#sedatives

[charnel-grounds]

Dark and gloomy pharmaceutical advertisement artwork for the French sedative ‘Sympathyl’, c. 1930s

source

[mythos-night]

Just a Couple Days

TW: Needles, (Consensual?) Kidnapping, Cursing

"For all the times you've gotten angry because I stayed up too late," Villain chucked. "You seem to be awake at such a late hour of the night."

"Why are you in my house?" Hero didn't look up from the paperwork they were filling out.

"You call this a house?" Villain looked around the half-decent apartment the hero agency had assigned to them, mockingly gesturing to the dishwasher that had broken down weeks ago. They had probably just resorted to hand washing. Villain saw the soap on the edges of the sink.

Hero continued writing. "You're avoiding my question."

Villain shrugged. "I just wanted to see you." They murmured, their hand running along the edge of the desk.

"I don't have time to deal with your bullshit."

"This really is a pretty terrible desk." 

"This really is a horrible time for you to come over." 

"Oh, what? Am I interrupting you from your important paperwork?" Villain leaned on the edge of the desk, snatching one of the forms before Hero could respond. Villain took note of that and frowned. "You're reaction time."

Hero slumped into the chair with a huff. "My reaction time is excellent." 

"I had already read half the page by the time you tried to snatch this back." Villain waved it a bit.  "How many hours of sleep did you get? "

"If you came here to kick my ass, just do it already."

"Oh, who's avoiding questions now?" Villain set the paper down in favor of grabbing Hero by the chin, leaning over the desk to make sure Hero couldn't avoid them. "Go to sleep."

Hero scowled. "This is due tomorrow. I don't exactly have time for you-"

"You have time when I say you do." Villain snapped, letting go and pulling a syringe out of their pocket. "Do I need to force you to sleep?"

Hero's demeanor went from irritated to downright fearful. "You wouldn't."

Villain smiled. "Can't finish those papers if you've been kidnapped."

They expected protests, fighting even. But the real shock came when Hero simply tossed the pen down and rubbed their hand over their face. "Please."

Now it was Villain's turn to be shocked. "You want this?" They blurted out.

The nod was hesitant but there. "Just for a couple days." Villain saw the gears turning. "I just need some time to clear my head- no, I could pay if you want- oh God, what am I doing?"

Villain set the shiny syringe down. "No need for payment. I know what your salary is." They busied themselves by searching his pockets for a sack and rope (Hero always teased them about their never-ending pockets).

Hero began to protest. "I'll go willingly, just-"

"Oh, I know you will. But there are security cameras outside the building, and I don't think the Agency will be happy when they see you just walking out of the building."

Hero opened their mouth, then closed it. "No sedative?"

"Oh, darling."

Villain knew how everyone would react if they found out Hero had been awake when kidnapped. How they should've done more to fight. How they should've been better. Villain wondered how Hero could take all the criticism despite everything they've done for the city. This needed to look real. Villain knew Hero would fight out of pure instinct the moment the sack went on.

Hero sighed, defeated. "Just..." Their gaze never left the needle. "A small dosage."

Villain moved swiftly, the needle in Hero's arm before their sluggish brain could comprehend what was happening. "With how much sleep you've gotten?" They murmured as they pushed a little bit of the drug in. "I don't think you're going to wake up soon."

In all honesty, they didn't need to take a full dosage. Hero was out like a light, eyes rolling to the back of their heads as they slumped into the Villain's waiting arms. They chuckled, grabbing the sack.

They wouldn't hurt the Hero. At least not now. There was no fun in fighting your nemesis when they weren't up to your level. Hero needed help, something Villain would be happy to provide.

Villain left the tiny apartment and the now burning stack of papers with Hero slung over their shoulder and the determination to give them the help they deserved.

Constructive Criticism is very much appreciated! :) Hope y'all have an amazing day/night!

[visceral-reject]

Sedatives CHPT.2

A/N: Here bc crossposting my beloved

Blaring alarm and sunlight slipping through your blinds awoke you from what you’d considered a good sleep. Friday, the day you’d longed for for months it seemed, not because there’d be shitty slashers on a seemingly endless marathon due to it being the month of October, though that was a plus; but no, it was finally your day off. A day all to yourself and a night to hand out candy to doe-eyed children in differing costumes. Groggily sliding out of bed was a task, though your feet planting themselves onto your cold floor was more than a wake-up call. Your quarters were homey, and cozy. More than enough space for you and your cat, Cilantro. Speaking of the greedy feline, who mewed her greetings as she weaved between your legs as you made your way to the bathroom.

“You can wait Lantro, not like you’re gonna starve any time soon. “You yawned, stretching your arms as your back cracked. The cat, however, didn’t seem to agree with your sentiments in the slightest as she mewed louder, seemingly in response to you. You closed the door in the thing’s face in return. Your morning was everything but eventful, though watching your neighbor’s children chase each other around their yard with dollar store skeletons and spiders, which left a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, sipping on your morning brew with a content glaze within your eyes. Though boredom was beginning to seep through that feeling. Your laundry had been put on, dishes had been washed and put away, and just overall tidying had all been done within the span of a few hours. What now? You hadn’t planned this far ahead, not like medical school and internships gave you time to establish any friendships, and a relationship was the last thing on your mind. Besides, the scum that you worked aside left such a stain on your mind when it came to potential partners. Nurses, smoking and degrading the patients within the yellowing walls gave you looks of contempt and the doctor’s hands planted themselves onto your skin for a good many moments too long. Yeah…so no relationship prospects in sight for you. Catnapping and folding laundry made up most of your day, finding the hours slip through your fingers like fine sand. The dulling sky held many stars, blinking into the blanket of dusty oranges and desaturated blues. You, still donning a simple jumper and pajama pants you're sure you’d stolen from some childhood friend you’d long forgotten in your adult life, pity. Trekking towards the door, donning a thick knitted blanket and Cilantro in tow, you made your way to your rocking chair, an antique thing that could use a paint job, but you didn’t mind. Propping yourself upon the old chair, the wood creaking beneath you, sighed, watching your breath cling to the air. Though despite your day of relaxation, you still carried a weight on your shoulders. “Fucking hell…” you groaned, head thrown back with a displeased expression.

Night lurked within your walls, a heavy silence bearing over your domain as you tossed and turned, comfort fleeting from you, and time ticked by one second at a time. Poor sight you were, desperate for sleep to claim you, for relief to wash over you in a cool wave. You, sweaty and annoyed, threw your comforter away, allowing the cool air of your tiny room to chill your skin, a shitty fan doing little to aid. Thoughts floating back to your job, the patients, the assholes who worked your nerves to no end…Michael. Your breath hitched as you began to think the patient over. How the veins in his hands flexed as he steadily layered paper and glued to form a face. How his eyes followed doctors and nurses, in a way you could only be akin to a predator stalking its prey. Intense. Calculating. Your fingers buried themselves in your soaked hole, your moans echoing off the walls as you brought yourself to the edge. Your back arched as your vision whitened, whimpers rolling out of your throat, riding out your height. It was easy to imagine it was Michael bringing you past this edge; how easy it was to imagine it was his rough fingers dragging down your body, toying with your clit. Attempting to steady your shaking breaths and legs was no easy feat. You stared at the ceiling, sweat clinging to your body as the thoughts of Michael dissipated, the reality of just how taboo this was finally setting in. He was your patient not your patient, but still! A sigh escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side with a wince, your muscles aching as you attempted to find some escape from your sleep.

October 29

Your uniform felt tight, almost suffocating as you placed the small plastic cups of pills in front of patients. You felt pity for them, abandoned and left to rot within the confines of the state, drugged up to a compliant lucid state. Their blank, watery eyes left you feeling hollow every time you turned your back on them after administrating their daily medication alongside the mush the penitentiary called food. It was fucking sick how they treated these mentally unwell people that needed help above all else.

But today, today was different.

Today you felt watched, more than usual. One could akin this to the feelings prey has before the predator strikes, but who was your predator? You shook your head, instinctively wiping your hands upon your dark scrubs, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you approached the behemoth of a man that you’ve affectionately dubbed your ‘favorite patient’.

Michael Myers was quiet, always. His face was always covered with a mask, if not the mop of messy blondish hair. Despite his silence, you found it rather easy to read him, perhaps it was due to the fair amount of time you’d spent tailing after Dr. Loomis, half-heartedly acknowledging his rambles about Michael that you didn’t believe. It was odd, you, a mere 2 years younger than he was, and two completely different people. Sometimes, between shifts or hiding with the smokers out back, you’d think about what life for Michael would’ve been like if life had been kinder, softer. A childhood filled with joy, love, and comfort is what every child deserves in your mind. You don’t think Michael was born a monster, but one born of circumstance. Squeaky cartwheels echo throughout this part of the rec room. Patients and staff alike avoided the very space Michael inhabited, for fear of becoming victims of the Boogeyman of Haddonfield. You, however, were either stupid or brave, and right now you didn’t quite know which one was worse. Michael sat slump, his head hanging low, though you could see his neck jerk in your direction as you approached. “Morning, Michael! “You chirped, gently sliding the plastic cup of assorted medicine to the man. He was quiet, eyes flicking to you for just a moment before slowly reaching for his dailies. You faced the wall as he downed them. You began to wonder what his face looked like; you’d seen his face in files. When he was a boy, his cheeks were rosy, and round, and his eyes still clung to some semblance of childhood innocence. You tried to picture him grown. Perhaps his face was made of nothing of right angles, maybe he looked like his mother? Questions ran through your head as Michael placed the cup down. It made you want to gag knowing he always downed his dailies without water, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Water was readily available. Ever the gentle creature you were, Michael watched as you sat across from him, folding your hands in your lap. You tried not to stare, honestly you didn’t, but there was something about him that made you just want to...stare. His hands were large and calloused from the years of nimble working of paper machete masks that donned his cell walls. It was the same hands that killed his sister at the age of 10. The same hands you’d fantasied about the night before.

He remained stoic, eyes finally meeting your face. It felt as if he was searching for something, a hint of malice or pity. He’d find none within your feature, nothing more than a genuine want to know something about him. Michael found you pretty enough, kinder than the nurses and doctors and specialists that buzzed around him like an annoying fly, poking and prodding with annoying tests and needles and a constantly changing dose of medicine that left him feeling ill. You, however, never buzzed. You may have lingered a tad bit longer than was necessary, but it was never in a pestering way. He’d notice how your hands toyed with the hem of your scrubs. They were always dark in color, but never stark black. Muted maroons and soft navies were your usual attire, something Michael found himself fond of.

You were simple. Not easy but you stuck to a schedule.

Michael liked that about you. He almost found himself longing to touch you, to feel you as you rose and walked away. A heavy metal door slammed behind you. It was decided in his mind then and there that you were his. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield wanted you for himself.

October 30

Smith’s Grove had befallen silent for the night, strangely enough. Everyone seemed tense, on edge as every little creak and crack was greeted with a jump. How odd people acted, you thought, making mental notes on what you needed to do before clocking out. It was already a quarter till 4 PM, and the ending of your shift never made you as happy as it is now. You practically skipped through the halls, ready to finally leave Michael with his usual goodbye before your departure. His cell neared, and the heavy scent of wet paper and Elmer’s glue lingered the closer you got.

You knocked, knuckles brushing against the reinforced doors as you entered the cell. Masks hung from the walls like hunting trophies, and one could only wonder how Michael found the creativity to even create such pretty things within his conditions. You’d hum, continuing to eye the brightly colored masks with your arms folded across your chest. You knew not to touch them; it was basic respect after all. Your constant lingering seemed to pay off though, as you nearly squealed when Michael offered a quiet ‘mmh’ in greeting. Sure, it may not seem like something much, but anyone who worked with the behemoth of a man would tell you, that Michael Myers does NOT do anything except eat, sleep, and make those masks; but with you, it was like he was a different entity all together. He was calmer, in your easy. The weight that he clung to within his shoulders seemed to lessen. You both sat quietly, content in each other's company. It was when your watch chimed that Michael stiffened, breathing heavily through his nose whilst you rose, offering a weak smile as you trekked towards the door, promising you’d see him tomorrow, you promised!

[purru]

heya whump community, I've been wondering whether I should make a post about the day-to-day effect of sedatives/tranqs and the withdrawal symptoms since I have to take multiple sedatives everyday. It may enrich your writing, perhaps

should I?

yes, go for it

no, man keep it to yourself

Voting ended onOct 8, 2025

[xxb1tchedupang3lxx]

Its my fav time

[visionsoferebos]

had a minor surgery today and all i can think about is how upset i got when the sedatives started to wear off,,,,

part of it obviously was because i started feeling pain and discomfort but another part of me knows it's from how good it feels to just melt into nothing like that

[doctorlarch]

I have to admit... even though I appear to be a combative patient... I crave nothing more than being kept in a slightly drugged state and sweetly coaxed into compliance. Answering the doctors questions, taking various pills out of his gloved hand, cooperating as far as my drugged mind allows it. Of course the examinations/ treatments will still be cruel and mean (enemas, cervical dilations, ice cold instruments), but have to endure it to get better and I want to be good for my doctor, isn't that right?

-🖤

I appreciate your transparency, often patients fight the use of drugs to aide in compliance but then there’s the special patients like you, those who push back just to get the drugs and restraints they desire. Patients like you, are some of my favorites! In fact let’s get your IV drip started now, I have a nice seditive cocktail I find works well for patients like you, there’s no time like the present! You’ll start feeling hazy any minute now, these medications act fast when introduced intravenously. I hope you enjoy the sensation as this will become your new normal.

Oh, yes it looks like the drugs are taking a hold quite nicely. Can you follow my finger for me? Good job! Yeah, was that a little difficult? That’s okay, you just lay there and let the Doctor and nurses do what we must. Yes the treatments you’ll endure will be painful and invasive but if you want a chance of returning to a normal healthy life outside the walls of this hospital then you must follow your treatment protocol to a tee. Unfortunately while your IV is in place your wrists will have to remain restrained to the bed, I can’t have you pulling out your IV, now can I? Awe, is it hard to keep your eyes open? That’s alright. I’ll let you rest and adjust to the medication for a bit, shortly I’ll move you to the treatment room and we can begin with your first dilation therapy session.

Yes, I think you’ll be a perfect patient!

-Doctor Larch