#Ed & suicide tw in further tags.

[fealtyfaggot]

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[fascinatedhelix]

Interesting thing happened today (tw: mentions of eating disorders, fatphobia, and suicide/self harm):

Every now and then I go onto the For You tab on Tumblr, just to see something outside my circle, and I liked this one post talking about fatphobia. Nothing unusual, just talking about how body positivity doesn't "promote" anything harmful and how fat-shaming is often more dangerous than people making fat jokes or being rude on the street. I guess Tumblr picked up the discussion of how this matter relates to weight loss (in-context, weight loss is mentioned as a sign of serious health issues, and a sign that often goes ignored by doctors), and decided to bombard me with eating disorder positivity posts.

Not, like, posts supporting those with eating disorders getting help and recovering from their condition, but posts that actively promote getting an eating disorder and losing an unhealthy amount of weight for the sake of a skeletal appearance. These were people openly talking about how much they hated themselves and there was an entire community just dedicated to pushing people even further into this death spiral. The fact that the bloggers had to obscure their tags to be about 50% numbers and symbols says a lot here.

I'll be honest, that scared the shit out of me. I don't like divulging personal stuff on here too often, but let's just say there's been a lot of pressure at my household to lose weight with methods I don't really trust, and I'd rather not have the toxic influences of a community of ed enthusiasts making my already-present anxiety issues even worse, so I blocked pretty much every one of the blogs it showed me until it stopped recommending me that stuff.

Dear Tumblr, never do that again.

[40spoppin]

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[dyk3medown]

sober

eddie munson x reader

summary: song fic based on “Sober Haha Jk Unless” by Hospital Bracelet

warnings: gn!reader, ANGST, TW!! heavy drug use, implied addiction, some suicidal ideation and an attempt, this is pretty heavy i won’t lie, hopeful ending, a touch of dark humor

a/n: this song is in a very specific playlist that i made of songs that make me cry. i was listening to it at 2 am and just started writing until this fic was done so i apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. this is definitely a departure from the smut i’ve been posting lmao

!!if you are on the taglist for eddie but don’t want to be tagged in something like this in the future, pls let me know. i don’t think i’ll be writing another fic like this anytime soon but just in case!!

I’ve been thinking about it every hour

You’ve fallen into a cycle recently, one that you’re not sure you can break out of. You wake up, pop a few pills, barely make it through the school day, go home, cry, pop a couple more to dull it all out, fall asleep, and repeat.

Lights are off, and it’s harder to do without power 

The lights are never on in your room. If they were, you’d be able to see yourself in the mirror, and that’s something you just can’t do. You know you don’t look good, you can tell from how the people around you react, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

My feet are broken, knees are loose, and I end up on the ground

It all spirals out of control the day Eddie cuts you off. He meets you in your usual spot, signature toolbox in hand and a frown on his face.

“You ran out already? I just gave you some last week.”

It’s only been a few days, and your stash is all but depleted. “Whatever, are you gonna give it to me or not?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know if I should, Y/N.”

Panic rises in your body. “C’mon Eds, it’s no big deal.” You hold out a fistful of cash with a trembling hand. “I’ll pay you double, whatever you want.”

“You don’t pay me at all usually, and I’m sorry, I can’t help you if I wanted to. You’ve cleaned me out of all the good shit.”

A pained whine escapes your chest, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on getting your fix. “Please, Eddie, I know you have to have something!”

Eddie opens his toolbox, and you can see he’s not lying. All that’s left is some weed, and that’s not the high you’re looking for. “That’s not all you have. You’re lying, you’re just lying to me!”

“Y/N,” Eddie approaches you carefully, like you’re a wild animal, trying his best not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

He puts a hand on the side of your face as he looks you over, taking in the dark circles under your eyes, the way your skin has gone dull and the skin on your lips is dry and cracked. Once upon a time, maybe even a few weeks ago, you would’ve leaned into his touch, perhaps even taken it further.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you freak,” you slap his hand away, ignoring the genuine hurt you can see in his expression.

“Sorry, I don’t wanna be your little fucktoy right now," you spit. "You can get it somewhere else.”

Eddie’s gaze hardens, and he steps back, grabbing the box and slamming it shut. “I’m not selling you shit anymore. Call me when you’ve figured out whatever the fuck is going on with you right now.”

He storms off, and your heart sinks into your stomach, matching the way you sink to the ground, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes as you try desperately not to cry.

I don’t really know if I wanna overdose

You strike gold when you get home, rifling through your parents’ bathroom. Your mom had had a few surgeries in the past, and you knew they must have prescribed her some sort of pain medication. To your muted delight, you find plenty of mostly-full bottles, the sound of the pills rattling in their containers sounding like music to your ears.

The first time you almost overdose, it’s an accident. Turns out, mixing a bottle of vodka with prescription-grade opiates isn’t a great idea, and you wake up in a puddle of your own puke. You clean yourself up and rinse your mouth in the sink, wondering the whole time, what if?

The second time is not an accident.

You walk into your shift at Family Video to find out you’ve been fired. Apparently, not showing up for work most of the time and being out of it when you are there doesn’t make you a model employee. Robin follows you after you walk out, trying to talk to you, but you brush her off, and she gives up as you shut your car door in her face.

Robin is yet another one of the friends you’ve pushed away and now lost. First, it was your usual crowd, then Eddie, and now the girl you thought of like a sister.

You consider the bottle in your palm as you sit on your bed that night. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if you took just one too many of the pills that sat so enticingly in your grasp. Your friends were clearly over you, your kind-of boyfriend/hookup/dealer didn’t want to see you again, and your parents had never given a shit anyway. There was no one keeping you here but you. You’re sick and tired of life anyway, which was the whole reason you started using so often in the first place, and you come to a decision. At least with everyone you love gone from your life, there’s no need to write one of those cheesy notes.

You’re almost in a trance as you unscrew the cap, dumping the remnants of the bottle, about a fourth, in your palm. Swallow mechanically, you start choking the pills down in groups of a few at a time. You lay back, head resting on your pillow as the effects begin to kick in.

A small smile crosses your lips as you fold your arms over your chest like a corpse in a coffin. You find it unreasonably funny to think of someone finding you like that, in the classic position of the dead.

When you wake up in the morning, feeling extraordinarily sluggish but still alive, you’re filled with the strongest emotions you’ve felt in a while: despair, embarrassment, and deep disappointment. Angry tears stream down your cheeks as sobs wrack your chest, ugly crying in a way you can’t remember doing since you were a child screaming about a broken bone.

Maybe I’m just constantly scared of being on my own

The next couple of weeks are spent locked in your room, skipping school and leaving only to grab a bit of food in the dead of night. You’ve never felt so isolated, so wholly and utterly alone. As much as it pains you to admit it, you miss your friends, you miss Eddie.

In periods where you have coherent enough thought, you find yourself longing for him. Not just the sex or smoking together, but the little things. The way his eyes light up when a song he likes plays on the radio, how he would always go out of his way to make you laugh, the sappy look on his face when you kissed him for the first time. He was one of the best things in your life, and you had to go and fuck it up just like everything else.

A head without the thoughts, I think that’s what I need

You’re mindful of your dwindling supply of the only thing keeping you going. The number of little capsules is slowly and surely ticking down in the last bottle, and you know that if you keep it up at the rate you have been, you’re going to need a refill soon. There’s maybe a week left, maybe a couple extra days if you really stretch it out, but you know you can’t bear to be able to think for long enough periods to make it last.

You weigh your options. If you take them all in one go, the supply issue will cease to exist, but on the other hand, if by some miracle you wake up again, you’ll be fresh out of pills and will need to find another way to restock.

Maybe I’m just too messed up to succeed

It’s kind of funny, you think. You used to be so bright and “promising,” as adults would say when you were small, and now here you were, high out of your mind on the floor with no prospects in life.

You’re broken from your thoughts by a loud knock at your front door. Home alone, you’re sure that without anyone answering, whoever is there will just leave.

“Y/N!” You can hear a muffled call of your name, and your heart jumps up in your throat. You cautiously make your way out of your room as the voice calls your name again, feeling like you're moving through water.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.” You peer through the peephole and can see Eddie standing there, nervously tapping his foot with his arms crossed.

His head falls forward with a sigh, and he braces both arms against the door, forehead pressing against the wood between them. “Please, just let me in.”

You back away a few steps, trying to put some more separation between you and Eddie as you contemplate your decision. You could easily turn tail and return to your room, retreating back into the dark to think about whether or not to risk finishing off the last handful of pills. That option sounds very tempting, but you force yourself to consider the alternative.

You could also open the door, let Eddie inside, and finally see the person you’ve been craving more than any drug, maybe even think about asking for a little bit of help. God, you don’t even know what to say to him. How could you ever explain the tornado that’s ripped through your life and settled in your chest, slowly chipping away at what’s left of your heart? Your head is swimming and it's not just from your high.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door.” Eddie’s voice rings out in the silence once again. “I’ll wait here all night, fuck, I’ll stay out here forever if that’s what it takes.”

You inhale deeply, walking back to the door. Your hand hovers over the lock, fingers just grazing the cool metal. You exhale as you unlock it, eyes closing as you turn the little lever and reach for the handle.

After a few more moments of hesitation, you open the door, and you finally let Eddie inside.

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