#so i almost got way more sedatives and pain meds than i needed bc of my hair dye LMAOOO

[sergle]

I think my favorite thing about doing ginger red hair instead of cherry red hair is: lying to people about it

#I love the cherry red / wine red and I'll probably go back at some point bc it's my Origin. #but for now. #I don't actively lie to people but bc it's a Natural and Plausible hair color #and I'm already pale and I dye my eyebrows to match my hair. ppl figure it's natural #and it has come up MULTIPLE TIMES. and I've recently been rolling with it instead of correcting ppl. bc who cares? #recent examples that come to mind (but I did correct them in this one) my surgeon assuming it was natural #and using my genetics as a natural redhead as a baseline to tell me about what I can expect from my future scarring #and then again later with the anesthesia. they were going to dose me differently #the anesthesiologist glanced at me when I came into the OR and was getting the stuff ready on his cart #and when he heard me talking to my doc and re-telling him that oh the hair isn't natural #he was behind the curtain like FUCK #taking shit off his cart and quietly redoing his setup #that's how I learned that redheads need higher doses of anesthesia than other ppl. #they also need more of the topical stuff like lidocaine. apparently they metabolize it faster(?) #ANYWAY he was going to up my dose thinking I needed it lol #so i almost got way more sedatives and pain meds than i needed bc of my hair dye LMAOOO #other more Normal Life examples was a country dude in full hunting gear holding a door open for me someplace #and I said thank you and he lifted his hat up to point at his (natural) red hair and said ''twins!'' #this one sticks with me because that was such a cute thing to do. what the hell #and at snakefest I was talking to some people at their food truck. there was an older guy who trapped me into a convo for like 30mins #he was Very Nice. and they were going to some type of irish festival next and said I should go too bc I'll be right at home #flat out just was like. this bitch looks irish #and I don't know why all of this is so funny to me. it has no reason to be.

[unstoppableforcce]

a fragile alliance

no request- just something i had, poe with a first order ! reader.

Poe Dameron x reader !

this is something I wrote a very long time ago, so no TROS spoilers but def more to come if y’all want. it’s angst. it’s pure angst. bc I excell at that.

“Black leader, you see that?” A voice came over on the crackling radio in his ear. And he did. How could he miss it?

The small black single rider plane that every resistance member was told to watch out for, the one containing one of the most feared members of the First Order, you, plummeting to the surface of the small jungle planet. If they could take you out, it would be the biggest leg up on the first order they’d have in while. A sense of pride even surged within the Commander, you had a lengthy history with the First Order, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. But the voice in his ear said differently.

“Commander Dameron, you are to take a unit to the surface of Bluscant, search for the remains of that ship, take any survivors into custody for interrogation.” The orders were orders, but he despised them. 

They deserved to be left to suffer. He shot you down, he thought you deserved to stay there. 

“Yes, sir,” Dameron responded before ordering his men to the surface with him.

They parked outside the jungle, watching as the smoke from the crash raised higher into the sky. Poe order two men to stay at the ship and another two to follow him, all the way until they reached the crash site.

It was a short hike to get there from the clearing where they parked, but soon they saw the crashed plane. The whole thing was on fire and he hoped you were inside. He didn’t normally see such red but he couldn’t escape it now. 

He wasn’t that lucky, however. While the ship burned plumes of smoke, he spotted a stormtrooper body laying just outside the wreck. 

You were laying up against the side of the crater, hand gripping your side to keep your insides where they belonged given the significant wound that sliced you. Another gash about your forehead, spilling blood down your face. Yet you managed to keep a strong grip on your blaster with your free hand, unconscious but holding tight. 

All of the movement around was all it took to wake you, barely shaking you from your blurry consciousness, but enough for you to feebly attempt to lift your blaster in defense. You barely got it a centimeter off the ground before groaning, a violent stream of pain shooting through you. He kicked it from your hand before you had the opportunity to try again. 

“Base wants us to bring back survivors.” His Lieutenant quickly reminded him. And he very clearly needed him to remember. Because all Poe wanted to do was leave you stranded to die.

“Yeah. Patch her up, and cuff her.” He ordered while rubbing over his face.

“Are cuffs really necessary?” The other man questioned as he kneeled next to you, pressing two fingers to your throat for a pulse, faint but there. 

“She’s got a kill count in the thousands. I wouldn’t take my chances.” Poe argued, crossing his arms over his chest. It may have been an overstatement, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

The number of reports he had read with her name on the cover. 

“283-3” You muttered out groggily, catching his attention briefly. 

“What?” He questioned, stepping closer but not getting in the way of his two counterparts who were patching you up for the trip home.

“Is he dead?” You finally murmured with enough strength to be heard. Poe could only assume you were referring to your stormtrooper, the one nearest the crash. The dead one. 

“Yeah.” 

Your eyes clenched with pain through the entire procedure, but something in your disposition changed as you hear the news. Slightly more distressed, and he couldn't figure out why.

“I tried- I” The lieutenant administered the sedative, trying to avoid the shock of pain killing you before they could get you back. But he knew what you were trying for. You were trying to say that you tried to save him. He couldn't decide whether it was notable or not given the record she had. The pain in his heart ultimately told him it wasn’t.

“Will she make it back to base?” Poe questioned, kneeling next to them as they pressed the bacta patch to your stomach and wiped the blood from your face.

“If she’s lucky.” One responded and Poe had to hold back a staunch laugh in response.

“We should just kill her,” He shook his head and pulled away, leaving them to carry her back. There wasn’t much in the way of bloody vengeance in his soul, just enough for you.

When they landed back on base, you were taken to the med bay much to Poe’s dismay. He knew who you were. A commander, like himself. Specialized in hand to hand combat, a spy, but not lost around a tie fighter. You surely ordered the deaths of thousands of men and probably killed hundreds with your own hands, or at least that was what it felt like from where he was standing. And Poe was ordered to rescue you so they could gain any intelligence from you. It was probably useless, no way you would give anything up but they’d try, keep you alive for months longer than you deserved.

He left his debrief and headed straight to the medical center, knowing you would be in there, and if you were awake, he needed to talk to you, he needed closure. 

Even if Leia ordered him to get some rest, that she’d send someone to interrogate her in a little bit.

The nurse pointed him to your room without him even having to ask, they all knew.

And when he walked into the room, he was prepared to get what he needed and then kill you, no matter the consequences. Leia could demote him, hell, she could kick him out of the resistance, but if he got this closure, it would all be worth it.

It had to be.

Yet you laid there so innocently. The nurses had cleaned the dirt and grime from your face and hair, the cut above your eye had been healed, and you even looked comfortable under the plush blanket. Even if your hands were cuffed to the bed.

His fingers twitched at his side, aching to grab his blaster and just end it all now but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed you to admit to it. He wasn’t a killer, but he would do what’s just, it’s what you deserve. So he called a nurse back in and ordered her to wake you up, and without any objections, she did. They all knew, and not a single one disagreed. 

Minutes later, your eyes fluttered open so peacefully and he couldn’t stand to watch it, he had to turn away briefly to compose himself. Until you began groaning. Your breath was caught in your throat, preventing a scream in pain. Hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into your palms, the pain overtaking you all at once. It seemed like the doctors were just as bitter as he was.

But then something in your disposition shifted, you began to laugh instead of scream, and your hands released. Heavy breathing took over now as your eyes quickly scanned the room, frantic almost, and as they landed on him, you finally began to understand.

“Long time, Captain.” You squeezed out. The chuckle was rough as it escaped your lips, eyes squeezing shut as your head leaned back against the pillow.  

“Its Commander now.” He choked out, hands clenching, heart pounding.

His blaster was right there.

“Congrats.” It was almost a genuine smile, but it distorted to a smirk as you locked your eyes back with his. 

“Don’t congratulate me, I should kill you.” He added, taking a few steps towards closer until his thighs hit the foot of the bed.

“Do it. You won’t.” You scoffed, “you wouldn’t dare disobey an order, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here.”

“After everything you’ve done-“

“I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be tortured. I deserve your worst. I don’t deserve to die and you know that, the resistance wouldn’t let me off that easy.” You argued back easily, even if your chest was still heaving with every breath. He couldn't deny that he was watching it, a part of him hoping it would stop.

Tears brimmed at his eyes no matter how hard he fought to keep them down. “I don’t care about the resistance.” 

“Then what are you here for?”

“You killed Finn.” He choked out, not in control of his emotions any longer. He rounded the bed, took two more steps forward, and began pointing in your face as he seethed, “You killed him.”

But your face didn’t twist to that of a proud First Order Commander who would relish in a successful kill. It twisted into confusion, pure confusion. Brows furrowing and head quirking slightly to the side, only serving to raise the heat in his chest. 

“FN- 2187?” You asked, trying to sit up despite the pain flooding your body and warning you against it. 

“You killed him, I watched it.”

“I didn’t kill him.” It was a plead, genuine concern in your eyes that he couldn't understand. You were fighting against the restraints, leaning into his now shaking finger of accusation. 

“I saw you do it, the whole galaxy saw it.”

“I didn’t kill him. Dameron, I have killed a lot of people, I didn’t kill him.” You shouted back with the same volume he used, defensive, truly defensive. 

“The first order broadcasted his execution across the whole galaxy, do you think I’m an idiot, I watched you kill him.” He shouted but pulled back when he watched you flinch. 

You couldn’t form a sentence fast enough, not by the time the curtains behind him ripped open and two soldiers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him fighting from the room. He needed closure, he needed an answer. He would fight but they only pulled him farther back. 

“He’s alive.” The words left your lips just as the curtains fell shut between the two of you. He wanted to hear more, to see more-

And soon he was tossed to the ground on his knees in front of Leia herself. 

“I told you to go get rest, that I’d send an interrogator in.” She said but he wasn’t there. His body was physically on the floor but his mind was elsewhere, he was replaying Finn’s death over and over again in his head.

He saw the alert go out that the first order had a special broadcast, and when the image flashed up in the command center, he just about collapsed on the floor. Finn, on his knees, surrounded by stormtroopers and officers. In front of him stood Kylo Ren, General Hux and You. Dressed in all black, not completely covered like Ren and Hux were, but somehow just as intimidating. Your hair pulled back so he could see your face painfully clear. An image that haunted him at night.

And then Hux said, “No traitor shall go unpunished...” and continued on into a vehement hate-speech about the First Order’s dominance in the galaxy. But Poe only stared at Finn. He was forced on his knees, hands behind his back, still wearing the jacket he gave him. He tried to stay strong, to not let them win, but he was scared, Poe could see it. And as soon as his speech ended, she was ordered to execute the “bloody traitor.”

Stepping forward, you pulled a large electrically surging sword from your holster, and within seconds, you spun and his head hit the ground.

Poe screamed, a raw, guttural scream as he saw it happen, and none of the officers around him cared because they saw the pain, they felt the pain. And Finn, who they all regarded as a hero, was brutally murdered by you, a nightmare-like extension of the first order.

And now you were saying you didn’t kill him when he saw you do it. And now you were saying he was alive when he saw his head off his body.

“... Poe. She’s messing with you. She knows that she can target your emotions and you’re just giving her power over you.” Leia soothed but Poe hardly heard it. What did you mean he was still alive.

“What if he’s alive?”

“He’s not Poe, we watched it happen.”

“She said he’s alive.”

“She’s a First Order member, she is trained to deceive you, to mess with you, she is the enemy Poe, she just wants to get you off your game,” Leia explained but Poe couldn’t pay attention to her, too lost in his own thoughts.

“If he’s alive, I need to find him.”

“He’s not alive Poe, we both know that,” Leia finalized as he finally rose to his feet. “She’s lying to get a rise out of you.”

“She seemed genuine.”

“She’s a spy.”

“If he’s alive-“

“He can’t be Poe,” Leia said exhaustedly before ordering Poe to be sent to his room, he was too out of it to protest at this point and just complied.

But if it was true, how could he ignore it.

Leia couldn’t keep him away.

Over the next two weeks, you began to heal up and Leia began to send in interrogators but you merely mocked them. They didn’t need to torture you, Leia knew it wouldn’t work, you weren’t going to break like that, so she just tried getting information from you in regular conversation. Still, no avail. 

You wouldn’t give up anything useful, besides who did Hux’s laundry.

A stormtrooper, called AT- 8745. He read it in a report.

Poe knew you weren’t going to give anything useful.

But you had been willing to talk about Finn last time he tried. And no matter what the general said, he needed to try again.

He got a few looks as he snuck into the holding cells but people thought he was meant to be there, so they never said anything about it.

He typed in the code with shaking hands, not nervous but surging with the adrenaline that knowing he was going against orders that the General gave him. The door was heavy but he pushed it open quickly, too eager to hesitate.

You laid out on the bed, well not a bed but a metallic slab with no blanket or pillow, across the room from the door. One knee bent up and both hands beneath your head, staring at the ceiling, you almost looked dead given how you barely moved. A single chair sat in the middle of the room, too close, he thought, to your bed for the council to have allowed Leia to interrogate you from.

But he spotted the glimmer of the forcefield in between the two halves of the room, keeping them separate.

You didn’t look up upon hearing him enter, not moving besides adjusting briefly to lay a hand over your stomach defensively.

“I expected you eventually, figured that Leia had finally run out of options.” You noted from the bed, knowing it was him without seeing him. He didn’t waste any time being impressed. 

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

That got your attention. You turned towards where he stood by the wall, no different than the last time you saw him, if anything, he only looked more exhausted. 

You groaned, pain rushing through you as you sat up on the bed but he made no move to sit down, he just hovered by the door.

“Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“He is alive, I have no reason to lie to you about that.” You argued, walking towards the barrier, but stopping right in front of it. He wondered how many times you walked into it before realizing it was there, he could tell it was at least once given the hesitancy you took towards it. 

“Explain why.”

“He could be reprogrammed and valuable, but in order to get you to stop investigating, Hux needed you to think him dead.” It wasn’t curiosity or even a fascination, but you lifted one hand to the barrier and played along the light blue glow that radiated as you got close. It almost felt like boredom, and it pissed him off. “Drop the barrier and I’ll tell you more.”

He considered it for a second longer than he should have. It should have been a quick no but it wasn’t. But it also wasn’t a yes, he just backed away from the panel and to the barrier so that he could stand face to face with you. 

“Where is he now?”

“Drop the barrier.”

“If I do, you’ll escape, and won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“I also won’t tell you what you need to know with it up.”

He walked back over to the control panel on the wall and opened the door, pulling his blaster from the holster and dropping it outside. Then he locked the door shut, using his handprint to secure it. Only after all of that, did he make a move to lower the barrier.

Everything within him told him not to, but he needed to know. You were injured and manipulative and he needed to know. 

You didn’t charge at him like he expected. He didn’t have any weapons on him anymore so he wasn’t too worried about being overtaken and immediately killed, but he couldn’t trust you, not for a second.

“He’s in the reprogramming plant on Plutarch.”

“Plutarch?”

“A moon in the Ghevner circuit. Kylo Ren took control of it for the first order several years ago. Since then, it’s become a brainwashing stormtrooper factory.” You explained, now walking towards him, hesitantly as you passed where the barrier had been, but faster once you cleared it. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Armitage. He made me into a liar when he broadcasted that clip. I’m not a liar.” There was almost a playfulness to your voice, it set him on edge in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. 

“Just a murderer?” He tipped his chin, but you didn’t seem all that offended. 

“No one’s perfect.” The joke came out deadpan as you stopped just in front of him, your serious face never changing now that it was on. “Look, from what I’ve heard, he’s been resisting reprogramming, if you could get to him, you’d have a good chance of getting him back.”

He didn’t understand, he felt a tug on his heartstring and he didn’t understand. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

You scoffed, the sensation crackling through your body as you shrugged. “You think so little of me.”

“You’ve given me reasons.”

“They pay me better than you guys would. That’s all it is. I do dirty work, sure, but if you paid more, I’d do that dirty work for you. It’s not about morality for me, sorry.” You sighed, hands folding in front of you. 

“So you’re a murderer in it for the money but a good person?”

“I think the question you should be asking is why would I want the barrier down if I planned to tell you everything anyway?” You added. It was just ominous to push him over the edge, but you were faster. 

One elbow, straight to the face and he was on the ground in a second. Not unconscious, head stinging with pain, but still barely conscious against the cold concrete. 

“Now you’re going to get me out of here.”

#poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #first order #star wars #armitage hux #finn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #or maybe not #but yes

[liesyousoldme]

eddie’s asthma/anxiety & the meds he takes:

he doesn’t actually have asthma - it’s psychosomatic and usually interpreted to be panic attacks (though technically mr keene tells him he does have asthma, but it’s “not in his lungs, it’s in his head”). but as an adult he’s at the point that he literally uses his aspirator whenever he’s nervous so i personally believe it’s anxiety mimicking what he thinks an asthma attack would feel like (which wrt breathing can be similar to a panic attack).

i think he anxieties related to specific things, and that it was induced by his mom’s behavior. his mom’s fears definitely affect him and he becomes afraid of disease and sickness because he thinks he’s more susceptible to getting sick and his mom plants all these ideas in his head about the different diseases he could catch or the different ways he could get hurt and die. his internalized homophobia presents itself as fear of disease and fear of going to hell, but i don’t know that i’d consider him to actually have GAD. he’s more anxious than the average person but i think it’s due to his circumstances, not any anxiety disorder.

in the book as a kid he doesn’t actually take pills, it’s just his inhaler. his mom tells him he’s frail and delicate and takes him to the “mergency room” for things constantly but the only placebo he actually has is his inhaler.

he forgets that it’s a placebo though so when he tells myra as an adult that he has asthma he believes it’s true. for the most part as an adult he’s just majorly an anxious hypochondriac - constantly taking over the counter meds for the tiniest things, going to the doctor because he sneezed, believes he can easily get sick. at one point as an adult back in derry he actually admits to himself if he had remembered his asthma wasn’t real he never would’ve married myra, never would have been so unhappy or have a suitcase full of pills.

speaking of his pills: they’re actually listed in the book. his opening chapter starts with him emptying his medicine cabinet into his bag and after he gets through like four shelves of OTC meds and then you get to his last shelf:

“the bottom shelf is almost deserted, but the stuff which is here means serious business - you could cruise on this stuff, okay. On this stuff you could fly higher than Ben Hanscom’s jet and crash harder than Thurman Munson’s.”

he has Valium, which is a benzodiazepine and helps with anxiety. same drug class as xanax. You can get this prescribed say, before you have to go in for a procedure to keep you from getting freaked out

he has Percodan, which is a combo of aspirin and oxycodone.

he has Elavil, which is also known as amitryptilene. it’s a tricyclic antidepressant. however, it’s popular to abuse bc in high doses it causes a euphoric and sedating effect.

he has Darvon Complex,  which is a narcotic i believe? it’s been removed from the market bc it has serious side effects to the heart

and then he has a tin of 6 quaaludes. highly addictive sedative that was popularly abused before being taken off the market. known for being incredibly addicting and having terrible withdrawal symptoms

he seems to be a little more conservative with taking them (especially the stronger ones) as compared to OTC medications. like, as an adult he takes excedrin or aspirin usually and only reaches for a pain pill when he gets his arm broken. it’s never said how he got the scripts or how often he uses them but my interpretation is that he uses them more for his anxiety than anything else, particularly the sedatives, but he uses the physical symptoms of anxiety as an excuse for needing them (muscle aches, headaches, insomnia, etc) but he recognizes they’re strong so i personally don’t believe he’s just popping prescription pills left and right (especially the quaaludes - he only has 6 and he even specifies them as being the strongest thing he owns; if he were using regularly he wouldn’t have just 6 hidden away in a tin).

i think it would be an issue for him as an adult to recognize he’s not taking medication because he’s Sick, he’s taking it because he’s Anxious. i have a feeling he would take the sedatives most often because anxiety can cause a lot of sleep disturbance. he’d maybe pop a valium (and then more over time, perhaps, as he builds up a tolerance) to help fall asleep. maybe an elavil on the weekend after a particularly shitty week. pain pills sparingly - like i mentioned, when his arm has the phantom pain he takes excedrin. when he has a headache he takes aspirin. he doesn’t pop a pain pill until his arm is literally snapped in half and that’s the only time we ever see him take a prescription pill in the course of the novel. i think he likely saves them for when he really needs them.

there is the theory that says eddie abuses these scripts a lot more than this (to what degree is debatable) because IT actually taunts him about how taking pills and drinking can be dangerous and because he specifically points out that these are meds that can get you high. 

over time i’ve thought about this and have come to form my own opinion: eddie rationalizes most of his prescription med use. “i need this because i’m in pain” and “i need this because i can’t sleep.” part of him knows he shouldn’t be taking the valium every night, but he still rationalizes it away. he knows he shouldn’t use elavil to sleep a weekend away, but he tells himself everybody does things like that when they need to relax. he’s fine, it’s not hurting him, and maybe he shouldn’t do it but people shouldn’t drink and they do that! people shouldn’t smoke and they do that! besides, he takes care of his health in every other way, so it’s fine. but IT still recognizes the little voice in the back of his mind that knows it’s dangerous, especially when you mix any of them or take them with alcohol (which we don’t know his normal alcohol habits but he does drink in the library as an adult). so IT uses this fear that eddie tries his best to ignore against him. 

so i think eddie would likely have some trouble getting off the valium, and he’d probably crave the elavil when he’s really stressed (not in a physical dependency way, just emotionally/mentally), and if he gets hurt he’d probably really want a pain pill, but i don’t think he has an impossible mountain to climb. the worst of it would be getting off the valium, which he probably would have a physical dependency on after taking it pretty regularly.

#ek meta #it meta #this actually has some new writing based on updated opinions