(no subject)
COMM: shifted_prompts - mutual destruction
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 1278
NOTE: AHAHA using Charles again without asking.
Alcohol was always his drug of choice. He started the habit when he moved in with Pickles as a kid, where it was just around constantly. There were other drugs, sure, and he did them from time to time, but it was never his thing. Alcohol was all he was interested in doing constantly.
Nathan had put some thought into Pickles' advice, and the conclusion he came to was that he didn't want to talk to anybody about his problems, but... he wanted something done about it. There was only one solution to this problem. Pickles. Pickles could score him exactly what he needed, in massive quantities, whenever he wanted it. God, it was great having Pickles as a best friend, he always came through even if he didn't know he was coming through because he hadn't even been asked about it yet.
But that was quickly taken care of. Sedatives. A fuckload of sedatives so he could just completely shut the fuck down. It made sense to him: as long as he was out of his mind on them, he couldn't manage to realize he's asleep, since everything was down, or whatever the exact mechanics were. He didn't know the details, he just knew it put you out or just toned you down. Good enough for him.
Pickles tossed him a bag of pills. "Dere ya go, Nate. Got enough dere ta throw a party fer like a hundred people." He smirked as he talked, obviously approving of the quantity, or just the fact that there were some kind of abuseable drugs within ten feet of him.
"Thanks, Pickles." He caught the bag and poked at the pills inside. "I, uh, appreciate it."
"Yeah. Must be a special occassion, huh? You don't usually go fer dat. Or like, you do but only once inna while. An' I'm pretty sure you already had yer once inna while thing, ya know?"
"No, it's- it's for my sleeping problems, alright, I didn't feel like going to see any body about it. I just figured... you could get what I wanted."
Pickles shrugged. "Well, yeah. Though dude, really, yer still havin problems? It's been like a week or two, shouldn't dat be over with?"
"I'm hoping this'll do something."
"Good luck with dat, Nate'n," Pickles said as he started to talk off, then stopped and turned around. "Hey, if you got any of dat left when yer done, just, uh, leave it in my room or somethin, I dunno. And hey. Try naht ta OD, dude."
He didn't think he would have any left by the time he got through with this. It would suck to not be a part of the typical routine of shared dreams with the rest of the band (it was totally fucking weird how he almost looked forward to that now), but things had to be done. There was a threshold to shit he could stand, and it had been met and exceeded.
Armed with drugs, he headed back to his room. Might as well get a head start, no need to waste any time on this. He flopped down on his bed and opened up the bag, getting a handful of pills and tossing them in his mouth. Without thinking, he swallowed most of them, cringing as he did so. Oh dear lord why did he do that, dry swallowing pills was terrible, why did he dry swallow like fifteen of them. What was going through his head-
Automatically he reached out to grab a 40 he had left unfinished earlier in the morning, and guzzled down the remainder of the alcohol. Thank god, that helped; now it only felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of gravel an hour or two ago instead of immediately. The booze was a lot nicer than pills; it tasted a whole lot better too. That was one reason alcohol was his drug of choice.
It wasn't long until he felt the effects kicking in, and damn he was glad he had already laid down in bed. Everything seemed like it was spinning, ramping up in speed with each passing second. He stared blankly up at the canopy of his bed, the dark fabric seeming like some sort of angry whirlpool or something equally retarded. Yeah, that's exactly what it looked like, he was certain. A retarded angry whirlpool hovering right above him, almost prepared to drown him except for the fact it was cloth, not water, so it couldn't drown him, just suffocate him.
He laid there for a few moments more, his thoughts becoming wildly more erratic as time passed. By the time he fell unconscious, he wasn't quite sure he was even thinking in full sentences anymore.
When he came to, he was in the hospital, hooked up to a bunch of machines.
Oh.
"I OD'd, didn't I?" He asked the ceiling, not particularly expecting anyone else to be in the room. When he got a reply, he was mildly startled.
"Mm, yes, you did."
He pushed himself up with his elbows to see Charles, who was standing in the doorway. "Yeah, uh, I thought I was before, you know, unconscious. Man, my room was fucking spinning. That was... pretty cool."
Charles stepped over. "I had your stomach pumped and your blood cleaned while you were unconscious."
"How long?"
"Two days."
"Fuck," he muttered. "But hey! It totally did what it was supposed to, so, you know, that's good."
"Oh? What was it 'supposed' to do, Nathan?"
"No dreams." He yanked the IV out of his arm while Charles made a piteous protest over it, and he swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed. "And. And. I totally slept. Sort of. Being unconscious counts as sleeping."
Charles sighed. "I'm assuming you're going to do this again?"
"Fuck yeah I am!"
"Do you think you could, ah, maybe not take so many at once, Nathan, if you're adamant on taking sedatives? Or not combine alcohol with them?"
Nathan crossed his arms. "Why."
"I can't guarantee that someone will go into your room next time you OD, Nathan, that's why."
"I was fine this time."
"Yes, but-"
"So it's totally cool if I do it again."
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. "No, Nathan, it isn't. Just- don't take so many next time."
He grunted dismissively in return, then decided to tune the rest of what Charles was saying at him out, giving only one word replies in response at best. Eventually, Charles left, and Nathan slipped out of the bed. Where the fuck were his pants and his shirt. He wanted to get out of here; spending two days unconscious in a hospital was two days too many for him.
But there was still a plus side.
Unconsciousness was close enough to sleep for him, and he hadn't become aware of anything. He hadn't seen that Rita bitch, he hadn't been honed in on by something aiming to toss him out of his own dreams. All in all, the sedatives worked. He may have OD'd, but the results were the same. Nothing had happened. Nothing interrupted him.
For a minute he briefly pondered if that was what it was like for Pickles every time he OD'd, but the thought quickly passed. It wasn't all that important. What was important was figuring out how to do this next so he wouldn't OD again. He may have been dismissive of Charles' suggestion, but with consideration, he knew he was right.
He needed to figure out the right amount where he could 'sleep' peacefully without being interrupted, but not end up overdosing. That was going to take some experimenting. Or he could ask Pickles. But experimenting was way, way more fun. But he did make one mental note to be attached to all his future sedative experimentation.
Leave alcohol out of it.
VERSE: realityshifted
WORD COUNT: 1278
NOTE: AHAHA using Charles again without asking.
Alcohol was always his drug of choice. He started the habit when he moved in with Pickles as a kid, where it was just around constantly. There were other drugs, sure, and he did them from time to time, but it was never his thing. Alcohol was all he was interested in doing constantly.
Nathan had put some thought into Pickles' advice, and the conclusion he came to was that he didn't want to talk to anybody about his problems, but... he wanted something done about it. There was only one solution to this problem. Pickles. Pickles could score him exactly what he needed, in massive quantities, whenever he wanted it. God, it was great having Pickles as a best friend, he always came through even if he didn't know he was coming through because he hadn't even been asked about it yet.
But that was quickly taken care of. Sedatives. A fuckload of sedatives so he could just completely shut the fuck down. It made sense to him: as long as he was out of his mind on them, he couldn't manage to realize he's asleep, since everything was down, or whatever the exact mechanics were. He didn't know the details, he just knew it put you out or just toned you down. Good enough for him.
Pickles tossed him a bag of pills. "Dere ya go, Nate. Got enough dere ta throw a party fer like a hundred people." He smirked as he talked, obviously approving of the quantity, or just the fact that there were some kind of abuseable drugs within ten feet of him.
"Thanks, Pickles." He caught the bag and poked at the pills inside. "I, uh, appreciate it."
"Yeah. Must be a special occassion, huh? You don't usually go fer dat. Or like, you do but only once inna while. An' I'm pretty sure you already had yer once inna while thing, ya know?"
"No, it's- it's for my sleeping problems, alright, I didn't feel like going to see any body about it. I just figured... you could get what I wanted."
Pickles shrugged. "Well, yeah. Though dude, really, yer still havin problems? It's been like a week or two, shouldn't dat be over with?"
"I'm hoping this'll do something."
"Good luck with dat, Nate'n," Pickles said as he started to talk off, then stopped and turned around. "Hey, if you got any of dat left when yer done, just, uh, leave it in my room or somethin, I dunno. And hey. Try naht ta OD, dude."
He didn't think he would have any left by the time he got through with this. It would suck to not be a part of the typical routine of shared dreams with the rest of the band (it was totally fucking weird how he almost looked forward to that now), but things had to be done. There was a threshold to shit he could stand, and it had been met and exceeded.
Armed with drugs, he headed back to his room. Might as well get a head start, no need to waste any time on this. He flopped down on his bed and opened up the bag, getting a handful of pills and tossing them in his mouth. Without thinking, he swallowed most of them, cringing as he did so. Oh dear lord why did he do that, dry swallowing pills was terrible, why did he dry swallow like fifteen of them. What was going through his head-
Automatically he reached out to grab a 40 he had left unfinished earlier in the morning, and guzzled down the remainder of the alcohol. Thank god, that helped; now it only felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of gravel an hour or two ago instead of immediately. The booze was a lot nicer than pills; it tasted a whole lot better too. That was one reason alcohol was his drug of choice.
It wasn't long until he felt the effects kicking in, and damn he was glad he had already laid down in bed. Everything seemed like it was spinning, ramping up in speed with each passing second. He stared blankly up at the canopy of his bed, the dark fabric seeming like some sort of angry whirlpool or something equally retarded. Yeah, that's exactly what it looked like, he was certain. A retarded angry whirlpool hovering right above him, almost prepared to drown him except for the fact it was cloth, not water, so it couldn't drown him, just suffocate him.
He laid there for a few moments more, his thoughts becoming wildly more erratic as time passed. By the time he fell unconscious, he wasn't quite sure he was even thinking in full sentences anymore.
When he came to, he was in the hospital, hooked up to a bunch of machines.
Oh.
"I OD'd, didn't I?" He asked the ceiling, not particularly expecting anyone else to be in the room. When he got a reply, he was mildly startled.
"Mm, yes, you did."
He pushed himself up with his elbows to see Charles, who was standing in the doorway. "Yeah, uh, I thought I was before, you know, unconscious. Man, my room was fucking spinning. That was... pretty cool."
Charles stepped over. "I had your stomach pumped and your blood cleaned while you were unconscious."
"How long?"
"Two days."
"Fuck," he muttered. "But hey! It totally did what it was supposed to, so, you know, that's good."
"Oh? What was it 'supposed' to do, Nathan?"
"No dreams." He yanked the IV out of his arm while Charles made a piteous protest over it, and he swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed. "And. And. I totally slept. Sort of. Being unconscious counts as sleeping."
Charles sighed. "I'm assuming you're going to do this again?"
"Fuck yeah I am!"
"Do you think you could, ah, maybe not take so many at once, Nathan, if you're adamant on taking sedatives? Or not combine alcohol with them?"
Nathan crossed his arms. "Why."
"I can't guarantee that someone will go into your room next time you OD, Nathan, that's why."
"I was fine this time."
"Yes, but-"
"So it's totally cool if I do it again."
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. "No, Nathan, it isn't. Just- don't take so many next time."
He grunted dismissively in return, then decided to tune the rest of what Charles was saying at him out, giving only one word replies in response at best. Eventually, Charles left, and Nathan slipped out of the bed. Where the fuck were his pants and his shirt. He wanted to get out of here; spending two days unconscious in a hospital was two days too many for him.
But there was still a plus side.
Unconsciousness was close enough to sleep for him, and he hadn't become aware of anything. He hadn't seen that Rita bitch, he hadn't been honed in on by something aiming to toss him out of his own dreams. All in all, the sedatives worked. He may have OD'd, but the results were the same. Nothing had happened. Nothing interrupted him.
For a minute he briefly pondered if that was what it was like for Pickles every time he OD'd, but the thought quickly passed. It wasn't all that important. What was important was figuring out how to do this next so he wouldn't OD again. He may have been dismissive of Charles' suggestion, but with consideration, he knew he was right.
He needed to figure out the right amount where he could 'sleep' peacefully without being interrupted, but not end up overdosing. That was going to take some experimenting. Or he could ask Pickles. But experimenting was way, way more fun. But he did make one mental note to be attached to all his future sedative experimentation.
Leave alcohol out of it.