#drug overdose cw

[throttlegainwell]

ST WIP snippet

[TW for mention of drug overdose.] Steve’s nose wrinkles. A thought is forming between his eyes. “This song is dark,” he says. “Even for the weird shit you play.” The music is usually loud and fast and the lyrics esoteric and vague—and Zen Arcade is no exception, even louder and more chaotic than his normal punk fare—so Steve doesn’t normally notice. Or Jonathan had thought he didn’t, anyway. Maybe just doesn’t normally comment on it. A pang of guilt twists in his gut, makes his fingers twitch a little. It isn’t that he thinks Steve is stupid; he knows he’s not. It’s just that he comes across kind of shallow, kind of surface level, and doesn’t tend to really see things a lot of the time. Or doesn’t look, maybe. Navigating the world seems easy for him—why would he need to spend much time lost in the subtext? But if he’s going to underestimate Steve, he might as well be honest and own up to it. Jonathan shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he admits. Not apologetic, exactly, but somewhere in that vicinity. Steve glares. “She ODs, right? The girl in the song?” “Yeah.” “She dies.” “Yes.” “So that’s pretty fucking dark.” “I can put in another tape,” Jonathan offers. Steve waves him off. “It’s fine.” The album keeps playing, all growling reverb and nerve-rattling discordance.

#stranger things wip #jonathan byers #steve harrington #stonathan #jonathan byers/steve harrington #my fic #drug overdose cw #i'm gonna be super busy this week so i'm kind of leaving this one here as a reminder to work on it this weekend

[askbrett]

Tell us about your worst trip.

I feel like it'd be a cop out to say the time I OD'd, but that was definitely probably the worst trip of my life, especially 'cause even after I wasn't tripping out anymore and things were still The Worst.

#Anonymous #ask. #** #drugs cw #drug overdose cw

[outcastxd]

— FULL NAME:  ella georgiana colmstoke. — BIRTHDATE / AGE:  1965.  as of 1986:  21.  as of 2022:  57. — SPECIES:  human. — OCCUPATION:  none as of the moment. — FACE CLAIM:  daisy ridley. — DEFAULT VERSE:  stranger things. — ALT VERSE(S):  

— BIOGRAPHY:  mentions of: heroin use, drug overdose, depressive and suicidal thoughts.

ella georgiana colmstoke is the youngest daughter of her family; having three brothers in front of her (1956, 1960, 1964). she was born and raised in kensington (1966), where her family’s lavish manor is located. her eldest brother was the model child, her middle brother was the brainy one, while her third brother was ever-so-slightly rebellious. she grew up in a loving home, well-educated and entered into the more elite circles of society as their status would more than comfortably allow.

late in the summer of 1979, her eldest brother was going for a drive one evening, when he was run straight off the road. impacting with the trunk of a tree, he died on impact. the entire family was absolutely shattered. somehow, most of them managed to pick up and move on, but not ella. ella took it the hardest. as time passed, she began to withdraw. from family, friends, even school.

as she was just about to turn 16, things took a darker turn. she would be discovered by her now eldest brother, in her bathroom, doped up on her newest hobby, drugs. he didn’t say anything to their parents, but he warned her that if she continued, they would be told. he thought the warning would be enough. ella continued on her downward spiral for two more years. before everything came to a head. in her 18th year, ella would attempt to overdose on heroin.

and very, very nearly succeeded. the housekeeper discovered her. she was rushed to hospital where they managed to save her life. ella was distraught, because she hadn’t died. her brothers pitied her, but her parents were absolutely mortified. she had family, distantly, in the states. it was decided without her permission that she would be sent there to break the shell she had wound herself in.

ella moved to the town of hawkins, indiana to live with her aunt, uncle, and four cousins. all that was expected of her was to keep away from the drugs. the family was nice enough, but she felt outcast from her own. she grew tired of the expectations laid upon her, the life she lived and the family she believed to hate her. ella still misses her brother, battling her inner demons, not wanting anything else but peace. by whatever means she can scrape it up.

#drug overdose cw #tw: drug overdose #drugs cw #tw: drugs #depressive thoughts cw #tw: depressive thoughts #suicidial thoughts cw #tw: suicidal thoughts

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #picturing Eddie’s mom as someone similar musically to Wanda Jackson #she was big in her part of Kentucky #might’ve made it even if not for Eddie’s dad #cw: parent death #cw: mention of overdose #cw: mention of drug use #first kiss #getting together #angst with a happy ending #sorry for the sad part #they kissed about it at the end tho

[red-skady]

Breaking point

#needy streamer overdose #nso ame #nso #needy girl overdose #needy girl overload #tw drugs #cw drugs #mine

[allthecanadianpolitics]

As overdoses in Edmonton reach record-high levels, users can visit a free drug-checking site that will analyze substances to determine what is in them and whether they've been cut with high-potency materials.

The Spectrum drug testing program, which operates Monday and Friday afternoons at 105th Street and Jasper Avenue, uses a Fourier Transform Infrared (FTIR) spectrometer to analyze stimulants, including cocaine, methamphetamine and MDMA, and opioids like heroin and fentanyl.

Spectrum, launched last week by the Queer and Trans Health Collective, is the first physical site in Edmonton to offer a drug-checking service. 

"We know that people are going to use substances whether we like it or not," Jess Murray, the collective's harm-reduction manager, said in an interview last week.

"We just want to make sure that if they are using substances, they know what's in the substances, they're able to get supplies for their substances to use them more safely." 

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @abpoli

#cdnpoli #Edmonton #Alberta #public health #public safety #overdose prevention #toxic supply #drugs cw

[disfrutalakia]

Love Cellbit just casually telling people that the president overdosed in drugs given by a bear and went into a coma, he makes it sound so silly but it was the most traumatizing thing to ever happen

#qsmp #liveblogging #qsmp cellbit #cw drug mention #overdose mention

[nonbinaryaubrey]

sorry no others with this one I neededto make this as fast as possible or i wouldve died.

#im so obsessed with this img. she overdosed on yaoi cocaine #omori #aubrey omori #sunny omori #aubrey.img #drugs cw

[zal-cryptid]

So what happened with the kid that Tammy was babysitting that was bad enough to get her toyified when what she did to Pen wasn't?

Also unrelated but it's interesting that even though she's been there the longest by a significant margin Eleanor seems to have learned her lesson the least if any at all.

By Pen I assume you mean Jen. Tammy was a kid when she bullied her - Krampus only turns adults into Toyfolk, so she likely just git a fat lump of coal during her teenage years.

The kid she was babysitting on Christmas Eve, 1997, thankfully survived, as did Jen's victims.

#cw overdose #ask #dark #misfits in toyland #comic #tammy #cw pills #cw drugs #my art #my ocs #original characters

[superhaught]

Angel in the Snow

Pairing: Reneé Rapp & Reader (platonic)

Warnings: drug use, drug-induced unconsciousness, overdose, refers to sexual assault, mention of blood, emergency room examination, angst, hurt-comfort

Word Count: 2950, Part 1/?

Note from Author:

! This is an AU where reader finds Reneé before she loses 7 hours of her life that night. There is difficult subject matter here so please read at your own discretion. !

Big shoutout to @fanofthings20 who beta-read this piece for me, thank you so much!

If this is missing any necessary warnings or tags please let me know!

Finally, carry Narcan/Naloxone!

Reneé is reader's best friend. Reneé is partying a lot and one night, Reneé is unaccounted for. Reader looks for and helps her friend. Based on the events that "Snow Angel" is about.

No one knew where she was, and you were the only one who seemed to care. Everyone was annoyed that you were even asking. 

“You’re freaking out over nothing, I’m sure she just left.”

But you didn’t feel like it was nothing. There was a feeling in your gut that said otherwise. Reneé had disappeared from the group over an hour ago. Your best friend in the world was nowhere to be found and all of these assholes were more concerned about maintaining their buzz than her well-being. 

You sent her a third text asking if she was okay that got left on delivered.

You never felt that it was your place to stand in the way of Reneé having fun and enjoying herself, but you were worried about her. More than worried… you were scared for her. 

Lately, you had felt like she was pushing the limits of what she could handle, sustaining herself on parties and substances and hook ups. You knew that she was trying to escape something, you just didn’t know what. You would have given anything for her to just let you in. 

One week prior, you went out on a limb and tried to talk to her about it. She got mad. Madder than you’d ever seen her. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” she asserted.

“Reneé, please, I’m just trying to help…”

“Well, you’re not. You’re just being fucking annoying.”

She told you to leave her alone, but you couldn’t leave her alone. Especially not now. Not when she had her finger on the self-destruct button. 

You weren’t invited to this party but you knew she was going to be there with some guy and his friends and you just didn’t trust him. So you showed up and found the group she was supposed to be with, but Reneé and her date weren’t with them. 

“Fuck you all,” you said as you stormed off and started asking for help from the bartenders and bouncers. You showed a picture of her to various club staff and none of them really recognized her or knew where she might be.

No one was taking you seriously and you started to doubt yourself. Maybe you were being insane. Reneé is an adult and the fact that you were trying to track her down when she didn’t even want you here was pretty crazy of you. She probably did just leave with the guy to hook up.

But then you shook your head. No. You’d rather be anxious and find out that nothing was wrong after all than let something happen to her. If she was drunk or high, she could be taken advantage of and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t do everything you could.

You tried calling her. You let it ring until it went to voicemail, “Hey it’s Reneé, leave a message.” You felt sick to your stomach. Even if she was mad at you, Reneé would never not pick up a call from you if she could help it. 

You did another lap of the dancefloor and still didn’t see the blonde. You started to check the club bathrooms, shouting her name and getting a lot of weird looks but not getting any closer to finding her. So you started to get more creative. You left the club area in favor of searching the hotel that housed it. The main lobby was fairly empty and quiet. 

You rushed up to the worker at the front desk and showed Reneé’s picture to her, “please, I’m looking for my friend, I think she could be in trouble, have you seen her?”

The woman sighed and pulled her glasses down from the top of her head to examine your phone. She squinted her eyes as she took the phone from your hand to look at it closer. Your body trembled anxiously as you waited. 

“You know what,” the woman began, “she does look familiar. I think I saw a blonde girl like her go into the restroom here a while ago. She came from the club and there was a young man with her. She didn’t look well.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” You took your phone back and sprinted to the bathroom she pointed to. The bathroom door flew open at the push of your arm and your worst fears were confirmed at what you found in the bathroom. 

Reneé was unconscious on the bathroom floor, curled up in one of the stalls. 

“No… no no no!” You fell to your knees at her side and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Reneé didn’t respond. You leaned down and felt that she was breathing, just really slowly. 

You shook her again and touched her face. She was cold and clammy. Her makeup had run down her cheeks. There was blood on her pants. You couldn’t think about what might have happened, yet, you just needed to help her. 

You knew she’d kill you if you called 911 but you didn’t fucking care so you did. You punched 911 into your phone with shaking hands and then put it on speaker and set it down on the floor.

“Nine one one what is the location of your emergency?”

You didn’t realize that you were sobbing until you spoke to give the operator the address of the hotel. 

“Okay hun, I’ve got your location, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It’s my friend, she’s unresponsive. I think she might be overdosing or maybe she was roofied, I don’t know what to do! Should I give her Narcan?” 

“Yes, do you have Narcan available to you right now?” 

“Yes, I do.” You opened your bag and took your Narcan kit out. You thanked your lucky stars that you thought ahead to bring it with you.

“Great yes go ahead and administer the Narcan. Paramedics are on their way to you now. Have you ever administered Narcan before?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

The 911 operator started talking you through the steps and you ripped open the package and put the tip of the sprayer into one side of Reneé’s nose and depressed it to administer the medication. 

You waited for a few seconds, caressing Reneé’s cheek gently and saying her name out loud, waiting with baited breath for her to respond. Suddenly, Reneé inhaled a deep breath and her eyes flew open. 

“Oh my god! Nae!” 

Reneé looked all around her in a panic and then finally found your eyes. She gripped your arms with white knuckles. 

“It’s me, Nae. It’s me… you’re safe, I’ve got you… it’s okay…” you spoke to her through tears.

Reneé didn’t say anything in response, she just stared at you with wide eyes. 

The 911 operator spoke from the phone, “is she responsive, now?” 

“Yes, yes, she’s awake.” You sobbed. 

“Okay the ambulance is almost there, stay put for the paramedics okay? I’ll stay on the line with you. Can you get your friend in the recovery position, do you know that?” 

“Yes,” you replied, “Reneé, I need to roll you onto your side, okay?” 

Reneé was just terrified and slow to process anything but she let you adjust her onto her side with her arm under her head. 

You leaned over her and wrapped your arms around her. You whispered to her, “it’s okay, help is almost here. And I’ve got you… you’re gonna be okay, Reneé… I’ve got you…” 

Reneé coughed and started crying as she grasped onto your hand tightly, lacing her fingers with yours, “how… how… did you… know…?” 

“I just knew… I knew you needed me…” 

“I’m so… sorry…” 

“Shhhh… shhh… stop…” your own tears fell onto her shoulder and you rubbed your thumb over hers, “that doesn’t matter…” 

“I… I… I fucked up…” 

“It’s going to be okay…”

The next hour was a whirlwind. You stayed at Reneé’s side the entire time while the paramedics came and checked on her in the hotel bathroom. Then they got her onto a stretcher and brought her into the ambulance. You held her hand the whole time. 

You were there as Reneé got checked into the hospital ER. She was asked a million questions that she struggled to answer, not remembering much of anything from her night. Reneé kept looking over at you with panic in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, just do your best,” you whispered.

The ER nurse took her vitals, drew blood, gave her fluids through an IV, and had Reneé provide a urine sample. Then, she left the two of you alone in a sterile exam room to wait.

Reneé’s mind and body were exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were dry. She shivered and trembled in the uncomfortable hospital bed. But she held on tightly to your hand like it was her lifeline.

You squeezed her hand back and smiled softly, “I’m here,” you’d say, “I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. You reached out and wiped them away with the thumb of your free hand, “it’s gonna be alright.” 

Reneé leaned into your touch and closed her eyes.

“Reneé,” you whispered, “I want to leave the choice up to you, do you want me to call your parents?” 

She shook her head, “please, don’t… not yet… I don’t want them to freak out and get on a plane… I’ll tell them… when I’m ready… I promise…” 

You nod your head, “okay, Nae. If that’s what you want.” 

“Thank you…” she sniffled.

You leaned forward and lightly kissed the back of her hand.

“I wish you weren’t seeing me like this…” she mumbled.

“Don’t even worry about that, Nae.”

She frowned and went quiet for a moment, then whispered, “if you hadn’t found me…”

“Shh… don’t go there…”

 “I’ve been such an idiot. I should have listened to you…”

“You’re not an idiot, Reneé.” 

“I thought I could make it go away…” 

“I don’t understand… make what go away?” 

Reneé stared at you for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. You squeezed her hand again and gave her a pleading expression.

But before Reneé could speak, there was a knock on the door and it began to open. Reneé closed her mouth, let go of your hand and directed her attention to the door. 

A doctor and a police officer came into the room together and shut the door. Reneé’s eyes widened. The doctor sat down on a rolling stool and explained what they knew so far. She had a high blood alcohol level, and an intense cocktail of drugs in her system, which included weed, cocaine and ketamine. 

The doctor continued and asked Reneé if she would be willing to undergo a sexual assault examination.

To your shock, Reneé adamantly shook her head. 

“No… no, I don’t want to do that,” she said. 

“Are you absolutely sure?” The doctor asked. 

“I’m sure… I just want this to be over.” 

The doctor nodded slowly, “it’s your choice. If you change your mind, just let someone know, but the sooner it’s done, the more likely it is we will find actionable results. For now, though, this officer has some questions for you and then I’ll have a nurse come back in to discuss some rehabilitation options with you, alright?”

Reneé nodded. The doctor stood up and left the room. You met Reneé’s eyes and repeated the doctor’s question, “Nae, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she snapped. 

The officer then pulled out a notebook and began asking Reneé questions about her night. Who she was with, who had the drugs, where did they get them, what she remembered leading up to going to the hotel bathroom…

Reneé maintained that she didn’t remember much of the night. She didn’t know how anyone got the drugs. She didn’t know if she was alone when she went to the bathroom or not. She didn’t know what happened to the guy that she was with. 

You sat beside her and listened to the conversation. The more questions she was asked, the more emotional Reneé became. She started to cry and you just caressed her arm until the officer was finally satisfied and left. 

Over the next hour, a nurse came in and gave Reneé some brochures for drug rehabilitation programs and then took her vitals one last time before discharging her. 

You left the hospital and called an Uber. Reneé gently took your phone from you and added a stop to the ride and then handed your phone back to you. 

You looked at what she added, “a CVS? What for?”

“I have to get something.”

“Okay.”

The car pulled up and you got inside. You thought of asking her to finish what she was saying before the doctor interrupted but inside, you rode in silence. The driver parked at the pharmacy and Reneé moved to get out of the car.

“Want me to come with?”

“No, stay here,” she instructed. 

You waited in the car while Reneé ran into the pharmacy. She was back no more than five minutes later with a small bag. 

The driver continued on and finally dropped you both off at your apartment, which was Reneé’s request. You unlocked your apartment door and she went inside and went straight to your kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. 

She reached into her bag from the CVS and then looked at you with a serious expression, “I don’t want to talk about this, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything in response. 

Reneé pulled a Plan B package out of the pharmacy bag and your heart sunk. She opened it and briefly skimmed the instructions on the packaging and then took the pill and drank the whole glass of water. 

“Nae…”

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything… I’m just… sorry.”

She sighed, “you didn’t do anything worth apologizing for.”

“I’m sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”

“You were there. You did everything you could’ve.” She stared for a long moment at her own hands planted on your kitchen counter, “I’m exhausted…”

“I’ll get you some clothes to wear to bed.” 

Reneé nodded her head.

Before going to your bedroom you slowly approached her and held your arms out. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye and then suddenly turned and collapsed into your offer of a hug. She grasped you tightly, squeezing the fabric of your shirt in her fists and she sobbed. The floodgates burst open and the woman bawled into the crook of your neck with unprecedented force. 

You must’ve held her like that for twenty minutes. Eventually, you dropped your hands from her back to her thighs and you lifted her up in your arms for her to koala around your front, wrapping her legs around your hips and keeping her face buried against your shoulder.

You carried her carefully down the hall to your bedroom and set her gently down on the edge of your bed. 

You went to step away to grab clothes for her to change into but she held onto you, “Wait…”

“Okay, alright… I’m here,” you assured. You sat down beside her on the bed and she leaned against you.

“D-don’t leave,” her voice cracked as she spoke, “I don’t want to be alone tonight…”

“I won’t leave, Nae. I’m right here.”

There was another long period of silence where she just leaned against you and closed her eyes while you rubbed her back. She finally let you get up to grab clothes for her and then she asked for your help to change. 

You gently helped her out of her party clothes which bore the evidence of whatever it was that she had gone through and she put on one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of your plaid boxers that you often wore to bed. 

After that, you tucked her into bed and she reached for your hand, “please, stay with me.”

You held her hand, “I’ll stay. I promise.”

“Will you hold me?”

You nodded, “of course.”

You crawled into the bed behind her and wrapped yourself around her in a protective embrace. She held your hands tightly in hers and clutched them against her chest. You could tell that she was trying to match the pace of your breathing. 

“It’s okay…” you whispered, “I’ve got you…”

You didn’t want to be having the thoughts that you were having. You didn’t want to be thinking about how her hair smelled or how her skin felt or how much you’ve always wanted to cuddle her like this in your bed or how she looked wearing your clothes. It wasn’t right for you to be thinking about those things when she was having the hardest night of her life. You just needed to be a good friend right now.

Reneé shivered and whispered into the darkness, breathing your name gently. 

“Yeah?”

“I…” she began.

You waited for her to continue. You held your breath, not knowing, but hoping against all hope that she would finish that sentence.

“I…” she tried again, “... thank you.”

“Oh… yeah, you’re welcome… of course.” You squeezed her hand once more, unsure whether the squeeze was your way of saying it’s okay, I love you or goddammit please just say it or I’ll wait for as long as you need me to. Maybe it was all of the above. Maybe it was just goodnight. 

Either way, Reneé returned the squeeze with three pulses and then she fell asleep in your arms.

#renee rapp #renee rapp fanfiction #real person fiction #renee rapp au #renee rapp snow angel #renee rapp & reader #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #cw: drugs #cw: blood #cw: assault #cw: overdose

[bioticlaw]

Symbiosis

( yandere geto suguru x female reader )

It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. Dr. Geto becomes your lifeline.

content: yandere Geto, drug misuse & non-consensual drugging, dependency, past familial trauma, mental health issues, introspection, mentioned past overdose, medical malpractice. contains sensitive content. not a love story. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — 5.5k words

notes: please keep it mind that my intention is not to romanticise or glorify these experiences, it is a personal narrative, so it's based on my experiences and feelings at the time. otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story and please, be kind. <3

divider by cafekitsune | cross-posted on ao3

You coasted through your life.

You moved on autopilot, you never questioned or thought about anything, and you had a routine you followed without deviation. You’d been in a state like this for as long as you could remember. You used to wonder how it all began. You used to feel hurt as you were thrown into a deep spiral when you realised that the joyous child you were was now a puppet on its cruel maker’s strings.

You wished you could have saved her.

You knew it was illogical to think that way. You can’t change a story that has already been inked and carved into permanence. Still, it didn’t stop your mind from wandering. Sometimes you’d think of what would’ve been if you could go back in time and save her from her father. If you could have escaped from your captor who saw you as collateral and not his child. Your grandmother used to believe that men were meant to lead and protect their families, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Was it protecting you when he’d forbidden you from reaching out to the outside world?

Was it protecting you when he’d lock you in his room, away from anything you could use to call for help?

You liked to insist that you didn’t care anymore. Maybe you were a liar. You’d been dishonest far too often in your life, after all. Maybe, in a fucked up spin on the story of Narcissus and his reflection, you fell for your own tricks. You liked to believe you didn’t care, but sometimes, you’d find yourself feeling like that child again—alone and afraid as he gave more love to his stepchildren than you.

You might not have known anything at six years old. He was still your father. But as much as you loved him, you needed to break out of the chains he placed on your life. When he fell asleep from all the drinking he did, you took your chance. Called the number you weren’t allowed to call, decided on where to meet her the next day. Pretended like everything was normal when he woke up. Your mother took you back to your real home from school, and just like that, you were finally free. He cared too much about his public image to start a fight in public. It was the luckiest you had ever been.

You ended up forgetting about it all. You were happy. You were home. You might have spent more time with another relative because your mother was always busy, but you were loved. You felt loved. At least, that was how you remembered it. You weren’t quite sure if your memory was truly failing or if passivity had just been present for all your life. Your memories were in vignettes, burnt and broken, a film reel that was cut and couldn’t be put together. You’d given up on trying to remember. You were fine with leaving yourself in the dark and you were fine with being oblivious. You wouldn’t know if your memories were real, but it didn’t matter anymore.

High school was a blur. You fell asleep, skipped class, and still managed to stay one of your class’ best students despite it all. It was all you could do, anyway. It was just another obstacle you had to get over. As soon as you left the graduation ceremony, you left everyone behind with your memories. The teachers, the staff, your ‘friends.’ You didn’t know them that well. You hadn’t been all too honest with them, just like you weren’t honest with your doctor. The pills he gave you helped—you knew they did. For once, you felt like you were back on earth. You needed the feeling to stay with you. You needed to feel alive, to be alive again.

You liked the moment of bliss you’d get when you came to, so much so that you’d taken it all to die with a smile, but death never came.

Instead, the white light you saw was from the fluorescence of the ceiling, and the angelic choir you wanted to hear was instead the slow beeps of your heart rate on the monitor. What the doctors were talking about over your half-unconscious form didn’t feel like words but nonsense. You couldn’t remember what the nurse said to you, either. All you knew was that in your trance, the state where you teetered on the line between life and death, you saw shadows in that hospital. You saw the ghost of your grandmother in the corner, watching as charcoal flowed down your throat and into your stomach. You felt your father’s indifferent gaze, the same one he had when you drifted too far from shore at the beach.

You heard your mother crying, felt her guilt as she went through the whirlwind you had inadvertently put her in. It was perhaps your biggest regret of all; not the taking of your happy pills, but letting her shed tears over you. Your grandmother used to tell you this was the greatest sin you could ever commit. That scared you enough to force yourself to be better. To be as normal as you could be, as normal as your mother would want you to be. You didn’t want her to cry anymore.

But strength was never your best suit.

Your regret turned into something worse—anger that you let them take your salvation away from you. You weren’t always an angry person. It was hard to get on your nerves that much, you thought. You’d like to think you were carefree (or careless?) and resilient, but the craving in your system and the need to feel something again was all you could think of. You wanted your control back.

You had to get it back. Now that you were on your own, thousands of miles away from home, you had more autonomy to do as you liked. There were no vigilant eyes on you, no more obstacles to overcome, and no more people you had to lie to.

Tempted as you were to resort to such tactics again, you did initially come to the medical centre for a harmless reason. You were running low, and going through another withdrawal episode wasn’t something you were particularly thrilled about. You only wanted—needed—to keep yourself functioning; this was just part of the conditions that came with it. You hated dealing with these things for too long, so begrudgingly, you booked an appointment just to get it over with. Then you could go back to whatever your life was this time.

That feeling of emptiness would continue to persist, fading from one day to another, but you would live. It wasn’t anything worth celebrating. It was just a duty you gave yourself. Even if you didn’t want to, you had to.

Your leg bounced up and down as you sat in the waiting room, idly watching the second hand of the clock tick little by little. It was quiet and surprisingly not too crowded like you assumed when you looked at the appointment times. Other students you didn’t recognise scrolled through their phones, waiting for their names to be called just like you were. You sighed into your face mask. You were bored out of your mind and nothing on your phone could fix that. You’d still zone out anyway.

You glanced down at the paper in your hand. The letters seemed to burn themselves into your eyes the more you read them. You didn’t have to print the appointment details, but you valued your routine and habits no matter how mundane they were. You liked doing things in order. It kept you sane, you thought.

You didn’t quite recognise the name Dr. Suguru Geto. You were to meet them in—you took a glance back at the clock—2 minutes but you were dreading it more than anything. It would be your first time meeting them and if things went well, they’d be someone you see regularly. Apprehension and annoyance simmered at the pit of your stomach. Sudden changes were something you hated, even more so the fact that you had to tell a stranger your history all over again. Suffocated couldn’t possibly be the only word to describe how you felt about it. It was their job to know and help you, you knew that, but you still hated having to muster up the words to talk about how you were mentally and physically.

You didn’t like how vulnerable and paranoid you felt every time you sat in a doctor’s office. Anyone could use your weaknesses against you at any moment. Walking on eggshells around everyone had become second nature to you, irritatingly. It wasn’t as if you wanted to; it was more of a reflex, an instinct. You learnt to hide behind a character you built for yourself and grew used to it. To break that down and expose yourself again wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Your name was called. “Dr. Geto is ready to see you now. Please follow me.”

The nurse’s heels clicked against the polished floors and the low buzz of the air conditioning was all that accompanied you as you followed her down the hall. Even the air was dreary, and the anxiousness you were feeling only seemed to grow as you got closer to the doctor’s office. It was colder at the end of the hallway where you stood. The nurse gently opened the sliding door, catching the doctor’s attention with a soft lilt of their name.

“Thank you,” you muttered and shuffled past her, tentatively making your way to the chair that was across Dr. Geto’s desk. As the door slid shut, the doctor greeted you, his voice far too jovial for a situation that could be the worst thing to deal with.

“Good morning,” he said. “How can I help you today?”

You shifted in your seat, feeling oddly more uncomfortable under his gaze. “I need a new written prescription. The one I brought from home doesn’t work here.”

“Ah, you’re a foreign student?” He scanned over the paper you handed him, a low hum vibrating in the back of his throat. His lips tugged into a frown. “I don’t think we have this variation in our pharmacy. I’d have to prescribe you a different one entirely.”

“W-What do you mean?” The words came out of you before you could think. “It’s pretty common, isn’t it? I could just buy it from pharmacies at home. What do you mean you don’t have that here?”

Geto raised his eyebrows. It was only then did it occur that you’d spoken too much and might’ve just attracted some suspicion as to why you were here. You pretended not to see how his expression changed, staring down at the floor instead.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine. I understand your worries,” he replied, eyes crinkling as he smiled once again. “How do you feel about starting a different one?”

“But…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t like how it felt being watched by him. It was like you were getting reprimanded for something, even if there was nothing in his visage that implied that at all.

“It won’t be that different. I can prescribe you something with a similar composition,” Dr. Geto explained. The way he spoke was soft and calm. It didn’t take too long for that to affect you, making the tension in your shoulders lift away and your fists unclench. “I assume you know enough about drugs, don’t you?”

You weren’t here for that reason. You just really needed a refill, you weren’t falling back, you weren’t—

“Yeah. Just enough,” you replied hesitantly. “I’ve been seeing psychiatrists and doctors for years, so I just picked it up from them. And I read a lot, so…”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The answer seemed to placate the doctor enough for him to lean back and scribble something down on a piece of paper. The sound of the pen scratching against the surface felt more grating than usual. You thought it was all done, that he’d give you that damn paper and you could leave. But then he crossed his arms over his chest and stared you down, and you realised that wasn’t the case at all. Why was he holding this back from you? Why wasn’t he helping you? All he had to do was click a few buttons, hit print and send you on your way. Why wasn’t he doing any of it?

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me anything.”

“I have been telling you everything,” you argued, exasperated and flustered. You didn’t understand why he was being so pointed at you. You didn’t remember exactly what you just said to him either. It had always been that way. “Doctor, I just don’t want to go through withdrawals again. That’s it.”

He didn’t seem convinced. What made him change his mind so quickly?

“I want to help you,” he said, your name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “I can’t do that if you don’t help me, too.”

You didn’t like the way he was speaking to you. It reminded you of being back at that wooden house, hiding behind the door as you anticipated when your father’s patience would burst. You shook your head, trying to clear the thought away.

“I… would like it if we could wrap this up soon. I have another appointment in half an hour,” you lied, hoping it would strike some urgency in him and that he would just hurry up. “I’m already running late. I need to be on my way.”

Dr. Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding my request.”

“I-I’m not!” you stammered. “Please, doctor, I only have two days left on that bottle. I’ll take whatever it was called that you talked about. I’ve always responded well to medication, it won’t be a danger to me.”

He didn’t respond, only continued to watch you as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk. The sound was overloading your senses—you felt cornered, you could hear the blood rush in your ears, you could hear ringing, and the taps of his fingers were making it worse.

Hunching over, dejected, you relented. “I was never really told what was wrong with me. They just gave me antidepressants and I never saw the psychiatrist again.”

“You said you met several, no?”

Did you?

“I won’t make assumptions about you,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can trust you with a month’s worth of pills. I’ll only give you a week’s worth of them, then we’ll have a follow-up next Saturday to see how you feel. ”

“I don’t know… Changing medications is scary.”

You cringed at how the confession came out of you so easily. Sometimes it felt like your mind and your body weren’t in tune with each other. There was a gap between the two and you could never manage to get it to close.

Suddenly, the stern demeanour melted away and the friendly doctor was back. His brows were no longer furrowed. His face relaxed as he leaned back against the chair and smiled at you.

“It’s only a bit stronger than what you used to take. There shouldn’t be a drastic change.” The printer whirred to life as it ejected a small piece of paper with words you didn’t really recognise on it. Medical jargon was one of the things you could never memorise well. “Alright. Come, I’ll lead you to the pharmacy.”

You blinked. “You don’t have other appointments?”

“We’re understaffed. It’s only me and two other colleagues working here.”

It didn’t answer your question, but the hope blooming in your chest took your mind off of it. You could finally leave this creepy clinic—well, you were exaggerating, you thought. The clinic was actually well-maintained and populated, but there was just something that felt a little off about this place. You decided you’d blame it on your nerves.

“Please wait here.”

You watched him move between the shelves with an air of familiarity and grace as he murmured something you couldn’t hear. He came back with a small pouch that was labelled with your name and the general details (you knew the gist, you’d done this for years) and placed it on the counter between him and you.

“Like I said, this is a bit stronger than what you used to take, so I want you to start by taking half a pill every morning first.” The pills didn’t look anything out of the ordinary. It was a small, standard white tablet with a line etched in the middle for easier splitting. You gingerly tucked it into your bag, instead rummaging through the mess to look for your wallet. Before you could take out a bill or two, he stopped you. “The university has that covered, remember?”

You blinked. “Oh, right. Yes. Thank you.”

“Come see me if you have a bad reaction to it.” He gave you another friendly smile. It was starting to grow on you. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. You had a knack for being a bit paranoid, after all. It was just one of those days. You felt a bit bad for judging him so harshly before you even properly spoke to him. “That’s all. I’ll see you next week, same time.”

There was a sense of discomfort nagging you in the back of your mind, but you shook it off. You were prone to overthinking things; this was just one of them. Relieved, you thanked him again and left the clinic. The weather was nice today and you didn’t have overdue assignments. You could recharge for as long as you wanted to.

While you knew not to underestimate these little things, you also weren’t sure how effective taking only half of the pill would be. It wasn’t the first time being on a dosage that would gradually increase, but you were still guilty of constantly worrying if something would work out. You didn’t think you had anything left to turn to if it didn’t.

You’d just have to take Dr. Geto’s word for it.

—

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care. Something like that was simply not on the forefront of your mind. You were more than accustomed to being in a perpetual state of lethargy. You didn’t think you ever had a time in your life when you weren’t tired. Despite that, you felt the changes in your behaviour and demeanour. It was hard not to.

In the first half of the week, you felt sluggish and ill, as if your immune system decided to go haywire with the hormones in your brain, but you quickly recovered. It was nothing a little caffeine couldn’t fix (or worsen, but you didn’t want to think about it). He wasn’t lying when he said the medicine was stronger. The side effects weren’t as bad as you assumed they’d be, which you were glad about. Your appetite died down a little, but that was fine. You didn’t eat regularly anyway. As the days passed, you felt less anxious. It was somewhat easier to concentrate and follow along with your professors, even if you remained easily distracted.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

You were never one to pay much attention to how you were doing, but you weren’t one to shy away from your impulses, either. A thought popped into your mind. If you could take only half of the pill well, surely it would be fine to take another for a minor boost? You had a presentation later in the afternoon. Embarrassing yourself in front of the whole class was not an option. Your mother was working overtime to keep you in this position. You couldn’t fail her.

But as you picked up the blister pack, you found that it was empty.

“What?” you breathed. He prescribed you enough for seven days. Where was the last one? Had you accidentally double-dosed without knowing it? You wouldn’t put it past yourself to do something like that. The presentation slipped out of your mind entirely as you seemed to move purely on instinct, tugging the drawers open to also find nothing. When you crouched, you couldn’t find anything under the bed. There wasn’t anything in your luggage. Not even the closet where you’d habitually keep your pills hidden.

Your breathing was getting faster. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, overwhelming you in white noise as you paced back and forth, shaky sobs leaving your lips as you clutched your hair in a firm grip. Just where was it?

Did Dr. Geto forget to give you enough?

No. It couldn’t be. He was a professional, someone like him wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. He said it himself: he wanted to help you. It made no sense why he would screw you over like this. This was on you, you thought. You were responsible for keeping them and taking them per instruction. A doctor wouldn’t make a mistake like this. Dr. Geto wouldn’t make a mistake like this.

Your nails dug into your palms as a broken wail escaped you. You needed it. You had an important class later, it was almost exam season—you needed to do well. Your eyes scanned the room once again. Your old ones had already run out; the new pills were your only option, but both of them were gone.

You cursed and harshly wiped away your tears with your sleeve. You were going to be late. You’d just have to run to the clinic as soon as your next class ended. That’s right, you echoed in your head, nodding frantically. That was all you had to do. You could do this, you could. This has happened before. You just needed to try to keep yourself together.

“I can do this,” you repeated to yourself. “I can. I can.”

Tugging your hood over your head, you grabbed your bag and hurried your way to class, trying to ignore the dull ache at your temples. You could take a painkiller later. For now, there was no time—you had to go.

Your breathing was going back to normal by the time you stepped inside the room with a couple of minutes left to spare. Though you weren’t the only one late, humiliation still washed over you. It felt like an omen. You somehow lost or accidentally double-dosed on your pills, you arrived past your self-designated time, and all eyes were on you. Things were all going downhill from here, you just knew it.

You meekly shuffled to the back of the class instead of taking a seat at your usual spot. Maybe the professor would be less likely to call on you that way. The student beside you smiled in greeting and moved his bag for you. You didn’t know his name, but he was nothing but friendly to you the whole semester. It was embarrassing, being in front of someone who recognised you while in such a pitiful state, but there was nothing you could do.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. His brows furrowed, brown eyes looking at you in concern. “You wanna go to the infirmary? I mean, Fushiguro’s great at taking notes, we can just copy from him.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just overslept.”

Thankfully, he seemed to buy it.

“Oh man, I totally get you. I actually ran here a bit before you did.” He patted your back, the action more awkward than it was comforting. Before he went back to chatting with his friends, he smiled at you. “Glad you’re okay.”

You returned the gesture. Though it didn’t quite reach your ears, he didn’t seem to notice or mind it that much. Luckily enough, the conversation ended there. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The last thing you needed was for anyone to see you in a state like this. It was better to stop it as soon as it happened.

“Today we’ll talk about transference…”

The voice of your professor eventually became muffled as the ringing in your ears grew louder. The headache was getting harder to ignore and you felt cold, your hands trembling under the desk as your mouth felt like it had just dried up. The world seemed like it was spinning and fading into a blur, and you swore you could hear the boy next to you call out in concern, but you felt heavy like you were falling—

You collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, raising gasps all around you as the boy next to you froze for a moment. You traversed between the light and the dark, barely registering the voices speaking over your weary body.

“—you’re the strongest out of all of us, Yuji, carry her!”

“Shit, yeah, okay—”

“—her friends? Take her to the doctor.”

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands loosely gripping the front of his shirt as he carried you in his arms, swiftly making his way across the campus. Tears sprung to your eyes as you blubbered, latching on to him to help keep you grounded. Nothing else was registering in your mind, only the cold and tremors that got worse the more you cried.

As your sniffles quietened down, you heard a familiar voice—the doctor—talking about something with someone while you felt yourself sink into a soft surface. Queasiness held you in its grasp, left your stomach churning. It dragged you deeper and deeper, distracting you from the sharp prick in the back of your hand before you fell into nothingness.

—

The fluorescent white light was unkind to your vision as you slowly blinked awake.

You felt… strange. Like you were floating. Like you weren’t in your own body. You felt weary, incredibly so, that just forcing yourself to sit up felt impossible. The world was coming back to clarity the longer you kept your eyes open. You were no longer in the lecture hall but in a doctor’s office. Your seatmate must have carried you here, you thought. You parted your lips to speak, tried to call out for anyone, but your voice wouldn’t come out.

You fell back against the pillow, your eyelids fluttering closed again. It wasn’t until the door slid open did you finally feel more alert, bottom lip quivering the moment Dr. Geto stepped in. How could he still smile at you after what you’d done? After you broke his trust?

He took a seat next to the bed you were on. You whimpered out his name, blindly reaching for him with what energy left you could muster. You wanted to apologise, to try to explain yourself, but instead—

“You didn’t give me enough,” you whispered, the rest of your words dissolving into soft and incoherent whines. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do or how you were supposed to feel. Anger? Regret? Ironically, emotions seemed like the least of your worries when he was right next to you. You stared at him, your eyes glazing over with tears. “‘m sorry.”

You barely felt a warm hand clasped on top of yours as he sighed deeply, taking a glance at the heart monitor by his side.

“It was my mistake,” he said. You shook your head weakly, a quiet no leaving your lips. “I’ve failed you as your doctor.”

“No,” you repeated in what you hoped was a more assertive tone. It felt useless to wish for something like that. Maybe you should just stop thinking overall and let whatever this was play out on its own. You were so tired, but slumber was falling out of your hands and replaced by a burden upon your shoulders, guilt. “No, doctor…”

You wanted to tell him it was your fault. That this was just another lapse of memory, just like the last time and the time before that. There was a sense of fear clouding your mind, a flash of a warning that disappeared as fast as it came. You felt like there was something you should tell him or even ask him, but you couldn’t think of what it was.

“You’ll be alright now,” Dr. Geto reassured you. “How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t answer.

Just why were you nervous? There was nothing wrong here. He took care of you while you were unconscious, made sure you’d survive. You mumbled something under your breath, tears building up at the corners of your eyes the more you tried to speak. Bringing your hands up to your face, you shake your head again, this time allowing yourself to cry freely.

He softly shushed you, gingerly urging you to look at him. You let out a choked sob as he pried your hands off your face, saying your name in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“You’re okay now,” he said, “Don’t cry.”

You weren’t sure how long he comforted you. All you could do was cry and cry until there was nothing left, until all your sobs became sniffles and exhaustion crawled into your bones, finding a home in your being. A rustle of fabric and you were being lifted in his arms, your head dropping as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“I’m cold,” you exhaled shakily, nestling closer to him in an instinctive search for warmth and comfort. “I wanna go home.”

You couldn’t hear what he said as you succumbed to fatigue, further and further away until you came to again. You’re not in the clinic this time but in someone else’s room on a softer, warmer bed. The haze you’re trapped in overpowers the warning alarms in your head, replacing them with a sense of longing for the doctor who’s been taking care of you so well. Your wish is granted as the mattress dips with someone’s weight. Dr. Geto sits at the side, gently clasping his hand over your thigh as he says your name, soft as the wind.

“I don’t…” you trail off. What were you going to ask him? Were you just anxious that he was gone? “Something… Something’s wrong.”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I don’t know.”

You turn on your side, bringing your legs to your chest as you curl deeper into the blankets. You glance up at him. He’s not wearing his doctor’s coat anymore. Is he going somewhere?

He gently brushes stray hairs off your face before cupping the side of your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. When did you start crying? You don’t know why you still feel so tired, or why you keep forgetting things the moment you think of them. But maybe you don’t have to know. Maybe you just need to trust him and just fall.

There isn’t any strength left in your system. Briefly, you’re reminded of how this is just like when you were in the emergency room years ago, alone and confused and helpless. Still, you force yourself up and crawl to him before resting your head on his lap. Like he’s in tune with you, his fingers card through your hair, comforting and familiar. You don’t think you’ve felt that in years.

You’re in a daze and you’re starting to enjoy how it felt. You don’t have to think anymore. Don’t have to worry, don’t have to feel afraid. Still, you can’t help but call for him again, as if you were worried he’d disappear if you stopped looking at him.

“Doctor…”

“Suguru.”

“Suguru,” you echo. Something feels wrong. He’s your doctor. This isn’t the hospital or the clinic. You should get up and run, get away as far as you can, but it feels so good to be held by him. Your mother used to do the same thing until you fell asleep and got lost in a dream. Dr. Geto—no, Suguru—is warm. He loves you. He cares for you.

You don’t want it to end.

“I can’t do this without you.”

You stare into space, completely missing his smirk as he coos in reply, voice sweet like honey, “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

He urges you to sit up properly before handing you two pills and a glass of water, comfortingly patting the top of your head when you take them from him. Your body moves on its own, far too used to this routine—take the pills, take a sip, swallow. Your limbs feel like jelly as you slump against him, resting your head on his chest. Strong arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you close to a steady heartbeat.

Soft whines and whimpers leave your lips without you realising it. He’s so warm, a stark difference to how cold his office is, and the longer he holds you, the more you feel like you’re drifting away, sinking deeper, deeper…

“I do.”

And you let yourself fall into the ocean’s depths.

#trauma dumping but make it fashion #all #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #cw drugs #cw drugging #cw hospital #cw overdose #cw kidnapping #cw dark content #from kiri's keyboard

[cookiep-cat]

Sneak peek at some art for my Infection AU I’m working on. I’m still in the early planning stages but have a lot of ideas for test tube’s role 👀

(Edited this post cuz i changed the drawing a bit. The old alt version is under the cut now 👍)

#disturbing cw #cw needles #cw syringe #cw horror #cw medication #cw drugs #cw body horror #cw pills #cw illness #cw overdose #infection insanity au #inanimate insanity #osc art #inanimate insanity fanart #ii testube #ii test tube #inanimate infection au #inanimate insanity infection au #my art #object show community #ii au #inanimate insanity au #object show au

[theycallme-thejackal]

❝ It just seemed so obvious that I loved him. That I was in love with him. ❞ ❝ How could I be around Daisy Jones and not be mesmerized by her? Not fall in love with her? ❞

#daisy jones #daisybilly #daisy jones and the six #billy dunne #riley keough #sam claflin #djats #jackal edits #pscentral #otpsource #otp: you make everything better #cw: flashing #cw: drugs #cw: overdose #userotp #cw: long post

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 16

so instead of a drawing todays art is Babys First Embroidery

it will eventually be a patch for my Cool Patch Jacket once i get the border all filled in

it is in reference to the fact that i recently found out my state has a program that provides free naloxone to anybody who wants to carry it, no prescription necessary.

if you aren’t familiar, naloxone (brand name Narcan) is a medication that can be used to reverse an opioid overdose almost instantaneously in an emergency. in my state it is provided in the form of a nasal spray, but similar programs in other areas might offer auto-injectors, or other subcutaneous delivery methods.

BUT what i want to get across is that there are A LOT of these programs out there! if you’re curious, just google “free naloxone [your location]” and you might be able to get your hands on free or extremely reduced cost doses of naloxone to carry with you. most programs will train you how to administer the medication, and how to recognize signs of overdose.

harm reduction for drug users is important to me, regardless of who is using them, or for what purpose. and you can be part of that effort in your community SO easily by adding this to your first aid repertoire. it’s a bit like getting cpr certified! only literally so fast and cheap and easy like in my case i was in and out of the pharmacy in 15 minutes!!! you can literally save somebodys life with this, it is so so worth it.

#day 16 #year 4 #embroidery #harm reduction #cw drug use #cw drug overdose #i feel like a crazy person ever since i found out abt this fucking program #i have just been shouting at every person i see like HEY DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN GET FREE NARCAN #LIKE TRULY JUST FREE I WENT TO THE PHARMACY AND CAME OUT 15 MINUTES LATER WITH THE STUFF #NO PRESCRIPTION NO APPOINTMENT THEY JUST GAVE IT TO ME #there are like 7 pharmacies doing this in MY CITY ALONE like!!!! #anyway. you can literally keep a person from dying and it was so simple and so fast #its just so exciting that a program like that exists in my conservative ass state #like needle exchange programs are technically illegal here. but we have this #ANYWAY. the embroidery is busted as hell but its punk rock so who gives a shit

[gracelyns]

11x17 Red Meat truly insane episode. saved person of the week chokes sam because he's understood that the brothers' codependency will kill his wife. dean overdoses to talk to billie but sam wasn't actually dead, just shot and losing blood. after many hours of just being left there on the floor with no food or a bandage on his wound or anything he kills two werewolves in thirty seconds then drives to the hospital where he shoots another werewolf. dean tells sam he's always known he was alive. DID HE EVER TELL HIM? DID HE EVER TELL HIM THAT HE KILLED HIMSELF???

#cw overdose #tw overdose #overdose tw #overdose cw #tw drugs #drugs cw #dabb answer me #vals spn rewatch #spn 11x17 #red meat #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn s11

[fernsnailz]

i love reading your sonic loreposts i was wondering if you could please explain archie charmy to me, i have heard stuff and i am so curious but i am not a comics in general kinda person. the lsd poisoned friend or the brain damage literally just anything that happens to him your pick

hi anon i’m just going to go over everything that happens to archie charmy pre-reboot so i hopefully never have to talk about it after this. i'm sorry i'm so so sorry

Archie Charmy is subject to a lot of controversy and discussion because despite his limited role in the comics, he goes through some of the most batshit insane character and plot beats in the whole series (and that you’ve already mentioned). I’ll be skimming over some of the more boring parts, but the wild stuff I'll go pretty in-depth with.

I’ll also be attempting to explain WHY all of this happens to Charmy Bee of all characters, taking into account the context of the story, what was happening behind the scenes in the writer’s room, and even comic trends in general. I want to try and keep away from the very reactionary “wow archie sonic is sooooo crazy” discussion that happens around this stuff and hopefully provide a little more useful analysis. i talk about comic PSAs for a while so be warned

There are some very, very important content warnings that are coming with Archie Charmy lore: warning for non-consensual drug use and overdose (specifically LSD), child death, genocide, implied ableism, memory loss, implied age regression, breif homophobia mention (not related to charmy)

this is going to be a very long one. charmy lore under the cut

INTRODUCTION - CHAOTIX

Charmy Bee’s first appearance in Archie Sonic is in the Knuckles’ Chaotix special, which adapts the first game he appeared in. This issue introduces the entire Chaotix cast (six new characters) in a mere four pages, so Charmy doesn’t make much of an impression other than “bee who likes to explore and adventure.” He lacks that annoying little brother personality that he has in most Sonic media, and he’ll often speak with language that feels extremely out of character for the Charmy that most people know.

This is because this version of Charmy is based off of his character description from the Knuckles’ Chaotix game manual. Despite the series being based off of the video game franchise, the Archie Sonic writers were often given very little information about upcoming game releases from SEGA when they were asked to adapt them into the comics. Often they had to go digging for the canonical materials themselves - for example, the only way they were able to adapt Sonic Adventure into the comics is because Patrick Spaziante (one of the comic’s artists) had a Japanese version of the game that he bought himself. They had no English translation and zero guidance from SEGA, so they had to attempt to piece the story together without SEGA's help. This was the case with most of the game adaptations, and it was honestly a miracle that they had access to the manual for Knuckles’ Chaotix at all.

There’s just one problem: the manual for Knuckles’ Chaotix describes a version of Charmy that is very, very different from the one we know of today. It describes a 16-year old that is… sophisticated?

(sorry for the low quality, there aren't many images of the manual. also fun fact, there was no age for Charmy listed in the original Japanese manual)

Charmy's differing age and personality will lead to many, many problems, as the writers decided to give the “sophisticated” Charmy darker stories. This brings us to the Knuckles the Echidna mini-series.

The Knuckles mini-series is. Bad. Charmy Bee is certainly there for the first few issues (as are most of the Chaotix), but he doesn’t get much focus until issue 13.

I don’t know how to put this in a way that doesn’t sound extremely blunt: This is the issue where Charmy’s best friend overdoses on LSD and dies.

PART 1 - MELLO

Charmy's best friend is named Mello Bee. This is his first and last appearance in the series.

Mello started feeling strange on their return trip from Happyland, a sketchy theme park that recently reopened under new management. Charmy isn't sure why Mello died, but Constable Reminton (essentially the sheriff of Echidnopolis) reveals that there have been a series of cases similar to Mello's - cases where people were suffering from… Lemon Sundrop Dandelion poisoning.

The Chaotix go to Happyland to see if they can find the source of the poisoning, but what they don't know is that it's actually laced into the food. The manager of Happyland, Renfield T. Rodent, has been lacing the park's chili dogs with LSD in hopes of making everyone addicted to them. However, the amount of LSD he's been putting into the food is too much for most people to handle. This is probably the most insane paragraph I've had to write for one of these loreposts

Unknown to the Chaotix, they all start eating the chili dogs during their investigation (except for Julie-Su and Knuckles, who is absent) and start tripping balls.

Continuing the story into issue 14, Charmy’s LSD trip reveals that he’s actually the prince of a bee colony and has been running away from his responsibilities as a member of the royal family.

Charmy is knocked out for the rest of this arc as he goes through his trip - they have to operate on him and some other stuff happens I guess (Julie-Su gets thrown off of a roof, Knuckles fights some guys in a desert, Vector is a misogynist, stuff like that). At the end of issue 15, Charmy learns from his trip and returns to his family, temporarily leaving the Chaotix to return to his royal duties. Mello's family and his all mourn Mello's death and bury him back at their home.

So. What was the fucking point of all that

In the long-term, Charmy returning home to his family essentially writes him out of the story for a while. Knuckles the Echidna issue 15 released in 1998, and Charmy doesn't really return until 2001. While I'm not entirely sure what the reason for this was, there were so many members of the Chaotix that I honestly think this was an okay decision.

However, there's one very important question left to answer: Why was LSD and a drug overdose included in this arc at all?

When I first read this arc, I had a burning thought that I couldn't get out of my mind:

PART 1.5 - wait is this an anti-drug PSA?

(if you want to avoid me talking in-depth about the abilities of LSD and my ramble about comic PSAs for a while, you can skip to PART 2 where I continue the Charmy lore)

Comic PSAs (Public Service Announcements) and propaganda are a fundamental part of the medium’s history, whether it be to aid their country’s war efforts, give health information to their readers, or warn kids about the dangers of drug abuse. While a comic being used as a PSA isn’t inherently a bad thing, it’s usually VERY obvious. One of the most interesting ones I've found is a PSA that features Green Lantern debunking misinformation about the AIDS crisis. The image quality isn’t great, but the comic doesn’t hold back when talking about how the AIDS crisis is spreading homophobic ideology - if you read this, you know it’s a PSA and you know what message it’s trying to send. Sometimes propaganda can be subtle, but PSAs are usually loud.

(cw: homophobia)

This is why anti-drug PSAs are so common and so remembered - they’re over the top, they’re blunt (lol), and they have a very specific message they’re trying to send. For example, there’s an issue of New Teen Titans from 1983 that introduce a character called the Protector to teach kids about drug awareness where the issue literally starts with the Teen Titans in an auditorium telling kids about a dangerous drug. This issue also includes some bad trip imagery, and it’s uh… honestly i kinda love this

Anti-drug PSAs usually don’t work for this very reason - showing how a drug affects fictional characters can increase interest in the substance, and a single superhero telling someone to stop smoking is not going to break someone’s addiction.

So. Is Knuckles the Echidna issues 13-15 an anti-drug PSA?

Probably not, but if it is it’s doing a fucking terrible job of it

Some of the main factors of a PSA are the information it's presenting, the opinion it wants the consumer to develop, and the bluntness of its presentation. While this part of the Knuckles series is certainly over the top, the rest of these factors are really muddy. First, anti-drug PSAs usually don’t create a fake drug to replace the one they’re advising against. An anti-weed campaign will just tell you that weed is bad because that’s the opinion it wants you to walk away with. So when Knuckles issue 13 introduces a substance called “Lemon Sundrop Dandelion” and never actually refers to it as LSD, it’s less of a message about “drug bad” and more just a sly nudge and wink that goes “hey you see that? yeah, that’s drug.”

Then there’s the problem that there isn’t really much of a lesson to be had from these issues regarding drug use. Yes, Mello dies horrifically of an overdose, but most of the cast is able to walk off the trip like it’s nothing. Charmy needs to be operated on, but the doctors literally treat it like it’s fucking NOTHING

he's literally talking about how he told a patient that couldn't afford surgery to go to the butcher like HUH?????

In fact, Charmy’s trip seems to help him in the long run - he’s forced to face his past, and eventually returns to his family because of the literal guilt trip he has. It’s a fundamental part of his character arc.

This isn’t to say that I wish these issues were explicitly drug PSAs - I bring all of this up because these issues were released in 1998, in an era where the anti-drug movement was arguably at its peak. The people working on these comics would KNOW its content is similar to and even promotes the anti-drug movement. While I don't consider these issues to be an anti-drug PSA, they can definitely serve as anti-drug propaganda.

With this in mind, considering Knuckles the Echidna as a form of propaganda really opens up how utterly terrible these issues are. These comics can be genuinely harmful pieces of anti-drug propaganda because the way they use LSD to advance they plot is untrue to how the drug actually works and relies entirely on fear mongering. While LSD can be laced into other substances like drinks, it probably wouldn't last long in cooked meat - LSD usually degrades at higher temperatures, and telling comic readers that they need to be afraid of LSD-laced fair food is fucking stupid and likely based on false urban legends. Not only that, but Renfield T. Rodent’s plot to addict everyone to his LSD chili dogs is also fucking stupid because LSD is not considered an addictive substance. It can be extremely dangerous at high or multiple doses, but LSD does not normally lead to compulsive use.

I don’t talk about all of this to be a cinemasins guy or to nitpick a comic from 1998, and I also don't want to imply that PSAs can't spread lies and misinformation (anti-drug PSAs famously over-exaggerate things). I bring all of this up to show an ineffective and possibly dangerous use of something that could be considered anti-drug propaganda. Spreading blatantly untrue information and placing false fears into a reader’s mind is truly incompetent on the writer’s behalf, especially considering that this comic was targeted at kids. And that’s not even mentioning that there’s barely any moral to all of this. There’s no lesson and they never talk about this again.

Do I think this was all intentional on the behalf of the writers? I have no idea. I have no goddamn idea what they were thinking with this one, and I honestly don't think much thought was put into this arc at all. Maybe this was a strange attempt to make a Sonic-themed anti-drug PSA, maybe they were just inspired by the drug PSAs of their time when writing this, or maybe they just did not care. I don't know man. Anti-drug propaganda is stupid and it doesn't work and these comics drive me crazy

alright enough of that. let's talk about genocide

PART 2 - SAFFRON

don’t worry this part will be shorter (cheering and clapping)

Like I mentioned a while back, Charmy is essentially written out of the story for a while after the Mello incident. While living in the Golden Hive Colony, he reunites with another friend, Saffron Bee. Saffron becomes Charmy’s girlfriend, and they’re together for basically the rest of the comic. Usually if Charmy shows up, Saffron is there too.

(image of Charmy and Saffron I stole from... the Shipping Wiki??)

They eventually return to help Chaos Knuckles, a green version of Knuckles who is uh. Kinda going through it. Not much important Charmy lore needs to be discussed here, but some of his actions do eventually lead to him creating a genocidal villain that will cause many problems later. Don’t worry about it.

Things are quiet for a while for Charmy and Saffron. That is, until Eggman attacks their colony and wipes out most of its population.

Charmy and Saffron are the only survivors we see from the Golden Hive Colony. Eggman transforms the colony into a new base and traps its residents in an invention of his called the Egg Grapes - basically, he puts Mobians in these little pods that sap all of their life force, powering his empire. Most people do not survive the Egg Grapes.

The two bees return to join the Chaotix for a little while, and the rest of the Chaotix confirm that the Golden Hive Colony and its residents are truly gone. Espio destroys what’s left of the colony so Eggman can’t use it as a base, and no other survivors from the colony are found.

So. yeah what the fuck

Archie Sonic is known to have a LOT of characters - I’ve talked about the sheer number of echidnas the series has before, but there are a lot of characters that have massive extended families. The arc where Mello died introduced like eight new bee characters, but most of them were background characters that didn’t need to stick around.

Most people cite writer Ian Flynn’s debut to the series as when a lot of these unneeded/background characters were written out or killed off, and I agree since one of his objectives as a writer was to tighten up the story. However, the trend of “Archie background characters getting killed off or written out” started a little bit before he joined the team. There’s the destruction of the Golden Hive, and many echidnas in this arc suffer from the horrors of war - a number die off after Charmy and Saffron rejoin the Chaotix. yeah it's kinda fucked up

This is the second major arc where Charmy has lost people close to him - first Mello, and now his entire family and kingdom. The same goes for Saffron - they only have each other left. I mean the Chaotix are also there but still, trauma is trauma

How could it get any worse?

PART 3 - CHARMY

Remember how Archie Charmy is based off of the Knuckles’ Chaotix manual? The one that said he was sophisticated and 16?

This is about to cause a few problems.

At this point, it’s around 2007. The Knuckles’ Chaotix manual is terribly outdated, and most versions of Charmy within canon are 6 year-old kids. Charmy is known to be the annoying comedic relief, which is the exact opposite from how he’s portrayed in Archie Sonic.

So when SEGA asked writer Ian Flynn to change Archie Sonic to be like his video game counterpart, the solution was uh. well. it could have been handled better

Like how he obliterated the Golden Hive Colony, Eggman’s next target to destroy is Knothole, the city where Sonic and the Freedom Fighters all live. It’s a surprise to all of the residents, and he manages to teleport most of the population into his Egg Grapes. Before Sonic can save them, Eggman singles out Charmy to be used as an example of how the Egg Grapes work.

Sonic and friends manage to get Charmy out, but not before the damage is already done. In the limited amount of time the Grape sapped his life force, Charmy’s memory was partially wiped and personality changed forever. After this, Charmy has very little memory of the Golden Hive Colony at all, only seeming to remember Saffron and his friends. His becomes much more child-like, similar to his game counterpart.

the fucking sigh i just sighed

For clarification, Charmy is still 16. The only thing that was altered was his mind, with the intention to make his personality more in-line with his goofy video game counterpart. The problem is that giving a character brain damage to turn them into a comedic relief character is fucked up and unintentionally ableist.

This is something that writer Ian Flynn identified pretty early and openly regrets (I’m not sure what the source of that statement is, I’m assuming an episode of Bumblekast but I’m don’t know which one. I’ll edit this if I find it). Because of this, he mostly kept Charmy out of any comedic situations for the rest of the series. Charmy has a very limited role in the series after this until the reboot, only appearing sporadically and in one Sonic Universe arc. When he does show up, his childish demeanor is usually met with the patience of the Chaotix and their sad expressions.

Although the intention was to make Archie Charmy more like his game counterpart, in practice I honestly think this action only made Archie Charmy even MORE distant from his game character. From the Egg Grape incident to the reboot, Archie Charmy’s trauma never leaves my mind and leaves me feeling strangely hollow.

CONCLUSION - WHAT THE FUCK

I find the Archie Sonic series unfathomably fascinating. While I love the series, I can’t deny that most of the events I went over are poorly handled by the writing team and leave the series with such a strange legacy. With Archie Sonic, it’s often incredibly easy to see the biases of the writers and how they affect the characters and stories, leading to some genuinely fucked up moments that could have easily been avoided in my opinion.

Archie Charmy was really one of the characters that got it the worst, but it's honestly so strange that all of this happened to him specifically. The fact that all of this shit happens to a silly little bee is so, so Archie Sonic to me. Charmy is such a simple character to understand - he's a funny kid who's kinda annoying and hard to handle. So when I look back and see the 3,000+ words I just wrote about Archie Charmy... fucking hell why did i do that

In conclusion. I am sorry and do not become a comics person

thanks for reading if you got this far. as always let me know if i need to tag any other content warnings or if there was anything i got wrong! alright good night tristate area

#PLEASE read all of the content warnings before opening the pandora's box of charmy lore #this one's a hell of a read i am so sorry #sonic loreposting #cw drug use #cw overdose #cw child death #cw genocide #cw ableism #cw memory loss #cw age regression #i actually really enjoyed talking about comic psas and propaganda its very interesting to me #long post