@soberfucker indie roleplay blog for oc, sam walton. fucked up by morgan, 21+ irish lesbian. explores themes of queerness, addiction, kink, being a disappointment, passive suicidality, and searching for connection.
did you hear about the walton's son? drowned. so sad for that family. apparently he was drunk. this was years ago, mind you. yes, and then all that ugly business with the daughter. well, if you can call a tomboy like that a daughter. in and out of rehab. when they cut her off, she started counting cards and gambling! in casinos! that was a whole kerfuffle in itself. settled down, lately, of course - works for her father. now, all that said, she doesn't seem very suited to office life. i spoke to the mother - she said it was a pity. of course they love her, but at a certain point one has to take some personal responsibility.
sam walton is a butch lesbian oc (any pronouns) who struggled with addiction, and now with the malaise of recovery. --- board.
Scroll. Dread. Doom. Sleep. Wake. Sleep. Wake. Rush. Coffee. Smoke. Smoke. Smoke. Fuck. Work. Prep. Type. Talk. Nod. Stare. Type. Coffee. Smoke. Work. Talk. Bored. Smoke. Home. Zoom AA. Lost headphones. Don't drink. Don't party. Wank. Eat third-day leftovers. Scroll. Dread. Doom. Ache. Sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It's a pale shadow of what once was. Everything after rehab is.
rules, verses & headcanon links under the cut.
pinterest board.
i. the shitty kid who happened to live. sam is a teenager. their brother dies, ambiguously of suicide. they are isolated, angsty, and bullied for being gay, which is weird because they literally aren't even gay, ok?
ii. party harder you fucking disgrace. oops, they are gay. they drop out of their advanced maths degree after years of losing themself in relationships, sex, and drugs. they're cut off. they learn to count cards in order to scrape together enough money to feed their addiction.
iii. the dull hum of sobriety and finance. sam has been in and out of rehab. they resolve to letting their father control their life, so as to keep themself clean. they are bare-knuckling life, and bored out of their mind.
iv. something brighter. sam leaves finance behind. family, behind. they donate the lion's share of their wealth, and move far away. they prioritise connections, and being a good friend and a happy person.
au verses.
vampire au. turned either in the 2000s or the 2020s depending on what's more fun, sam was alone in the sweltering heights of addiction. they agreed to give blood in return for drugs to fuel their addiction. what they misunderstood was the method by which their blood would be taken. after impressing the vampire who fed from them, they were turned. from a hazy sleep, they awoke to a new sort of hunger. they have roamed the city since: lost, partying, and directionless. they roam cities, looking for connection.
xmen / mutant au. sam's power is telekinesis, powered by the strength of the emotions of those around them. when running low, they've developed nasty habits of trolling to spark emotional reactions. they have a more minor ability to convince people with their words, like hypnosis but with a very rare rate of working effectively (you as the writer of the would-be hypnotised muse get to decide if it works, and how effectively). their family are deeply ashamed of their abilities as a mutant and for many years sent them to institutions to 'cure' them of their defect. sam failed to prevent their brother's suicide, and their mother believes that sam could have with their abilities. sam is disillusioned with mutant empowerment movements, roiling in self-hatred.
hell au. sam is a prince of hell. they reign over disappointments, and wasted potential. easy to summon - extremely hard to dispel. they love people, and are crushed - as it must be, because it is their nature - every time when their actions lead to the worst for all those around them.
rules.
1 . hey. what's up. i'm morgan. my other, mainly inactive, blog is @dimitresca. i'm not mutuals exclusive. i like plotting and writing. i want to write and i want to mutually be enthusiastic about our muses and their connection.
2 . here's stuff i prefer: hardblock, not softblock. if you softblock me, i will adhd-ly not remember if i ever followed you and i will follow you again like an idiot. just spare us all the hassle and hard block me. comment, not like. if i answer an ask, i like when people leave comments on it. i try to do this for others. it's more fun than getting 1 like and never addressing that piece of writing again, which just feels demotivating to me. commentary, not silence. i love dash commentary posts. i love people reading my posts or sending me their posts to read. i am super into the idea of community and mutual fun in one anothers' writing.
3 . this blog will deal a lot with the themes of addiction, recovery, relapse, suicidal ideation, and self-loathing. i have a personal connection to this theme. please have some level of nuance and sophistication in your understanding of addiction: don't assume recovery is linear, don't use sam's addiction in a cheap plot (anything where sam is actively using will be a plot of its own, not a pitstop on the way to 'the real story'), sam is responsible for the ways they hurt others but not for the addiction itself. i often write w characters who sam has wronged due to their addiction - ic, this character is entitled to be angry, but ooc please show understanding for the position both characters are in. i don't like overdoses as a plotline. sam has overdosed once before and they have a plan to die by drug use one day. this is not a fully healed person -- that said, i will never write sam dying of drug use. it makes me too sad. in my heart, sam has to live with this addiction, but live they do and it is happy and full. one day. if this stuff triggers you, please leave.
4. sam is a flirtatious character. if your muse is a woman over forty who is a little mean, then they will have a crush, probably. this isn't me trying to force a ship. i will never ship w a male muse, don't ask. i love shipping but my favourite trope is writing exes - ex friends, or ex lovers. other themes that will arise are kink (sam is a service top with a praise kink, who loves to humiliate, degrade, feed/fatten, and call their lovers mommy), gender, queerphobia from their family, and wealth inequality (sam is a nepobaby with wealth, and uses this to try and 'fix' prior relationships they fucked up in.) again, if you can't deal w this then that's cool! god bless n good luck
headcanon links.
sam's life/death plan.
sam's late brother, doug.
hopes/wishes & fears/worries.
regrets.
favourite memory of their father.
guys get you a friend who, when you tell them (falsely) that you are trapped in a self-driving tesla, they bring a brick to smash open a window to set you free 🧱
iv. something brighter. sam quits their job in finance. they distance themself from their family, and divest themself of their vast fortune, liquidating their assets and donating their money toward good causes. they retain a quaint hundred grand, and travel the world, compiling recipes, meeting people, and hosting new friends. they don't live their life like a guilty dog, leashed. they go out and love the world unrepentant. every year, recovery is a little easier. they get a little kitten, and nurture it. it feels good for something's life to be better for having sam in it.
"help!" the summer is freshly settling, and sam is in a beer garden with most of the friendgroup they share with z. mute! the table shakes with poorly contained laughter. unmute. "zora, i didn't know who else to call. i ---" they gulp, and heavy breathe, and mute just before this turns into peals of laughter. the hyperventilating is too risky -- it'll only make them chortle. "i got into beef with elon musk on twitter. now i'm in one of those teslas that drives itself and it won't let me out!" they can't look at their friends, who are all burying their heads in their hands, or flailing their limbs. "you've got to come and get me! i'm sharing location now." they'd made a bet with the group: they could get zora to come to the beer garden. z had opted out of coming earlier on the basis of not having the budget right then, but sam had won poker only minutes ago. their trust fund was tricky to draw down, and they spent most of it on something much more expensive than beer. this extra cash, the group had decided, could buy zora a few rounds. "bring a brick!"
sam's brother. doug (or douglas) drowned when sam was fifteen. douglas means "dark water" or "black stream". he was the golden child, and groomed to be the heir to chip's industry. he died agred 18. he was an emotionally damaged child, who grew into a very volatile young man.
he drowned off of a wooden pier on the family's private beach. his friends were playing guitar and laughing and drinking on the beach around a bonfire. douglas wandered off after a fight with his best friend and no one heard him fall in. it was hours later when they all noticed he was missing, and they found his body shortly after. douglas was drunk, yes, but no one knows if he died by suicide or by accident. all they know is he went under the water while all his closest friends laughed, no more than twenty yards away. surrounded by people, and deathly alone.
sam associates doug (always, he was doug to them) with learning to swim. they went there together years prior, and he taught them to paddle. "don't fight it. float," he told them. he was good, like that. he taught them lots of things, functioning like some little boy god, an eternal font of knowledge on things sam was always just a little too young to figure out. a true peter pan - and, like peter, he never would grow up.
he was their emotional caregiver, in many ways that count. he also was irritable, and could turn moods on a dime. he probably had bipolar, depression, and was bisexual. all of these things are fine, but each of these traits increase the likelihood of his being an 'imperfect' heir. he never grew up enough to understand these parts of himself.
where i think chip had a passive fondness for sam that was more often emotionally neglectful and claire, their mother, was resentful of how 'incorrectly female' sam was, douglas was a different case. he was pressured, prodded, and put under all the weight of continuing the family fortune. douglas was molded by his father, and lauded by his mother. i think doug was placed under pressure in so many different ways. there are so many things he would have been, if he hadn't died, but he never could have been the perfect son that his parents envisioned. he was a boy, not a vessel for financial legacy.
after his death, chip retreats into his work. claire blames sam. standing on that pier, she says: it should have been you. immediately after, she bursts into tears and even says that she didn't mean it, she didn't mean to say that. sam simply stood there, staring ahead. they never forgave their mother for saying it. she never really forgave them for reminding her of the absence of douglas.
after his death, sam becomes an angsty, angry teen. they lose their smile, and spend the rest of their time in high school scowling and full of dry-eyed grief. when they go to college, its a chance to start over. they sink back into that facade of a cheery, easy-going person again, delighted to have an excuse to do so. for a long time they don't drink. they held that this was part of what killed doug, accidental death or otherwise. when they began to drink, they'd drink to the point of dizzy headlessness. it was nice to feel close to doug. it was great to not have real thoughts. it was amazing to fill themself up with hedonistic pleasure, when so much of their life up to then had been barren or shameful.
there is another 'pleasure' of addiction: doug would've been something if he lived. their parents made it very clear that they never could measure up. it felt satisfyingly spiteful to self-destruct. they would say how lucky sam is to have lived, and they could throw that life away. of course, this is only what they tell themself: the tiny part of them that is forever a child who loves their parents wants to be no more because they believe it is what their parents want. that part isn't rational: of course their parents want them to live. but they can simultaneously 'rebel' and punish themself. their addiction has similar root causes as self harm might, which makes the physical/chemical symptoms harder to kick. the fuel to be destroyed is always ready to light them back up again.
ultimately, sam is able to get through rehab the third time. after this, they decide that, since all they want is to die, they will spare their father a little bit of pain: they will live, until after he dies. then, when it is their mother and them, they'll die in one last drug-fuelled blaze of glory, finally leaving their mother all alone. it's morbid, it's sick, it's sad.
as stated in my rules, i will never write this eventuality. sam deserves a life for them, not one lived in the shadow of being the less wanted child compared to their older, canonised brother, himself a victim of the cold and coercive life lived in service of wealth.
SEND 😪 FOR A SAD TEXT
SEND 😏 FOR A CHEEKY TEXT
SEND 😡 FOR AN ANGRY/MEAN TEXT
SEND ❤️ FOR AN AFFECTIONATE TEXT
SEND 💔 FOR A HEARTBREAKING TEXT
SEND 🤐 FOR AN UNSENT TEXT
SEND 😵 FOR A TRIPPY/HIGH TEXT
SEND 🍸 FOR A DRUNK TEXT
SEND 👌 FOR A COMPLIMENTING TEXT
SEND 💋 FOR A SEXUAL TEXT
SEND 👿 FOR A THREATENING TEXT
SEND 😥 FOR A TERRIFIED TEXT
SEND 😐 FOR A VAGUE TEXT
SEND 🌞 FOR AN EARLY MORNING TEXT
SEND 🌙 FOR A LATE NIGHT TEXT
this is so dumb and silly but comment if you want a prank phone call from sam. like russian roulette one of you will suffer a terrible, sad one. the rest? a silly little dyke prince sitting on a throne clapping hands
iii. the dull hum of sobriety and finance. you've been dressing like a pompous german prick who hunts men for sport for some time now. when you walk to the subway, you see a dog walking, holding its own lead. you stare at your face when your laptop screen is black. you find this life of yours to be vaguely funny. you find it vaguely pathetic.
im rewatching community and i love frankie dart so much. she's such an efficient strategist and takes so much pride in being boring. the opposite of sam. the only fanfiction that exists for her pairs her with annie but this is wrong in my heart. i want her with britta. i feel like frankie could stabilise britta and britta could impassion frankie. they only get one scene alone together but i believe. i believe.
@djdivius has been quiet for a while. it's not like her. sam sees her shit on socials, but honestly, they've assumed someone was telling her about the fallout they had with the friend-group. they've assumed she's somehow mad. well ! all of that to figure out, and more. they've got tickets to see someone unmissable.
( text : coffi coff coff i'm sick ) hey! long time no talk. still on for friday?
( text : coffi coff coff i'm sick ) by which i mean to say
( text : coffi coff coff i'm sick ) please still be on for friday i will be so so fuckin bored otherwise please i will suffer
i thought i wouldn’t see you again unless you were in trouble. @scyftan asked, sternly!! from this meme.
They stare ahead of themselves for a moment, the immense weight of their Bart-Simpsonlike tendencies washing over them all at once. They imagine turning green and six foot seven, and turning to Larissa with Mark Ruffalo's grin, and saying: that's my secret. I'm always in trouble.
They don't do that.
"I'm a perfect angel," they say, voice flat. "Can I not seek you out just because you're a beautiful woman?" They feel very suave saying that. Way better than the Marvel Avengers reference, plus the necessary five minutes of explaining it to Larissa Weems, who looks like she hasn't consumed media past WWII, with the notable exception of, probably, Fifty Shades of Grey, which she'd never admit to reading anyway. They also got called a twelve year old boy on a dating app recently, and they'd really like to move away from Bart Simpson toward something sexier, like Don Draper from Mad Men. If he wasn't such a raging misogynist. Could one separate the misogyny from the cold lust of being willing to say the most beautifully put sentence, in order to just sleep with a woman? They're aware they're getting distracted. This is an issue to sort another time. Maybe they need to get more Catholic toward sex, or something. The Pope hates AI, which was cool. Could be a possibility. They put a pin in all this.
"Anyway. I am in trouble, as it turns out." Goodbye, Draper. Hello, Simpson (said in the rising holler of Principal Skinner.) "But hey! You're still beautiful."
They take out a cigarette, and are suddenly aware they should ask if they can smoke in here. Lots of things in this room look like an ashtray, but they'd made that mistake before. It turns out it's fine to leave your puppy play dog bowl out in front of the guests, but its suddenly not fine for the guest to empty ash into it. Go figure.
"Smoke?" They ask, holding it out to Weems, using this as an excuse to cosy up to the desk, too. They half-sit, half-lean, and pull out their tiny pistol lighter. Also a gift from someone who doesn't speak to them anymore.
i just really, really don’t want anyone to make a big deal out of this, okay? --- @escapedartgeek asked.
yeah. of course! They don't remember if they said it aloud or not, so they nod vigorously. The cocktail they're on is fizzing, setting off sparks and clouds. Z doesn't fuck around, they mean this. They're stuck with this professor for at least another year, so even though he's a shit, it would be awful for them if someone made things complicated. Makes sense. Their jaw clamps shut. It's really hard to not act, though. The story is the same as ever, someone was a fucking shit to Zora because they know they could get away with it. It's a special kind of torture to be the princeling to a vast fortune, and to know how insulated your friends will never be. A shithead professor would never be like that with them, and they know exactly why.
It's their art show, anyway. They have enough on their mind. So Sam nods again, slouching and smiling with a sort of practiced casual ease that hides how out of their mind they feel with sudden and terrible anger. Who the fuck does that professor think they are? Sam bites the inside of their cheek, and as they walk around looking at acrylic paintings of heads exploding against a red background, they start gnawing on their knuckle. Lots of people in Z's class are good. But Z is good. And doesn't deserve to be spoken to like that.
After a little bit of boozing and schmoozing, they're over it. Fuck that guy, let it go. They mill about with their other friends, and spend a good half hour roaming around the exhibition pointing, saying that one is you! haha, no actually this one is you. It was all so pleasant. Someone suggests they go to the bathroom. Powder their noses. Sam snorts, and follows along merrily.
When they come back, that professor is the first they see. What a small fucking weasel of a guy. Jealous. He was jealous of Zora, and he didn't want to be a good professor to someone different to him, and isn't that just fucking precious? Absolutely precious. Sam can't remember all of it. They just remember standing there and asking him, again and again, what he thought about memes on their phone. When he got huffy quickly and tried to brush them off, they smirked. "Yeah, man, brush me off." That was the kind of thing they were most used to. They'd start as some silly joke, and when someone deemed himself too good to keep humouring them they'd turn. it was something they'd learnt from before they knew how to speak, digging their teeth into their mother whenever she screamed.
And before they know it, they've pushed that old fart. "Fuck you," they scoff, laughing still. "You wouldn't know good art if it bit you in the ass. And all your students fucking know it." And, because its a thought that hurts them, they say: "You're a fucking joke. I know how you talk to people. Fucking slug."
Suddenly, there's people on them, pulling them apart. How long they'd watched in horror, unknown. Sam flails to get them away, and faints at the professor, just to see him flinch. They've never wanted to be a violent person, but it sure tasted good to have that power. They think of that red painting, the skull exploding. They imagine their head blowing up, and all the coke glittering down in the light, their bits of skull taking out everyone. They'd fall, limply, to their knees. The tension that's set their teeth on edge would go away. No one has to think if they have no head. "You're just lucky no one's reporting you," they hiss, making it entirely obvious that this is about Z. No, they reason, it could be anyone. They feel relieved, and are even going to say more, before Z is there, staring.
They laugh half-heartedly, and put a hand out, beginning to explain.
A security guard escorts them out, shoving. They let out a last scream on the way out: "Picasso is overrated!" They yell. They're a fucking joke. Thankfully, there's salvation at the bottom of a pack of cigarettes. A pint glass. They text incessantly, to no reply.
:: ( text : Z Z Zora Snora ) Hope you're okay. [UNDELIVERED.]
"i am so intrigued to see how you’re going to make this whole evening about yourself." from Camille @genrcsavvy
They won't lie: that one had hurt their feelings a bit! They'd snorted and said whatever little jokey statement to brush it off, but they'd done it to seem on-form. Is it their fault that the last few parties they'd been to (and, really, 'parties' was stretching the label. They were lures for blood with emotionally unavailable old people who all look like they are aspiring librarians. Camille is maybe the exception) they'd wound up explaining attachment theory to an old-as-fuck vamp who started crying tears of blood. They'd probably overshared about their father, too. They can't remember, but they know they do that.
When, hours later, the party indeed is rapt and quiet and listening to Sam detail a system for communal green living among vampires and their harems or "blood brood", Sam has a sudden moment of self-awareness. "Does anyone else have an economic system for living?" They ask, mid-thought, trying to be casual. There's some pale Romanian lady with a hat and a short girlfriend who seems particularly prissy, who answers that yes, she liked to rule. Sam nods, as if there's anything in the world they could say to make this conversation normal again. "Yeah, that's cool. I'm very open to alternate lifestyles."
The Lady starts ranting about how it's the natural order or something, and Sam shoots a pleading glance over to Camille. Help me.
actually thinking about (x) as a wishlist item. i think sam has a lot of unprocessed grief about their brother doug and needs a life long friend to put these feelings toward. and i think probably like fleabag and boo, betrays this person's trust in a few hundred ways, and one big way that really hurts.
there's a version of their main verse where they are essentially hunter biden but for a republican tech oligarch loving senator. i feel like chip, their father, always tried to keep any public or political appearances he did far from sam. he knows what they're like
