you lied about drugs

12 | You’ll Never Walk Alone



series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, torture, death, light smut

Originally posted by younas

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Coliver 4x04 Coda

I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. The show actually gave me something to work with! I was disappointed with what they did with Connor’s dad(s), so I decided to spice it up. The coming out headcanon came from a previous fic I wrote (season 3 finale coda,) but this can be read separately. Trigger warning for self harm/suicidal thoughts. Enjoy!

 “So he just showed up out of nowhere?” Gemma asked, voice tinny due to the phone.

“Apparently, he tried to call me a bunch. I took one look at the number and blocked it.” Connor said, lounging on the couch, the half empty bottle of pinot noir staring back him on the coffee table.

Why would he want to see you anyway?”

“I may have dropped out of law school and wasted his thirty-two thousand,” Connor said, trying to get the words out as quick as possible.

You did what?!?! Connor, when you tell mom she’s gonna–”

If. If I tell mom. But something tells me Jeff already did,” spat Connor.

What are you gonna do now, then? You can’t just laze around at home,” Gemma chastised, using her best Mom voice.

“I dunno, I think I’m pretty good at it now.”

Connor seriously, you have to–”

“Gem. Not now. Please, I get this lecture from enough people.”

Fine. But you’re not moving here when your money runs out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Connor flinched as he heard a loud crash coming from the other line, followed by an extremely frustrated sigh from his sister.

I gotta go parent. Remember what I said. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, love you,” Connor muttered, hanging up the phone. He sighed and rubbed his face. He was doing fine, and then Jeff decided to waltz back into his life. It’s not like he was there for him when he needed it, so why was he trying to act all Concerned Parent with him now. Connor felt a migraine form behind his eyes, remembering what he said about Oliver. How dare he say that Oliver wasn’t right for him? How dare he act like he knew what was best for Connor. Where was he when Connor had a panic attack and sunk to the floor? Where was he when he watched a dead body fall five stories and splatter on concrete? Where was he when—

“Hey you!”

Oliver’s bright voice rang in the living room, snapping Connor out of his thoughts. Though he was exhausted, he couldn’t hide the smile that grew on his face, seeing Oliver in that tacky purple IT shirt.

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“Don’t feel bad. I don’t know what I see in him, either.”

“I don’t know what about you I find so entrancing. You’re not my usual type.”

“Maybe I just have the most fun when I’m ruining something beautiful.”

“People don’t change, sweetie. I’m not going to change. So if you want me to, you need to be prepared to be disappointed.”

“Everyone loves a bad boy. Stereotypes were made for a reason.”

“I don’t know why you think it will work out long term, we’re way too different.”

“I can call him a lot of things, but he was never stupid. He was smart enough to convince me everything was alright.”

“You can’t be pissed about things I never lied to you about.”

D.A.R.E to be honest.

“What harm would it do, if a man told a good strong lie for the sake of the good and for the Christian church…a lie out of necessity, a useful lie, a helpful lie, such lies would not be against God, he would accept them.” - Martin Luthor

Well, founder-of-Protestantism, I’ll tell you what harm there is, all with this thing called D.A.R.E.

You may not have grown up with Drug Abuse Resistance Education ( D.A.R.E. ) programs in your school, but I did. DARE was a mix of just-say-no pablum, extreme scare stories about drugs and out-and-out lies about drugs and addiction. Just once will make you an addict. You’ll have flashbacks forever. Pot is a gateway drug. That sort of thing. 

I remember a mustachioed cop ranting at us at an assembly, pacing up and down, huffing and puffing and growling down at us with a look of utter contempt in his eyes as he regaled us with a story about two kids who were huffing paint and wound up in comas. “We call them Gumby and Poker.” he said with a sort of sadistic glee, getting Pokey’s name wrong in the process of telling what was probably an abject lie. It was one of the earliest times I recognized that an adult could be, and probably was, full of shit.

See, the thing is, D.A.R.E. had good intentions. PCP, heroin, huffing and others are all are life-endangering drugs. However, because they lied, for the cause, vilifying even the lightest drugs in an effort to keep us far, far away from all of them. And when kids found out that they’d lied, exaggerated, and tried to scare them, they threw the whole kit-and-caboodle in the waste basket.

To this day, D.A.R.E. is considered to have no provable efficacy and in some cases has shown to INCREASE the likelihood of drug use.

This is why if you are using bad data to support a good cause, you’re doing harm, not good. 


Hey, i really adore your writing skill.. I have an idea about spencer, maybe he is in relationship with the reader, but he always hurt her, maybe about his secret about drugs and cheating with maeve. The reader and spencer are in love each actually, and I hope for happy ending, i dont mind if you make this to be a multi shots story.. i’m sorry about this weird request and my grammar, because english isnt my language.. I know you will make it to be a good story, i love u :)

A/N: Thank you soo much I love you too! And don’t worry it’s better than I could do in any other language! It’s kind of sad and I hope you don’t hate me for it. I feel like this is what would happen with Spencer if this was the situation ya know? I think I got what you wanted but if not I hope you enjoy it anyway!xx

You loved Spencer. Loved him more than anyone you’d ever met, but he had hurt you more than anyone ever had before.

You’d been together on and off for 4 years and Spencer lied to you about his drug addiction. You’d worked through it together and had been able to help him get clean and stay clean. Many times Spencer had almost relapsed you’d been there.

When Emily died and he almost fell back into addiction. You sat with him at 3am while he cried and helped him get rid of the last vial of Dilaudid he’d stashed. He was vulnerable and weak. In that moment of weakness you vowed that nothing he could ever do would drive you away from him. There would never be a moment you wouldn’t be there to hold him whenever he would need you.

And then he began to be distant. Mysterious phone calls and letters; you knew there was someone else. His eyes looked the same as they used to, when they looked at you.


“Spencer I’m leaving” you stood at the door with as many clothes as you could fit in your bags.

“Why?” he looked hurt but he wasn’t upset.

“Because I’m not whoever she is Spencer, I see the way you act when you’ve spoken to her, it’s the way we used to look at each other. I promised I would always be there when you need and I will keep my promise. But I can’t be second best.” 

You left that day and didn’t hear from him for weeks. Every night you laid awake waiting for his call but it never came.


The phone rang at 4:15am. You let it ring once, if this was Spencer you knew he’d call again. The phone rung once more and you grabbed your shoes. You didn’t answer it you just went to his house.

You arrived to find his door open. He was lying on his couch surrounded by needles, drugs and 3 whiskey bottles. Watching his movements you saw him shaking, he wasn’t doing well.

“What happened Spence?” You didn’t move from the doorway, just stood watching him.

“She died. The only woman I loved died” your heart shattered. Tears trickled down your cheeks the taste of salt invaded your breath as you inhaled you tears. Would he be like this if it’d of been you. “I haven’t used yet Y/N but I thought I might and I knew you’d be there if I needed you.” He finally looked at you. His eyes widened as he saw your face. “Y/N?” you reached over to the bottles on the table and grabbed the one that was half full. You drunk all of it and pushed him out of the way so you could sit next to him. Grabbing his arms you pulled him into a warm embrace, his hair brushing against your neck.

“Why were you crying Y/N?” his breath warm along your back.

“Please don’t Spence. I can’t talk to you right now without it hurting. Just hug me and talk.”

He told you everything that had happened. At some points he stopped when he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder.

“I will always be here Spence” you grabbed another bottle of whiskey off of the counter and drunk as much as you could, you didn’t want to remember this feeling, it hurt too much.

He hurt you so much but you couldn’t live without him.

     “My girlfriend’s mad at me. She lied to me about men, so I lied to her about drugs.”
     “You think she’s cheating on you?”
     “No, but she looks at other guys.”
     “That’s it?”
     “Yeah, but eye to eye, you know? You know what’s up, right?”
     “Or maybe you’re imagining and exaggerating things.”
     “I could be exaggerating.”
     “Because you’re jealous.”
     “I am jealous.”
     “And possessive.”
     “I am possessive. I told her, ‘You’re mine, yo. You’re my woman. Rrrrrrrrr!’”

     Boston, MA

Bill Cosby vs. Charlie Sheen

Bill Cosby spent the past twenty years telling Black America we ain’t shit, basically. He was America’s Dad for half the 80s and the entire industry held him up as a role model.  White America particularly loved Bill Cosby because he kept telling us all the things they secretly thought but couldn’t say:  Pull your pants up, don’t put apostrophes in your children’s names, etc.  All the while, he was assaulting women.  Charlie Sheen ain’t ever been shit. If anything, we expect him to continue to not be shit.  White America is disappointed with Bill Cosby in a way that they could never be disappointed with (or surprised by) Charlie Sheen.

If your cousin with straight As and a scholarship to Harvard got arrested for selling heroin you’d be a lot more disappointed than if your crackhead cousin who steals TVs was doing the same thing.

That’s why the public/entertainment industry is more upset with Bill Cosby assaulting 50 women over the course of three decades than they are with Charlie Sheen having sex while not disclosing his HIV status the past four years.

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