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malibuluxuryrehab · 2 years

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Find the Best Luxury Recovery Centers to Treat Drug Addicts?

Do you know that private luxury treatment centers can make a difference in your recovery from drug addiction? They provide care at an individualized level that ensures every patient is given the highest level of care. The overall cost may differ and be higher compared to standard rehabs, but every penny you pay is worth the value.

In case of a lengthy treatment program, you may be scared to spend many days at the rehab center. Still, the luxury facility in Malibu gives you the total comfort you may desire and many other options to continue your work or ensure that your business runs effectively even if you stay at the rehab.

How can luxury rehab make a difference?

The treatment for drug addiction is challenging for the treatment specialist as well. They start the treatment process after an in-depth study of every patient. Every patient is different, and so is the problem. Not all treatments work the same for every individual. Unlike standard rehabs, they first need to know better about the patient and then assign them the right customized treatment approach to get positive results with minimum discomfort.

The detoxification process

The treatment of drug addiction starts with the detoxification process! Doesn't the word 'detoxify' scare you? Many of you do not want to undergo drug addiction treatment because the thought of residential stay and withdrawal symptoms makes you scared. But what if you look for a luxury rehab center?

The primary objective of luxury rehab centers is to minimize the discomfort you may have during the detoxification process. Knowing that detoxification is a risky process where you may get a plethora of unpleasant withdrawal symptoms, these rehabs double ensure to make you comfortable and provide full support during that phase. To cater to this need, they have specialized staff that closely watch you and provide 24X7 assistance to make you recover as soon as possible.

Enjoy your private suites.

Sometimes sharing the room with others is quite frustrating. You may need some time alone, or you may want to attend the office meeting. So private luxury treatment centers provide a private room where you can stay for months without any disturbances.

Now snoring from other people, talking, and gossiping will not make you worried anymore. You can have a peaceful time by booking a private room to enjoy a nutritious customized meal at your doorstep.

These rehabs also facilitate the meal service at the doorstep, so if you do not wish to go to the dining areas to have the meal, you can relax and enjoy the food in the room.

Confidentiality

Confidentiality brings a lot of stigmas because the thought of living at a rehab center makes you terrified. Now stop thinking about how other people will think about you and only concentrate on your treatment and happy life afterward.

The treatment at the luxury rehab starts on a positive note and ends on a positive note. It ensures that your confidentiality remains private, and you do not disclose any information to your company or the insurance company until you permit them to do so.

Think about the extra recreational activities

Staying at the rehab center for a long time could be tedious. These rehab centers understand that you may not be able to spend the whole day in the room, so they try to make your stay as wonderful as possible. Not only the state-of-the-art technology, but they provide different recreational activities where you can get involved in your favorite hobbies.

They offer different outdoor and indoor games, extra space, and coaching for other life skills like meditation, yoga, exercise, and the importance of diet and nutrition on overall health. From the aesthetic view and surroundings to the peaceful environment and extra facilities like swimming, hiking, biking, and many more, the luxury rehab makes your stay at the rehab happy and soothing.

Conclusion

Sobriety is a life-long process, and you need the best treatment professional to safeguard your life against the evils like drugs. For this purpose, they need to work closely with you by giving you enough time to understand the root cause of the problems.

The professionals at the luxury rehabs in Malibu are well-trained and can offer customized treatment plans and the different facilities that help you to live sober throughout your life.

#Luxury Malibu Rehab Facilities #Luxury Facility in Malibu #private luxury treatment centers #luxury rehab in malibu #malibu luxury rehab

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didalexiabreakupwitholgayet · 5 months

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Does Alexia's house have a fitness center?

anon questions are getting very specific...👀 let's not try and actually pinpoint where she lives, pls!

i do not know about the facilities/amenities in alexia's building. but i can confidently say that if they do exist, then they are nowhere near as comprehensive as barça's normal fitness center. (not the tent!)

alexia also has a physio/trainer (adrian martinez) with whom she works privately on a various of exercises in a separate fitness and rehab center. he was the one in the documentary she was asking whether he loved his job, and you can see scenes in which she is working out and doing specific exercises with him.

#alexia putellas #fcb femení #futfem #woso

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months

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If he divorces Meghan, gets into a properly licenced rehab facility & program and gets himself fixed, clean and healthy & also deprogrammed & un-brainwashed then maybe Harry could get back into the private side of the family as if he doesn’t do all this while also genuinely fixing his issues while genuinely apologising to all the family & friends he’s hurt & abused over these last few years then he won’t get anywhere… but the first start is divorcing Meghan and also getting those two kids as far away as possible from her

That’s my take too. He’ll be back “in” as a private family member if he does the work, the rehab and detox, the amends, goes on medication, gets in therapy, etc. If he does all that, he’ll get a nice country house somewhere from the Duchy of Lancaster.

Leaving Meghan is a big part of that. Charles has made it very clear that she’s not welcome back. If Harry wants back in, she can’t be with him. Just look at all the visits back to the UK - she’s only been with him on 3 of the 9 trips. That’s huge. That’s an indicator that there’s something else in consideration too.

I’m not sure about the kids, though. I think the BRF can leave them or take them. There isn’t a relationship there and the odds are stacked in Meghan’s favor to keep custody if there’s a divorce. The only way I can see Harry (and therefore the BRF) getting the kids is if something happens to Meghan that a court determines makes her unfit or the BRF promises a huge payment.

I can see Charles offering to pay Meghan for the kids. Not sure that I see William doing that.

#brf #sussexes

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thoughtformchoreographer · 4 months

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VYVYAN WAPITI. - My Trollsona! :)

So I received a few questions about who exactly Vyvyan is, and I am making this post to answer properly.

He is my trollsona! :) And also a character that I very shamelessly inserted into my Ampora ask blog because there is something wrong with me. Also, I am not a virgo, I am actually an aquarius (go fucking figure), and Vyvyan is only a jade blood because I took a quiz and it said Jade better fit me personality wise, and honestly I kinda agree. Anyway- this post will include some art of him, and also like, basically everything about him, for anyone who's interested. <3

(Sorry if any of the art is low-res. I had to compress some of it cus I work on big canvas sizes :( )

HOMESTUCK MANDATED CHARACTER FACT FILE:

NAME: Vyvyan Wapiti (Pronounced Vivian Wah-pee-tee. Vyvyan is my middle name, and Wapiti is a type of deer.) HANDLE: thoughtformChoreographer AGE: 12 sweeps old (at the time of the ask blog. During Sgrub, he was 8.) GENDER: Male, he/him` HEMOSPECTRUM: Jade blooded LUNAR SWAY: Derse GOD TIER: Sylph of Mind QUIRK: Starts sentences with --<<, meant to represent a tree. Ends sentences with 4242. . Replaces a/A with 4, and s/S with 2. Speaks with full grammar and punctuation, using caps and more punctuation for exaggeration. Will also occassionally use smiley faces in his text. LAND: Land of Trees and Change STRIFE SPECIBUS: Lanternkind SYLLADEX MODUS: Confessionary Modus (Every item in his sylladex is assigned an emotion/thought process. Vyvyan has to outwardly say how he is feeling or express a self affirmation to get an item out of his modus, which is a good way of keeping himself and processing his feelings on the regular.)

WHO EVEN IS THIS DOUCHEBAG? WHAT DOES HE DO? WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?

Vyvyan Wapiti is known on Earth-C as the "licensed professional who owns the Nature and Rehabilitation Centre". He is in charge of the facility, which is basically a mixture of a rehab centre, private hospital, mental ward and nature exhibit all in one. He is also part of the "Sburb/Sgrub Rescue Team" which will be mentioned later. He was granted these positions by Karkat, and Karkat was also the one to assign Gamzee to him as his first (and most prioritised) patient. Gamzee was incredibly volatile and was struggling to recover when first introduced to Earth-C, and everyone else was too scared or ignorant to try and help him, so Vyvyan took up that role, and his condition has since improved. He is, however, unfortunately stuck in rehab possibly for the rest of eternity, and lives there with Vyvyan.

Vyvyan makes occassional appearances in the Ask The Ampora's ask blog as Dualscar's caretaker, also. Dualscar appears to dismiss Vyvyan quite often and refuse his care, of which Vyvyan imposes on him, as jade blooded sylphs typically do.

WHAT'S THIS GUY'S DEAL?

Vyvyan appeared in Earth-C along with his friends (Castor, Linnea, and Autumn) after having completed Sgrub with flying colours and basically as little difficulty as it gets with a game so complex and traumatising. There is little explanation for why these 4 did not reap their reward of a new universe, however they all agreed the game must've deemed their session too easy, and decided they should merely live in someone else's won universe as opposed to creating their own. None of them are unhappy with this, as they were each granted positions they are quite content with, Vyvyan especially.

He and his friends run the "Sburb/Sgrub Rescue Team", a group dedicated to contacting players from doomed or infertile sessions to try and save/preserve/console them in numerous ways that would not disturb the flow of time and space. Most of these endevours are somewhat fruitless, however, they did manage to save the "Stuck...Stuck?" crew.

OKAY, BUT LIKE, THE JUICY STUFF. WHERE'S HIS TRAUMATIC BACKSTORY?

Back on Alternia, prior to Sgrub, Vyvyan was a very atypical troll. For starters, jade bloods are already rare as it is, especially male jade bloods, as most are female. Not only that, but he was not the most responsible of trolls. He was in charge of caring for a mother grub, as all jade trolls are assigned to do so. However, having lived in deep forest for most of his life, he became addicted to the effects of mushrooms he found within said forest. The effects of the hallucinogenics he would ingest quite often would leave him very mentally and physically unwell, and unable to properly care for his lusus or himself. One day, his mother grub died of unknown causes - however, Vyvyan's neglectfulness and deteriorated mental state was the main blame of this untimely death. The mothergrub was too young to have created a matriorb, and Vyvyan was sure to be culled for the failure he had become. However, when sitting aimlessly waiting for death and nook deep in a bad trip, a similarly atypical deer-like lusus found him. He was adopted by it, and given a second chance instead of slaughtered like any other in his position would have been. His new lusus quickly corrected his behaviour, teaching him what was/was not safe to forage, how to help himself, and eventually, how to help others. As Vyvyan grew up, he realised there was not much mercy on Alternia for those struggling from mental disorders. The heavy stigma meant there were almost no outlets for support. His big dream was to create something similar to the human concept of therapy and counselling, but for Alternia. This was an impossible feat to accomplish, until, of course, Sgrub happened. When introduced to Earth-C, Vyvyan was finally given the resources needed to create such an outlet for trolls in need of help. And he now spends his days spreading this kind forgiving treatment to anyone who may require it.

WHAT A LOSER LMAO.

Anyway yeah!!! Thats my lil guy :)

Some additional info ig:

He is dating Autumn, @digitalminstrel's trollsona (she is my gf irl :3 hehehehe!!!! <3 )

He is close friends with Linnea (@henryscircus) and Castor (@seeingstarzz)

Vyvyan is NOT a rainbow drinker, but feel free to ask him about this!

He and Gamzee are soulmates, however have not properly discussed this and therefore have not realised their potential for moiraileagence. This is because Vyvyan's JOB is to look after Gamzee, and Vyvyan does not properly realise how defensive he can get with Gamzee even when not in his presence. To his other patients, it is quite obvious he has a favourite. The 50/50 is Vyvyan acting as the stand-in lusus Gamzee never had, and Gamzee being on his best behaviour and even physically protecting Vyvyan like a guard dog should he become endangered (which happens unfortunately often, as some of his patients can be quite volatile as Alternian trolls are not entirely used to the whole idea of therapy).

He still likes foraging, and part of his daily activities with recovering patients is going on long walks, specimen watching (birds and bugs), observing rivers and other natural structures and (Gamzee's absolute least favourite) early morning hiking.

Vyvyan's quirk is a nod to 42 being my special number. It is also a nod to 42 being the answer to the universe.

He has a very slight lisp

Vyvyan does not speak to all of the heroes and doomed trolls on Earth-C, however has interacted with Eridan (who visits Gamzee sometimes), Tavros (who visits Gamzee frequently), Equius (who comes to rehab for anger management and anti-castism), Karkat (who appointed him to have such a facility in the first place), Gamzee (his first patient), and Sollux (who is contacted whenever the Rescue Team base encounters power outages or other technical difficulties.)

Vyvyan is diurnal, and unfortunately, Gamzee is now as well. Most of his other patients are nocturnal, and so Vyvyan sometimes does both day and night shifts. He wants more people to work at the centre with him to help him run it, however the only person who tried to sign up so far was Kankri, and Vyvyan did not see him fit to be a therapist just yet. (--<< Ther4pi2t2 need to uh... Do le22 t4lking, 4nd more 4ctu4l li2tening to their p4tient2! 4242.) ANYWAY YEAH so thats my trollsona. Thank you for reading if you at all bothered :) feel free to ask him anything!

#homestuck #ask blog #homestuck trollsona #oc #trollsona #fact file #vyvyan wapiti

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lightandheatao3 · 5 months

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The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 7: The Dream

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer sleeps, then wakes.

Read chapter 7 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

“Why me?”

Spencer blinked.

His head was spinning. He could have sworn he heard a voice.

“You're still worried about hearing voices?” the voice answered. “Seriously, man, why did you come to me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help. Just would’ve figured you’ve got better people to do this with.”

He looked up. A familiar face hovered above him, dancing in and out of his vision.

“What are you doing here?” asked Spencer.

He tried to sit up but his body was glued to the surface beneath him. He jerked forward but he couldn't pull himself free.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Ethan with a raised eyebrow.

He was on the shabby couch in Ethan’s small New Orleans apartment. He finally managed to pry himself loose and drag himself into a sitting position. The air was wet cement. The walls of the apartment expanded and contracted like lungs.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Spencer explained.

“Bullshit,” said Ethan. “You’ve got a whole team of people who care about you and plenty of savings to pay your way through a private rehab facility, and instead you’re sweating it out on the couch of some guy you’ve talked to all of once in the last half-decade.”

“Fine. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” spat Spencer. "I wouldn't want to drag you down with my problems."

He tried to stand, but his wrists were tied with rough rope. The smell of rotting fish was thick in the air.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” said Ethan affectionately. “It’s good to see you, though I wish for your sake it was under better circumstances. Besides," he pointed out, "you couldn’t get further than the front door without puking up half your body weight right now.”

Spencer pulled at his bound wrists. “Untie me!” he demanded. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I'm not doing anything, Spencer. You’ve done this to yourself.”

“It’s not my fault!” he yelled, the smell of the rot turning his stomach. “I didn’t have a choice. I said no, I tried to stop it, I did everything I was supposed to do.”

The bindings wrapped tighter, snaking around his abdomen and up to his neck. They constricted around his throat painfully.

“How long before you can’t use that excuse anymore?” asked Ethan snidely, a tone that Spencer had rarely heard from him. “How many months after you killed Tobias before you finally admitted it wasn't him that kept sticking those needles in your arm? Fuck, man, 16 years later and you're more of a junkie than you've ever been. Whose making you do it this time?"

“Fuck you,” he growled. “You abandoned me! You left your whole future behind to go be a drunk in New Orleans. You have no right to judge me."

“You never asked me to stay.”

“You never cared what I wanted!”

“What? You wanted me to stay in the Academy? Join the BAU with you? Have a magical life getting kidnapped and tortured and hooked on drugs together? Spend romantic evenings in hotel rooms looking at photos of mutilated bodies?"

Spencer pulled against the restraints again, and again they resisted. "I never said that. I never wanted that. You were my only real friend and I was worried you were throwing your life away," he explained. "That's all."

Suddenly, Ethan was knelt beside him. He was laying down on the couch again. The ropes that had entangled him melted away. He was shaking, sweating, the cushions were a bed of nails beneath him. Ethan shushed him gently, wiping a cool cloth over his forehead. “You’re gonna be alright. I’m glad you came to me.”

Spencer blinked hard.

He stared into Ethan’s gentle eyes. “I don’t think I’m getting out of this alive,” he admitted in a whisper. “I need my friends to be safe. They have to make it out, no matter what happens to me.”

“Do you think we could have had something?” asked Ethan as if he hadn’t heard Spencer talk. “If the world wasn't such a fucked up place for anyone a little too different, do you think we would’ve had a chance at something real?”

Spencer swallowed down a painful lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

“We could try now,” said Ethan, putting a hand on his cheek. “Maybe this is our chance.”

“That’s not what you said,” Spencer breathed. “I remember. This isn’t how it happened. You helped me, then we said goodbye, and we never talked about any of this.”

“But it’s what you wanted me to say.”

“No.” Spencer rolled over on the thin mattress. Ethan knelt beside him in the brightly lit bunker. “That's not what I wanted.”

“Then why are you here?” asked Ethan. Spencer didn’t look at him. “You spent so long scared of losing your mind, you didn't even realize you never had it to begin with.”

Ethan’s hand enveloped Spencer’s. Their fingers intertwined.

When Ethan’s hand pulled away, there was a cool, smooth object left behind.

“I know what you want,” said Ethan.

Spencer looked down at his hand.

A loaded syringe rested on his palm.

He stared up at Ethan, who had drifted to the back of the cavernous, concrete room. The buzz of the fluorescent lights echoed, and the blinking red camera sat at the periphery of his vision no matter which direction he looked.

“I don’t want it,” said Spencer desperately, holding the syringe of swirling gas aloft.

“You've never wanted anything more than this.”

When he looked again, Ethan was gone.

He looked down at his arm. It was unmarked, smooth and fresh without even the faintest hint of old, scarred over track marks. It hadn’t looked like that since Georgia. There was a tourniquet tied around his upper arm.

The needle was pressed against the crook of his elbow.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Every muscle in his body relaxed. The world was about to be right again.

He placed his thumb on the plunger, depressing it slowly like he had a thousand times before.

The gas traveled up through the veins in his arm, making its way closer and closer to his heart.

Something was wrong. He coughed. He felt the gas spreading inside him, burning everything it touched.

His throat was raw and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch his breath. He gasped for air, but got none.

What had he done? What had he done to himself? He was never going to breath again and it was all his fault!

Then: Awake.

His eyes burned as he pried them slowly open. He flinched back against the light, blinking slowly in an attempt to adjust.

“Spence, it’s okay, we’re here,” came a soft voice from somewhere beside him.

A hand rubbed gentle circles on his back.

He finally managed to adjust to the horrible fluorescent light. JJ was leaning over him, staring at him with wide, worried eyes.

“You’ve been out for hours,” said Emily from somewhere nearby. “We’ve been checking your vitals and keeping an eye on you, but we didn’t want to force you awake.”

He looked up and saw the rest of them lingering behind JJ.

He could have cried from relief, and very nearly did.

“You’re all okay,” he said, closing his eyes tightly to stave off the tears.

Derek huffed a laugh. “You’re worried about us? Man, I was scared you were never going to wake up,” he said with a watery smile.

Spencer cringed. All at once, his senses lit up. The others leaned in with concern as his hand flew up to his throat, feeling for injury. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat, triggering a rough cough. After a second of coughing he had to fight back an immense wave of nausea.

“What’s wrong?” asked Hotch. “Are you injured?”

He shook his head helplessly. He rubbed at his throat and couldn’t feel any external signs of injury, but he felt as if he’d swallowed glass. “I don’t know.”

“Let me take a look,” he said, leaning past JJ and kneeling beside him.

Spencer pushed himself up into a sitting position on the hard concrete floor. Hotch reached out and touched his throat, looking at it intently and feeling for any signs of damage. He was gentle in a way that made Spencer think back to Jack’s seventh birthday party. He had fallen and grazed his knee and the only thing in the world that could have consoled him in that moment was his dad.

“I can’t see any signs of damage,” said Hotch, pulling his hands away. “It could be a side effect from the gas. You were out a lot longer than the rest of us. It’s possible you had a bad reaction.”

He could feel the tremor in his hands, the sweat beading on his brow. The swirling nausea. If felt like one of his worse comedowns, or like the tail end of detox. Except, that didn’t explain the pain in his throat.

“Not to mention, we don’t know how long we were all unconscious or what happened during that time,” said Derek, arms folded tightly across his chest, expression carefully controlled.

For the first time, Spencer noticed their clothes.

None of them were in the same clothes they’d been in when they first arrived. He looked down at himself. Light blue scrubs, like the kind you would see in a hospital. Crisp and clean.

His stomach dropped.

He was clean. His clothes had been changed. The Unsub had cleaned him. He touched his face, feeling the smooth skin along his jaw. She had even shaved him.

Another look at Derek and his stomach dropped even further. As freaked out as he was, he could only imagine what kind of feelings this was triggering for his friend.

Derek seemed to piece together what he was thinking. “I’m good,” he said firmly. “Don’t worry about me.”

That last part sounded less like a reassurance and more like a command.

Spencer let it drop. He was hardly in a position to judge anyone else for not sharing. It’s not as if this was a safe space for any of them to unpack their trauma.

He turned his attention to the rest of the bunker. The others backed up, giving him room to see.

Not that there was much to look at.

The mattresses were gone. Their little luxuries and amenities were gone. The entire bunker smelled strongly of disinfectant. He hated how much of a relief that was to him after the smell of mold.

Oh god. He groaned audibly when his eyes hit the empty doorway where the bathroom door had once been.

“Yep,” said Emily mournfully. “Still trying to process that loss.”

“Of all the experiences in prison I had hoped to never repeat again, this was pretty high on the list,” he said, voice raspy and raw but thankfully getting through the sentence without coughing. He looked to the rest of them. “Do any of you remember anything at all?”

All eyes flicked over to JJ. They had already had this discussion amongst themselves, it seemed.

“It’s difficult to say for sure,” she said cautiously. “I was pretty out of it, but I think I came to at one point. Wherever I was, it wasn’t here. And… I think I heard two voices. One feminine, one masculine.” Spencer nodded. They had speculated that their Unsub had an accomplice. She was likely the dominant one in the pair with a male companion who did her bidding. “They must have dosed me right afterwards, though. I don’t remember anything else,” she finished.

“We all have marks,” said Rossi. “Same as the ones we came in with. The gas would have knocked us out temporarily, but they must have used injections to maintain it. She doesn’t like to deviate her methods, it seems. Not surprising.”

Spencer felt the spot just behind his ear. It was easy to miss, but there was a tiny bump that was just a bit swollen.

“Do you think it’s the same formula as last time?” asked Derek with a raised eyebrow.

He mulled it over, a little irritated that he was becoming something of a human narcotic testing strip for them. Never mind that he had a PhD in chemistry. It was his expertise in being a junkie that gave them such faith in his ability to identify whatever drug cocktails they had all been injected with.

“I don’t know. If I’ve been unconscious as long as you say, then whatever was in my system is likely cleared out. All I know for sure is that I feel terrible.” He sighed. “It's likely. It would explain why-” he stopped to cough, trying to clear his throat, “- why I’m experiencing more acute withdrawal symptoms again.”

Though he would never admit it out loud to anyone, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being disappointed that he hadn’t been conscious to experience getting shot up. He was saddled with all of the horrible side effects, and he didn’t even get to experience the high. It felt unfair, and he knew exactly how pathetic it was that he felt that way.

Hotch put a hand on his shoulder, which surprised him. “You’ll be alright. It will pass faster this time,” he assured him.

Derek also gave him a sympathetic smile, though how sincere that sympathy was, Spencer wasn’t sure. He’d stopped commenting on it while they had all been stewing in filth together, but he knew he was still upset with him.

“Any speculation on the compound we were gassed with?” Derek asked. “I’ve never encountered a gas that can induce unconsciousness in a whole room full of people like that.”

Spencer perked up. This was a subject that was actually of some interest to him. “Contrary to what movies portray, incapacitating agents that can reliably induce non-lethal unconsciousness in an uncontrolled setting don’t exist. In the case of-” he coughed, struggling to speak through the pain, “-the Moscow theater siege in 2002, the Russian authorities rendered a theater of 800 people unconscious in order to stop a terrorist attack, using a Fentanyl derivative. It was extremely effective, yet 15% of the hostages died as a result of the gas. In our case, my guess would be that they used a compound with a substance similar to Halothane as the primary component.”

He took a break from speaking to double over and have a coughing fit in earnest, searing pain on the inside of his throat leaving him gasping for air. The others rushed to him, helping him as he curled up on the floor, struggling to breath.

Once he finally caught his breath, he looked back up at Hotch. He cleared his throat a couple of times, keeping his voice low and soft when he spoke.

“I think you were right about me having a bad reaction. Controlling the dose of an aerosolized anesthesia in a large space is nearly impossible. I was the last to get my mask on. I must have inhaled too much,” he ground out, stopping to suppress another coughing fit. “I think I was intubated.”

They all looked at him with wide eyes. It made sense. It would explain the pain in his throat. He must have gotten a big enough dose to cause toxicity and require temporary intubation. It would also explain why he was so much more affected than the others. Why he took so long to wake up.

It was difficult to read all of their expressions. He thought they looked upset. Horrified? Concerned? Afraid?

“This tells us something we didn’t know before,” said Emily, squaring her shoulders, refusing to dwell too long in a nightmare that none of them could even remember. “Access to that much Halothane, or any other powerful anesthetic, combined with the knowledge and skill to perform an intubation, means-”

“At least one of our Unsubs works in the medical field,” finished JJ.

“This is good,” said Rossi. “We did all of this to learn more, and it worked.”

Spencer looked around at the empty, cold concrete. He had the same thought that he was sure they all had.

Sure, it worked. But at what cost?

#criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds evolution #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team as family #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #Spencer Reid #jj jareau #criminal minds angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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thepointemaliburecoverycenter · 1 month

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The Pointe Malibu Recovery Center offers a luxurious and comprehensive approach to addiction recovery, making it the top high end drug rehab center in Malibu. Clients are treated in a stunning, secluded environment that promotes healing and personal growth. The Pointe’s holistic treatment approach integrates evidence-based therapies with alternative practices such as yoga, meditation, and nutritional counseling. This fusion of traditional and holistic care ensures that clients receive well-rounded treatment tailored to their specific needs.

The Pointe Malibu Recovery Center 31450 Broad Beach Rd, Malibu, CA 90265 (310) 924–0780

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beed0zer · 2 months

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Under the Stars

Blood in the stars AU:

Toga Himiko lives, because fuck Horikoshi(jk I luv you boo boo). She gets sent to a private reform facility built by the hero commission in secret. There she gets blood packets and quirk stabilizers.

a few months into rehab Ochako comes to visit her in secret. Toga takes her out to see her favorite view at the rehab camp.

they definitely kissed after this btw

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fantastigasmical · 1 year

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Steph Riley is a young closeted trans woman at the end of her rope. She's too poor to afford healthcare, transition via the NHS is hellish, and her conservative Christian parents certainly won't help.

She has one hope and only one: her vanished best friend. Mark Vogel was a slightly older teenager who lived across the street from her for some years. A few weeks after starting uni, he vanished. Two years later, Steph runs into a girl called Melissa who looks similar enough to Mark to be the sister he never had, and she clearly recognizes Steph too.

This gets her thinking. Was "Mark" like her? Did she cut off all ties to transition? So she gets to researching, and finds that the Dorley Hall dorm at the nearest university is kept by a private trust, meant to support disadvantaged women and nonbinary people. A lot of boys go missing around this university, and only boys. The patterns are subtle but things are adding up.

Steph logically concludes that Dorley has a secret private gender clinic meant to help girls like her. When drunk at a party with Christine Hale, a resident there, she explains her little hypothesis.

The next morning, Steph wakes up locked in a cell, head splitting from a nasty hangover, and a voice on an intercom is asking her what she knows. Her guess was completely logical and completely wrong. This place is somewhere between a rehab facility and a cult. How will she survive among… The Sisters of Dorley?

Thank you to @tinker-tanner on the Novelty Mug Society Discord for writing up this blurb for the book series The Sisters of Dorley. I'd highly recommend reading it. Its an interesting thriller and has had me hooked since I first saw it. I see a ton of people saying when they first read it they binged through the entire thing in a week because they couldn't put it down.

#sisters of dorley #book recommendations #bookblr #current obsession #currently reading

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believerindaydreams · 1 month

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shit, I appear to have housing now

It looks like I've been inducted into some sort of motel turned drug rehab facility, and you have to have permission to leave, and the meals are god knows what, but point is: private room and shower

I can sleep! And shower! And digest the events of the last year with enough peace and quiet to listen to 50s radio, which is a critically important part of my mental health care ATM

and possibly have a good go at getting this book written

as soon as they figure out how to turn off the telescreen, anyhow

lol

#personal

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chronal-anomaly · 2 months

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The Switzerland Rehab Garden, nicknamed The Gardens, was a long term medical rehab facility for extremely private and protected clients. Members of their alum include world leaders, billionaires, and one plucky pilot destined to make history.

Lena was taken to The Gardens once she completed half of her training regimen. Her body was strong and her mind was set; they no longer referred to Lena by her name, but by The Pilot, or The Asset, for those unaware of the project. Another six months of training and she would be embarking on the Slipstream project.

The Gardens, as the name suggested, was a medical center nestled in the mountains, and overlooked both the ocean and a beautifully arranged garden that aimed to "improve the mental and physical recovery of their patients." It was several acres large, with tailored paths and places to sit and enjoy your surroundings.

Lena was booked into a private suite in a private wing, with high level contagion restrictions. This meant a portion of the garden was accessible by her balcony, but she was otherwise cut off from the other patients of the facility. To enter, a full hazmat suit was required. As such, her twenty-four hour guard was stationed outside of the ward doors and along the fence of the garden, to prevent anyone from breaking in - or breaking out.

Her care was handled entirely by Overwatch scientists, doctors, and researchers stationed there. Everyone else was excluded from knowing who resided in the north wing of the Gardens.

The vaccination schedule consisted of 2-4 vaccines a cycle, with 10 cycles. Vaccine schedule was determined by the magnitude of the disease, along with the rate of antibody production. These often came with significant side effects, usually a moderate case of whatever disease they were treating.

Lena was ill for the greater part of six months, body processing the likes of yellowfever, tuberculosis, shigella, and other international and regional viral and bacterial illnesses, both modern and ancient. Her vitals were monitored consistently in a strict quarantined environment.

There were a handful of moments where it did feel like the end, that she would succumb to the burning fever or near-constant exhaustion, but the doctors were well practiced in keeping her alive, at least until the next day. The Pilot left the Gardens approximately 9 months after arriving, labeled as 'one of the most vaccinated people in the world.'

And they worked, for the most part. The few infections she had resulted in recovery in a few weeks, while others from similar time periods succumbed to the illness. In one case, she was the only one left alive when a bout of the flu tore through a rural town she landed in for a few weeks.

Today, those antibodies are still around, still protecting her. Lena very rarely gets ill, but when she does, it can be pretty bad. Lain up in bed for days, ache in her bones, fever borderline deadly, unable to keep anything down or sleep or find much in the way of comfort. Jack and Angela are the only ones who know of this particular issue.

When it gets bad, Lena will often lock herself in her room for days, sweating through sheets and getting food delivered to her room by a medical team. They'll check her vitals, ensure she's not going to die, and give her whatever meds to make her comfortable as possible. It's usually passed in a week, two max, and Jack will typically make excuses for her enough that people don't ask questions.

#( headcanon. )#i hope this makes sense I worked on it over the course of several days at work so #but the tldr is that lena doesn't get sick often bc there was a lot of vaccinations but when she does it's gnarly

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peridotglimmer · 8 months

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I've got the flu, which means more time to write!

Chapter summary

47 and Diana leave the rehab centre.

Fic summary

According to the trauma surgeons, it was a miracle she hadn't ended up completely paraplegic, or even dead, just in a wheelchair for now.

But deaf.

Deaf.

That didn't exactly feel much better either.

When Diana ends up on the wrong side of the wall when a bombing is carried out on Providence, the last thing she's expecting is for her estranged agent to show up at her release from the private rehabilitation facility and nurse her back to health.

#belle writes #hitman fanfiction #hitman #diana/47 #hitman fanfic #agent 47/diana burnwood

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rhapsodiq · 7 months

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* ◟ : 〔 RINA SAWAYAMA , DEMI WOMAN + SHE / THEM 〕 MAI KIMURA , some say you’re a THIRTY-SIX YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both RESILLIENT and CONCEITED, one can’t help but think of FREE by FLORENCE + THE MACHINE when you walk by. are you still a CONSIGLIERE / GENERAL MANAGER at DEAD HAND / KIMURA COSMETICS , even with your reputation as THE HANGED MAN ? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and AN EMPIRE BEHIND YOU, ONE THAT YOU ARE INDEBTED TO CARRY ON YOUR BACK, AN AMBITION THAT CONFUSES YOU WHETHER ITS YOURS OR SOMEONE ELSE'S, THE LEGACY YOU CARRY IN YOUR BLOOD, DILUTED AND MANGLED WITH OTHERS, SITTING AT THE BOARDROOM, ALONE, KNOWING WHO YOU HAVE TO BECOME TO SUCCEED. although we can’t help but think of LARA CROFT ( TOMB RAIDER ), LOKI ( MARVEL ) , ROBERT FISHER ( INCEPTION ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

BIOGRAPHY ( 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 )

general trigger warnings: emetophobia, drug addiction, blood, child abuse, violence

THE HANGED MAN: waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, perspective, contemplation, sacrifice, death

you are born with a golden spoon in your mouth.

many would envy to be in your place, yet you always felt as if it was forced down your throat. a pin pokes your back for proper posture, and it stings. private lessons of etiquette are carved into your psyche, going as far back as you remember. there are always armed men in your three-floor penthouse in tokyo, your mother and father absent, you are dolled up to attend dinners, a mere chess piece, nothing more. they own a conglomerate, a cosmetics company, and you think this the norm, that every big company is run this way, until —

you learn. you learn through the blood that stains your hands. kneeling on the floor of your family house, trying to keep the blood from seeping through your fingers. your sibling lies unconscious, and through almost losing them, you are granted the truth of who you actually are. the yakuza. the kimura legacy is stained, the power does not come from artificial beauty, but through the darkness that seeps into every crevice of your existence.

the truth changes you, and you try to fit in. do what's expected of you, graduate from a prestigious university, work hard to make your family proud. punishment for misbehavior comes in the form of yelling from your father, and the disapproving look from your mother. you try to fit in- you really do- but you also learn ways to avoid their fury, to slip through the cracks.

they are busy, and you are too, the underground world of tokyo changes you in ways you could not expect, and you learn it's a jungle of its own, with its own rules, own etiquette. you're perhaps too young to believe in the kind of people you do, but all you really want is to finally have some fun, to break free from your chains. and you succeed, it goes well at first, as well as it can be juggling the life of an upstanding heir, while also drinking and partying your way through the underground scene.

at first your family does not know what you do there, in the vip rooms of high-end clubs, in warehouses of various criminal organizations, rubbing elbows with other yakuza. you are stuck between: of making your own name, and of showing your worth in the kimura family.

it goes well until it doesn't, it's a fine line you're toeing, and you slip over to the other end. one night, you drink more than you should have, do a line too much. the pandora's box opens, and it reaches your parents' ears.

just like that, it's as if the stain you bring onto your family is larger than the stain of decades of massacre behind you.

THE HANGED MAN, REVERSED: stalling, disinterest, stagnation, avoiding sacrifice, standstill, apathy

they tell you it's because they worry, that it's for your own good. you're sent off to a private rehab facility surrounded by nature; secretive, high end, with doctors from all around the world. it's... fine. it's as fine as having your mistakes shoved into your face can be.

you wow to yourself to never be weak again. you get out of there in six months.

things change after that. you've always thought you have never been the star child, but you feel as if you have fallen off the proverbial family tree, sent off to new york to work on the family conglomerate there. they never speak of that year again, yet you know it's always at the back of their minds, a pin against your back, stuck there until... you don't know. will you ever know?

you work, you work hard as the head of kimura cosmetics west, and the company grows with you. it's the age of beauty, the age of artificial masks, and kimura cosmetics thrives on that performativity.

as above, so below. as you grow as the face of the company, as the leader of kimura cosmetics in the usa, you work your way through the underground world. your yakuza background helps you find your way to dead hand, and falling back into the crime world comes almost like second nature to you.

it's like riding a bike, but you're more careful now, more precise, calculated. careful with your vices and sins.

you will not make the same mistakes again. and as much as you will deny, you're still that girl who is stuck between two ends: between legacy and self-realization, between roots and new beginnings. you hang in a careful balance, waiting for it to tip to either side.

CONNECTION IDEAS

friends / enemies / acquaintances from tokyo: mai lived her early life in japan so anyone who was there around that time would b very interesting!

criminal acquaintances from tokyo: again, these could be the people who knew her when she was younger & trying to find out who she really was back then. maybe they could have been there through the "lows" and we can plot how they use that.

friends from college: mai does not like who she was back then, would be interesting if they knew each other from way back then.

socialite acquaintances: both back when she was in japan, as well as now, mai has been part of the high life. any connections here would be very interesting. could be antagonistic or amicable.

kimura cosmetics: ofc i would love to have people who work here or know the brand? or there can be models, make up artists etc that you met mai through this work.

dead hand: mai's family line goes far back in history in terms of yakuza , so i was thinking it was easy to find similar connections once she moved to the nyc. would love to plot different relationships within the organization!

sibling: i especially left it vague, around +5/-5 years of her age, biological. i'm thinking they are still in the family business but we can plot around.

ride or die (dead hand leaning): someone who was there when she joined the gang and has been there as she grew higher. v dependent on plotting!

exes, past one-night stands, friends, enemies: all up to plotting!

#lawlessintro #here she is!!#— about: mai kimura.#— c: mai kimura.#i am sleep deprived so i hope this makes sense...

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