#cw overdose

[deepfakefart]

EDIT: please see @cliffsideview's replies for more info! Tragically it is sounding more probable that it was a suicide spurred by a long period of bullying. Every person who participated, every teacher who stood by, every legislator who is a proponent of the anti-trans bills – every one of them is complicit in Nex's death. Ryan Walters specifically has blood on his hands.

They're ruling Nex Benedict's death a suicide. Death due to "combined toxicity" of fluoxetine (Prozac) and diphenhydramine (benadryl). Let's explore this.

Fluoxetine is known to cause seizures at very high dosages but rarely causes death. In one case study, 1.4 grams of Prozac likely caused a seizure but not death in an adult woman. "A dose as low as 520 mg of fluoxetine has been associated with a lethal outcome, but there’s record of someone taking 8 grams of fluoxetine and recovering," according to Healthline. ("Associated with" does not necessarily mean the sole cause!) Diphenhydramine overdose has been known to cause death at doses of 20mg/kg or greater; in the USA in 2017, it was involved (but not necessarily the sole factor) in 3% of OD deaths according to the CDC. I've no clue how much Nex weighed but I based my math on a 100lb person. A lethal dose of diphenhydramine at that weight would have been approx 900mg. There is no known lethal dose of fluoxetine for humans. It can vary greatly but is generally safe and generally requires very large doses to cause seizures let alone death. There are no known serious drug interactions between these two drugs.

But let's say there is some interaction at unusually high doses that I don't know about because this is an extremely unusual combination for a suicide attempt. We know that Benadryl is much easier to OD on than Prozac is. So let's pull some numbers out of our asses and say 750mg of diphenhydramine plus 3g of fluoxetine equals lethal dose for a 100lb teenager.

The typical upper range of fluoxetine dosage is 80mg/day. If we assume that Nex was taking 100mg of fluoxetine/day and he had access to a full 30 day supply, that's 3 grams. Add confounding head trauma and diphenhydramine toxicity and...maybe???

But we're talking about someone downing a full or nearly full 30 day supply of high doses of fluoxetine AND about 30 tablets of Benadryl. And there were no signs until he entered the living room and collapsed? Fluoxetine toxicity can cause rapid heartbeat, irritability, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, etc. Diphenhydramine toxicity can cause confusion, irregular heartbeat, agitation, nausea, vomiting, etc. This combo seems like a very uncomfortable and unpleasant way to go and I'm meant to believe he was quiet, not vomiting, not agitated, not terrified – just walked into the living room and collapsed? Unless he was exhibiting those symptoms and Sue didn't say anything about it which doesn't add up either. She said Nex went to bed with a headache and we have audio of the 911 call. She mentions their eyes rolling back and their hands "posturing" (both those things could be related to brain damage or a seizure).

With the added complication of head trauma (blacking out due to head injury = concussion = brain injury), I guess death is feasible but this just doesn't feel right. I don't know. Maybe it was a perfect storm of circumstances but those two drugs are so hard to OD on, not to mention unpleasant to OD on, and this state is so hostile to trans people it's hard not to approach this with a TON of skepticism.

I hope the Benedict family had their own toxicology and autopsy done.

ETA: for the record, im not saying I agree with the suicide decision, I'm saying "I mean I guess technically it's possible but it seems highly unlikely and incredibly sus and I am not convinced"

[afewproblems]

'Harring' flashes on the caller ID again, illuminated in bright green on the handheld phone in their kitchen.

It's the third time they've called today and Steve is anxious.

He hasn't heard from his parents in the last six years since he cut off all contact with them, so to see their name come up so many times all in the span of an afternoon is...well it's worrisome to say the least.

"Are you going to pick up," Eddie says as he comes up behind Steve, he drapes himself over his lovers back and nuzzles into his ear.

Steve smiles tightly and breathes out, "I don't know".

He turns in Eddie's arms to face him and brings his own arms around Eddie's lower back, holding him loosely.

"It's weird, right?" Steve says softly, "what do they want?" He slides his nose up and down Eddie's own before tipping his face up to his the tip of it.

Eddie hums, "well you won't know unless you answer love," he answers Steve's kiss with one of his own, soft against his lips, "if they call again, maybe pick up?"

Steve nods and flinches as the ringer starts up again behind them.

He breathes in deeply through his nose and out slowly through his mouth, Eddie brings up a hand to cup Steve's jaw and slides his thumb over his cheekbone.

"You got this," Eddie whispers, "if they say something shitty, just hang up, fuck em".

Steve nods and whirls around to snatch the phone off the console, he bites his lip for just a moment before saying a quiet, "Hello?"

"Steven?" A soft voice cracks wetly over the speaker and a sudden chill spreads over Steve's back.

"Mom?"

"Steven, honey," Diane Harrington says softly in a tone he's never heard before, "I need you to come home".

Steve turns around, Eddie is leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, Steve feels his face contort with confusion which Eddie answers with a tilt of his head, "what? Mom, no--"

"Steven honey, this is important--"

"No offense," Steve intejects harshly, he's gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaks under his fingers. Eddie's concerned gaze has him releasing the phone from his death grip in a matter of seconds, but it's hard. He's right back there, nineteen years old again, in a screaming match with his dad in the living room, a red handprint blooms over his jaw as he tells Robert Harrington to, 'go fuck himself,' one last time.

"But, you don't get to do this, it's been years mom so forgive me if--"

"Steven, I'm, I'm sick".

Steve stops, his mouth opens and closes as his mother chokes on a broken sob, it comes through tinny and harsh over the speaker.

She tells him of the diagnosis, some form of leukemia, how it's spread much more rapidly than the doctors anticipated, how she refused treatment.

"I'm not going to spend the rest of my time in a hospital with no hair in one of those godawful hospital beds if I can help it Steven".

They talk for awhile, or really Mrs. Harrington talks for another half hour while Steve stands there silently with the phone in his hands. He nods every now and again but the movements are stiff, Eddie paces around the living room, stopping in front of Steve's eyeline every now and again.

"Okay," Steve finally says, his voice cracks just slightly enough to make Eddie cross the living room towards him.

"Mom...I don't know what you expect me to do?"

"Baby?" Eddie whispers, he stands just off to the side trying to catch Steve's eye.

"No, no--no! Mom, I thought I stopped being a Harrington a long time ago, right?" Steve snarls into the receiver, "you had so many opportunities to tell Dad he was wrong but you just sat there, what else am I supposed to think except that you agree with him?"

"Baby, just hang up--"

"Mom, Ma' you have to stop, I'm not coming back, I'm so-".

His mouth snaps shut and a deep flush begins to rise up his neck and over his cheeks, his eyes glassy.

"I'm sorry you're sick, but I'm not coming back, Goodluck".

Steve removes the phone from his ear, little snippets of words and crying trickle through over the speaker as Steve places the handset back on the dock.

"Baby," Eddie tries again, he reaches out tentatively, slowly letting his hands smooth over Steve's arms at the shoulder.

Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched as his face crumples, he lets Eddie pull him into his chest and tucks his head into the juncture of Eddie's neck and shoulder.

Steve feels Eddie bring them slowly to the floor as he tries to slow down his breathing.

"I'm so sorry baby," Eddie whispers, pillowing his check onto Steve's head, he nuzzles the fluffy hair just once and squeezes Steve tighter.

"I don't, I just, where was this when she was healthy, it's..." Steve takes a deep breath, "why now, and she's not even sorry --neither of them are," he whispers into Eddies collarbone.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, he stays quiet, listening to Steve's breathing stop and start.

"I don't want her to be sick, but I just," he sniffles, "it's not fair, I'm so angry with her, with them both --its like they get a pass for being so shitty for so long--"

"No, no they don't, not if you don't want to," Eddie says, the words are soft but the tone firm, "you don't have to give them anything you don't want to".

"But--"

"Steve," Eddie pulls back just enough for Steve to raise his head, he lifts his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "it doesn't make you a bad person to not want to see her, to see them".

Steve starts to shake his head but Eddie's hand remains steady on his cheek.

"Do you want to see her?" He asks after a beat.

"I, I don't know," Steve pulls his lower lip into his mouth and chews the corner of it until he tastes copper, "I don't..."

Eddie tilts his head and sweeps his thumb across Steve's cheek in encouragement.

"I don't want my mom to die, I want her to want to fucking fight for herself, for me --she's just giving up again, she's just deciding to quit without even trying to be my mom," he chokes out, his voice breaks as tears finally spill down his cheeks.

"I'm not, I'm not explaining it right," Steve bites out, raising his hands to grind harshly into his eyes, "I don't want to forgive her, but I, I think I would if she would just try, I don't know what to do," he trails off as his voice wobbles and wanes, he breathes out harshly and lowers his face back into Eddies neck.

"Okay," Eddie whispers into Steve's hair as he brings Steve closer, bundling him up in his arms, "you don't have to know what to do or how to feel, especially not right now".

Eddie squeezes Steve once more before shifting to his knees to stand. He hoists Steve to his feet and leads him to the kitchen before depositing him in a kitchen table chair.

Eddie busies himself at the stove, moving the half full kettle from the far burner to the largest left coils, he flicks the element on and lowers the whistle back to alert him when the water boils.

"Did I ever tell you how I handled my mom's funeral?" Eddie asks, banishing the quiet from the room and almost startling Steve.

"I yelled at the casket," Eddie says with an air of non-chalance that does not match the words. He grabs two mugs from the cupboard before grabbing a box of tea from the pantry. He leaves the prepped cups on the counter before turning back around to face Steve.

"It was open, shouldn'ta' been," he continues with a shake of his head, "rural town, mortician wasn't used to working on overdoses so, they couldn't quite cover up the purple".

Steve reaches for Eddie's hands as he comes back to the table, in three slow strides. He smiles but a long sigh escapes Eddie as he sits in the chair next to Steve.

"I was thirteen, and I was so, so mad at her for leaving me," Eddie murmurs, "I couldn't help it, Uncle Wayne had to take me home before it was even over".

Eddie raises his head to meet Steve's eyes, "I felt like shit after though, probably cried all night once we got home".

"Im going to tell you what Wayne told me," Eddie says softly, he scoots to the edge of his seat, until his knees are brushing Steve's own.

"When you lose someone that made your life hard, you grieve more than just that person, you also grieve all that lost potential, everything you didn't have with that person," Eddie squeezes Steves hands once more before gently letting them go. He stands up as the kettle begins to squeal from the stove.

"Everything they never gave you and the possibility that they could change, it's like--like that physics guy," Eddie laughs, waving his hands at Steve's confused expression, "you know the one with the cat?"

Steve shakes his head, a small watery smile begins to bloom over his face as Eddie continues to make their tea and explain.

"You'll never know if they could have been better to you because they died, so they both are and aren't a good parent simultaneously," Eddie says, linking his fingers together, "shit, I bet Dustin could explain this better".

He walks their filled mugs over to the table and takes his seat again

"I dunno about that Eds," Steve mumbles as he wipes his eyes, "when did you get so wise?"

"'All Wayne sweetheart," Eddie hums with a soft grin that pulls at the corners of his eyes, he reaches out to wipe a stray tear from Steve's cheek, "don't tell him though, he doesn't need the ego boost".

Steve barks out a laugh, before Eddie pulls him into another tight hug, "so, you don't have to know how you feel right now, okay?"

"Okay".

Steve isn't sure how long they stay like that, but by the time Eddie let's go, their tea has gone cold.

[zal-cryptid]

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

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

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

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

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Insomnia and allergies are killing me (they aren’t anymore cause i wrote this part a week ago) so prepare for a bunch of Angel Dust facts that no one needs to know about and Vivziepop will probably end up ignoring!

Some of these are headcanons and some of these are canon facts so they will be colourcoded as such! Headcanons will be blue and canon facts will be red. Anything that relates to real spiders will be listed with a 🕷️! Some of these will also get a little doodle from me

Much like an average spider, Angel can feel and sense when storms are coming. These freak him out and will make him curl up on the ground.🕷️

Angel is sensitive to vibrations and especially sensitive to stronger ones like lightning and earthquakes. (Hell does not have earthquakes.) Stronger ones make him paranoid and nauseous from his organs moving around.🕷️

He definitely needs glasses to see far away but doesn’t bother since it hardly becomes an issue in daily life.🕷️

Jumping spiders change how they see btw! Less light = more detail, More detail = less light.

Vision Examples:

He can also see behind him but I don’t have that angle so this is the best you get

Sleeps curled up.🕷️

Also follows lasers! Not in the same way a cat would, but any interesting movement in his peripheral vision will cause him to turn toward it to see it better.🕷️

Can see ultraviolet light.🕷️

Dresses up Fat Nuggets on Halloween. And basically every other day. Seems to have a preference for the witch hat

Owns a skateboard??

Why do his eyes glow pink why can he do that on command

Can dialate his pupils at will I guess

Molts. Basically like shedding but if you also had to scrub a chunk of your skin off. Lasts 1-2 days.🕷️

Occasionally yells at his brother on the street

Currently still under the impression his sister is alive. She also probably found him after he overdosed.

Struggles to keep track of time

No idea what half the letters in LGBTQIA+ mean

Recently learned what a pride flag is

Angel has small retractable hooks/claws inside his palm that he can use to hold onto surfaces.🕷️

Angel hates people crying around or on him and will push them away or distance himself.

Examples:

Angel is very skittish around fire even though it cannot hurt him.

Hates the smell of citrus fruits.🕷️

Angel has two fangs (primary for injecting and liquifying food) on the roof of his mouth, much sharper papillae in the back of his throat and a second set of venomous fangs near the deeper in his throat that are to inject larger food and paralyze it but there is the rare occasion where the fangs stab his own throat and he collapses for a few hours after getting the fangs unstuck and he just lays there until it wears off and it kind of looks like he's dead cause there’s probably blood in his mouth but hes fine /hj🕷️

This is more of a food safety precaution. If he ate something live he would inject it with venom if it wasn’t dead yet, but he does not do this so these fangs are basically pointless and he might as well just get them removed at this point

Angel DOES have lungs! I know this seems like a very basic fact but some spiders have book lungs! Different from ours they don’t breathe the same way we do, just like how spiders don’t have blood like humans. This is me being a nerd, but we have seen that Angel has mentioned his lung capacity and he has the ability to cough as seen in Episode 5 (I think its 5 dont quote me on that) This means he cannot have book lungs since if he did he would not be able to cough, nor would he be able to sneeze or hiccup.🕷️

Angel is likely right handed in his top pair of hands, left handed or ambidextrous in his middle pair, and as for the bottom it seems like either ambidextrous or he just doesn’t like to use them for actions at all.

This is like half headcanon but also I pay way more attention to this shit than Viv does so Im basically right all the time

It doesn’t get super cold in hell Id assume, but on the rare occasion it gets colder or the AC in the hotel is on really high that is one of the few times Angel will use webbing and will wrap himself in it and crawl under a blanket and stay there. If it’s really cold or he plans on being in a cold area for maybe a week or month or so he might go into diapause to conserve energy, warmth, and food. (This can also happen when he has sudden sharp changes in diet and during daylight savings)🕷️

This will be updated again I can feel it in my bones. Hopefully this can satiate you all while I move house 🫶

[bioticlaw]

Symbiosis

( yandere geto suguru x female reader )

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

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

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

divider by cafekitsune | cross-posted on ao3

You coasted through your life.

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

You wished you could have saved her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But strength was never your best suit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said you met several, no?”

Did you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please wait here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Still, it wasn’t enough.

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

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

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

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

Did Dr. Geto forget to give you enough?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, he seemed to buy it.

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

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

“Today we’ll talk about transference…”

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

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

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

“Shit, yeah, okay—”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

“Doctor…”

“Suguru.”

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

You don’t want it to end.

“I can’t do this without you.”

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

“You promise?”

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

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

“I do.”

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

[cookiep-cat]

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

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

[galehive]

this is one of my favorite short films and the kind of content aware scale thing that they do with her face in this moment is just. obscenely, grievously effective to me

[gracelyns]

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

[negativeyield]

if i die before I bake

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Swiss (Ghost Sweden Band), Phantom (Ghost Sweden Band), Dewdrop | Sodo, Rain (Ghost Sweden Band), Mountain (Ghost Sweden Band), Cumulus (Ghost Sweden Band), Cirrus (Ghost Sweden Band) Additional Tags: Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, green out, Pack Cuddles, Crack Treated Seriously, well this was meant to be crack but it kind of veered away from that, Guilt, Marijuana, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Swiss is fucking zooted Summary: Phantom bakes some homemade edibles for Swiss, but messes up a vital measurement.

read on AO3

“Hey Mountain,” Phantom said, appearing at his bedroom door. “You went on that weed run yesterday, right?”

The drummer was lying on his bed, idly scrolling through his phone. He rolled to his side to look at Phantom, nodding his head toward the dresser. “Top drawer. You having a smoke?”

“No, I’m gonna make some brownies,” Phantom grabbed the bag. “I accidentally took the last of Swiss’s edible he got in Amsterdam. Told ‘em I’d go to the dispensary with you... and then forgot... so I'm just gonna make some.”

Mountain chuckled, “Have you ever baked anything in your life?”

“Of course I have.”

Phantom had not. But how hard could it be?

“Okay, well if you want some help, let me know. I'll send you the link to the recipe we usually use.”

“’kay. Thanks Mount,” he said and made his way back to the kitchen.

Phantom had watched Swiss or Mountain make edibles on a few occasions, but he pulled up Mountain's recipe. He quickly realized it was a little more complicated than he thought. There was pre-baking, and making a butter, and making the brownies from scratch? Phantom looked at the box mix he found at the back of the pantry. It would have to do.

Soon, the kitchen was a wreck. Measuring cups and bowls were everywhere as Phantom filled their shared space with aroma of baked cannabis. It brought some of the other ghouls out of their room to investigate his baking endeavor.

“Fucking hell, Phantom, what are you doing in here?” Dew was the first to appear as Phantom took the roasted leaves out of the oven.

“My best,” Phantom wiped away some sweat from his brow, glancing at Dew. “This looks much easier when Swiss does it.”

Dew chuckled, hopping up to sit on the counter and watch.

“That’s because Swiss has seen every episode of Great British Baking Show and thinks that makes him star baker.”

Phantom threw some butter in a saucepan and started to combine the components of the brownie mix.

“I believe it. This shit is harder than I thought.”

Dew chuckled, jumping down from the counter and ruffling Phantom’s hair on his way out the back door. “Just follow the instructions, you’ll be fine.”

Phantom sighed, returning to his project.

Cumulus and Cirrus also came by, taking a few finger fulls of leftover batter after Phantom had his bake in the oven. Mountain came by briefly while he sat in front of the oven watching them rise.

“Looks good, Iron Chef,” he smiled, patting him on the back. “Did you make them with or without walnuts?”

“With.”

“Oh fuck, yeah. Be sure to save me one.”

Phantom smiled, feeling a bit better about his baking skills. When the brownies finally came out, they looked just like the ones the others have made. He cleaned up while they cooled, and delivered a generous piece to Swiss’s room for when he returned. Phantom thought about also enjoying one, but a text from Rain about a quick rehearsal tabled that plan. He cut himself a small sliver just to test out the taste, satisfied with the fudgey texture and gooey taste.

“Something is still missing,” Dew tapped his chin. They had spent the last hour and a half rehearsing some new bits for the rituals and testing out a few riffs. One in particular was giving them some trouble. “Maybe we should get Swiss down here. See if he has an idea or if adding a fourth balances it better.”

Rain put down his bass. “Yeah, I’ll go find him.” He left the practice room and headed toward the living quarters. In the meantime, Dew and Phantom continued to run through the bridge of the song.

Suddenly, rapid, running footsteps echoed up the hall. Both of the ghouls turned to find Rain looking pale and panicked.

“Something's wrong with Swiss,” he said, motioning for them to follow. They put their instruments down and ran to Swiss’s room. Phantom could hear the sound of retching from the hallway, which eerily stopped the moment they got into his room.

They found Swiss slumped beside the toilet, eyes unfocused as he barely registered Rain and Dew dropping to his side.

“Swiss,” Dew cupped his cheeks, trying to get the dazed ghoul to focus on him. “Swiss!” The only sound the ghoul made was some weak whimpering. The most he seemed to move was when he’d start to gag and lurch toward the toilet. Rain sat beside him, rubbing his back and looking at the others with concern.

“What do we do?”

“What is even wrong with him? He's sweating like he's back in the pits, but he doesn't feel feverish,” Dew said, hugging his arms across his body. “Food poisoning?”

“I don’t know, Dew, he’s pretty out of it.”

“Is he on something?”

Rain shrugged, “we just got back right before we started rehearsal. He didn’t have anything when he was with me.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Phantom. He looked back at the place he left Swiss’s brownie.

The plate was empty.

“Shit,” Phantom turned back to the others, suddenly starting to panic. “Shit, I made brownies earlier. Swiss had one.”

Dew’s eyes widened “How big?”

Phantom estimated with his fingers. “Not bigger than what Swiss has given me before.”

“Did he eat more than what you brought him or something?”

Rain stayed with Swiss while Dew and Phantom rushed to the kitchen where Mountain was coincidentally opening the pan of brownies.

“Mountain, wait!” Phantom yelled, startling the drummer into dropping the plastic knife on the ground.

“What?”

“Swiss is sick. Maybe because of the brownies,” Dew explained. Phantom grabbed the pan, sighing in relief to find only the piece he cut for Swiss missing.

“He only had what I gave him.”

“Well what was the dosage?”

“Whatever the instructions said, Dew, I don’t know!”

The room started heating up with Dewdrop as the epicenter. “Phantom, you saw Swiss— this is not the fucking time for I don’t know, I need some fucking number—”

“Guys,” Mountain yelled over them, the bag of weed, that now had a sizable dent in it, in hand. His face was especially serious. “Phantom, where is the extra butter?”

He stared at Mountain blankly. “What do you mean?”

“You followed the recipe I told you? Pre-baked the amount you usually see Swiss and me make, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then where’s the leftovers? The recipe is for triple the amount of butter you should have used.”

Phantom suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. “I-I didn’t know that.”

“Shit,” Mountain cursed as Rain called down the hall for more help. Mountain went running, leaving Phantom feeling numb and a majorly heated Dew.

“I thought you were following the instructions,” Dew said, his eyes starting to flicker red, like embers in a fire trying to kindle.

“I was, but I was looking at the butter recipe Mountain told me to use and also reading the back of the brownie box and— and, I guess… I guess I got confused,” Phantom ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots. Dew huffed, turning to go back to Swiss’s room. When Phantom started to follow, the fire ghoul whirled around, eyes fully glowing now.

“You’ve done enough, Phantom. We’ll take care of him.”

He left Phantom standing awkwardly in the hallway, his guilt feeling like a tight wire wrapped around his neck. He stood there until his anger kicked in. Phantom marched into the kitchen, grabbing the pan of brownies and slamming them into the trash can with such force the metal pan bent at a ninety degree angle.

He was angry at Dew. At the fucking instructions for being confusing. At Mountain for not telling him when he was leaving for the dispensary. Really, he was just furious at himself. How did he possibly think that much weed was supposed to go into one batch of brownies? What kind of idiot didn’t double check the recipe when making an edible?

Phantom banished himself to his room, throwing around a few things before collapsing on his bed in a fit of guilt-soaked tears.

Rain think he preferred it when Swiss was vomiting.

After the last time he hugged the toilet, just as Phantom and Dew went to check the kitchen, Swiss had a moment of improved coherence.

“Rain,” he mustered, spitting into the toilet. It was a relief just to hear him have some sort of orientation to what was happening around him. That relief was quickly thwarted by what followed, “I don’t… feel… good,” he said, his voice slurring and slowing. Rain had to lunge to catch Swiss’s dead weight as he suddenly collapsed.

“Fuck!” he yelled, pressing two fingers to his neck. Ghoul vessels did have heartbeats— usually slower than humans— but present. Even for a ghoul, though, Swiss’s was faint. “Dew! Phantom! I need you!”

To his surprise, Mountain was the first to arrive at his aid, helping Rain pull Swiss out of the bathroom and into the more spacious bedroom.

“He just passed out,” Rain said, obsessively checking the pulse points in Swiss’s neck and wrist.

“He’s greening out bad,” Mountain sighed, looking up at Rain with dismay. “Phantom fucked up the edible ratio. It won’t kill him, but we need to watch him until he comes down.”

Swiss’s eyes finally fluttered open again. Still unfocused, and even more out of it than before. Dew appeared at the door, chest heaving with anger. Phantom was nowhere to be found. Mountain took one look at Dew and shook his head.

“Out.”

That didn’t help Dew’s fury. “Excuse me?”

“You’re hot right now. You know he gets sensitive to emotions when he’s high, and right now the last thing we need is him panicking when he can barely comprehend why he’s panicking. You can come back when you cool off.”

Dew looked like he wanted to bite off Mountain’s head, but he did back out of the room.

“Mounty,” Swiss muttered, briefly focusing on the earth ghoul’s face. His hand limply waved, and Mountain grabbed it from the air and squeezed.

“Hang in there, bud. You’re gonna be okay.”

Swiss felt like he was dying.

Or locked in some shadow dimension. Either was possible.

Maybe this was the purgatory thing he’s heard so much about. A land between heaven and hell. It would explain why he felt like the world was melting between his fingers while also feeling like he was floating. He was burning hot and doused in sweat, but also wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in blankets.

A lot of contradictions. The only thing Swiss was sure about was that his stomach fucking hurt.

His head was in the toilet again. Throat burning. A hand rubbed his back and he tried to focus on that instead of the sour taste in his mouth.

Then darkness.

Maybe he was dying.

Sometimes he’d hear some voices. Muted, warped voices he could hardly identify.

One came through clearly. Swiss couldn’t quite identify what was being said, but he knew it was Mountain.

Mountain sounded upset. Swiss frowned working hard at trying to focus on the slow moving blobs around him so he could find Mountain.

A warm hand took his.

Fingers tinkered with his hair.

Touched his blazing skin.

He hoped he wasn’t sick.

They would also get sick if that was the case.

“You can sleep, Swiss miss.”

“We’ll keep you safe.”

Swiss didn’t want to sleep. He was exhausted to the point he couldn’t move, but sleeping seemed like something he wasn’t supposed to do. Like he’s fully succumb to the darkness.

Like he’d wake up in the pit.

His throat suddenly felt tight. Fingers tingled. He tried to suck in more air, but his lungs were sluggish. Slow as the rest of him. Swiss fought, feeling his body being turned. Being lifted and then put down again—

“I don’t wanna go!” he tried to scream, but only parts of it made it to his mouth.

Pressure on his cheeks. A hand on his chest. Swiss’s vision dotted for a few moments before realizing Rain was nose-to-nose with him, his ocean blue eyes pleading for something Swiss couldn’t hear over the sound of ringing in his ears. He looked at Rain’s lips come together and split in the shape of the word breathe.

I’m trying, he wanted to say, but he had no breath to do it.

Rain pressed on his chest. Tapped a pattern that Swiss took to mean as cues to breathe in and out. He tried— and struggled— to follow them at first, but soon fell into rhythm. He felt his body start to relax. His fingers regained feeling. Swiss felt the air fully inflate his lungs, hold, and exit with a slow whoosh.

Slowly, he faded into sleep.

Swiss woke up feeling like he had been dropped in boiling water. He was drenched, the feeling of his clothes on his skin making him nauseated all over again. Feeling a little more mobile, Swiss grabbed at his shirt, trying to ease it over his head.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s wrong?” a voice asked. Dew's voice. 

“’m fucking hot,” Swiss said, back, trying and failing to make it over his head. Frustration started making him upset, and he took a break from his shirt and clumsily pulled at the drawstring of his sweatpants instead.

“Okay, let me help you,” Dew whispered, swatting Swiss’s hands away. Swiss stood still as Dew dropped his pants and helped pull his shirt off. The cool air on his burning skin was a relief, but Swiss still didn’t feel comfortable. He grabbed his underwear, but Dew caught his wrist.

“Those too?” he asked hesitantly.

Swiss nodded, trying to jerk out of Dew’s grasp, but being unsuccessful. Dew sighed and released him, and Swiss finally felt at ease.

He stood there until his body temperature felt normal again.

Then he realized he was fucking freezing. He slumped back on the bed, grabbing as many blankets at possible while Dew watched him, dumbfounded.

“Cold now, Swissy?”

“Freezing. Cuddle me, Dew?”

The fire ghoul groaned, and something landed on Swiss’s face.

“Okay, but you have to put your drawers back on.”

That seemed like a fair exchange. Swiss slipped on his underwear and opened his arms for Dew to come warm him up. The fire ghoul dropped into Swiss’s arms, muttering something about how he “better not puke on him”.

Swiss’s throat was dry when he woke up again. HIs room was dim. Less chaotic than before. Swiss tried to roll to his back, but found something blocking him.

Or someone.

“Swiss?” a soft voice asked, moving so he could plop onto his back. It was Mountain staring down at him with concerned hazel eyes.

“I’m falling off the bed,” Swiss muttered, weakly trying to shove at the massive drummer. Mountain’s concern shifted to mild amusement, and he gave Swiss some more space.

“Just making sure you don’t aspirate, Swissy.”

Satanas, his head was pounding. Swiss flopped down on Mountain’s chest, finding some comfort in the feeling of his heartbeat under his cheek.

“Is he awake?” Rain asked, walking in with Dew in tow.

“He is,” Swiss answered. “He is also so fucking thirsty.”

“Good,” Rain handed him some brightly colored drink. Swiss stared at is suspiciously until he explained. “Electrolytes.”

“Oh. Thought you were trying to poison me,” Swiss muttered, and slowly sipped at the cool beverage.

“That would be Phantom,” Dew muttered, quickly getting an elbow to the ribs from Rain. Swiss looked at them, confused.

“What about Phantom?” His bandmates looked at him and then one another. Swiss couldn’t tell if it was guilt or pity, but he didn’t like it either way. “Whatever it is, fucking tell me.”

“He’s usually pissy when he’s almost down,” Mountain said as though Swiss wasn’t sitting right fucking there.

“Think he’s good enough to tell him?” Rain asked.

“For fuck’s sake,” Swiss pinched the bridge of his nose. Rain placed a hand on his knee.

“Did you eat the brownie Phantom baked for you?”

Swiss slowly dropped his hand, the realization of his pre-nap snack hitting him the moment Rain said it.

“Yeah… it was good, but I’m guessing maybe a little too much?”

Dew scoffed. “At least triple the dose you usually do.”

That certainly explained why he felt like he was on a different plane of existence earlier.

“Damn. Uh, how bad was I?” They looked at each other again. That, and the fact they looked exhausted pretty much answered his question. He also realized Phantom wasn’t among them. “And where’s Phantom?”

Dew pressed his lips together. “I, uh, told him to stay out of the way.”

From the way Mountain and Rain exchanged a glance, Swiss had a feeling it was a little more than that. He sighed, pushing himself up to try and stand, but a rush to his head made him topple right back down.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dew asked.

“To see Phantom. Make sure he’s not beating himself up over this.”

“You can barely stand still!”

Swiss looked at Dew. “Then go get him!”

Dew looked at Rain, who shook his head. The usually calm water ghoul looked at Dew sternly. “I’m not the one who yelled at him. Go fix it.”

With a groan, Dew departed. Swiss laid back in his bed, focusing on a singular point on the ceiling until the spinning stopped.

“Hey Rain?” he asked after awhile.

“Yeah?”

Swiss ran his hand over his bare chest and thighs. “When did I strip?”

He chuckled. “A few hours ago.”

“Why?”

“Dew said you wanted cuddles.”

Swiss sat with that for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah... that checks out. Can you grab me some clothes, please?”

Phantom wasn’t sure what to do. He snuck down near Swiss’s room a few times to try and gauge what was going on, but couldn’t quite get a complete read. Things seemed to calm down at least. Less sounds of vomiting. Rain, Mountain, and Dew had begun to take shifts of just one or two of them staying with Swiss at a time. Phantom wanted to assume the best, but he still felt his worst.

So he shut himself in his room. Lights off, so his main source of light was the glow of iridescent constellations on his ceiling.

Swiss had helped him put those up. And Phantom had basically poisoned him. What a good packmate he was.

Because he wanted to torture himself, Phantom looked back at the recipe for the butter. Sure enough, it clearly called for almost four times the amount of butter he used— if he had just fucking read it correctly, Swiss wouldn’t be spending the night worrying about choking on his own vomit.

Hot tears ran down Phantom’s face. Though he had formed some great connections with the others, he was still so new. Would they send him away after this? Would any of them trust him again? He ruminated on these increasingly destructive thoughts until there was a soft knock at his door.

“Phantom?” Dew said through the door. “You in there?”

“Yeah,” called, his voice raspy from crying. The door opened slowly, and in came Dew. He was much less angry than usual, but still seemed a little peeved. After taking in the dark room and Phantom curled up on his bed, his face softened.

“Hey…” Dew said, sitting on the edge of Phantom’s bed. To his surprise, the fire ghoul reached out and put a warm hand on Phantom’s calf. “Swiss is okay.”

“He is?”

“A little loopy still and post-high cranky, but yeah. He’s asking for you.”

Phantom bit his lip, curling more into himself. “He’s pissed, isn’t he?”

Dew’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Swiss? At you? Not at all.”

“You are.”

Dew sighed, pressing his fingers together in his lap. “I was. But, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was mad and… and scared. Really scared.” Dew looked at him with with this sad expression. “Sorry for taking it out on you.”

Phantom finally sat up, pulling Dew into a hug before he could protest. The lead guitarist hugged him back, pinching his cheek as they pulled apart. “I hope you know you’re banned from baking, though.”

“Fair enough,” Phantom said, smiling for the first time in hours.

They went to Swiss’s room where Rain and Mountain were perched on his bed with them. When Phantom entered, they grew quiet, and started to move out of the way. Swiss opened up his arms.

“C’mere Phantom,” he said with a grin.

All the stress of the last several hours of soaking in self-doubt and guilt came tumbling down at once. Phantom practically tackled Swiss as he dove into his arms, reveling in the joyful laugh the multi-ghoul let out as he squeezed Phantom tightly.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Phantom said into Swiss’s shirt.

“Don’t be, Twinkle Toes, that brownie was fucking fire. Perfect ratio of gooey, but not underbaked. And truly flattered you thought I could handle that much THC.”

“It did seem like a lot…”

“I fuckin’ bet,” Swiss chuckled. “It’s okay, though. I’m good. Sometimes I need a green out every so often. Keeps me humble.”

“Also freaks us the hell out,” Rain said. Swiss pressed his lips together, almost like he felt guilty about being basically incapacitated. He reached out toward the others, and Phantom felt the bed dipped as Rain joined the huddle. Mountain and Dew soon followed, encapsulating the two of them in their body heat and weight.

“Thanks for taking care of me, you guys.”

[ooppo]

I had a dream where I was picking up my meds from the pharmacy and when I got up to the line they were like "hey so we made your medications into brownies." So now if I wanted to take my meds I would have to eat a whole ass individual brownie per pill but I was like "oh okay thanks" and went home. Well I sat them down and walked off, and eventually when I came back I saw my brother eating the brownies and I shouted "NO THOSE ARE THE SHINGLES BROWNIES" and he was like "THE WHAT?" and I yelled "THE BROWNIES THAT GIVE YOU SHINGLES" because a side effect of my medication is that if you take a dosage without slowly building up from 25mg to 200mg you could get shingles. I woke up from the pure stress of how distraught I was but now that I think about it this might be one of those "nightmare that you become your parents" scenarios because as a kid I found a big pan of cooling double chocolate fudge cookies on the counter and ate a shit ton of them because they were fucking delicious. I wolfed them down much like my brother did in my dream. Turns out that I ate like five or six pure THC edibles and I got so high that I passed out

[fernsnailz]

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTRODUCTION - CHAOTIX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 1 - MELLO

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

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

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

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

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

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

So. What was the fucking point of all that

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

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

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

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

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

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

(cw: homophobia)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

alright enough of that. let's talk about genocide

PART 2 - SAFFRON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So. yeah what the fuck

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

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

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

How could it get any worse?

PART 3 - CHARMY

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

This is about to cause a few problems.

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

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

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

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

the fucking sigh i just sighed

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

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

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

CONCLUSION - WHAT THE FUCK

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

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

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

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

[pluralcultureis]

plural culture is (tw)

uh. i just got here. how much is too much? im just gonna take a handful. it'll be fine.

it was, indeed, too much

Oh no

[accirax]

A Thought on Hu's Secret

Throughout the past couple of months, I've been rewatching DRDT (more on that once I finish it) through Weeby Newz's streams. They're very fun, and I recommend them if you want to experience DRDT in an audio format, but, that's neither here nor there. I've just reached the start of Chapter 2, and with it, the area investigation that kicks off the chapter. Rewatching the scene introducing the Dress-up Room got me thinking-- not necessarily about the murder, but instead, about Hu's backstory and how it might intertwine with her secret. (CW for DRDT spoilers through 2-2 and discussion of suicide/suicidal thoughts, specifically overdosing.)

Despite the hesitancies I've had in the past, I am now of the belief that Hu probably has the secret, "You were quite the hopeless child. Dying once wasn't enough, so you attempted suicide three times." It's mostly because I don't think that that secret would make sense for Levi, Min, or anybody else, anymore. But, evidence such as Hu not wanting to share the self harm secret line up with this interpretation too. So, I'm not trying to argue that Hu doesn't have that secret here, because I still think it's the most likely. Instead, I want to pass something on to everybody else who thinks Hu is the hopeless child to see what you all think.

After Teruko, Whit, and Hu get their makeovers, Hu comments on her new dress being very similar to what she wears at home, down to the brand. Whit keeps the ball rolling by pointing out that a lot of things about the set seem to be creepily catered to the students. One such thing he brings up is students' prescriptions. Here's what he has to say:

In my mind, ever since solidifying on the belief that Hu was the hopeless child, I believed that Hu was one of the students with the prescriptions. If Hu were that suicidal, it would make sense if she was taking something to counteract that. And Hu is a friendly enough person that I could fully believe Whit talking with her about a sensitive subject such as this.

But... was Hu actually one of the people who takes a prescription? On a second read, I think the answer may be, "no."

If Whit already knew that Hu took a prescription, why would he ask her? And, yes, he immediately followed it with "that was a rhetorical question," which could be in an attempt to save Hu from having to admit she took a medication in front of Teruko. However, if he already knew, it would have been very easy for him to just lead with "I've talked to some people around here who take prescriptions, and..." To me, asking Hu and Teruko if they take any prescriptions is an indicator that he did not talk to either of them before about that aspect of their lives. Instead, commenting on the rhetorical question was a countermeasure to his slip up of accidentally pressuring Hu and Teruko into discussing something private.

Okay, that's not the most solid evidence. What about Hu's response?

Once again, this seems like something that Hu would only say if she had never thought about something like this before. At the very least, it would be something that she hadn't talked about with Whit before, unless they're both putting on an elaborate performance for Teruko's sake. I wouldn't go so far as to say that doing something like that would be fully out of character for Hu, but it does seem like a pretty weird thing for her to do based on what we've seen of Hu so far.

So, what does that mean? Well, it means that, assuming that Hu does in fact have the hopeless child secret, Hu attempted suicide three times, and yet may not take any medications for it. We can't guarantee that she doesn't, because if Whit and Hu never discussed medications before, it's possible that she does and Whit just didn't know about it. However, on DRDTdev's end, it would seem a little strange to me to have a list of unknown students who take medications, not have Hu be part of that list, but have Hu still take medications.

Now, full disclosure, I have never needed to take any medications before, so I could have things wrong. If I do, I apologize, and I would be happy to correct myself via feedback from anyone who does who's comfortable sharing.

After some very brief research, it does seem like some suicidal people aren't prescribed any medications by their doctors, because 1) either the source of their suicidal tendencies isn't something that can be treated by medicine, 2) the doctor is worried that a misdiagnosis could increase the suicidal tendencies to a dangerous degree, or 3) the doctor is worried that the patient might use the medication to overdose. However, antidepressants and anxiety medications are often used as counter-suicide methods for patients whose suicidal tendencies stem from depression or anxiety respectively. Antipsychotics and mood stabilizers are also sometimes prescribed to suicidal people with conditions such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

So, if Hu both has the hopeless child secret and doesn't take any medications for it, it could imply a couple of scenarios:

The impetus behind Hu's suicide attempts does not include depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, or bipolar disorder.

No doctors were ever made aware of Hu's suicide attempts.

Despite having depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, and/or bipolar disorder, any doctors that Hu saw did not see it fit to prescribe her any medications. (Due to Hu's seemingly traditional upbringing, it could be that any doctors Hu's family brought her to don't believe in medicine. Huh? Amane who? /j)

Despite being offered medication, Hu chooses not to take it. If extreme enough, this could even line up with her preferences being for them to not exist in her room at all.

I think that any of these possibilities have some very interesting implications on Hu's backstory, which we know very little about at this point.

Of course, to even get here, you have to rely on several inferred implications, including the idea that Hu even has the hopeless child secret in the first place! It's definitely possible that I'm the only one who even believes in the conditions that led me to my three potential conclusions in the first place. Or, maybe this line of logic was already obvious to everyone else, and I'm not really bringing anything new to the table here. Still, I feel that Hu doesn't often get a chance to shine in the DRDT theorizing zone, so when I had this thought, I decided to put it out there.

Thanks for listening, and, if you have anything to say, feel free to respond! Here's hoping that, in one way or another, we learn a little more about Hu's backstory soon after the story resumes. Until next time!

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Your sick little head, so brain damaged and lying in that hospital bed.

This art means a lot to me. It isn’t as rendered or polished as my other work, but I want it to look scrappy, messy, and still pretty. If you’d like to just read about the style and story of the art unrelated to myself, feel free to skip this section.

Last week I mentioned being in the hospital and the psych ward, and while I wont give extreme details, it was for an overdose. Recently after getting out I’ve been trying to act like nothing happened and it’s all going to go back to normal, but this is the 3rd time I’ve done it or been on the edge of it. Just last week I had to get rid of two of my cats just after I’d been discharged and that on top of the trauma of the whole situation I’ve just felt strangely empty. Overdoses don’t just come and go like that. The mental effects aside from whatever you took linger and hurt more than anything. “I’m doing better” really just means I’m not about to do it again, but those feelings are still stored somewhere deep inside me. For this specific piece I wanted to describe that feeling and wonder of “How would anyone feel if they found me? What will they do after?”

People don’t talk about Molly nearly as much as I think they should, but it’s understandable given that she has no set substance yet. For that reason I have made my own. The biggest thing I’ve mentioned before—in my Angel Dust headcanon post—is that I believe Molly is the one that found Anthony after he overdosed and called 911. The rest of his family was likely a bit worried, but I don’t think any of them cared as much as she did. Another headcanon of mine is that Anthony and Molly had matching rings with “AN” & “MO” engraved onto them. Molly sold her ring to pay for Anthonys funeral after his passing in the hospital and now wears Anthonys as replacement on her index finger which she eventually takes to heaven with her.

I don’t imagine she was able to visit him very often while he was in a coma but she still did when she could and would talk to him in hopes he could hear her a little bit before he left. It’d take a bit of a tangent but when sinners enter hell, in my mind entering hell takes as long as it did to die. So for Anthony it likely took him a week to a month to die during his coma from complications, and in turn, it took that same amount of time for him to full wake up in hell. Sinners to me are made and formed out of the ground in hell and wake up in a similar location to where they died. Angel Dust would’ve woken up alone in a hospital while his sister was now left alone and Anthony’s body likely already buried by then.

These are reasons why I included forget-me-nots and sweet peas as taped on decals. Their meanings being “Please don’t forget me” and “Goodbye, thank you for a wonderful time.” respectively. I also added the “M” wax seal over one of the sweet peas because I feel that it’s a sentiment that Molly held close to her heart and still does.

Molly’s body is torn from pink paper while Angel’s is blue paper. I intended for these to somewhat be seen as hands, like how the pink paper wraps over the forget-me-not when the blue paper lays beneath it to show Molly’s attempt to hold onto the memory of her brother while Angel is trying to remember his own life yet is unaware of what is happening to his sister now; unaware if she’s alive or not due to his poor keeping of time. Angel is also a scrap of paper glued above Molly’s hands to pretty genuinely symbolise they’re both in different dimensions now and can’t fully be apart of the same without the help of an external force. I also wanted to include more jumping spider elements so I’d like to think the string holding the tears is silk. Jumping spiders leave silk behind incase they fall so they can climb back up and when you put that in the form of a mentality I think Molly would fit into that very well.

I really hope we see more of Molly and I hope she had a good life and can see her brother again. Of course, she is a fictional character, but I can’t imagine the trauma she’s experienced in her life even without my personal headcanons. I love Molly a lot and just from how I personally interpret her she reminds me a lot of my mother.

Hopefully you can enjoy my ramblings and craze about these funny little spiders. 🩷

[multiverseofwonders]

Not even medicinal malpractice can stop me from needing Dracula carnally.

[aleksa-sims]

RL Simself-Story (18+)

⚠️CW: addiction, drug use, suffocation... ⚠️

About the fight between Irena and me: Daniel didn’t tell Irena anything about that threesome thing!! It was Dominick that nag!😠 He knew about Nico & Philip, after all, the two idiots threatened him at that time. 🤦‍♀️🤨

But Irena used this to hurt me. She wanted me to think, that Daniel would talk badly about me or share with her such private things about my past. However, she succeeded.😞😭

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