#alcoholism cw
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Me: It is Perfectly Normal to struggle while doing visual tasks in the dark, and fumbling while plugging in my phone is a neutral act. It has been over a decade, can you please just-
The Thing Inside My Brain:
#autobiography#superwholock#bbc sherlock#alcohol cw#alcoholism cw#benadryl cucumberpatch#also the rats canonically gay and theyre using him for queerbaiting purposes
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ok. years have passed and we've had some distance, so i'm finally gonna take the leap of faith that tma fandom is finally ready to hear me on this. let's talk about tannins.
161 was the first tma episode i heard on early release, and i felt the bit where martin declines wine and cites tannins was pretty obvious in its implications. cool, got it, say no more.
imagine my surprise when i was one of maybe three people i saw read between the lines there, in a fandom famous for red stringing--a fandom that immediately caught the much less obvious thread of ignition sources in the same episode. i'll spell it out: alcohol is an issue for martin.
maybe it just felt obvious because addiction is a pet issue for me--as it is for jonny, who has said everything he writes is filtered through a lens of addiction. i don't know if that's due to his own experience or a loved one's, and i won't speculate; i also don't know if martin personally struggled with drinking or just avoids it for fear he would, but alcohol would fit what we know of his family. his dad walking out and his mum spiralling into bitter wallowing and verbal abuse? i'd bet one or both of them drank, yeah.
on a basic level martin tries to decline alcohol, and that alone should have raised eyebrows given what we know of martin and, again, a fandom that dissects everything. we already knew martin "K" blackwood lied about his personal life and his family in particular, especially pre-canon, which is when this flashback took place. i was shocked that everyone took his flimsy excuse at face value with no further questions.
and the excuse is flimsy. martin turns down wine by--nervously--exclaiming tannins are "a proven headache trigger!" which sounds like trivia from a magazine cover and not the words of someone who actually has headaches--and it hasn't come up before or since. jon, confused, points out that tea, a drink martin consumes to a degree that is memetic both in- and out-of-universe, also contains tannins, and martin squawks a panicked, "what?!"
if tannins are enough of a concern for martin that he knew they're in wine and so avoids it, why didn't he know they're in his drink of choice? why does he still drink tea at the time of canon, and why doesn't he struggle with constant headaches from consuming 'a proven headache trigger' day in and day out? why, indeed, would someone avoid wine and not tea?
when sasha insists martin drink he caves and agrees to 'just a drop'. i imagine him pouring it in a plant, which admittedly he could have done if tannins really were the issue. i will say that i, for one, would be less likely to falsely agree to something that makes me physically ill than to a private issue that i'd rather not be pressed on any further. this scene also establishes martin's birthday was an ice cream party instead of the more traditional visit to a pub.
also, this scene was in the first episode of the final season, as one of three flashbacks that could have been to any pre-canon event in the archives. prime narrative real estate. not really time one would waste on establishing the important character context that martin has... headaches. which never comes up before or after, even regarding the week he spent in spiral town. but you know what is pretty crucial character background...?
it felt like a no-brainer, and yet all i saw was h/c fluff about jon attending to martin's headaches. and i hate feeling bitter about disability representation. i want folks with chronic headaches to feel seen and have fluffy escapist fantasies. i don't want to be mad about people portraying a character with a disability. but, guys? you got the wrong disability. jonny sent a clear message, and it went over fandom's head.
#martin blackwood#tma#the magnus archives#tma meta#the magnus archives meta#tma 161#mag161#sage speaks#sage original post#meta#im sure others caught it that i didnt see but listen. i was DEEP in the fandom. people getting it made up maybe 1% of the response i saw#and i had people fighting me for saying it#alcohol cw#alcoholism cw#addiction cw#greatest hits#wonderful news: tma fandom WAS ready to hear me say this!
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One of the hardest things about watching LOTMS is seeing Gerard in crisis and seeing those around him who love him doing their best to look out for him. And the past year we’ve gotten to see that same love and support while they seem to be doing so much better coping with things even through the pandemic. Because no matter how you’re coping, having friends by your side there for you is everything. (x, x)
#i don't really gif those moments cause they're legit awful but this specific few seconds like... i think about it a lot#cause brushing the gravel and dirt off gerard's shirt is... in the grand scheme of things with what was happening... so little and inconsequ#ential#but it's something he could do at the time and it's gentle and he's there#and now 20 years later he's still there#and gerard is STILL HERE#and he can comfort him and support him and love him and he can see how he's recovered and grown and lived#ANYWAY THIS POST IS AN EXORCISM FOR ME#gerard way#frank iero#addiction cw#alcoholism cw#mcr#mcredit#lotms#my chemical romance
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Youve said in the past you don't think Dean would do well with AA. Could you expand on what you mean by that?
well. the first problem with AA is that it has an all or nothing approach. either you're fully sober or you've gone off the deep end. and that's not realistic or helpful for everybody. i don't think dean needs full sobriety to be okay. what he needs is to not fall back on alcohol as a coping mechanism when he's deep in the pits of despair. the AA program doesn't allow for that kind of nuance.
equally important is the fact that AA is geared towards a very specific type of person: a cishet, white, man who isn't living in the world of a fantasy genre show. have you ever looked at the twelve steps? i'm assuming the average person hasn't, or if they have, their eyes just sort of glaze over when reading them because they're vague and repetitive and sound like nonsense. but what they essentially boil down to is this:
accepting a higher power (aka god) and handing over control to them
admitting every awful thing you believe about yourself and accepting that those things are the truth
admitting that you are the architect of all of your problems
admitting that you are the one who has done harm to the world and those around you (and no harm done to you is an excuse for anything ever)
making yourself as vulnerable as possible
this sounds like a cheat sheet for exacerbating every problem dean winchester has. this is a person who has been fighting for control his entire life, who already hates himself and thinks he's to blame for things that he couldn't possibly be responsible for, etc.
these steps make my skin crawl and i've never been singled out by god or his army. there's just no way dean winchester sits through a single meeting and comes out better for it.
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The pressure on the government to put cancer warning labels on alcohol containers is growing, as experts say the majority of Canadians don't know the risks that come with consuming even moderate amounts.
The latest catalyst is Canada's new Guidance on Alcohol and Health, which updates the 2011 Low Risk Drinking Guidelines. The Canadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction (CCSA), which released its final report today, points out that no amount of alcohol is safe and that consuming any more than two drinks a week is risky.
It's a drastic shift from previous guidance, which recommended no more than 15 drinks for men and 10 drinks for women per week to reduce long-term health risks. The CCSA says the new advice reflects thousands of studies in the last decade that link even small amounts of alcohol to several types of cancer.
The new recommendations lay out a continuum of risk. Three-to-six drinks a week increases the risk of developing certain cancers, including colorectal and breast cancer, and more than seven drinks a week also increases your risk of heart disease and stroke. The danger goes up with every additional drink. [...]
According to the report, many Canadians are already in risky drinking territory, with 17 per cent of Canadians consuming three-to-six drinks a week, while 40 per cent drink more than six drinks a week. [...]
Continue Reading.
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
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Husk: …and I’m only in this fuckin’ mess because of my good friend friend, Al.
Charlie: Alastor?
Demon who knows program slang: Alcoholism?
Husk: *takes a drink* Both.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel memes#incorrect hazbin quotes#incorrect hazbin hotel quotes#hazbin hotel incorrect quotes#husk hazbin hotel#charlie hazbin hotel#alcoholism cw#fanby’s fuckery
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youtube
This came across my phone today and I was reminded why I've kept Craig Ferguson as my icon here since making my tumblr in 2011.
This was his opening monologue to the Late Late Show in 2007, right after Britney Spears had shaved her head.
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one of those days..... zarinacore
#hopeless junction#she lost some weight before the start of the game. this is her normal level of chubbiness#meme redraw lmao#alcoholism cw
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When you got up that morning, sick as cattle, determined to head into work anyway, you looked at me next to you. You changed your mind, didn't you?
When you sat on the couch with me with those gifts I got you, I smelled the gears turning in your head. It took a long time. I know it was painful, I know it wasn't something you were sure about. But, with that little present bow on my head and those coupons on the couch cushion... you changed your mind, didn't you?
When you went home that evening from the parade, sweaty and worn and ready to drink, you became sad. Maybe more than one drink... but I put my hand on your shoulder. You changed your mind, didn't you?
When you took him out to the festival and nervously asked him out, and he was excited about it, you were shocked. You couldn't believe how easy it was despite every needle of trauma holding you back from commitment. Before this, you reconsidered. You changed your mind, didn't you?
When I scrolled through our inbox and your computer and found those old half-written documents, titled concerning things and ending with empty threats... I saw the dates of them. You changed your mind, didn't you?
When you came back into the livingroom after that phonecall with your mom, you were livid. Your family is in shambles, no holiday would be the same ever again. No more. After silence, sitting on the floor with me, you looked into my eyes. Your phone lights up with the warm gestures of friends that love you. It took some time, but...
You changed your mind, didn't you?
When you woke up that morning next to him, frightened at the prospect of letting him in, you looked over to him and saw how happy he was. Seeing the relief on his face was enough to give relief of your own. It was then and there... that you changed your mind, didn't you?
To love is to change. To live is to change...
You chose to change. Chose to love. I love you.
-Oni
#;oni speaks#leaddyart#;pepperoni#;timido#;prank#;snapshots#too tired to draw so have this for closing out 2024#suicidal ideation implied cw#long post //#alcoholism cw
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a man takes a drink. the drink takes a drink. then the drink takes a man. Lip Gallagher, six months after the finale. (ao3)
The Alibi is silent, still; completely the opposite of a usual night in the bar. No patrons sit in the cracked booths or on the worn-out bar stools. No one plays pool, or watches a game on the darkened TV sets. Lip stares at the figure behind the bar. Frank Gallagher, dead six months and looking healthier than Lip ever remembers seeing him.
“The fuck is going on here?” Lip says out loud. The words fall heavy from his mouth, almost landing with a dull thud on the sticky barroom floor. Frank looks up, his con artist smile and calculating gaze now turned bland and indifferent.
“Tell me, Mr. Gallagher,” Frank says, “what brings you here on a night like this?”
There’s a chip in Lip’s pocket that suddenly feels like a lead weight.
“...not sure, really,” he finally admits, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Why the fuck are you here?”
“I’m here to do my job, aren’t I?”
“What’s that, fuckin’...bartender to the afterlife or something?"
Frank says nothing, only pours a glass of amber liquid and slides it in front of Lip. “Bourbon. Neat. Or do you prefer it on the rocks?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” He swallows as he stares at the glass. Tightens his grip around the chip. Clever Lip, smart as a whip. Better hold on or you just might slip…
He reaches out and knocks the glass over, only flinching slightly when it shatters by his shoes.
“Apologies, Mr. Gallagher. I’ll get that cleaned up right away.” When Lip glances down he sees the glass is gone—dream world, right—but the bourbon is still there, sticking his feet to the floor.
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize for anything in your life, Frank.”
“I’m afraid you must have me confused with someone else, Mr. Gallagher. I’m just the bartender.”
Lip laughs humorlessly, because of course. It’s not Frank, not really. And bartenders only serve the drinks. They aren’t the ones who make you drink it. You put your hand out and you take the glass—your decision, not theirs. He reaches for it now, the glass back on the bar in front of him as Frank finishes pouring more bourbon. Like nothing had happened. Neat and tidy. Nothing between the drunk and the alcohol. Nothing but a man’s own self-control.
He takes the glass, brings it to his lips. Smells the alcohol, strong and unmistakable. Thinks of nights when he would watch Fiona, all of eight or nine years old and outside with a secondhand coat in the Chicago winter. How he’d seen her dragging Frank through the yard all on her own because she’d told Lip to keep an eye on Ian. He thinks of the blackouts, the hazy holes in his memories that he’ll never get back. Thinks of his siblings’ weddings and how he’d gotten shit-faced drunk at both, looking in a grimy bathroom mirror and seeing his father staring back. Hearing the fear in Debbie’s voice when she told him not to end up like Frank. Pleaded with him—it broke his heart, even then.
Lip looks up and sees his father there now. Sees him watching as Lip holds the glass, letting the bourbon slosh gently from side to side. Frank stands there, still. Unmoving. Smile bland and empty.
The glass makes a harsh clunk when Lip sets it back down. Pushes it back towards Frank.
“Man takes a drink,” Lip says. He’s seen this movie before. “The drink takes a drink. Then the drink takes the man.”
Frank chuckles, takes the glass. Takes a drink. “Ain’t that the way, Mr. Gallagher. Ain’t that the way.”
#lip gallagher#frank gallagher#shameless#shameless character study#yo ho yo ho a writer's life for me#this is inspired by the bar scene from doctor sleep and you should definitely go watch it if you haven't seen it plssssss#alcoholism cw#leinth writes fic
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i wanna talk about haymitch abernathy.
well, first i wanna talk about the treatment of chemical addiction in the hunger games trilogy. because it's good. a lot of characters, including katniss, struggle with it. it gets explored in considerable depth, and not once is any character looked down on for it (well, aside from some eye-rolling with haymitch and perhaps pity for the 'morphlings' in book 2).
no one is infantilized, dehumanized, or considered weak for their dependency, even when they're incoherent from inebriation or withrawal. addicts are treated with dignity, and there is only ever respect, understanding, and sympathy for their struggle and for the trauma that led them to this position. the story has no interest in scrutinizing how they got there or whether their behavior is sufficiently justified, only in meeting them where they are.
everyone has suffered at the hands of the capitol, and some people have resorted to substances to cope--even and especially smart, competent people. it's unfortunate and painful for them (and the focus is always on the addict's suffering, not anyone else's) but it's always understood as doing what they had to do. survival is a crucial theme in these books, and this is just another form of it.
this understanding extends to the point that katniss and peeta independently hoard liquor in case haymitch runs out. he's fucking annoying and rude and at that point they have no reason to believe they stand to gain anything from helping him, but they do it anyway because abandoning him would be cruel. it's not ever a question of enabling an alcoholic, it's a question of not letting a man fucking die of withdrawal.
see, rough around the edges is an insufficient description for haymitch; he's rough all the way to the middle. he is a messy, sloppy drunk. he is rude, obnoxious, and venomously cynical. he is also the smartest character in a series full of extremely smart characters.
in the first book all that is said about haymitch's victory is speculation from katniss and peeta. they note that he isnt a standout physical talent and doesnt have any specialized abilities, and deduce that he must have won by outsmarting the others. this is innocuous enough and supported by the shrewdness of haymitch's sponsor gifts and his coaching outside the games.
the recontextualization comes in book 2 when we learn haymitch was the victor of the 50th hunger games, the last quarter quell--which had twice as many tributes as usual. haymitch didn't outsmart 23 other people, up to a third of them having trained for this exact purpose until age 17. haymitch outsmarted 47.
haymitch abernathy? is a big fucking deal. that man waltzed in from The underdog district, unmentored and presumably earning approximately zero sponsor gifts with his winning personality, and won the hardest hunger games there has ever been. haymitch is the most impressive bitch in panem. between this and our increasing insight into how the victors are treated, the alcoholism gets recontextualized too.
imagine how frothingly fucking pissed the capitol is that haymitch is impossible to leverage for any PR purpose whatsoever. like, this is The victor, but what are they gonna do? show off the victor of the hardest hunger games of all time and he's fucking haymitch?
he shows up to every public appearance fall-down drunk and pukes on someone's shoes. every time he's on screen he embarrasses everyone. he makes the hunger games look like a joke and undermines the whole premise. he's supposed to be the capitol's biggest asset and he's pissed all over it. he's useless to them. the best thing they can do is leave him alone.
that's when you think, wait. that's kind of a rebellion in itself, huh? he defies the capitol's efforts to use him as 'a piece in their game' better than anyone else outside district 13, maybe them too, when he should be their favored pawn. he's about as free of their influence as anyone can be. that seems... smart. haymitch-typical smart.
haymitch's alcoholism is real and no doubt a legitimate result of his trauma, but it's also a weapon. he probably plays it up. gets extra trashed for every public appearance, the earlier in the day the better. asks himself what he could do that would horrify effie trinket the most and then does that.
at the same time, haymitch seems to get it together more as the series goes on. from the sound of it he was content to drink himself to death and blow off every tribute in his district before katniss and peeta came along and he recognized in them the potential for revolutionaries and, more importantly, the potential for victors. for the first time he had a real chance to achieve a goal, and the real necessity to be sharp for it.
my guess is that haymitch started making actual efforts to manage his alcoholism from then on. getting sober is pretty much impossible to do on your own, and indeed he has a relapse for every time he improves. but haymitch would have known he'd need any scrap of competence he could snatch. and i think, away from our heroine's perspective, he did. you can play drunk for a camera; you can't play sober for a planning session.
the one thing that really helps with addiction is a support network, and that's the one thing haymitch can never have. it is made blisteringly clear that your loved ones are so much ammunition for the capitol to use against you, and they desperately need some for haymitch. he says his loved ones are all dead, but one wonders if there were more that he made damn sure were no longer loved ones before that happened. maybe haymitch saved some lives by driving people as far away as he could, and doomed himself to succumb to the alcoholism in the process.
on a sillier note, i imagine during katniss and peeta's games haymitch would have needed someone to manage his intake and keep him sober enough to strategize the sponsorships without sending him into withdrawal. and i like to think it was effie trinket.
she'd disapprove at first but dosages and scheduling would be her JAM. plus haymitch would always cave in to her sanctimonious lectures before she caved in to his demands for more. it would be really motivating, actually--"i can endure this. anything's better than hearing one more fucking word from effie goddamn trinket about my health." truly the dream team.
tl;dr i fucking love haymitch abernathy. he's one of the characters of all time. thank you, suzanne collins, for this smart, competent, callous, mean, complex alcoholic who is vital to the revolution. thank you for writing addicts and addiction with the depth, seriousness, complexity, and respect they deserve as human beings.
#the hunger games#haymitch abernathy#just finished the books let's goooooo#addiction cw#alcoholism cw#alcohol cw#substance cw#meta#sage speaks#sage original post#long post#thanks to wyn and hazel especially for helping me hammer out these thoughts. and for the effie headcanon it is actually genius#thg#spoilers through the end of catching fire i guess#hunger games#i do meta now maybe#greatest hits
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It's easier to miss and read over the sections where Moondae mentions cracking open a beer in the webnovel, but the manhwa is much less ambiguous about how often he drinks to destress.
Rereading from the beginning, it's also notable that within the first few paragraphs he notes that as Ryu Gunwoo he excessively drank the night before waking up due to failing the civil service exam.
#debut or die spoilers#alcoholism cw#<- well you can argue how much of this is an issue but it sure is a HABIT#and automatically drinking to cope with stress is about as unhealthy as you can imagine#i think if anyone but bae sejin had brought it up Moondae also wouldn't have been as inclined to listen about it#park moondae#meta
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i think the only way vriska could have "fixed" roses teen alchaholism is announcing to everyone (but rose ofc) shes going to start an intervention and then the rest of the meteor panicking cause they know shes going to fuck it up so bad so they collectively get their shit together to help rose before vriska can
cw for discussions of alcoholism
nah, i dont think she would forget a grand gesture like that. vriska, passing up a chance to 8e the hero and save somebody from themself? please.
(i also don't think the rest of the meteor crew would be in much of a position to stop her, but i digress)
on top of slapping the mug of wine out of rose's hands every chance she got, she would 100% have a "heart-to-heart" with rose
this utter disaster of a social interaction would betray not only vriska's lack of understanding of human social relationships ("You're sad that adult human squatter 'mom' of yours isn't around anymore when all she did was leech off you and play dum8 mind games????????") but also a cringe-inducing level of tone-deaf projection. ("8elieve me, Lalonde, I know ha8its are a tough thing to 8reak, 8ut your lazy 8itch of a human lusus dying was the 8est thing that could've ever happened to you. You're a free 8ird! No hungry mouths to feed and you don't have to deal with the CONSTANT N8GGING anymore. So stop 8oo-hooing and 8oozing yourself into an early grave! It's fucking path8ic.")
this would have a net-zero effect on rose's addiction/recovery trajectory---immediately after, sure, she might've had a binge motivated by self-loathing, but in the long run all that would happen is rose learning not to drink where vriska might see. there would be potential for ultimately sad and destructive "games" of hide-the-bottle, resulting in disastrous animosity between the two of them, but . . . rose can just alchemize more if vriska finds/destroys her stash lol.
vriska can't fix rose's alcoholism, or anyone's for that matter. you can't make people recover, not if they're not ready to, and any positive intervention on vriska's part would be nothing but a bandaid on something that is ultimately rose's journey and character arc. it literally is not about vriska.
on the other hand, vriska's aliveness and presence on the meteor absolutely would prevent terezi's faygo dependence and relationship with gamzee. (well, if not outright preventing the gamzee thing, her presence would at least mitigate the influence gamzee had over terezi's life pre-retcon). (IF, that is, you think fridging the clown is a lazy and unsustainable solution)
#alcoholism cw#vriska serket#rose lalonde#mod 8#homestuck#daily vriska serket#vriska#rose#daily vriska#the meteor crew was like. very much not in shape to help her & even with vrika stirring shit theyd probably not be able 2 do much#that actually has a tangible effect. except warn rze who would still b able 2 turn the tables imho. unless v catches her early in the throes#of a mega hangover
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when the end times fall (i'm standing right by your side)
Ao3
cw: swearing, alcoholism
---
“I don’t want her to go, Phil,” Wilbur whines into Phil’s shoulder, words lined with whisky and exhaustion. “I don’t want to lose her.”
Phil sighs for the umpteenth time that night, and pats Wilbur gently on the head. “I know, mate. I feel you.”
“She’s my niña,” Wilbur continues, “Mi niña pequeña. Mi niñita. Mia amata figlia. Mijn liefde.” He sniffs, lifting his face from its perch on Phil’s arm. “Why does she have to go?”
Phil can think of a couple reasons. The mom wants her kids back. This island hates us. They have to grow up. He’s sure Wilbur can think of more, and in a couple other languages no less.
“I don’t know,” Phil replies.
Wilbur doesn’t say anything back, merely tilts his head up at the moon and takes another swig of Lagavulin.
It’s a bright evening on the server, moonlight defining the two talking on a newly-built balcony. Wilbur’s taken to another night of drinking, as he has since he’d come back to the island. Phil isn’t sure if that’s normal or not, and he’s unnerved that he can’t remember. Still, he stays by Wilbur, making sure he doesn’t wander off and do something stupid like dying. He thinks perhaps by chaperoning he could ease Wil’s alcohol intake, but at the rate he’s going, that seems unlikely.
“It’s stupid,” Wilbur gasps out as he removes the bottle from his mouth. Phil wrinkles his nose at the smell. “We have to get emotionally attached and care for them and love them, and then they go away? It’s bullshit.”
“Apparently we’ll get a reward,” Phil says dryly. He’s as fond of the idea as he is of Nightmare Stalkers.
“Tallulah’s reward enough,” Wilbur mutters. “Our children are reward enough, aren’t they?”
Phil grins. “That’s very sweet.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Oh it is, it definitely is.” Phil tilts his head. “I’m glad you have something to care about.”
Wilbur scoffs. “I can care about things,” he defends. Phil wonders if they’re really just talking about Tallulah, but cannot for the life of him think of anything else they could be referring to. Instead he directs his attention to Wil, pouting and five seconds away from a complete breakdown.
“You are really similar, huh,” Phil murmurs. “You just want to be a good dad, she just wants to be a good daughter.”
Wilbur shakes his head. “She’s already a good daughter. She’s my daughter.” He tips over ever so slightly. “Mi- mi niña perfecta. La niña perfecta.”
“Oh I know that, mate. I’m just saying. She really does seem like she was made for you.”
Phil scoops Wilbur slightly, pushing him back upright. He’s reasonably anxious, considering they’re on a fifty-something foot tower and if Wilbur fell without a paraglider he’d definitely get hurt. Why the fuck did Wilbur pick this spot to chat again? Couldn’t they have sat on, maybe, the couch?
Wilbur huffs as he’s adjusted, snapping Phil out of his anxiety. “That’d be fucking depressing if she was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine being made to be exactly like someone. Wouldn’t that be horrible?” Wilbur’s voice slurs when he’s deep in thought. “You’re just a- a clone. A mirror. Not a real individual.” He takes a swig. “Doesn’t leave much for free will, does it.”
“No, I guess not.”
“Besides—” Wil swirls the whisky lazily, “I don’t want her to be anything like me.”
“Aw, Wil,” Phil mutters. Wilbur dismisses him with a wave of the bottle.
“I’m getting paranoid, Phil. I’m paranoid, and yet I’m absent. I don’t want Tallulah to become paranoid, or for her to… abandon everything.” He buries his head in his hands, fingers tightening around his curls. “But I’m scared. I’m scared for her. I’m scared of losing her. I need her to be safe, but I can’t protect her. Sometimes I think, ‘Maybe I should be stricter,’ and then I think, ‘No, that’s not the solution, of course that’s not the solution.’ But I want to keep her safe. I need to.”
Wilbur sighs, tilts his head to peek an eye out at Phil. “You’re right, Phil. I do want to be a good dad. But hell if I know how to do that.”
Phil exhales. “I think you’re doing a fine job as is.”
“Yeah you’d say that wouldn’t you, you bitch.”
Phil laughs. “Shut up. I mean it. You literally stayed up all night building her a tower. You play her songs. She hasn’t even lost a life. You two are fine.”
“We’ll be fine when I kick that dragon’s ass,” Wilbur says. “Thinks it can just- just fuck off and then take our kids back, huh? Shouldn’t’ve left in the first place, that’s on them.”
“We’ll be ready for it,” Phil assures. “We’ll be ready when it comes.”
“Hell yeah. When it comes.”
He pauses.
“If it comes.”
He takes a swig. Phil can smell the roasted peat.
Wilbur whispers, “And if it doesn’t?”
Phil also has the urge to bury his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”
“We’re being a bit silly about this, aren’t we?” Wilbur leans on the railing, Lagavulin hanging just over the drop. He’s nearly at a ninety degree angle. “We- we’re tiptoeing around it like children. Like we’re five-year-olds.”
Phil can’t help barking out a nervous laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“It didn’t say, ‘The mother is coming back in six days,’ did it?” Wilbur sharply says. Phil turns quiet. “Didn’t- didn’t go, ‘Oh, in six days, the eggs are going away. They’ll be gone. Like your pet goldfish that your mum gave away. The eggs are going away.’ On what, a grand adventure?” He muffles his scoff with another swig. Phil still doesn’t say anything.
“It said-”
“I know what it said, Wil,” Phil says, a bit colder than he intends.
Wilbur pauses, and Phil knows he’ll say it anyway.
“‘Your children will die.’” Another drink. “Sus hijos morirán.” He chuckles dryly and humourlessly. “Doesn’t sound a lot better in Spanish, does it.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“What are we thinking? Explosion, mobs, /kill?”
“I… don’t want to think about it.” Phil laughs despite himself.
“Yeah. I don’t want to either.”
“Then what the fuck did you bring it up for?”
“Don’t queshon the inber workings of my mind.” He’s getting drunker, leaning far over the railing now. “I just wanna be. Ready.”
Wilbur turns around, still slumped, and looks up. Phil follows his gaze; he’s staring at the window at the top, where Tallulah’s room is. He stares for a long, hard moment, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Finally he looks at Phil, face blank but tight.
“’m not a fighter, Phil,” he says quietly. He bows his head again, holding the bottle close to his chest. “But I want to fight for her.”
A sob escapes Wilbur’s mouth, and Phil suddenly realizes he’s crying. Tears drip down and land on the bottle, moonlight making them shimmer like pearls.
Wilbur cries. And Phil lets him, leaning forward just to hold him.
Wilbur smells of whisky and poppies.
They stay still for a while, only Wilbur’s shoulders shaking from his sobs filling the night. Distantly, Phil hopes Tallulah can’t hear. He rubs his back firmly. The bottle starts to slip from his grasp, so Phil slyly takes it from him.
When Wilbur lets the last of his cries out and Phil wipes the last of his tears, he gently straightens him up again somewhat, and starts guiding him towards the door. “I think you need to sleep, Wil.”
“But head will hurty in the morning, Phil,” Wilbur grumbles between sobs.
“I’ll get you a glass of water, mate. But you need to go inside. You might fall off and fucking break your neck.”
“I’d be fine.”
“Yeah, but it’d hurt first.”
Phil is able to wrangle Wilbur into the couch with only a moderate amount of struggle, and twenty minutes later he’s downing a glass of water and groggily handing it to Phil, who takes it with a small smile. Wilbur fixes his gaze onto Phil, eyes wide and mellowed with alcohol, though the effect is starting to ease. He shifts so he’s laying on his side, hands tucked under his cheek. Phil tells him to go to sleep; Wilbur retorts that he doesn’t think he will. Phil snarks back as he heads to the front door, telling him to Go the fuck to sleep, Wil, jesus christ, what will Tallulah think? Wilbur says something about weaponizing his daughter against him, and promptly passes out. Phil laughs, and steps out the door.
The moon is still shining, but starting to dip beyond the wall. Phil takes a deep breath, relishing the absence of alcohol in the air. The first thought that goes through his head is, I should check on Chayanne.
Did Wilbur get the drinking from him? He sure the fuck hopes not. Imagine if Chayanne started drinking too.
“What a fucking mess,” he says out loud with a bitter laugh, and he goes back to his child.
#qsmp#wilbur soot#philza#tallulah qsmp#qsmp fanfiction#qsmp fanfic#mcyt#prismatic writing#cursing#alcoholism cw
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hawkeye + effects of childhood.
Clint Barton webweavings 1/??
credits under the read more;
ocean vuong, "someday i'll love" // hawkeye: blind spot // conan gray, "family line" // fraction's hawkeye // the front bottoms, "father" // fraction's hawkeye // agustín gómez-arcos, "the carnivorous lamb" // solo avengers vol 1 issue 2 // unknown // hawkeye and us agent's grudge, various runs // clementine von radics // the avengers (1963) issue 65 // unknown // thunderbolts (2022) issue 1 // satany, tumblr
@starsnheroes @mastcrmarksman tags myself so i can reblog this @mastcrmarksman
#abuse cw#alcoholism cw#violence cw#trauma cw#physical abuse cw#physical violence cw#WHEW THIS IS HEAVY BONES but I wanted to try putting together a webweaving. and this came to mind.#[ ABOUT ] I guess I just need something or someone to believe in or maybe I just need someone who believes in me#[ MUSINGS ] Go out fight hard screw up save the world a few times; just keep taking the shots okay#[ COMICS ] Now in ink and color !#[ STUDY ] Clint Barton and Alcoholism
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So I restarted Ragnarok for a 100% playthrough and found a new reason to hate Odin!
It's that first scene with Thor and Odin. Thor pours two cups. He tries to offer one to Atreus, mentions "You could've told me before you poured" when Kratos won't let him have it, sniffs it and puts some on Mjolnir but does not drink it himself. A YouTube comment pointed this out to me but all of that combined implies the mead is for KRATOS AND ATREUS, not Kratos and Thor. Thor is still sober at this point. Has been for three years.
Odin comes in. Picks up the cup and forcefully puts it down in front of Thor like "c'mon, have some." Thor still does not drink. And what does Odin say after insulting Thor's sons and their deaths (aka the reasons Thor stopped drinking) RIGHT in front of Thor, while trying to encourage him to start drinking?
"You're no fun anymore."
SPOKEN LIKE A MAN WHO WAS ENABLING AND EXPLOITING HIS SON'S ADDICTION TO MAKE HIM A BETTER MINDLESS TOOL, INNIT, I HATE HIM SO MUCH
#god of war#god of war spoilers#ragnarok spoilers#god of war ragnarok spoilers#spoilers#alcoholism cw#abuse cw#like don't get me wrong I will never really forgive Thor for what he did to the giants#as a wise man once said. he's an adult. he makes his own choices and he chose to do some genocide. it's reprehensible.#but also????? odin was unquestionably abusive in all kinds of awful ways and I'm glad Sindri smashed his marble
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