Steve doesn't like that look.

"Have you read my stuff?" He won't ask if Eddie has listened to any of it. He knows the answer is no, if he keeps bringing up genre like that really means anything.

Eddie doesn't respond. He keeps those narrowed eyes trained on Steve and stays silent.

"Didn't think so," he says, and he slides over the thick stack of papers Robin stapled together for him last night. "Here's everything. Read it. Tell me if you like it. I'm only helping you if you give a shit. This goes two ways, and I don't want to waste my time if you think I'm wasting yours."

Eddie doesn't take the stack, but the drummer, sitting next to him, tugs them closer. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jeff says, eyebrows raised.

Steve forgets that most people don't actually take advantage of their twenty four hours.

"End of the week," he says instead, and he relaxes when Jeff does.

The drummer starts flipping through the pages while the bassist looks over his shoulder.

"Need anything else from me?" Steve asks Chrissy.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'll call you back to set up a time for Saturday."

He's amazed by the fact that someone as sweet as her works with someone as pretentious as Eddie.

"Sounds good," he says, and he walks out, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him as he goes through the door.

It only halfway works.

The pill should kick in soon, within a half hour, maybe shorter because of the coffee. Maybe he'll write something. Maybe he'll work on the piano melody he's been tinkering with for the past week. Maybe he'll read the latest book Robin picked up from the library, something interesting enough to be worth the frustration of the moving letters, something that will still fill the time.

He'll make it to seventy two hours. Then he'll crash because his body is a worthless piece of shit, and he hopes this is the half of the time when he doesn't have any goddamn nightmares.

Maybe he should pop another pill, just in case.

#ria writes #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #can you tell i just finished daisy jones and the six? #anyway it gave me worms #so enjoy #pop star steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #dja au

[borderlinejackiee]

#actually bpd #bpd #bpd feels #bpd problems #bpd vent #bpd fp #bpd mood #bpd shit #bpd stuff #bpd tag #borderline personality disorder #bpd thoughts #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #tw disordered eating #tw abuse #tw drugs #substance abuse disorder #trauma #trauma vent

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 03 Withdrawals

Simon Riley x gn! reader

Warnings: mentions of substance abuse, opiate withdrawals, vomit

Simon was concerned, he'd been concerned since the bullet tore through the meat of your thigh. He’d been the one to pull you to cover, it had been his hands staunching the blood flow and it had been him you’d leaned on during physical therapy.

Even when the medics had prescribed opiates for the pain. He’d swallowed his discomfort attempting to keep a close watch over you and your usage. You’d seemed fine, seemingly as off-put as him by having to rely on such addictive substances in order to stave off the pain. 

You’d seemed fine. 

Your recovery was going well, the doctors, physical therapists and psychologist had all seemed optimistic that you’d be field-ready in near record time. 

You’d seemed fine. 

How had he failed to notice? He’d seen it before in his father, in Tommy. In hindsight, all the signs had been there. You’d tired more easily, were calmer - lethargic even and your attention span was even shorter than usual. You’d waved it off as the effects of vigorously throwing yourself in training, wanting to get back to your peak physical form. 

Simon had ignored the signs, desperately not wanting to admit that another one of his loved ones had succumbed to the addictive effects of prescription drugs. He’d ignored the signs until it was too late, until he’d found you slumped over in a hallway shivering and covered in sweat. You don’t even notice his presence, not even when he hauls you into his arms and starts running down the hallway all the while trying to shake you back into consciousness. 

It’s not until he deposits you under the cold spray of a shower that you start to stir, moaning in confusion as you attempt to orient yourself. You try to move but Simon has you locked against his chest, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the tiles. 

“Wha?” you slur, blinking lethargically as you struggle to keep your eyes open. Vaguely you recognise the voice of the person holding you, but you struggle to make out any of his words. Your head is so heavy, chin resting against your chest, giving you a close-up view of a familiar tattooed arm. “Simon?” 

The man grunts his affirmation, one hand moving to sweep the hair from your face. You don’t get to appreciate the gesture for very long before you’re slumping to the side as far as you can within the confines of his arms and emptying the limited contents of your stomach. It burns your oesophagus, choking you as you attempt to breathe through the bile. Tears spill from your eyes from the pain and embarrassment. 

Simon doesn’t comment on it though, simply continuing to hold you up and whisper words of encouragement. You’re uncertain as to how long you stay under the cold spray but at some point, you close your eyes only to wake up in another room, a towel around your shoulders as Simon attempts to dry you off. 

“You need to get out of these clothes love, can you do that?” Giving it a few seconds of thought you nod, waiting for Simon to reluctantly turn around. It’s a struggle but you manage to wriggle out of your wet shirt and dry your torso enough to slip on the shirt Simon had laid out next to you. It’s a long and tiring process and more than once you’d had to reassure Simon you were still ok. 

Though you were quickly forced to admit that you needed help, all of your muscles shaking uncontrollably. “Si, I need help” you quietly admitted. Turning your head to the side in shame, closing your eyes so wouldn’t see his disappointment. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Simon is infinitely respectful, averting his eyes to maintain as much of your modesty as possible. 

His touch is gentle, though every slight brush of fingers on your skin burned. He continues to act in silence, bundling you up in what you now recognise as his blanket. It’s enough that the dam finally breaks and you start sobbing earnestly, chest heaving for air as you lay shivering in his bed. 

“‘M sorry.” You moan unable to articulate your shame in any other way as you continue to apologise over and over. Simon doesn’t offer a verbal reply but he does take a place by your side, smoothing his hand through your wet hair. 

Time becomes meaningless after that and all you know is misery. Your body fluctuates rapidly between hot and cold flushes that have you attempting to escape from the cocoon Simon has you trapped in. Yet the hulking abomination won’t let you move, even as you snap and scream at him. He’s not even phased by the intense nausea, placing a bucket beneath you just in time as your traitorous stomach continues to expel bile even when your stomach is beyond emptied. 

He wipes your sweat and hydrates you, taking your hurled abuse stoically, never once blaming you. He maintains his silent vigil, sacrificing his own sleep to watch over your own incredibly broken slumber. Much to your own horror he even escorts you to the bathroom, never more than a few feet away. It’s a new level of mortifying, the entire experience frays your nerves down to nothing. Yet no matter what you throw at him, Simon stays. 

“Why are you helping me? You should’ve handed me off to the med bay. ‘Ts not your job to clean up my fuck ups” you whisper. The question comes a few days into the torture, you’ve regained some clarity but the hellish symptoms showed no sign of improving. A few minutes ago you’re pretty sure you’d even called him ‘fuckin cunt’ when he’d refused to give you any sort of medication. He pauses in his movement of using a wet cloth to wipe the sweat from your forehead, barely taking any time to think of a response. 

“Do I need a reason?” There’s a heaviness to his words that you don’t quite understand and he doesn’t elaborate. How could he explain to you, the sheer terror that had grasped his heart when he’d found you slumped over? The self-loathing he’d been battling since he’d come to terms with your affliction? 

“No… but I’d like one. I’m pretty sure I vomited on you a few times and you didn’t even complain. I’d have decked you for that.” It’s an attempt at a joke but it evidently doesn’t land, his hand stilling in its path as he seemed to have some kind of internal debate. 

“I care about you, that’s reason enough.” He offers no further elaboration and you sense that you’d already pushed far enough for the moment. 

“Well now I just feel like an arsehole” you mumbled, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily your remark gets a light chuckle from your brooding companion as silence descends once more. A wave of exhaustion suddenly hits you and for once you don’t fight its pull, though you vow the next time you wake to grill Simon even further. Before you fall asleep once more you manage to mutter, “I care enough about you that I’d let you vomit on me too.” 

The last thing you hear before the darkness overtakes you is a laugh, the first genuine laugh you’d heard from him in days. It’s a small victory but you take it, allowing yourself to finally feel just a little bit of hope.      

#x reader #cod mw x reader #cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #whumptober #tw withdrawal #tw substance abuse