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whorrorbellee · 9 months

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THE THIRTEENTH STEP

(sponsor!dark!Eddie Munson x recovering!reader)

Oh how I've created the most deliciously terrible pairing, so many warnings and red flags.

if you are under the age of 18 I will make out with you dad >:0 don't make me do that

Eddie Munson is 5 years sober and horribly famous, reader is 60 days sober and has never heard of the bands he's in :) 29 year old Eddie , 21 yr old reader. Fem reader. ALSO STEVE THE ARMY GUY is not STEVE HARRINGTON

Warnings: drug use, addiction, drug addiction, alcoholics, sex addicts, sexual assault(not eddie),power play, the act of thirteenth stepping( becoming involved with newly recovering addict),abuse, victimisation, reader hates herself, reader is suicidal,Gaslighting and manipulation

Masterlist

It's 1994 and you stop smoking, you chew gum instead, sipping dark roast coffees when you crave them.You stop drinking too, stop doing drugs, you're totally clean now and you get tattoos, thousands of them (well you have maybe more than 20) you've been clean for less than 60 days.

Your parents are so proud of you, and you've broken up with ‘him’? So you've got everything ahead of you and nothing to lose. You're living with your parents, back at home, you don't hear the drunks outside,they don't knock on your door and beg. The mail comes and it is never bad news. You thank your rich mum and dad. You pray every night that they are telling the truth when they say how far you've come, but deep down you know they aren't, back at home already and your degree hasn't even finished yet.

You're a failure.

They've spent so much money on you, you want to pay it all back, hospital bills, expensive rehabilitation, one of the new ones, with green tea and yoga and celebrities who have phones you put in your pocket, the one your dad has for work.

You have crystal healing therapy and draw your feelings in big white open rooms with hundreds of plants, and half the time you think to yourself.

‘i'd rather he hit and shout at me all over again before Rachel stands up and hums incredibly loudly at the back of my head for another session of reiki healing, in fact i'd rather be back to lying on the streets overdosing if she prescribes a fucking hug. Id rather have a fucking! stomach pump if she tells me i'm worth it! One more fucking time.``

But you're out now, stuck in the New York suburbs with assholes who take prescription drugs and drink green smoothies and walk tiny dogs and listen to music that makes you want to cut your ears off and shove them down someone's throat.

Your parents buy you a car to get to the NA meetings. It's thirty minutes away. In a church.

You remember going there on Sundays with your family, fresh faced in babydoll dresses and tiny little white socks, with your pink pocket bible and you'd get pancakes with sweet syrup and fresh fruit and your nan would scoop up all the foam on her coffee and let you taste it when your mum turned a blind eye, bitter and milky.

But this is different, you've done this all by yourself.

’Step 1: Admit your life has become unmanageable’

Okay, so it's your first college party right? And you're freshly 18. You've never drunk (the sip of your dads beer doesn’t count) and you're dressed well; slutty. Your roommates pulled something out that's low cut? You're a hundred percent sure it's a nightgown at this point. And you've got boots and a brown matte lip and you look at yourself in the mirror and think.

‘Is this what it's like to be popular?”

So anyway, you show up to this party right, you-look-so-fucking-hot. And you meet this guy, well you meet “him”, He's cute, a little flirty. He makes you smile and he smokes weed. And remember you've never drunk or done any drugs, but you really like him and any common sense gets thrown out of your pretty little head, so you do a shot and smoke.

You end up in his bed that night, he's pressed against you whispering poetry into your ear, you swallow air and cry and you've never been deeply religious because you did give that boy a hand-job in the church graveyard when you were fourteen, so it's not like you're totally a prude or anything because your roommate's dress hangs around your waist as you lose your virginity to him, and all you ask is,

“Is this what heaven feels like?”

You're light and airy.

You wake up in the morning and leave and you start going out every night trying to catch him at the bar that doesn’t ID, you see him with other girls-he leaves with other girls, hunched over in the back alley. Sometimes it's you, in his car, in the bar toilets, in his house, you don't leave for days, your mind is constantly foggy and he is on the phone to his friend talking about drugging the same girl over and over, but you want it so badly so it can't be you, right?

So you start buying off him and suddenly all of your trust fund is gone and your owing him favours, your on his bedroom floor high as a fucking kite you see color's and your pretty sure your on acid, you don't actually know? But it doesn't matter at this point because you’ve convinced yourself he's in love with you.

You've missed all your classes this week because you're too busy getting pounded by the guy that gives you drugs for free and then he stops whispering poetry into your ear and you are actually like together, because you got kicked out of your apartment and you live with him now.

There's no point going anywhere, your mind is foggy, you've lost so much weight and you don't actually know what's going on at this point, he tells you what you need, his friends come and go, he must have hundreds of them because they all look different.

He gets violent, but it's during sex first, he slaps your face and apologises because he's ‘just trying to keep you awake’ he swears. He buys you flowers the next day, and chokes you that evening, it becomes a vicious new cycle.

“Here I bought you chocolate” is cheap shit, but he carves his initials into your skin that night because "you fucking belong to him”

Then he tells you to sleep with his friends and you do. He laughs and calls you a slut and kicks you. “Anything for fucking drugs this girl”

His friends snicker and you sleep with them, the list of sins gets longer. Then one night after a year when your parents get redirected to the place you've been staying because this Christmas you haven't called to say you're coming back and also that expensive ivy league school just sent the third check back as you had dropped out.

They find you outside on a road away from his place, red foam out your mouth, eyes rolled back and bruised all over, your naked and your hair is knotted at the back, so you're rushed to hospital, you never tell them what happened, so they don't ask, no police report is filed, he gets away with what he's done.

What a Christmas gift you think, your mother says its a Christmas miracle and tells all her friends that you've basically been reborn. Your dad is distant like always, and you drink cranberry juice instead of wine at Christmas dinner, everyone pretends that everything is fine.

You think you were set up to fail from the start.

And yeah, you could say your life has gotten pretty unmanageable.

The doctor says you're lucky your parents found you, you had your stomach pumped in the ambulance, but you don't remember much.

Just pain, and a pure black sky.

And you start to miss him, it's been two weeks and he hasn't tried to contact you to apologies like he usually does and you think of the first night you met and how it felt like heaven, and how you couldn't move and speak and it was like you were trapped in your own head and how it didn't feel at all that nice, and how he was whispering ‘it's going to be alright, im just taking care of you’

And you're heartbroken all over again, but you're not allowed to drink so you wallow in your sadness sober, which is actually ridiculously boring and because you're sober you can't make drunk mistakes like kissing random old men or spending hundreds of dollars on a stupid bag, because drunk you would take a knife and stab him right in his heart so he knew how it felt.

You start to wish you died that night, because tattoos are fucking expensive and also you cant get yourself to cover his mark because that would mean someone else would see it there and everything would be true.

So you sit at home and think and cry and cry some more, and then you pack for rehab.

But rehabs over now, and AA, NA, SAA (because sleeping around for drugs is actually considered a sex addiction? And not prostitution? yeah right!), that's your life now, you're fully booked and sober.

It's five pm. You're driving an old Honda accord in silver because your dad thinks if you get drunk and crash the car it won't be a loss of money, have a little faith, your mum hands you three dollars to buy a coffee because apparently coffee is incredibly expensive now.

You pull over and buy a pack of cigarettes, you lean against your car, you breathe in the bitter death and think.

“Is it a sin to smoke next to a church?”

It can't be right?

You check your watch, five twenty five.

A black Chevy truck pulls up to your left, it actually looks ridiculous, its custom so whoever owns it is either extremely rich or stupid and poor.

Metallica blasts through the speakers, it's so loud you can't hear yourself think. The car door slams as you inhale the last of your cigarette. You look up for half a second, but you find yourself gazing at him for a second too long.

He looks back, he nods and smiles at you.

You scoff, stamping out your cigarette.

He follows you into the church.

———————

Eddie's famous, stupidly famous. Old men know who he is famous, and hot women.

Eddie is famous as fuck and rich and an addict.

You know how it starts, smoke a bit of weed in high school, drink a couple of beers. One minute you're trying cocaine for the first time and the next your manager is hand cuffing you to your bed-frame because you have a tendency to get drunk and fuck and destroy the hotel room.

So yeah maybe Eddie spiralled out of control on tour and passed out on stage and then decided to get in the passenger seat with his friend, and take control of the steering wheel, and well you probably know the rest right? you've heard it all before, you've seen it in the papers.

"RICH WHITE ROCKSTAR GETS FUCKING DRUNK AND KILLS LIKE A MILLION PEOPLE!!!!!"

Okay so not exactly that.

On parole for a year, Licence revoked for two. Three years in and he starts making music again, four years sober and all he has is an extreme nicotine addiction, an over customised truck, and bandmates who hate him. But that's rock and roll baby, all the stars nearly kill their friends.

Eddie goes to NA and AA meetings every week, technically he's forced too but he likes listening to rich white mens sob stories, how they were bankers by day and coke addicts by night, because it's so tragic how they cheated on their wives with strippers, boo hoo! Eddie likes to play a game for sympathy, someone tells their sob story about losing a dog because they were drunk and Eddie talks about how his friend was in a coma for half a year.

And so Eddies pulls into the church hall parking lot, and he notices the young lil thing leaning against her car inhaling a cigarette like it's her job, and she dressed somewhat weirdly. In Fact she looks so out of place, she's wearing beige but not in a cool 90s grunge way. More in the way that her mum dressed her this morning, her mum being rich and suburban, married her husband for money.

He switches the truck off, and metallica fades out immediately. He steps out the truck, the car door slams, he stretches, his chest aimed for the sky and he looks at her. He nods and sends her a cheeky smile.

He waits for her reaction but she stares and scoffs , stamping out her cigarette, her eyes roll and she pulls the sleeves of her overly expensive knit jumper down.In the colour of beige, but the store probably calls it caramel coffee creamer or gingerbread cookie fall and even worse cinnamon roll icing, coconut shredded chocolate. Or if it's even higher end, sand one. He follows behind her. Noticing her stained black converse, bloodied, scuffed.

Her mum had definitely dressed her.

———————

The church hall is cold, it always has been.

There's a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, and a table with coffee cups and cheap plastic wrapped muffins, there's four men in suits in the room they’re sweating and you make eye contact with what you think is your mom's friend, she looks away quickly, and then there's the weird army guy with a sign in sheet that your pretty sure came to your high school to warn you about the dangers of drugs and alcohol.

You tell him your name and curl up on a plastic seat with a cold cup of coffee. You sip carefully, staring ahead as the curly headed freak pulls up a chair to your right.

“Nice sweater”

You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down, he's wearing a black fitted shirt and blue jeans covered in tattoos.

“It's my mums” you stare at him in the eye, “can you tell?”

“Where are your clothes then?”he points to your chest and meets your eyes.

“I don't know, probably in a skip somewhere rotting, like everything else”

He grins, “You're so cynical” he looks over to the woman next to him “How are you doing today Joan? How are the kids?”

Joans face flushes, and stares at your face,” Oh Eddie, i'm doing fine thank you, Heathers graduating college soon, only a couple of months”

“They grow up so fast, huh”

There's a moment of silence, Eddie leans back in his chair smiling, the business men talk about stocks or money or whatever they actually do, and the big army guy sits down in a chair, his legs spread, muscles bulging.

“Hello, I'm Steve and i'm an alcoholic!"

“Hi Steve” we chant back.

“It's been about seventeen years now, since i had a sip of beer, and i've been thinking, seventeen years, that's nearly a high school graduate, my soberness could drive, next year it could join the army, and every day i think to myself what is this for? myself ? My wife? My kids? “ he sighs

“No, being sober is for myself, i've owned up to my actions, i've accepted god into my life, i've made amends, and now? I go for dinner with my wife and while she has wine I have soda, my kids party and I can pick them up safely, and help them, but I'm happy to help.”

Steve goes on for what seems like hours, but you keep your eye on the clock and only minutes pass, you don't actually know what he's trying to say but you nod along anyway.

“We have a newcomer today, you've probably noticed her. So be nice, why don't you introduce yourself darling?”

You say your name, and they chant it back at you, they wait for you to speak.

“I got out of rehab like a-week ago, and all I could think while being there while they braided my hair and made me pick weeds out of bushes is how I would've rather died from my overdose than be there.” you pause, and the room fills with a flood of sympathy, it's thick in the air, there's a shuffling of feet.

“And like, everyones been telling me to own up to my actions, like it was my fault? Like I went to college and then decided to get hooked on drugs?” you smile but your eyes don't.

There's a scoff on your right, you look at him.

“oh sorry did you want to say something?”

“Look sweetheart, we’re all here for a reason, part of recovery is owning up to your actions” Eddie smiles softly like he's just said the biggest revelation ever .

You nod at him, “yeah i guess you're right, next time someone loads me up with ketamine and rapes me i’ll remember it was my own fault” you stand up straight coffee knocked up and on the floor.

“because I was asking for it, right?”

You drag your chair painfully slowly and it scrapes along the floor, making that awful sound.

You rush out of the building to your car, slamming the door and hitting the steering wheel. You look over at the truck on your left and contemplate.

Fuck it

You get out the car, keys in your hand and you scrape them along his car door , in jagged edges.

Shit. You panic. Can you go to prison for this? you've just vandalised a seemingly harmless guy's car.

“Did you just key my truck?” He's behind you, and you turn to see his face.

“No” you shake your head.

“I just watched you do it, why are you lying?” he questions

“Because ,I-” you sigh“ i've got to much fucking anger and i don't know what to fucking do with it” your lip tremors.

“Im stupid. So fucking stupid, and yeah everything is my own fucking fault, i could have filled a fucking police report, but i was so fucking naive, i found him in a club the next night and slept with him again, and suddenly i'm lying in my own filth waiting to die because ive been rotting away in his apartment for god knows how long, so he loads me up with drugs and leaves me on the side of the road and i think, this is it i'm finally going to fucking die. I'm twenty one and my life is already fucked.”

The wind howls, and the parking lot lights flicker on as it gets darker.

You look up at him “I'm sorry i keyed your car”

“It's fine, i'm stupidly rich and hate it anyway” Eddie mutters.

You smile.

“I want to be your sponsor”

“Huh?” your eyebrows raise "after I keyed your car?"

‘Yeah and well it's me or Joan, and Joan just speaks about her kids so, I'd be helping you out ”

“Joans actually my mom's friend”

“Oh, I get it,” Eddie sighs, fiddling with his keys.

You pause, looking at his brown eyes, you think about what they would've looked like blood shot.

“Can I get your number then? Because Heather was a real bitch to me in high school so i'd rather not hear about her success story”

A/N: hello I got bored and started writing, and this i what I wrote, i am terrible at proof reading by the way so I will give you a kiss if you tell me all my mistakes xxxx

#eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson #famous eddie munson #rich reader #90s au #recovering addict au #stranger things x reader #stranger things but not strange #heavy topics #what the actual fuuuuuck #slightly older Eddie #eddie munson #edward munson

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martyrbat · 2 years

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yknow im gonna be honest right here and admit that jason todd being poor is something i hold very personal to me because i am and being able to connect with this little fictional character and recognize myself is something very dear to my autistic heart and how i analyze his character. so please excuse how messy this is as i try to spontaneously place my thoughts in something legible

[ID: a closeup of Jason Todd as Robin. He's asking Batman, "What's that world ever do for me?" END ID]

But this whole flashback in particular still makes me so frustrated. When you're poor, you establish and build communities. You have to or you die. You rely on people's kindness and love - even if you're a stranger. It's how you survive. I had old friends ask me if im embarrassed or say they'd be too ashamed to take that help or do what I had to do to scrape by.

But so many don't understand that pride is a luxury many can't afford. I'm not ashamed. I'm angry you'd rather have me dead than confront the classism you benefit from and are comfortable upholding.

Poor people are the first to tell you that the world and society aren't going to save you and that you're abandoned by it - that they'll leave you to die and not care until it breaks their bubble of privilege and exploitation. (Homelessness, landlords, shoplifting food. Being visibly poor or effecting THEIR lives - it's never about yours). But the people in it, the 'little people', are the reason you ever survive. You're at the rawest point of humanity and while yes, you experience and deal with the cruelty and dirtiest parts of it - you see and experience the genuine kindness from everyday people. People that are equally struggling are more likely to help you than people that can comfortably do so without the fear of going without.

[ID: Batman and Robin sitting together on a ledge. Batman is telling Robin, "You need to love it...Or what's the point?" END ID]

Now take this kid. He gone without. He doesn't get to have a billionaire privilege of that filtered view. He knows people aren't good vs evil, that they're not black or white. Good people do shitty things to survive. Evil people walk free. He's familiar and knows struggles and reality - he knows drug addiction and overdose and murder and suicides and malnourishment. He knows police brutality and the system is designed against people like him up until just recently - where he suddenly meets the criteria to be protected instead of targeted. He doesn't look over the streets, waiting to swoop in. He's lived in them. He knows them.

For me and my experience as a disabled, poor, autistic with hyper empathy? All you want to do is help others. You don't have a life unless you're being productive. You want to give back the kindness you were gifted with, you know that struggle and pain and don't want anyone to go through it. You know no one is looking out for you other than your community. The world can be so fucking cruel so that's why I can't be - I have to be the good I want to see in it.

Then take this kid that has the opportunity to do more than what he ever dreamed of? He can finally live instead of just survive. He can be the hero to the people that usually don't get that luxury of care. He can protect his community and build bigger ones. He can help people. As @autisticredhood said so brilliantly in this post: "he doesn’t care what the world will do for him he cares about what HE will do for the world"

Stripping that away from him changes everything Jason is. As a child and him being unfairly written off as the angsty Robin but aldo as an adult since it's such a key element to what his moral code is and how he operates as a hero. Jason Todd will always care. He loves so much and it's constantly dismissed and I hate it.

#rly just look at that post in general but #idk the entire flashback just immediately set me in a mood #im tired and angry and hurt and want justice for the most compassionate boy #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #robin ii #red hood #red hood: outlaws #if i have energy ill post more on Jason being poor impacts him as robin eventually #posts from the crypt #meta

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ledgend-origin-mew · 1 month

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Origin welcomes you

I've decided to make a dedicated location for my story and to give me more motivation to draw! I do have a set schedule so I won't have every day to work on the story, but hopefuly that won't hinder the pacing =3

Rules and Info:

This isn't going to primerally be an ask blog, however you are allowed to ask the mews, two and other mons anything you'd like. They can give you lore bits.

You are allowed to interact with the mons as you please as long as you be respectful, however the interaction itself likely won't be cannon to the overall story. Some might if you're lucky.

There is going to be multiple origin stories told in a set structure so that as the story is told, everything makes sense.

I do not want to hear any abusive language towards me or even directed at the characters, and i'd rather keep away from NSFW contect as much as possible.

{Origins}

Base Origins {mew}

Urain Origins {Mewtwo} here

Fernandes Origins {H!Zoroark}

Keith Origins {Eevee}

Mint Origins {Espeon}

Jasper Origins {Shadow mew}

Edward Origins {Deoxys}

{Side Stories}

Mino Origins {Missingno}

Rosemary Origins {Female Symbol}

Demo Origins {Decamark}

STEVEN Origins {Strangled Red}

Character Refs under cut |

Multybility - this pokemon changes its ability at will.

Cosmic shards - fragments of a mutated space virus shattered by hand.

Energy Overdose - when HP reaches 0, deals damage equal to ALL damage taken to the agresser.

Shadow Gem - a gemstone tainted by synergy, helps maintain sanity.

Diamond Crown - a gift from the first of Diancie kind, overflowing with mega energy.

{key item when removed} Rocket Data Tag - BIO-ID tag for hight ranking rocket pokemon. This particular ID is engraved "HEAD LAB ASSISTANT! DO NOT REMOVE OR HINDER THIS POKEMON!"

Hidden Ability - Corrosion - Contact with this pokemon causes sever poison.

Pandora - This creatures very existence breaks reality around it.

Void Fragment - Black glass from the beyond, surpresses anomalous activity.

Corruption - 5pp - The user shreds reality pixel-by-pixel until it is unrecognisable.

#Pokemon #mew #origin mew #shiny mew #shadow mew #shiny origin mew #Origins #shiny mewtwo #Gallade #mega gallade #Scolipede #shiny scolipede #Missingno #shiny hisuian zoroark #shiny eevee #shiny espeon #espeon #Eevee #hisuian zoroark

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littlesliceofimmortality · 1 year

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typed up a bunch of milton headcanons hol up (lifts up a file cabinet and drops it on the table with a THUNK( ITS ALOT MORE AND I REALIZED SO. under the cut!

content warning for mention of overdose

• used to get sick alot as a kid. like DEADLY sick, bedridden missing chunks of school sick. got better once middle school started but is more concious about germs than most

• still kinda physically weak still. has athritis as well but can stubborn about it since he loves to write/type

• callum once joked about how (when)if milt ever changed his mind he could get a typewriter head. "arent those typically for women?" "THINK about it, baby! you could be the first gender non confirming vice president! "(chuckling) i think id rather make the history books in a different way, cal"

• HEAVILY christian. prayed before every meal and before he went to bed and stuff. had the occasional fit of all-consuming devotion and sobbing while kneeling over a bench from time to time, but hes shaken off his more intense religious fears and grew more solid in his faith.

• cant help feeling Conviction grip him when callum will make an offhand comment about not being a god-fearing man

• men in dialtown will really just abuse substances. addicted to painkillers and hates himself for it. has tried to wean himself off of it several different times, and had a really good streak going before he overdosed actually.

• first person in his family to go to college! yipee! did genuinely enjoy it and wrote back to/called his parents alot - kept up a good relationship with them

• he would absolutely love to be with a supercomputer the size of a room i know it he'd kick his legs and grin

• ate nothing but different variations of soup for a week straight once. not because of anything serious He jusy Really liked soup for a bit

• marla lightheartedly pokes fun at him for not having any silly ties + bought him funky socks for christmas once. has startwd incorporating more patterns into his wardrobe since

• permanant hat hair....likes the pressure on his head. the more bullet points i type out the more im unconsciously making him autistic. WELL what even ever

• used to have it super short cropped but let it grow out a lil bit more as he started wearing the same hat (yakno The Hat) more consistently so he can tuck it underneath

• The Hat also has a little orange ribbon around it TRUST.ill draw the top soon

#feeling deranged about him(Again)#milton r wallace #dialtown #henrys rambles

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copperbadge · 2 years

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[ID: A navy-blue T-shirt with orange print; the print reads “COCAINE BEAR” and the entire design is made to look like a vintage Chicago Bears football t-shirt with a snarling bear’s head, the Chicago Bears mascot, in the middle.]

This morning I went out for a walk and saw a dude wearing this t-shirt.

I must have done about a quadruple-take because as the ID suggests, this shirt is nearly identical to “Chicago Bears” football logo shirts that you see around the city all the time; by the time I’d processed what the shirt said he’d gone past me, and I had to get my phone out and google “Cocaine Bear T-Shirt” to work out if I had actually just seen that.

Apparently “Cocaine Bear” is a Kentucky legend, a bear who got into a stash of smuggled coke in Kentucky in 1985 and promptly, unsurprisingly, overdosed. The smuggler had parachuted out of a plane but failed to open his chute, which is how the coke ended up in bear territory.

It’s funny for like half a second and then the realization hits you that a bear died because a dude dropped out of a plane with $14M in coke and also died. The bear’s taxidermied remains are now in the Kentucky Fun Mall in Lexington, so making a note if I ever end up in Lexington again.

Apparently there’s a movie set to come out next year which features the bear going on a murderous rampage rather than sadly overdosing, but as terrible as it sounds it’s also the last film to be released starring Ray Liotta so will probably do modestly well at the box office.

Anyway there are a bunch of different shirts you can buy but I feel like there are certain spaces where if you wear a shirt reading “COCAINE BEAR” you are inviting a very specific form of attention.

#bears #drugs #cocaine #cocaine bear #kentucky

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ofhowlingxs · 3 months

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[ Theo James | he/him ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome BROOKS DUNN to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 32 year old WEREWOLF, who is one of the SURVIVORS but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be BULLHEADED, but that’s all a façade to cover up their COMPASSIONATE nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to ID RATHER OVERDOSE by HONESTAV, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world. ( Layla, 27, est, she/her )

History.

Born and raised in the swamps of New Orleans, Brooks has been a native to the city for generations. His family was some of the first to settle, and despite this— never had a good upstanding with the rest of the townsfolk.

His family was known as being rough around the edges. The men had addiction problems, and they were angry. Violent. They always had been. It was no wonder when they didn’t get along with the other packs in the area.

Tw: drugs tw: abuse: His father in particular was his own demons. Spending his nights on the couch with a needle in his arm, while his mother tried her best to shield her son from the inevitable. Brooks grew up fast, acting as a barrier between his mother and his father more times than he could count. And as he got older, the genes he was given started to play their hand.

Tw: death He was sixteen when his father got particular nasty one night. He’d been out a party, drinking when he wasn’t supposed to be, and coming home late to his father in another one of his violent fits against his mother. In a rage, Brooks fought back. Shoving his dad and losing his balance. He hit his head, and didn’t get back up.

The police chalked it up to an accident, but Brooks would serve the next several years in a juvenile detention center for troubled teens. The anger and depression kicked in, took over, and despite the fact he was on a one way track to becoming the man he hated. He fought his own addictions for years, until he finally became sober into adulthood.

His life started to turn around. He met a girl. He fell in love, he was going to get married— his mother was finally at peace and they could out grow their family name.. make generational changes. Break curses. And then the woman he love died— and he spiraled again.

It took everything in him to pull himself out of the trenches of darkness. And he couldn’t stay— couldn’t allow himself to be stuck in a city where everything reminded him of her. So he left. He visits every now and again, mostly for his mother’s sake. But now something has brought him back. Word of the dead, coming back to life.

#exitium.intro #tw drugs #tw abuse #tw alcoholism #tw death

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exitiumhq · 3 months

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✧ ━ ACCEPTED ━ ✧ welcome to new orleans, brooks dunn! be sure to send in your account within twenty-four hours or your role will be reopened. don’t forget to look over our checklist and make yourself comfortable. theo james is now taken

#exitium.accepted

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nightfallsystem · 6 months

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hhhhh everyone sees me as a girl. i don't think im gonna make it. if we have painkillers in this house then i have no chance

#tw vent #tw suicide #i dont know how ill take 30 painkillers but i can try!#id rather suffer for 3 days than deal with this life #i cant take it anymore..#everyone sees me as a girl. whats the point of being alive.#maybe I am a girl idk. everyone thinks i am.#im gonna either kms or hurt myself so fucking bad #i wish i had a rope..#thats faster than overdosing...#or maybe i can just drug myself and put a plastic bag over my head #idk anymore

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scarsmood · 1 year

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may i ask why you support endogenic systems? genuinely curious on your thoughts on it.

Tldr; they’re cool. Idm. The rest of this devolves into me bursting into flames. So popcorn is recommended.

They fuck, putting on my little shit glasses. Here’s what I can say diagnostic criteria as someone with diagnosed DID is kinda fucking awful. Our system for people with mental illnesses isn’t comprehensive, it isn’t all knowing, we also don’t account for so much shit it’s scary.

I have so many endogenic friends. I can’t give a fuck. Their existence doesn’t effect mine. Language is a different story something I see a lot. My only ask is that an endogenic system doesnt claim they fully understand a DID system which ive seen in syscourse. That’s just not gonna happen similar to lived experiences issues. Their different experiences and thats fine.

I think tolerance is a better word for me. Because i am system aggressive and it doesnt discriminate. You put me near other systems because of previous abuse from other traumagenic systems im prone to lash out. I just can’t conntect well like I used to.

So i tolerate all of you. Equally. I don’t see a reason to discriminate. I’ve seen some abuse on both ends and don’t think its a systematic issue rather a individuals are assholes problem.

Honestly? Seems more like a huge distraction to have a little war this way to distract from the rampant abuse all systems face. We should all agree its bullshit theres no accommodations, systems aren’t prevalent in academics yet. Thats a bigger issue. If you wanna spend time helping people with say DID or accomodations related to their plurality id take a dip into academic papers and see how bad it really is.

Let’s set the stage and remind ourselves.

In 2010 it was okay to force integrate systems

In the early 2000’s and 90’s endogenics and traumagenic systems didnt have much of any significant voice in medical settings. Typically treated as schitzophrenia for BOTH.

In the 1980’s it was okay and normal to overdose a paitent with DID and kill them. Then claim it was an alter.

When i see people fight over endogenic systems. I want to scream st them thats not the point. When I was being told by my first therapist to be very careful as a 14 year old because its a very real fear i will be experimented on without my consent.

I wonder why the FUCK endogenics are even on peoples radar. When I do intensive EMDR for years that cost me thousands of dollars out of pocket. I work fulltime jobs JUST to go to therapy.

This blog is my fun haha blog where I go to disconnect. Tomorrow im waking up at 7am to drive for intensive therapy getting myself in debt and picking up new meds for my DID.

Nothing about plurality is even remotely safe yet. Not safe enough to bicker about why endos should stay in their lane. We have a common enemy. Endogenic systems have so much information to. They know how to communicate without dissociation. I envy thag because DID costs me past 7k its a car at this point. Probably more.

Why would i not support someone whose got their shit figured out? I respect the hell out of that. I just don’t see why their an issue. Not when I have to listen to my disability officer tell me im not disabled enough. I have to argue with someone dipshit that my pain isn’t farfetched and I will experience very real consequences without accommodations.

I love playing the victim though. Traumagenic systems are noteably more unstable than endogenic systems. We are literally disordered. Im system aggressive because i cannot stand to see functionality in other systems. Ive watched traumagenic systems tear into endogenics, raid their spaces and spew hate in the name of ???

Happens on both sides. Like i said but its easier to pretend were the victims. Im just very tired of going through therapy, life, and social interactions at a disadvantage. Endogenic systems remind me theres people like me who are a little different who maybe arent as fucked. I think thats cool. Because its hard for me to tell if im gonna make it or not. I like the inspiration.

You caught me at a bad time anon ask me again after im done with some of the hardest choices ive had to make in my life

#rant #tw

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apocalypticavolition · 9 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 50: Meetings at the Eye

Spoiler alert: No matter how simple everything should be, computer upgrades will always find new and exciting ways to wreck your shit. We should abandon technological civilization and become tree people, like the semi-spoilery character above. This post doesn't just cover this guy but spoilers all the way out to the end of The Wheel of Time, so you should go away if that ain't your thing.

This chapter opens up with the trefoil leaf icon, a reflection of just how goddamn awesome Someshta is. MVP of this book, I'm telling you.

Child of the Dragon. Warily he watched the Green Man, walking ahead with Moiraine and Lan, butterflies surrounding him in a cloud of yellows and reds. What did he mean? No. I don’t want to know.

Rand and Perrin are both practicing their strongest denials here, Perrin just because he doesn't wanna be a werewolf and Rand because he thinks Someshta has IDed him as the Dragon Reborn. Naturally not even Moiraine manages to pick up on the useful detail here that Someshta identifies Rand with the Dragon because of his Aiel heritage and not because he can see his soul.

And he began plucking one from this plant and one from that, never more than two from any. Soon Nynaeve and Egwene wore caps of blossoms in their hair, pink wildrose and yellowbell and white morningstar. The Wisdom’s braid seemed a garden of pink and white to her waist. Even Moiraine received a pale garland of morningstar on her brow, woven so deftly that the flowers still seemed to be growing.

I'll let the sexism speak for itself here by asking you to imagine the better version of this scene where Someshta decks out the boys, Lan, and Loial to boot. How much more effective would the imagery of the peace of the Eye had been if even the hardest warrior in the party was briefly decked out in the only non-palace-based blooming flowers in the known world?

“All things must grow where they are, according to the Pattern,” he explained over his shoulder, as if apologizing, “and face the turning of the Wheel, but the Creator will not mind if I give just a little help.”

Literally every one of Rand's mentors and would-be mentors fails until they understand the meaning of the Green Man's words here.

The Green Man gave Rand an odd look, then shook his head. “Avendesora is not here. I have not rested beneath its ungentle branches in two thousand years.”

Considering that Avendesora has been in the Aiel Waste the whole time, I wonder if this statement means that the Trolloc Wars were so bad that even the Green Man had to fall back. The Eye and Rhuidean being in the same place for awhile would be rather hilariously appropriate.

Knowing they would die, they charged me to guard it against the need to come. It was not what I was made for, but all was breaking apart, and they were alone, and I was all they had. It was not what I was made for, but I have kept the faith.

One of the recurring themes of the series is desperate attempts to fling some light into the future under the certainty that you yourself won't live to see if it even makes it - and those desperate attempts often being spearheaded by those who had no reason to expect that they would be in the role they were. The Eye, Rhuidean, the Tu'athan who were assigned to try to get the Two Rivers children to safety if all else failed, Rand's attempts to build academies and peace treaties, Verin's list of Black sisters, Aviendha's attempts to avert the dark fate of the Aiel, even Egwene's last stand to an extent. You might think that all the repetition would make it hit less hard after awhile but IT STILL HITS. If I could turn this shit into an actual drug I would overdose immediately.

Not all the crystals in the dome glowed with the same intensity. Some were stronger, some weaker; some flickered, and others were only faceted lumps to sparkle in a captured light. Had all shone, the dome would have been as bright as noonday, but they made it only late afternoon, now.

This too reflects another theme, that everything is a pale imitation of what it once was but that a pale imitation is still recognizably an imitation. All of the corruption of the Third Age's institutions hides the true core of what it should be but once you do a little work you find that there's still more than enough good to work with (Aes Sedai like Verin and Pevara who reflect the true nature of their instutiton, the Whitecloaks who willingly follow Galad to Tarmon Gaidon, leaders like Berelain and Ituralde amid the various corrupt nobility).

“But what is it?” Mat asked uneasily. “That doesn’t look like any water I ever saw.” He kicked a lump of dark stone the size of his fist over the edge. “It—”

It's a good thing that Moiraine assumes Someshta confirmed Rand as the Dragon here or the revelation that absolutely everyone can see this pool of saidin instead of just male channelers like you'd expect would probably have given her an aneurysm.

“I always wondered,” Loial said uneasily. “When I read about it, I always wondered what it was. Why? Why did they do it? And how?”

Those are very good questions. The most likely explanation for how is that it was a twofold suicide circle, where first the men channeled as much saidin as they could and had the women do something similar to what Nynaeve will do at Shadar Logoth, but without Logoth's counteracting taint these women absorbed the evil and died from it, and then as they fell and the circle collapsed the men got hit with the rest of the extracted taint and died right after the women.

As for why... Prophecy, probably - and probably misinterpreted prophecy at that. The Aes Sedai likely assumed this was meant for the final showdown like Moiraine suggests, but really it's about buying Rand time for the showdown. Without the Eye, Rand wouldn't have been able to save the Borderlanders without going bugnuts (or burning himself out since he would just be getting started). If he weren't able to save them, then he wouldn't have time to unite the north and east (nor would the Seanchan have had time to colonize the west and south, though the image of the Forerunners sailing to Falme, seeing the Trolloc hordes, and immediately turning around again is great, isn't it?). The Eye's existence also distracts the Forsaken to a good extent, keeping Ishamael busy on a wild goose chase for the first three years of his freedom instead of scheming more effectively.

Rand’s throat rasped as if he had been screaming. “Why did you bring us here?”

Moiraine deserves so much respect for not screaming this chapter. So, so much respect.

“He guided us.” The hand that pointed to Mat was old and shriveled to scarcely human, lacking a fingernail and with knuckles gnarled like knots in a piece of rope. Mat took a step back, eyes widening. “An old thing, an old friend, an old enemy. But he is not the one we seek,” the green-cloaked man finished.

So to clear some things up, Aginor and Balthamel being least sealed bar Ishamael gave them some special privileges. The obvious one was the gift of aging, which boy did they deserve, but also they had more awareness of the world than the others, who spent their time in a dreamless sleep. As the Bore is not at Shayol Ghul but literally everywhere, they got awareness of everywhere. So they know about Shadar Logoth despite it postdating them by over a thousand years because their formless consciousness got a gander.

“The Light protect—” Loial began, his voice shaking, and cut off abruptly when Aginor looked at him. “The Forsaken,” Mat said hoarsely, “are bound in Shayol Ghul—”

RE: Belief and order give strength: Now that the old way of things is turning upside down, so too is belief harder to cling to even as it becomes a more reflexive safety net than ever.

Lan’s sword sprang from its scabbard too fast for Rand’s eye to follow. Yet the Warder hesitated, eyes flickering to Moiraine, to Nynaeve. The two women stood well apart; to put himself between either of them and the Forsaken would put him further from the other.

RE: Love is the death of duty: Wait wrong series sorry.

“No!” Rand called. “You can’t fight the Forsaken!” But they ran past him as if they had not heard, their eyes on Nynaeve and the two Forsaken.

Nynaeve, Egwene, Perrin, Mat: Fuck reason and fuck the inevitability of defeat, someone I care about is hurt and I'm gonna do something even if it's against the Forsaken!

Man prophecized to fight the Forsaken: no i'm smol.

I wonder how much of the trauma from this battle and how endangered everyone was while he stood by the sidelines plays into the hero complex of not letting anyone die for him he gets later. And for that matter, I wonder how much of his denial of his destiny is playing into his inability to be remotely useful in this battle.

He tried to help Egwene up, but she slapped his hands away and stood by herself, angrily brushing off her dress.

This does make good bookends with ghost Egwene telling Rand to fuck off in Shayol Ghul.

Aginor spared him a brief, contemptuous glance. “Begone! Your time is ended, all your kind but you long since dust. Live what life is left to you and be glad you are beneath our notice.”

It is immensely thematic that Someshta lives what life is left to him by choosing to fight the Shadow at the cost of that life and that something so beneath the notice of the Shadow fucks them up as badly as he does.

The Green Man threw the Forsaken down. Balthamel twisted and jerked as all the things that grew in the dark places, all the things with spores, all the things that loved the dank, swelled and grew, tore cloth and leather and flesh—Was it flesh, seen in that brief moment of verdant rage?—to tattered shreds and covered him until only a mound remained, indistinguishable from many in the shaded depths of the green forest, and the mound moved no more than they.

This is incredibly badass.

We again get the balance theming of things in that it's not the pretty, happy flowers of peace and love that destroy Balthamel but instead the carrion eating fungi.

I know we the fandom love to give Be'lal shit for going down like such a punk because he doesn't even come back, but in so many ways Balthamel deserves it even more for not managing to last half a chapter before going down. Be'lal did that much.

Stillness came. And an oak that could have stood five hundred years covered the spot where the Green Man had been, marking the tomb of a legend. Nynaeve lay on the gnarled roots, grown curved to her shape, to make a bed for her to rest upon. The wind sighed through the oak’s branches; it seemed to murmur farewell.

RIP you beautiful bastard.

“Not her!” Rand shouted. “The Light burn you, not her!” He snatched up a rock and threw it, meaning to draw Aginor’s attention. Halfway to the Forsaken’s face, the stone turned to a handful of dust.

Thank you Rand, for finally getting your shit together.

He hesitated only a moment, long enough to glance over his shoulder and see that Egwene was hidden in the trees. The flames still surrounded Aginor, patches of his cloak smoldering, but he walked as if he had all the time in the world, and the fire’s rim was near. Rand turned and ran. Behind him he heard Moiraine begin to scream.

Aginor's seen enough action movies to know how to walk away from an explosion. Have you? If not, you'll have plenty of time to catch up on your studies as I'll be taking another break day tomorrow now that we're finally in the exciting, climactic shit. But I will see you again!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #someshta #perrin aybara #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #egwene al'vere #nynaeve al'meara #mat cauthon #loial #aginor #balthamel

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