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#tw: drug overdose
keremdogulu · 10 days
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TYPE: Self Para @berat-yalaz
PART ONE OF TWO.
SUMMARY: This is a part of his reply to @emine--yalaz but also his self para.
Keder, aşk için ödediğimiz bedeldir.
To breathe again, he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.
"It's..." Emine had said "Berat."
"What happ-- " he knew. The look on her face, the floor threatened to swallow him whole. "Is...is he hurt?" It was the same denial he'd had three weeks ago, but this one was the worst kind.
Kerem was pretty sure he might fucking pass out.
This surreality? It was roaring in his ears, unable to focus on anything as the world fell into silent chaos. The familiar timber of Berat's voice echoed through his mind, that laugh that so often made him feel at home nothing but dread that was collecting within him. The clogging in the back of his throat, the familiar burning behind his eyes as the pressure built and built.
Gone? Gone, gone? Not just hurt, there would be no recovery.
De-- no. He couldn't.
His world was crumbling, on fire, spreading and catching onto everything he held dear. Kerem was descending into madenning chaos, into the unknown and he'd never known such undiluted terror before. His nose burned every time he tried to bring air into his body, to keep himself from passing out from the spot in which he stood.
The look on Emine's face broke everything he'd known about his resolve, the way she -- for the life of him, it tore him apart to see her in such disarray. In such unbridled pain. He was frozen, unmoving, and unable to voice exactly how the world seemingly stopped moving. Berat was his brother, they'd fought side by side together for so long that it'd been natural.
Three weeks had felt like torture, even if he'd been pissed.
Friends fought...all the time, right?
He wasn't sure if it was because he was scared he was going to collapse, or because he needed to hold her again, but his arms found her, pulling her close as he tried to keep them here. His mind was spinning, and his world was imploding.
He wasn't going to be able to keep this upcoming eruption at bay much longer, he could feel it winding through his bloodstream and speeding straight for his faltering heart. It was breaking, more than anything could ever possibly break.
Irreplaceable. Irreparable.
Kerem tried to swallow, heaving in the process.
This...this was not real. It couldn't be real.
"Please." The words were but a whimper, his lashes fluttering as they collected water droplets in their erratic dance. "Oh god, you're wrong. You've gotta be -- " The second the words left his mouth, they tasted like ash. The truth seeped into the knowing part of his brain. "this is not happening."
Kerem had done this. This was his fucking fault.
They had been laughing so wildly, that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop, ever be able to breathe again with this feeling of freedom. Berat had been narrating some fucking show as they'd lounged around doing fuck all. Those had been simpler times, even if things had never been simple in the first place. Berat had always had a way of bringing out a more relaxed version of Kerem, always pushing him to do things that he might have shied away from. They had been a duo, there had never been one without the fucking other. And now.
Kerem couldn't remember what had been so damn funny now, but he wished he did. He wished he could remember every single fucking moment he'd been blessed by his best friend's presence. How could he have gone back to that, but that voice in his head came for him 'Because you threw him away without regard for everything he's done for you over Nevra'
He slammed backward, pulling away from Emine. His palms found his eyes as he pushed and pushed.
No. No. No. No. No.
He wished he could go back three weeks and say something different. Be different.
Nevra's name came to mind and he couldn't stop himself as his legs rushed to the nearest bin, he emptied the contents of his stomach in such a violent fashion he gasped trying to claw air back into his throat through the blinding tears. Berat couldn't be gone. But he was.
Kerem had hurt everyone he loved in that fallout, and it'd ended with his best friend's life. If the guilt hadn't been there before, it was now attempting a sniper-styled assassination. Was this his fucking fault? Truly? Had he robbed everyone of knowing him because of a stupid fucking fight?
It hit him.
Berat was dead.
He wanted to tare his fucking heart out of his chest and be done. He wouldn't, but he wanted to. Even as the room closed in on him, breath was stolen from his lungs once again at the onslaught of memories. He'd never get to make new ones because drugs had stolen his life, had embedded itself so deep into who he was, it'd warped his sense of self. Berat had so much to fucking offer and give.
But addiction never lets its victims go easily.
Or at all.
"I did this, this is my fault." Kerem sobbed. "This...this is my fault."
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manicparadox · 2 months
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I debated posting about this. It’s a hard topic, and a hard week. I’ve decided that I’m going to post this, but I have one ask. If you know me in “real life”, please don’t speak of this to anyone. You can reach out to me, but please do not reach out to any of the parties involved or share it outside of Tumblr. I just need to get it off my chest.
Trigger warnings for death, drug overdose, and grief. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; this is a grim entry.
Monday. I had just gotten home and sat down to eat some dinner. My husband was laid off last month, and the energy around the house is a little low. A lot to process there. The phone rings just as we’re starting to eat. It’s my stepson’s mother. She’s in tears. She says we need to get to stepson’s house, that he needs his father. That her youngest son is dead.
Her youngest son lives with my stepson. We really don’t know what to do with this, but there’s only so many questions you can ask. We tell her we’ll go immediately. We don’t know what has happened. It’s going to take an hour to get there so we drop everything. We text my stepson and his wife. My daughter in law calls moments later, also in tears. She explains that stepson’s brother overdosed.
He lives with my stepson. Which means, my stepson just found his brother dead.
We’re convinced we’re going to sit with them while they wait to take a body away. But we’re an hour out. We call a friend of stepson’s, who can be there in 20 minutes. He drops everything and goes.
We’re halfway there and we’re in shock. Everyone is in shock. That’s when we get a text that the paramedics got a pulse, and they’re transporting to the hospital. We call the friend, and he’s 2 minutes away. We call stepson and tell him to wait, that we’ve sent help. He’s too upset to drive. We tell him to wait, help is almost there.
We reroute to the hospital. In a surreal turn, it’s the hospital a block from the clinic I worked at back in the 90s. As we’re about to turn into the hospital, my husband says, “I think they’re behind us.” I look in the side view mirror and there’s the ambulance, still a ways off. We hurry into the hospital lot, but while we’re looking for parking, the ambulance arrives. It drives right past us.
I can see in the window. I already know. This is bad. This is a worst case scenario. This is about to be the worst night of many people’s lives.
We’re the first ones there. At the front desk, they haven’t checked him in yet. Even when they do, they’re giving very little. We’re not family (although after a point, everyone started writing my husband off as an uncle just to reduce the hassle). My husband sits, but I pace like a caged tiger, checking at the front desk. Is he checked in yet? They finally tell me that we can see him in 8 minutes. I don’t need to see him. I need to be there to make sure that his family can see him. I am pacing.
Finally his grandmother and his other brother arrive, and I’ll never forget their faces. I hug them. And that’s my vigil, now, I wait for people to walk in the door, I take in their grief. I let them know that they have help. I try to take a fraction of their grief. It’s like taking a cup of water out of the ocean. It’s useless. I know it is.
They start letting people back to see E (as I’ll call him). E isn’t in the room; they’ve taken him for a CT scan. My husband stays with E’s grandmother and other brother. I know where the room is now and how to direct people there if needed. I go back to my lobby vigil. My husband and I exchange updates, me from the lobby and him from the room, to take the communication burden off of the family.
E’s parents arrive. His mother wants answers and she’s upset but crisp. She knows her shit.
More arrive. Sister. My stepson and his wife. The other grandparents. Stepsister. Cousins. Only 2 can go back at a time. They let us break some rules because of how grim it is.
I try to get a double drop of Swedish Fish from the vending machine. The trick hasn’t worked in years, modern vending machines are too smart, but I don’t know what else to do with myself.
I move everyone into a corner of the waiting area, to try to coral the grief into a space that’s not spilling into everyone else. I try to be comforting, but the other grandmother hates me and I know it. She lets me hug her anyway. We have news it’s brain damage, but she doesn’t want to know. I’m surrounded by people whose world is shattering. They’re processing at different rates. Some want the specifics. Others need to be alone with their pain. E’s grandfather sits alone.
My daughter in law lets me hug her. My stepson barely lets me, he’s stiff as a board. I already know he thinks it’s his fault. Details slowly start to leak out, a picture that takes hours for me to get my head around. After finding his brother, my stepson administered two doses of Narcan and started CPR. His wife, a nurse, then took over. They’re tired. They’re traumatized. They wish they’d realized sooner, they wish they’d checked on him, they wish they hadn’t just let him sit in his room while they cooked dinner. Wish. Wish. Wish.
My daughter in law looks like she’s curling up on herself, while my stepson sits with his spine too straight. They still haven’t gotten to go back and see him, and that’s unfair, too. They did everything to try to save him, they did everything *right*… just not in time. And that’s not their fault. They’ve seen the worst of everyone, but they haven’t got to see E yet. Finally they send them back and I don’t know if I’m relieved or horrified.
My stepson’s friend is sitting there. I go over and tell him if he needs to get back to his wife and kid, we can take stepson and his wife home. He says, “I’m not going anywhere.” He is resolute. This is why my husband called him; he’s that kind of friend. He stays at stepson’s side. He’s probably more comfort than we are, but also, he’s a lot closer to E. His heart is breaking, too.
There is a man named Alex with a broken arm. He’s been here 5 hours and he’s hungry, and doesn’t have money to get anything out of the vending machine. I’m on my way over to the vending machines and this is a problem I can solve. I take Alex to the vending machine and buy him a sandwich, chips, cookies, and a soda. I try to get some water for the family but the vending machine is shit. I think about just kicking the shit out of it but there’s two cameras. I don’t want to be removed from the hospital for beating up a vending machine for an overpriced bottle of water.
They let everyone go back before they transfer him. We fill the room. E’s grandfather walks up and just turns and leaves, letting out a choked “I can’t.” I stay in the room for a bit, my hand on E’s mother’s shoulder. There’s nothing I can do.
To contextualize, this is my husband’s ex. We haven’t always gotten along. But over the years we all formed respect and eventually friendship. I can’t imagine her hurt, and I don’t think I want to. My hand on her shoulder is the lamest gesture in the world, but it’s all I have. We’re standing around her son on a ventilator. It’s grim, and it’s terrible. It’s heartbreaking but there’s no way to process this, to deal with the sight. I saw E on New Year’s Eve. We played the Trolley Problem game. It was a brutal round and we laughed so hard.
It’s not fair. It’s not right. He’s 26. This isn’t supposed to happen. The wrongness and shock of it fills every corner of the room. His pulse is 205. His blood pressure is something high but I don’t remember. It was a lot of flashing numbers to me, even though I know how to read all of those displays. It’s just a lot.
I leave, not because I can’t stand it, but because some of the family is struggling and I want to go check on them. His other brother just can’t keep looking. He’s stoic but it’s in that contained way. He’s going to explode, at some point. The sister and stepsister are with him outside.
E’s uncle shows up. It’s all over his face. I know that E’s uncle lost a brother a long time ago, too. And I recognize that maybe everyone hoped they’d never have to feel that kind of pain again. I offer to take him aside to update him, because E’s grandmother is not ready to hear what’s happening. I’m trying to spare her. But E’s dad steps in and he’s blunt. He explains there’s no brain activity due to lack of oxygen.
E’s dad’s health is not great, he’s had 2 TIAs. His walking is unsteady. We get him to sit. I’m not certain his health can take the strain of this. Now we’re in double jeopardy.
Finally he’s transferred to neurology. We’re moved to a new area, where we cram in, taking up every chair possible. I leave the seats for the family and I sit on the floor. The doctor explains there’s no brain activity, and answers questions. She pulls aside E’s parents. I know what this is, and I think we should probably go soon. We’ve done what we can. They’re going to let everyone go see him in pairs. We don’t need to go. That space should be for his family. But we do check to see if anyone needs food, if they need us to help. To drive anyone home. We offer to go check on stepson’s dog, and in my mind I’m thinking maybe we can make sure there’s just not anything left of what happened. My stepson says it’s fine, and we can’t make him give us a house key. His friend will drive him home.
There’s nothing left to do. We drive home in shock. E’s mother texts us that it means a lot that we were there.
There’s a thread of hope, but I can’t tell if it’s real or if everyone is pretending for each other’s sake.
For the night, he is stable, but no brain activity. Updates become more sporadic into Tuesday as everyone enters the holding pattern. I take the day off of work, I barely slept. I can’t focus. Anyone who asks me how I’m doing, I know we’re just kind of cracking a little. We want to be there if stepson needs us, but we don’t want to hover at the hospital. We wait at home.
Wednesday they plan for the brain death test, but his temperature drops low. They wait another day. We tell them to not worry about updating us. If it happens, it happens, but the last thing E’s mother needs is to remember to text her ex/father of her oldest child. I ask my stepson how he’s doing. He says “I don’t know how to answer that.” It’s fair. I just want to know that he’s safe, too.
E’s mother gets in a fight with the charge nurse, whereupon she states “I just want to be with my dying son.” The charge nurse shoots back with, “ALL of my patients are dying!” As if it’s about her. As if it’s personal. As if it’s not her job. E’s mother is filing a complaint. Good for her. I hope that nurse had a terrible day. All E’s mother says is “Her whooping started tonight.”
Even this upset, she’s still sharp, and she’s not taking shit. She’s always fought for her family, and here she’s at her most fierce.
Today he stabilized enough that they did the brain death test. 1pm. Everything went silent. I was at work. My manager quietly asks if I’ve heard anything. I say no, they did the brain death test at 1pm. We both know what that means.
If the news was good, my husband and I would have heard.
A couple of hours later, we get the news from E’s mom and from my stepson. They declared death at 1:27pm. It’s a formality at this point, a confirmation that must be done before what’s next.
My stepson asks if we’d like to see him, since there wasn’t much time left before they turned off life support. We decline. Not because we don’t care; we care a lot. More than I can even convey in this format. My husband isn’t sure if he can do it, or if it’s necessary. I want to be there for the family, but E is already gone. My attention is on the living, but at this point, there is nothing, at all, we can do. All I can think is how much trauma this family is going to be in. This is all I’ve thought about for days. I’ve known E his whole life, but this is his *family*.
I go to a friend’s house to eat pizza and crochet. I need a moment.
We get a text from E’s mom, a few hours ago. She says that they removed life support 30 minutes previous. She apologized for the lack of updates, there wasn’t much to say.
She’s right. There’s not. She’s lost her baby, and nothing, ever, will fix the hole in her heart. In all of their hearts.
I’m so sorry, E. And I’m so sorry for your family, who loved you fiercely.
Hug the people that you love.
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nevermorered · 1 year
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Something that’s been floating around in my head forever and I needed to get it out. Not sure if it will ever be expanded, but I sort of love this premise. 
-
Stumbling through the hotel suite (added fees, Mr. Munson. We know how rock bands get.) Eddie nearly tripped over a few passed out bodies on the floor. His eyes were stinging a little from the smoke in the room, the floor feeling uneven under his feet and ears pulsing with the rush of too fast blood and humming with the sounds of voices that weren’t really talking, but he eventually made it to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door with trembling fingers, but that didn’t drown out the heavy bass from the stereo. It was nearing five in the morning, but the party was still raging despite the numerous noise complaints from other guests.
It was always raging.
Bracing his hands on the sink vanity, rings clicking against the marble countertop, Eddie lifted his head and looked at himself in the mirror. Even through the haze of booze and drugs, he could see himself with blinding clarity at the moment and he loathed it. He looked just like his father; gaunt cheeks, drug blown pupils, pale skin, eyes too big for his face. The only thing Eddie had his father never did was long hair.
With a sneer in the mirror, Eddie grabbed the leather toiletries bag from the floor and dug around in it, through the baggies of white powder and grass, through the pipes and the single bills taped up into tubes, until he found the sheers.
If he was going to be the coked-out progeny of Rex Munson, he might as well look exactly like him.
He wasn’t unique or special or different. He was a goddamn stereotype. Drugged out rocker getting high and fucking groupies. Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, man. Forced conformity at its finest. Jesus, they weren’t even that famous. The highest claim to fame they had was a few simi successful records and opening for Judas Priest last year. He felt like a fraud to every single moral and value he ever held. A goddamn sellout. And the worst thing was, he wasn’t a sellout to anything other than his own fucking hubris.
His hands were shaking worse as he grabbed fistfuls of his matted curls and chopped, hair sticking to his clammy palms and fingers. He was sweating way more than he should in a cold bathroom in the middle of winter, the salty water dripping into his eyes and burning but he kept going. His pulse was pounding so hard his chest was hurting, lungs working overtime to draw in oxygen. Oxygen that didn’t want to come apparently because Eddie couldn’t catch his breath. But still, he hacked away at his hair.
Distantly he was aware he was overdosing. Too much coke, kid. You really fucked the goose this time. It sounded like his uncle, and Eddie dropped the sheers, clutching at his bare chest as his heart continued racing. That voice hadn’t been in his head. He’d heard it like Wayne was standing next to him.
You’re not what I thought you were. A softer voice said from his other side, one that had haunted him for years. Chase your dreams, Eddie. You deserve it. Just remember me when you make it big.
Eddie wondered if it counted that he remembered her as he was dying, not that he didn’t think of her every goddamn day since he left her.
27 years old and overdosing in a bathroom. Jesus, he was a total fucking cliché.
-
Jeff, the only other original member left of Corroded Coffin, found Eddie on the bathroom floor not long after he passed out. He was unconscious, frothy white liquid leaking from his mouth, blood dripping from his nose, but he had a pulse- faint and fluttering- and was still breathing- shallow and slow.
Eddie doesn’t remember it, but an ambulance was called, and he was rushed to the hospital. On the verge of a heart attack and having had an actual seizure, he was given benzos and beta blockers and fluids to bring his blood pressure down and packed with cold compresses to bring his body temp down. Then it was just monitoring him, making sure he didn’t keel over before the drugs left his system. He was given a private room because his manager (who never showed up) was loud and charming and persuasive to the point of manipulation and that’s the next thing Eddie remembered. Waking up there, IV attached to his hand and monitors stuck to his chest. His head felt like it was about to split open, his stomach churned hotly, and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.
“Damn, boy.” A gruff voice came from his left and Eddie cracked open an eye to see his uncle standing there. He looked tired, more tired than normal, deep lines around his eyes that were bloodshot like he hadn’t slept all night. Probably hadn’t. Too worried about him and the four-hour drive from Hawkins to where he’d been playing in Chicago. God, he was such a fuckup.
“You scared the hell out of me, Ed.” Wayne reached down and squeezed Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie didn’t even try to stop the tears that started pouring down his temples.
“I’m sorry, Wayne.” His voice rasped past a dry throat. “Fuck, I’m so stupid. A goddamn fuckup, just like my old man.”
“The hell you are, son.” Wayne’s hand left his shoulder and took hold of his chin to force Eddie to look at him. “Listen here, my brother is nothing. Always was and always will be. You are not a goddamn thing like him, and I made sure of that. Didn’t I, Ed? Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, looking up at his uncle. “You did.”
Wayne’s chin trembled, but he firmed it.
“Good. You remember that from now on, you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
Wayne gave a firm nod. “Look, Jeff and I, we talked to that manager of yours. You’re taking a break of undetermined length. Got a facility set up ready to take you next week. It’s a thirty day stay.”
“Thank God. I don’t want to keep being like this, Wayne. I don’t…I don’t wanna die, man. But I don’t think I can afford rehab.” He didn’t need to tell his uncle why he didn’t have money. It was more than evident that Eddie spent his earnings on drugs and booze. Hell, after that one big payout where he bought Wayne a lake house in Hawkins, he hadn’t bought anything remotely worthwhile.  
“I know, son, I know. We’ve got you help. Jeff and the guys are gonna pitch in. So are a few of your other friends.”
“What other friends?” Eddie asked with a sarcastic laugh that Wayne met with a hard stare.
“Dustin and Steve and Robin. Jonathan. Even that Wheeler girl and her weird little brother.”
“How’d they know?” he asked, looking down at his oddly naked fingers. He wondered where his rings had gone.
“Jeff and I called. You have friends, Eddie. People that care. We got the rehab place set up and when you get out, you’re coming home and staying with me. Now, I can help you, but you need more than what I can give you, kid. Margaret, she’s got you a therapist lined up at the hospital she works at. You’ll start there. I think there might be someone else there at the hospital that might do you some good once you get home.”
Margaret was Wayne’s…well girlfriend seemed a silly thing to call someone her age. His partner. Sure. They’d been together for a few years, but neither wanted marriage and they didn’t live together, both too set in their ways of living alone. It worked for them, and Margaret was the sweetest woman. Always sent Eddie birthday cards and made sure Wayne was eating good after his heart attack a few years back. She was a nurse, with a bedside manner of an angel until you crossed her and then she was more than a little scary.
The other person, Eddie knew. Chrissy. It always came back to Chrissy in his life. She’d pushed him away back after graduation. Told him to get the hell out of Hawkins and make something of himself. To leave her behind. And he wasn’t going to, didn’t want to, but she pushed and pushed and eventually broke his goddamn heart. It hurt and he was mean and a little ugly and they hadn’t talked since he left. Dustin kept him informed even when he didn’t ask. Told him once her brother graduated, she’d moved off and went to college to become a nurse (shit, he was proud of her even if it stung) and that a few years later, after mommy dearest divorced her father when he lost his job at the law office for malpractice and both left Hawkins, she moved back and started working at the hospital. Labor and delivery, just like Margaret. Something Wayne reminded him of endlessly.
It pissed him off that he still cared. They’d gone through hell together. Sure, there was Steve, Robin, Nancy, the kids, eventually Jonathan and his brother and El, but there was something different with him and Chrissy. They were a team. He thought it would always be them against the world. For fucks sake, he loved her, and he was pretty goddamn sure she loved him too. Chase your dream, Eddie. She had told him. I can’t be what stands in the way of your dreams. Little did Chrissy know; she was his dream. Everything else, the fame and fortune (ha) ended up being a nightmare.
He should have stayed with her, but she was so worried he would resent her one day and, hell, twenty-year-old Eddie thought maybe he would have too.
Before he could ask anything else of his uncle- like if Chrissy knew what a colossal fuckup he was-, the door to his room opened and Jeff came in with Lynn and Von, the two newer members of Corroded Coffin. Eddie hastily wiped the evidence of his tears away and lost himself in the teasing and ribbing of his friends, particularly over his newly shorn hair. Lynn and Von cared, sure, but Jeff kept giving him worried looks, had been giving him worried looks and pleading for him to slow the fuck down for the last year.
“Gonna get you sorted, Eds,” Jeff said once the other guys filtered out. “Don’t worry about a thing with the band. Take however long you need. We’ll be waiting for you when and if you ever want to come back.”
Eddie nodded. Last year, hell even a month ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of if, but now he wasn’t sure. Music was a passion, would always be in his soul, but this life of being a rockstar, even as small as his fame was, wasn’t exactly what he’d pictured. It was so much about pleasing the masses and making money and sales and less about the actual music. So goddamn much forced conformity disguised as freedom. He didn’t know if that’s what he wanted anymore.
Besides, right now he needed to focus on getting clean, on dealing with these demons that were eating at him just as those demobats had done so many years ago. Only this time the demons were inside, and while she might not be toting her bootlegged flamethrower made from a lighter and hairspray, he really sort of hoped that maybe Chrissy would be there to help him out this time around, too.  
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adventurecat13 · 7 months
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TW: drug overdose, death
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It never ever gets easier saying goodbye to the people you grew up with. Drug overdose/poisoning has killed so many of my friends. Get clean. Seek help because if the drugs don't kill you, the lifestyle will. Rest in peace, Benson. You were kind to me when my family first moved back to Canada. You were hilarious and knew how to make everyone feel special and welcome. I'll always remember you that way.
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popcorn-plots · 1 month
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Febuwhump day 21: Unresponsive.
Title: his hidden sorrows
Words: 566
Summary: Tony find Stephen nearly dead, barely breathing, an empty bottle of painkillers just out of reach.
~~~
“Strange?” Tony Stark asked, knocking on the Wizards door. “You good in there?”
Normally, Tony wouldn’t be worried. Strange was a grown man, he could do what he liked. It wasn’t Tony’s job to keep tabs on the Wizard, especially with his day job that Tony absolutely did not know of. But Strange was staying in his quarters at the Avengers Tower after a long battle. From the little Tony even saw of Strange (totally not FRIDAY’s constant monitoring), he had a set schedule.
He trained at 6 in the morning (Tony still didn’t understand why he was up that early most days), had breakfast by himself at 7:30 but would visit with the team when they came down at 8. He disappeared, then returned around 1:30 for lunch. He ate dinner with Wong at the New York Sanctum around 9.
Strange had missed every meal with the team that day and Tony refused to admit that he missed the Sorcerer’s presence. He chalked up his concern to the fact that Wong called him, telling Tony that Strange had been acting weird the day before and mere hours before he dropped off the face of the earth, he had completely blocked the mental link between him, the Sanctum, and Wong. He had put up so many defenses that no one could find him unless they were familiar with his energy signature, and that signature had never left the Avengers Tower. So Tony was knocking on Strange’s door.
“Strange… we’re worried about you. You haven’t been down all day and Wong’s worried.” Still, no response. “Strange- Stephen. Come on, open the door!” More silence. Tony took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weird, sinking feeling in his chest. Nothing was wrong, right? Strange could have had an emergency and left without a word or he got back late and was still asleep.
“Stephen. If you don’t open your door, I’m going to break it down.”
Utter silence. Tony swore he could hear a pin drop (if one were to drop right then). Tony waited for another few seconds before sighting.
Tony tried the door, only to find that it was unlocked. Huh. 
Strange’s room was dark. The bed was made, the desk in the corner of the room stacked with dusty books. Tony had never been in Strange’s room, but even he thought it looked unlived in. There was nothing on the walls, not even a single picture. The only thing that marked it as Strange’s room was the books. Unread (probably), and forgotten (less-probable).
“Stephen?” Tony whispered. There was no response, but Tony felt like he needed to check the bathroom.
This time the door was locked. Tony was about to turn away, but something told him he needed to at least check .
All it took was a thumbnail and a few seconds of jiggling, and the door swung open to reveal Strange himself, laying on his stomach, barely breathing, an empty bottle of NSAID inches from his outstretched hand.
Shit .
Before Tony could fully process the situation, he was kneeling beside Strange, trying and failing to wake him up before demanding FRIDAY to pull up his vitals and call Doctor Cho. From what Tony could understand, Stephen was alive, but barely.
Another 10 minutes and he’d be dead. Tony didn’t want to lose anyone, especially Stephen.
Not after losing everything he loved.
Ao3
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hamat0leonard0 · 5 months
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TW: DRUG OVERDOSE; SELF HARM; ATTEMPTED SUICIDE
[He walks back to his room and sits on the edge of his bed. He looks at Donnie's hoodie and then at himself in the mirror. He thinks back to all the times he and Donnie hung out. He thinks about all of their conversations, whether they were good or bad. He just wants his twin back. He at least wants to feel him. But he can't, and at this point, he knows he never will.]
i can't live like this anymore.
--
[He gets to the med-bay and rummages through the cabinets. He grabs a bottle full of pills, as well as a cup of water, now going back to his room. He sets the bottle and cup down on the table and reaches for a pen and a small piece of paper. "I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. -Leo" He folds the paper up, writing the word "Read" on it and leaving it on the table. He opens the bottle and shakes out a bunch of pills. He doesn't know how many came out and he didn't really care to count. He takes them and then slowly walks over to his knife, opening it and bringing it to his wrist. He presses it against his skin, piercing it deeply and dragging it down, stopping just below his elbow. His vision is blurry, he's shaking, he's exhausted, and he feels like he's going to throw up. He just wants this to be over. He stumbles over to his bed to plop into it. Instead, he misses and falls down beside it. He curls in on himself, holding Donnie's hoodie in his arms, blood stains now on it. He looks at it, his eyes dull.]
see you soon d-
[His thoughts get cut off as he falls unconscious.]
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rippinsinners · 1 year
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My memories have started to hurt my head. I am who I am, the ink in my skin. || Reed Mercer
STATISTICS
NAME: Reed Mercer
AGE: Thirty
GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him
FACE CLAIM: Dylan O'Brien
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: Bleach Blonde
HEIGHT: 5'11"
DATE OF BIRTH: September 16th, 1992
ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo
LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High School Equivalency
RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: None
OCCUPATION: Tattoo Artist
HOMETOWN: Aurora Bay, CA
BACK IN TOWN: Three Months
NEIGHBORHOOD: Ocean Crest Apartments
POSITIVE TRAITS: Adaptable & Resilient
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Casuistic & Destructive
CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY (TW: Drug Addiction, Drug Overdose, Death)
From a young age, Reed knew he was alone in this world.
His father had left as soon as he signed the birth certificate and his mother cast Reed aside for the company of those who could supply the high she so desperately craved, leaving him to always pick up the pieces they inevitably broke. To his mother he was her savior and caretaker even if it wasn't what he needed. With every overdose he wondered if it was the one where she wouldn't survive, but she would always return to their trailer with empty promises of sobriety.
Out of loyalty he stayed with his mother making sure that she was safe, but he realized that in the end everyone would leave him. By the time he was twenty, he realized that nothing in the town was worth staying for so he left with the things he had and moved all around the world, living with as little as he could. For once he had put himself first and taking care of his own needs. Over time, he took his artistic skills, turning it into something permanent as a tattoo artist. Reed was content in his life, until he got the call from someone from back home calling to say his mothers addictions finally caught up to her, taking her life.
Reed packed up what little he had and went back to Aurora Bay, taking care of all the things he left. Among his mother's things were the drugs she had stashed away and instead of tossing it with the rest of the belongings that didn't matter, he pocketed it. Reed had never once thought about indulging on anything worse than weed, but one night staring down an empty bottle he felt a nostalgia creep in and delved in deep. Reed swore it was just a lapse in judgment, a search for the comfort he had lost with the death of his mother, but it began to happen more frequently and he's on the precipice of spiraling out of control. Now he's trying to balance his newfound addiction with being back in his home town and he knows it's only a matter of time before it breaks.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
Childhood friends
Exes
Flings
Or anything, tbh because I am garbage at these things
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kleineshexenkraut · 2 years
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What if...
A little what if-horror scenario.
We know that some of the shinigami were born in Soul Society and others lived and died in the living world before.
What if the level of power and kind of abilities attributed to a shinigami's zanpakuto not only depends on their character and temperament but is, in the case of those who died, also influenced by how they died and how bad it was? As in the worse the death the greater the power.
Ever since I thought about it the more interesting I find this idea, even though (or maybe because?) this means really gruesome stuff happened. Since horror is one of my favorite genres that fits real nicely.
TW for mentions of brutal accidents/injuries death, torture and murder
There are three types of zanpakuto: melee, kido, element (and those that are hard to classify as one of these categories, but you know...)
Element-type is still pretty straightforward:
Tōshirō Hitsugaya: frozen/drowned in ice water
Rukia Kuchiki: frozen to death
Genryūsai Yamamoto: slowly burned to death
Rangiku Matsumoto: suffocated in sand/ash or sandstorm
Sasakibe Chōjirō: hit by lightning or accidental electrocution
Kido-type is a bit trickier, but very 'fun' to think about:
Hanatarō Yamada: died during surgery
Izuru Kira: crushed by a heavy object
Yumichika Ayasegawa: starvation
Mayuri Kurotsuchi: poisoned/drug overdose or medical drug test gone very wrong
Rose Ōtoribashi: murder victim, drugged and strangled by instrumental string
Retsu Unohana: (assuming Minazuki's power is acid) accident or murder victim, drowned in acid or got thrown into acid while dying
Melee-type is self-explanatory, although the mentioned strength level could then hint at differences. Example:
Madarame Ikkaku: murder victim or accident, death by spear or spike wound(s)
Kenpachi Zaraki: murder victim, slowly and gradually chopped into pieces by meat-cleaver
Feel free to add your own twisted ideas. I'd love to hear them!
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leticiaxoliveira · 1 year
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LETICIA CAMILA OLIVEIRA
age: 30.
gender & pronouns: demigirl & she/they.
neighborhood: claret park.
occupations: international best-selling author, influencer/content creator, and the owner of the comic lab.
fc: giovana cordeiro.
HER STORY
trigger warnings: cheating, divorce, toxic relationship, pregnancy, drug overdose, drug addiction, attack, mental health (depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies), suicide attempt, miscarriage, cancer, car accident, death.
Bruna and Andre Oliveira always knew that they wanted the best for their daughter. That they wanted her to grow up strong, connected to her roots but also have the love to fly. When Leticia came to their lives, they knew that they loved her more than anything else in the world. They just didn’t realize that their daughter was going to experience quite an adventure as she grew up. For the longest time, Bruna and Andre thought that the most adventurous thing they’d explore with Leti was her sexuality and gender identity, something she discovered herself when she was thirteen. Living in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, they had struggled for awhile learning about this and it resulted in her being sent to an international school in Dubai. For awhile, Leti absolutely hated the school. Yet somehow, over time, it grew to not become too bad and it certainly helped her with her English. She even eventually started seeing someone when she was sixteen.
Falling in love for the first time was once of the simplest yet most beautiful things she’d ever experience. While she hadn’t been expecting him, she knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Even when she told him about her sexuality and gender identity, he only seemed to love her more and more. With both of their parents’ permission and blessings, they were set in an arrange marriage and promised to each other. Everything was going perfectly... Until news of Leti’s pregnancy came out.
Leticia and her fiancé had just finished graduating from high school, the two ready to start university in the autumn and work even closer to starting their life together. But the moment their parents found out that she was pregnant, they were furious. Her meant-to-be-future-in-laws accused her of sleeping around and cheating on their son. In the midst of it all, he had panicked and said that he wasn’t the father, leaving her heartbroken. The engagement was called off, she was forced to say goodbye to the person she loved, and under a lot of scrutinizing pressure, Leticia’s parents cut her off. Giving her enough money so that she’d be comfortable for awhile then giving her the slip.
She felt lost in it all. At eighteen years old, she was completely removed from everyone she loved and everything she knew. Having meant to start school at Harvard, she moved out to Boston as quickly as possible. Trying to prepare everything she could before her babies---yes, babies; Leti was pregnant with twins---were meant to come and school was to start. With the money her parents gave her, she was able to find a small apartment that worked yet saved the rest of the money to go towards the babies. She’d been quick to get a job, trying to earn enough money so that she could be able to provide for her children. Soon enough, her twin girls, Leia and Belle (after her favourite Star Wars character and Disney Princess), came into her life. By then, she had a steady job at a Barnes and Noble while also taking a few night classes for her Creative Writing and Hospitality Management majors. Eventually, as the years gone by and her daughters grew up more and more, the more she continued her schooling and the bills began to pile up, Leti took on a second job as a performer at the hottest strip club in Boston. It was a job that she never saw herself partaking in, but thanks to having grown up dancing, it was a job she became good at. Eventually, she graduated from Harvard and while she had been blessed with many scholarships and grants, there were still loans to be paid. Her daughters had been the only light in her life... At least, until sometime later, she met a young woman who came to Boston for a little bit: Carla Villanueva. For the first time in forever, she connected with someone—she was falling in love again. She never saw Carla coming and after what happened with her ex-fiancé and father of her daughters, she’d been scared. Admittedly, what they had was brief and eventually, Carla had to leave whereas Leticia stayed. But god, she wished she had joined her. She never would’ve met Luca then.
Luca was a man who was so angry with the world he earned money by underground fighting and she needed a distraction from everything. Whether it was her internal anxiety struggling over how she would provide for her girls to how she’ll take care of her college expenses to missing Carla, she turned to Luca despite him scaring her a little bit. His anger brought out the worst in him and seeing one of his matches, Leti soon ghosted after months of them sleeping together. She’d been afraid of him showing that side of him to her when by themselves, or worse: to her daughters. But after Leticia suffered a drug overdose on Valentine’s Day and was in the hospital for awhile, he soon came back into her life. Not too long later, she married Luca. Was it for love? At first, perhaps there’d been some true feelings for him. But after awhile, he went from being a loving partner to a jealous and possessive asshole. He never showed his true colours around Leia and Belle, and kept control whenever the two would fight. It was toxic and while she tried to maintain her ground, deep down, the girl was terrified of the day he’d no longer have control over himself. When she found out she was pregnant, though, things did calm down. They were working together and communicating. For a moment, she was starting to believe that she was actually in love with him. That is, until she lost the baby.
It’d been about four months into the pregnancy and she wasn’t showing much yet, but it’d taken a huge blow on the both of them. One night, Luca finally admitted that he blamed her. Once more, their cycle of screaming matches and breaking things came back. Once more did her fear that Luca would lose his control came back and she feared it happening. And one night, it came deeply close. She found out he was having multiple affairs and with the girls at a sleepover, she took the opportunity to confront him. They had the worst fight ever that night: screaming well into the early morning, all kinds of shit knocked over and/or broken, holes that had been punched into the walls. They hadn’t gotten physical with each other, not until later when they decided to fuck instead of continue their screaming, but she’d been terrified the entire time. That night, she began a plan on filing for divorce.
After that, she finally decided to get her shit together and to make plans on getting away. While she stayed working at Barnes and Noble and the club while also started to also do dance performances for events to earn extra money, she was trying to find a nice place in Somerville where she and the girls could live together. She started to get her life back on track and to become the adult she needed to be. If not for herself, then for her daughters. For awhile, things were going good. Her and Luca didn’t fight again yet she continued her plan, while he was none the wiser. Then an incident happened at work, a rowdy client who was drunk and acting inappropriately. He’d tried to make a move on her and she told him off, causing him to punch her before slicing her arm with a knife he snuck in. If it hadn’t been for his friends and the bodyguards stopping him, she wouldn’t be here. She had quickly snuck away to a bathroom, grabbing supplies so that she could stitch herself back together and deal with what the fuck happened. It was a massive wakeup call and she knew that she needed to sort her shit out. How she did that, though, was nerve-wracking: by seeking out her parents. Over the years, Andre and Bruna had moved from Brazil to the States. The couple were the owners of the prestigious and luxurious resort and hotel chain known as The Jade Palace, having been a family business run by the Oliveiras since the late 1800s, and they had opened up a new location there in Boston. Learning about her parents living there, she cautiously sought them out. At first, it wasn’t a happy reunion and she’d been turn away. Then, while she’d been out with her daughters, they ran into each other again. Her parents finally seeing their granddaughters for the first time. Seeing Leia and Belle was exactly what the two needed for them to wake up. They offered their help, finally, and she took it.
She finally had the divorce papers and restraining order given to Luca. She moved out completely and into her parents’ new-ish Boston home, her and the girls safe and sound in the Oliveira mansion. She left her job at the club so that she could begin working as a front-end attendant for the hotel before eventually making her way up. While she kept her job at the bookstore for as long as she could, having genuinely loved working there, she left it eventually to focus on her family and the Jade Palace. For awhile, she finally got everything under control. Her life was back in order. Her dad then made her an offer: to move to Providence Peak in early 2020 when the new location of the Jade Palace were to open in the summer of 2021 and undergo a process to be the owner of the hotel. During that time, she’d been able to release a well-received Young Adult book and considered with returning to the idea of becoming an author, a childhood dream of hers, but she decided to take her father’s offer. Soon enough, Leticia and her daughters moved to Providence Peak.
Never had she expected a small mountain city to take over her heart the way it did. While she’s made some friends (and enemies) and even some surprising reconnections, while she also released a second book, while she found herself enjoying owning the Providence Peak location of her family’s hotel, while she reconnected with Carla and even began to try to start something with her, it would eventually end come early 2022. Her father’s health had been deteriorating and she had a duty as his daughter to return to help him. While she promised to return back to Providence Peak one day, she needed to focus on her father and especially on her daughters. Yet over the course of that time, she soon made a decision. Her step-cousin, Zahava Kamara, would become the new owner of the entire Jade Palace hotelier.
With her father battling cancer, things had been rough at the beginning. She had to watch her father, a normally strong man, in his weakest moment and it killed her. It was hard having to watch him like that and many times she found herself crying at night, feeling helpless. To add salt to the wound, her and Carla were beginning to grow estranged. A factor that broke her heart, especially after believing they could be together again and promising to return to return to her. As months went on and the longer she stayed in Boston, she began to fear that her promise would be broken. Eventually, Andre began to grow stronger, healthier, better. In August of 2022, during an appointment with his doctor, finally some good news came: he was cancer-free. Andre and Bruna were ecstatic. With the girls having a soccer tournament, though, Leticia had been unable to attend the appointment. During a break in the match, she’d gotten a call from her parents and they informed her of the happy news. All before tragedy would soon struck again; During the middle of the call, while they’d been driving, a collision happened and resulted in the worst thing imaginable: her parents died in the accident.
Leti couldn’t express her devastation over the path life led her on again. One minute, she was receiving the best news she’s heard in awhile. The next, she received the worst news. After the funeral, Leti’s best friend and older sister figure, Rachel Hargrove, offered to watch the girls for awhile back in Providence Peak. Have them return home and be with friends again while she took time to mourn. Considering how deeply and intensely the woman felt things, she knew that it was for the best. And for awhile, she mourned. She downward spiraled and took the time to do so. Yet, eventually, she remembered that her parents wouldn’t want her to be like this. That they would rather her try to find joy in life again instead of mourn. Wiping away her tears and trying to find peace within herself, she soon got to work. She soon was making preparations over the family mansion and her parents belongings for both their homes in Rio and in Boston, making sure to contact her family overseas and work with them as well. She even created a YouTube channel, using it as a way to connect more with her readers and to fully express her love of fandom, along with starting up a TikTok, much to her preteen daughters’ chagrin. Eventually, after all business in Boston and concerning her family was dealt with, after she found herself in a better mental situation, she would soon switch over to a new target: returning back to Providence Peak.
While still in Boston, she’d been able to lock down on a new house in Claret Park, her, Leia, and Belle inheriting a large fortune both her parents left behind for them, among other things. However, she knew that she wanted to do more things in her life once she made her way back home. After contacting the owner of the Comic Lab, which had been one of her favourite places in Providence Peak, she soon struck a deal with them: she bought the comic book store, intending on finding a newer, bigger building for it and expand its merchandise and other things to offer. A large building for all nerdy fandom-loving people with merchandise, books, and all types of products with a café to serve food and drinks inspired by a multitude of fandoms and pop culture, she plans on the Comic Lab to grow into a business that’s basically the love child of Barnes and Noble, FYE, Game Stop, and Hot Topic (in her defense, they have many incredible pop culture products). Working with many book publications and organizations like BoxLunch and Loungefly to distribute these products.
After working on this project for awhile, along with writing a new book, Leticia has finally realized that it was now time to return home. Part of her is excited, especially to reunite with some people. Part of her is nervous, especially to reunite with some people. Yet overall, Leti is ready to put her past behind her and to try and find happiness for herself and for her daughters. Even if she is giving life the stink-eye in fear of it throwing another wrench at her.
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xinthesewallsx · 1 year
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a lot has been going irl. like a lot the passed 6 months and i think it’s starting to crash down around me. i’ve been let go from two jobs in that span. we are barely making ends meet and in some serious debt. two people who were in my life for the last 27 years have died from drug over doses. i lost one of my best friends to a toxic relationship and with that lost my god daughter and niece that i raised for 8 years because she choose that relationship over our friendship. i moved 600 miles away from all my friends  and family with a partner who doesn’t fulfill my needs and we’re coming up on our 1 year marriage anniversary and it feels daunting because i’m not happy. my dad’s health isn’t that great and i miss my baby brother cause i haven’t seen him in 4 months after seeing him every weekend. one of my past best firends basically is a shell of herself and it’s sad cause it’s like mourning another person. my health isn’t that great both physically and mentally and im just like what the fuck is going on. like what did i do? 
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cloudyclauds · 2 years
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Laura here. (AKA Ann). I needed a fresh start and new OC, so meet Claudia Prescott.  If you don’t know... I play Bianca, Faith, Nick, and now Claudia.
Name: Claudia J. Prescott 
Age: 26
Birthday: October 31st, 1996
FC: Sydney Sweeney
Hometown: Halifax, Virginia 
Currently Living: Halifax, Virginia
Siblings: N/A
Children: N/A
Job: AEW Assistant 
TW:  Mental Health, Alcohol, and Drugs
Bio:
Tony Khan hired Claudia J. Prescott to work on AEW's show ideas, pay-per-view concepts, and even legal and business content. She is a former assistant for PWG and Ring Of Honor who is well experienced in her field. As a child, she was raised on a farm with her grandfather, James Prescott, in Halifax, Virginia. Claudia was once a devoted Christian, until she lost both her parents to needles; an overdose of heroin. Even though her grandfather is her last living relative, she believes he won't live much longer.
Even though she's just an assistant, Claudia is known more for her executive decisions. She will tell you, no matter who you are, if something needs to be changed, edited, or rewritten. That was one of the reasons TK hired her. A portrayal of Claudia; she has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a heart-shaped tattoo behind her ear. It is pink in memory of her grandmother who died of breast cancer.
Claudia loves professional wrestling. Before Alzheimer's disease, her grandfather loved it tremendously. Thus, she became enamored of it as well. Her days off are spent caring for farm animals and the farm. She still cooks and eats animals despite being a farm girl. In addition to being friendly, sweet, compassionate, honest, bossy, and even a little flirtatious, Claudia can also be bossy at times. After all, she is a southern girl.
Secret: She struggles heavily with her mental health 
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spikeghost · 6 months
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"Moé, j'fais mon chemin dans la foule En espérant qu'une chose C'est de voir ton visage ou de t'entendre crier J'en ai plein mon casque, mais c'pas encore l'overdose Aidez-moé, aidez-moé"
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pinkistufff · 6 months
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idk how much longer i can force myself to stay alive
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popcorn-problems · 1 year
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I have developed a very small circle of friends. Maybe 4 that I truly talk to regularly. One of them has had a huge battle with addiction, and I'm pretty sure he relapsed. Just sucks because I wish he knew he's such a great person, hands down one of my best friends and favorite people. He's so loved and I wish he could see that. Kind of feel guilty because I'm always shitting on him. That's the sort of friendship we have, just feels like maybe it was too much lately. Idk. Feeling down tonight and hopeful he isn't dead tomorrow.
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outcastxd · 2 years
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— 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.
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red-skady · 9 months
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Breaking point
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