running through your veins

...

ethan-grimes:

[He doesn’t raise his head at the voice. That way Ethan won’t know what the figure will look like, but it will be all the same in the end regardless.Burring half his face in the crook of his own arm he nods slowly.]

Thanks, mate. Er... all right? [He sits across from the man, a slight smile at him. He's nice, always trying to be nice. Too nice so that he talks to people that generally don't talk back or want to, but he wants to be a friend, someone people can rely on if they need one.]

#convo:Ethan

...

[Ethan sits, hunched over at the table, his slender finger beating out a pattern that could decipher the faces of those around him. They were not real. Not true beings. Merely manifestations of something larger than himself, and it was frightening. But not in the way many would be scared when surrounded by a sea of aliens. It was terrifying as he had since become used to it. Staring at the open book he wondered how he had acquired it]

[Ed enters the rec room to a rather somber looking guy. The way rings lined his eyes, he felt like he was back in a house, squatting with three other friends that woke up with a need beside them the next man's eyes as dark as his own. It's all he's been thinking of recently -- to go back or not to go back.] Er, mind if I sit?

#convo:Ethan

arthurgrayson:

Right, of course. See you then…sorry, do you prefer Ed, or Edwin?

Er, Ed. Actually hate Edwin, I do.

#convo:Arthur

arthurgrayson:

[Knocks sound on the door, breaking into his deep contemplation on the subject of sleep.] Edwin! Of course. [He hoists himself from his chair tiredly enough, but energy is beginning to flow again. Praise the Lord of doctors. Science, maybe. Yes, praise science. Arthur unlatches the door and opens it.] Well, then.Hello. It’s very nice to meet you.

I don’t mind you staying if you like, Edwin. My door is always open. [He pauses.] Well. Perhaps not literally, but you get the idea.

[Ed smiles, the joke not exactly the funniest, but it doesn't go over his head. He purses his lips together after a minute.] Yeah, er... just thought I'd say 'ello. Dunno really. But, er, we'll talk tomorrow, yeah? In a session?

#convo:Arthur

arthurgrayson

[Being a doctor comes with far too much paperwork. Arthur sighs as he examines another file. It’s late, far too late for a patient to come in. A pity. He hasn’t seen any of his patients yet, and it bothers him to no end. Switching on a lamp, he rubs his eyes. He’s been working by the dim light of his laptop. Looking to the screen to see the time, he sighs once more. Ah, sleep. He remembers sleep.]

#convo:Arthur #i made ed his patient holla #also look how nervous ed is

[Ed's slightly nervous as he comes to the doctor's office. He's new, or at least new to Ed and he's all right with being moved around a little bit, but no doctor's come close to the one he'd taken a liking to at West Park. She was kind and caring to him and a bit angry at the general staff. When he reaches the door, however, he knocks a few times, light raps echoing off of it.] Er... Arthur Grayson? 'm Ed. Edwin -- er, Cain. They switched me over to you and I thought I'd come say hi. But 's late, so I can go. Just thought I'd get the, er, nerves of meetin' you... y'know, outta the way.

liara-pond

Damn books with their damn information trying to give me stupid bitchass knowledge.

Bloody writers writing books for you to read as well, eh?

#convo:Liara

Staff's lookin' a bit sparse, aye?

lesser-half-noah:

I’m starting to think we’re more of a zoo than a.. what was it… rehabilitation center? [A bitter, tired scoff]

Can’t get any ‘better’ with no docs to work their magic jazz fingers or whatever the fuck.

"Magic jazz fingers"? Reckon I've not yet heard it put that way.

#convo:Noah

Staff's lookin' a bit sparse, aye?

Haven't seen any doctors 'round in a bit.

#rw open

kallie-mintz

The Fun Has Arrived!

kallie-mintz:

Depression? That’s…depressing.

I’m in here because the world can’t handle me—or at least my mother can’t. Well, I mean she can, but the tabloids can’t. Or—nevermind. Anyway, it’s really complicated and I wouldn’t want to bore you with all the silly little details.

Clever.

Doubt you'd be boring me much, but, er, if you don't want to tell, you haven't got to.

#convo:Kallie

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

erin-heaton:

Do you have any idea as to what it was for you?

An escape.

A fucking moment to meself, freedom. 's what it was. Don't have it now. [And he's driving himself mad. He wants to say it, but he censors himself. He doesn't believe in it, but it's too much for a woman that wasn't sure of herself in the beginning; she wasn't even sure who she was.]

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

erin-heaton:

No, Ed, just share the load so it doesn’t effect how you see them. [It was hard to argue against love. Love had beaten her down, and she had forgotten that it could build you up]

Addictions tear up relationships slower than any infidelity, but it eats you from the inside out.

I don't know what eats me from the inside out, love, but I know it ain't heroin.

Would have stopped being eaten alive when I quit if that were the case.

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

erin-heaton:

[It was a patient of hers, Edward? No. Edwin.] And you’d like to continue going through it with just his support, Edwin? Can I call you that?

When you leave here there’s going to be a lot more chances for you to relapse. An all access pass, if you will. Do you really believe when things get bad, really bad, when you can’t write, and you shut yourself down, that you’re going to open up to your fiancée? I’m not saying you wouldn’t want to. But more often than not it’s the people we love most that we feel most reluctant about telling. Because I’m telling you right now you could step outside and never relapse again, or you could do it a hundred times over. You need the support of more than one person to get through this. It doesn’t have to be me if you don’t want it to but I think you need to really consider how much you depend on your fiancée to pull you out of the dark. Not everyone can do that and stay in love.

Ed. Just Ed.

So... what? Depend on someone else or Trent's gonna leave me? Is that it? [He sighs, a little frustrated now and that wasn't even the intent.] You're probably right, as it is. [He doesn't have the energy to challenge it, even if he didn't believe so.]

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

[She laughs at the thought] Well you can’t really relapse in here, can you? [but his question has it’s purpose and she needs to reassure him]

Then I just can’t fuck up, can I? Look, I’ve helped a lot of people. Not patients. Just people. I came from shitty childhood to a shitty adolescence, I’ve done thing’s I’m not proud of, and I’ve relapsed too many times to count. [32, one for each year of her life]

But I wouldn’t be here, risking your mental health and my own, if I didn’t think I was good enough. I’m here because I’ve helped a lot of people overcome and stay on top of their addiction, and they’ve helped me do the same. They aren’t patients. I don’t have a medical certificate or a lot of schooling, but from what I’ve learned, it’s support. You’ve got your doctors. I’m not here to diagnose you or treat you. I’m here to be your support, and you can take me or leave me but I really want to help.

Have relapsed in here, though, haven't I?

Look, that's lovely and all, and 'm glad you did well and 'm glad you overcame it and all, but I've got myself support. I've got me and I've got me fiancée. Only ones to help me through it, yeah?

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

Someone who isn’t a friend, or a partner, just, someone else. Who knows what you’ve been through, and going through. So when you fuck up -and we always do- they can talk you through starting over.

For lack of a more appropriate word. [The way he was talking, the gestures, and ticks, he had to be a patient of hers. But what was his name?]

So what happens then if I'm done fucking up? You're a bit late. Haven't relapsed in ages. Just need a bloody doctor or the likes to help me not fall back into it. 'm depressed as it is, y'know?

Aye, well, they told me I'd have a new therapist coming my way. Not sure how well I want a therapist that doesn't think she's good at what she does -- only tries coz trying's all well and great, but if you're not good enough and you fuck up the lot of our mental health, then, er, what good has that done?

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

erin-heaton:

I guess not. [Darn. That was the difference. Hope. A sponsor could sit you down and tell you the realities. But a therapist, there were certain expectations.] Before, when I said caring for people. It’s not the caring as so much as the connection. Having someone who is always accountable for your actions, and you for theres.

I am, and I wouldn’t say specialise. I just do what I can.

You're telling me there ought to be someone else accountable for my own actions?

Aye, but would the papers say specialist?

Cafeteria food is the same as I remember.

erin-heaton:

I don’t think addiction ever leaves you, you’d be stupid to think it does. But it lessens it’s grip in more ways than one. Doesn’t completely vanish though.

Don't think I meant addiction. Just meant being mental. But, er... that's not actually so comforting to hear. S'pose that means you've been an addict, though? You specialise in it?