#Alcohol Abuse Ment

[nightsky-edits]

Your pinned post says you want to do shufflemancys so may i get a shufflemancy for how my relationship with rosey was in my Mom Lalonde timeline? Obviously would prefer no romantic songs if possible as she was my daughter

I got All Apologies by Nirvana

In this song Kurt Cobain sings about feeling as if he is to blame for everything that he has no right to anything too much a skeptic not happy enough etc etc. I think that the best way to interpret this is that much like canon Mom Lalonde you probably struggled with your self esteem and alcohol abuse feeling like a burden to your daughter while wishing you could be better but being unable to do much else besides apologize for the state of things. Addiction is a very very hard thing to deal with and a lot of the time all you can say is sorry because you cant really stop yourself its an addiction and most people who experience addiction need a professional to intervene and help them stop. I think your relationship was probably similar to the canon relationship between Mom Lalonde and Rose with that twist of being able to see the relationship from your perspective. I dont think you knew a lot of what she was thinking though. But you just assumed that she hated you because you hated yourself and were struggling with a lot of stuff.

Sorry for the sort of downer Shufflemancy but I hope this helps :P

[billdenbrough]

fundamentally disinterested in the recurring discourse about kevin's drinking that aims to a) make it his Specific Problem To Focus On And Overcome when it is a crutch and coping mechanism to get him through a Much Bigger Problem (emotional fallout he can't square with by himself, culture shock, trauma, loss of his extremely wildly co-dependent relationship w riko, losing the structure of the nest, mourning a future he was meant to have, processing a grave injustice, anger and fear and desperate grief, all of which is his Actual Specific Fox Problem) while he builds himself back up, and b) thinks that even if it is a problem (more on that later), it's the foxes' problem to deal with.

like. it's just not.

yeah, he doesn't drink until he meets them. they gave him that habit, and in traditional terms, they're (the monsters specifically) a 'bad influence'. but these are the foxes. this is kevin day, son of exy, whose meteor is crashing spectacularly through no fault of his own. there are no traditional terms to be found here. the framework for it literally doesn't exist. neil comes into the foxes with more conventional expectations—appalled at the athletes' substance use, his horror at matt's trip to columbia, his steadfast and early repeated stance that none of the foxes should let andrew treat them the way he does, and certainly not nicky—and tends to engage with them less as the series goes on and he folds himself into the foxes. the thing about the foxes is that they've all been in pits deeper than they are tall. and some of them got a helping hand on the way—erik, andrew's extreme intervention methods, stephanie walker—and wymack was always waiting for them on the other side, ready to throw down a rope, but all the foxes dragged themselves out of their own holes. often not alone, often not without assistance, but at the end of the day, they have to do it.

there's that line neil has about aaron in that scene that got deleted when the timeline shifted around, when he thinks about how aaron got this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation. that applies to aaron in a way that's a little more acute than some of the rest of them—boy who doesn't let the foxes in bc of andrew, boy who doesn't let nicky in bc he doesn't know how, boy made of flinching and seeking an escape and grieving the one who hurt him—but is broadly true for the foxes en masse.

this isn't to say the foxes can't help each other, but it's not their job. it just isn't. they'll keep kevin alive, keep him safe, keep him flanked and contained within their ranks. they'll fight tooth and nail in this battle with him, fight to get him to that championship game, fight to get that trophy in his hands. but that's all they've agreed to. that's all they're responsible for, in this covenant they've made with him. he says they can make this happen, and they're going to get him to that final game, but it's up to him what state he's in when he gets there.

like. they're foxes. they've been triaging their whole lives. they hate each other and they hate everyone else more. they're the kids with their backs up against the wall. half of them are addicts. i don't think kevin is comparable, personally; he's getting through a horrific situation with a coping mechanism. that's not the same thing as battling yourself to stop using. but that's not really the point of this. what i'm getting at here is that to the foxes, it's easy math: kevin who can lean on vodka and andrew and wymack and the foxes to stay upright when he's not ready to stand on his own two feet is still a kevin who is standing. a kevin with one less piece of scaffolding to lean on is a kevin who falls over, a kevin at risk of complete collapse, a kevin one phone call away from running back to the master, a kevin one crucial loss away from not ever making it back to himself at all. they're triaging. this is low on the totem pole of things they have the room to care about. they very much have bigger problems, both individually and even just kevin-related. if alcohol makes seeing the boy he knew best in the world and moved in tandem with his whole life and who destroyed their entire legacy and his entire life in one move — if alcohol makes facing that boy easier to stomach, then, fuck, why would they take that away? they're foxes. they've all got their demons. this is what kevin needs this year and a half to let him face his, that's all. they can understand that. it doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it keeps him in the fight. that's the priority.

i think there's absolutely space to explore this in fic and art and fandom in a way that maybe does explore it as a Problem, both that it's an active problem for kevin & that it's something to explore other foxes helping him with (there's a t&n fic that i've been gnawing at the bit to read for months that seems poised to explore this premise, and that's super up my alley)! i just think we're in different territory when we're talking about the series—and its characters and dynamics—in a conversational rather than transformational way, and end up talking about this like the foxes are responsible for kevin's choices. i love kevin day. i read these back at the start of 2015 & he's so dear to me that loving him was the blueprint for how i feel abt kageyama. but it's been pretty weird to see how the conversation has been translating Loving Kevin Day into... thinking the foxes are doing wrong by him with respect to this in actual canon. like that's just not how it operates there

[thostrolot]

Hey there, I need some help!

Normally I don't do these sort of things because I have no need and I'm kind of a self kept person, but things are getting extra dicey and I need a place I feel would get spread around better on.

Gonna go ahead and warn you all ahead of time, this story contains mention of abuse in many different forms, so if these things trigger you, I'm sorry. I have to mention it.

I'm telling a story that isn't exactly mine, but it means more to me than I can say. I hope you all can believe me when I put this out, because it all sounds farfetched, but I couldn't make this up if I tried. I hope you all will listen.

My fiancé is a few states apart from me. We've known each other for about 12+ years, and have been dating for a few of those years.

In those years, he's had it really rough, being in a family that was either abusive, not present, or oppressive in some fashion (they were the "pray the gay away" types). Recently, the person who was taking care of him passed away of cancer, and he has been staying with a friend of his.

This family was good for a little bit, but the father was an alcoholic, very toxic and verbally abusive to everyone. His addiction is what eventually killed him, and he has left the family high and dry on money for anything.

There is a reason this is important information.

Throughout these years, he's had a cat, a Tortoise shell manx, about 6 years old. Her name is Kiki. She is rather feisty, yelling at the top of her little lungs if you so much as pat her rear-end wrong. She has been with him all this time.

As of recent, however, she has become sick. She has been found to have a rather large bladder stone and gets worse by the day. He doesn't have the ability to get it immediately taken care of.

I want to help him raise the money needed to help with surgery for her. Anything at all helps. It's much appreciated if you could share the story around as well. Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day.

[gh0st1nth3wa11s]

hi... Wakers I have a fanfic for you.. chapter one..

'Divers Love.'

okay it's a normalcy AU and is Alan/Alice. they deserve happiness and a break from the hellish(/pos) cannon of the game.

~`☆`~

Alice turned on the car, pulling it off the boat carefully as she playfully honked at Alan. Alan scoffed and rolled his eyes, soon getting in the car. "You ready for relaxation?" His wife asked. Alan cracked a smile, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the window. "Yeah, yeah, Alice." Alice couldn't help but grin bigger, tapping her hand against the steering wheel. She pulled in front of the towns diner. "We need to stop here, get the key from.." Alice leaned forward, looking at the notebook that had their days planned. "A Mr. Carl Stucky, he should be waiting for one of us.." Alice's eyes looked up at Alan, smiling more as her husband groaned, rolling his eyes at her. "I will go fill up the car, and come get you in about.. What? Ten, fifteen minutes?" She asked him, putting the car into park. "Sure." Alan murmured, soon getting out of the car. He was nervous to separate from her. "Oh, and Alan?" His turned back around, leaning down into the car window. "Hm?" "Thank you for coming here with me." He chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. "I love you too, I promise to behave." Alice nodded, gently laughing to herself as she pulled away.

Alan exhaled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked into the diner. He looked around, jumping slightly as he met his carboard self, right in the doorway. He had forgotten about small towns. He had been in New York for years now. It wasn't a little town where everyone knew each other. He had been scared out of his thoughts as the woman behind the counter spoke to him. He glanced at her name tag. Rose. Her name was Rose. "Welcome to the Oh Deer Diner!" Alan cringed internally. She projected her voice so much that it seemed louder than it was. but he knew it was just his exhaustion. Alan spoke quickly, "Hey, I was wondering if you could help me, I'm looking for --" Alan blinked as he had gotten cut off. "Mr. Wake? Alan Wake!! I am your biggest fan - I know how people say that a lot, but I really am -" As Rose spoke, he took a step back, glancing at his carboard cut out. "That's.. great to hear that.."

His voice trailed off. "Rose!" She said happily. "Rose, I'm looking for Mr. Stucky, Carl Stucky." Rose nodded, setting her hand on the counter as the other grabbed a dirty coffee mug from in front of her. "Carl? of course. He must have whent to the rest room, he'll be out in a moment." She smiled warmly at him. Alan moved around, letting his hand run across barstools. Her and Alan talked briefly, She was talking how she had all his books, where she got the cardboard cut out, even to a conversation about coffee with the towns police officers, Rusty. He turned, letting his eyes close as he heard Rose ask if his wife was with him, and that she could show him around town. God he hated that comment. "So much for a quiet vacation.." He mumbled to himself. He spoke louder. "Thanks Rose, we'll be sure to keep that in mind." He said kindly, He swiftly moved toward the back of the diner, turning on that damned music box as he was asked, by the two - seemly old cooks of the town. He made his way into the dark hallway, being weary of where he stepped. He knocked on the bathroom door, "Stucky? Mr. Stucky?" before he soon turned, to get met with a woman in funeral wear. "Jesus-" He muttered. "Carl couldn't make it unfortunately, he fell ill." The old woman held her hand out, the key hung off of it. "But I have the key, and the instructions to get to the lake." Alan nodded carefully and snatched the key from her hand. "Okay.." He muttered. "I wish you a good stay in my cabin. I will visit you later on to check how you are doing." Alan nodded. "And to meet your wife." His eyes turned to a harsh glare as he looked at the woman. He soon fixed his face, it was rude to glare. "I insist." The old woman continued.

Alan looked at her in slight bewilderment. "Thanks.." He moved away quickly, gripping the key in his hand. His eyes darted behind him as the other woman began to talk about darkness and how it wasn't safe. He shrugged it off, keeping himself moving. Eager to get back to Alice. He waved half hazardly to Rose as a goodbye and shoved open the diner door, exhaling as he saw their car in front of it again. He got in the car, taking a big breath. "Mission accomplished, The key-" He held it up in his hand, "And the directions." He grinned just slightly as he saw Alice's face light up. "My hero, I got more batteries and flashlights. just in case." She took the keys from Alan and set them on the clipboard that was on the dash still. Her hand returned to Alan's after she put the car in gear.

They began to drive, his thumb tracing over Alice's ring and down her ring finger as he began to spoke. "That diner was a real nut house.." Alice laughed, "Can you believe this place? this would make a great setting for a book-" Alice's face dropped slightly as she realized the words that had just slipped from her mouth. She didn't even truly, actively try to say that. She glanced at Alan, an apology in her eyes, then back to the road. "Were supposed to be on vacation, Alice." He said with slight bitterness, letting his tone soften before he spoke again. "I'll figure it out when we get back home. Okay?" Alice nodded, and Alan looked back to the road. "Okay, we can talk about this way later." Alice said, reassurance in her voice, one that made Alan feel comfortable enough even with the idea of talking about his writing right now. He hadn't written a coherent sentence since his last book , Two. Years. Ago. It made his head hurt to even think about that fact. Alan let his eyes close, to clear his mind. This was a vacation, time to relax, to let go and be a husband again, a good one at that. He missed Alice, he missed sleeping with her at night. He knew she had gotten used to a cold bed, he hated he was doing this to her. He had taken note of this in his mind. Spend more time with Alice, My light. Everytime that he had thought to get away from the damned typewriter, the darkness of what could happen if he stopped writing entirely re-engulfed his mind, scratching out his wife entirely.

Alan's eyes jerked open as Alice stopped suddenly. She had always been a little rough on the break but he had gotten used to it. She put the car into park and grabbed the clipboard and notebook off the dash, inspecting it and the key. "Bird leg cabin..?" She asked, glancing at Alan. "That was the key I was given.."

Alice laughed, stress eminent in her voice. "By who?" Alan rested his head back against the window, the lingering warmth from the heaters of the car kept him just cozy enough. "Some old woman in-.. like a 70s mourning gown, veil and all." Alice pulled the key from ignition and looked at Alan, her back against the door. "A 70s funeral gown? and you tell me now? Here, get out of the car, we'll explore and then head back into town. This isn't our cabin." Alice opened the door and got out of the car. Alan groaned, opening his eyes and got out of the car with her. Alice damn near ran across the bridge.

Alan scuffled after her, getting a tighter grip around his wife's camera lanyard. He stopped short as he caught up to Alice, heels dug into the soft dirt. He looped the camera around her neck, guiding it to rest against her chest. "Do you really wanna break into this place Alice?" He asked, his hand finding hers once more. Alan looked around, seeing a murder of crows lingered around the island. The house didn't seem up to times, the smell of wet wood filled his nose, this cabin gave him the creeps, he-

Alan was yanked out of his thoughts as Alice pulled him up the steps. "Cmon, just a moment.. Its not breaking in! We were given a key. Do you wanna stay by the door? to make sure nothing closes us in?" She laughed, letting his hand go. Alan rolled his eyes playfully, scoffing as he followed nonetheless. He watched Alice dissappear into the house, and smiled slightly as she fumbled with the key. He remembered how much of an explorer she was, how hands on she was a person. She was never to scared of the law, or the things inside abandoned places. She loved them, saw the beauty in the dilapidation. He stood by the door and held it open wide, watching his wife rummage around the cabin. "Bird leg cabin.." He said.

Alice perked up as he spoke, glancing into a book case. "Yeah, our cabins name is the 'Divers Love' not.. bird leg.." She tilted her head, seeing a couple of books, a writer she had never recognized before. She carefully snagged one from the shoebox, looking at the book in her hand. She set it back down, back with the rest of the books and stacked them neatly inside. Alice left the box and soon moved over to the counter, rubbing her hand against it. "I wonder if they even use this cabin.. its dusty."

Alan moved more inward, keeping an eye on Alice. He nearly yelped as Alice tossed a thermos at him. He caught it half hazardly, looking at it. "Alice!-" He said playfully, laughing softly as he turned it over. "Let's go soon, this place is freaking me out a bit. All the crows, and the... just. this place is weird." Alice nodded, grabbing the few scraps of garbage that was around before grabbing that shoebox. "Babe-" Alan whined as she moved past him. Alice turned around. "I'll return them once we go to leave and return the key to Stucky." Alan nodded, moving away from the door. His head snapped back to it as it slammed behind him. Alice locked the door again, slipping the key into her pocket and moved quickly off the island. Alan hurried after her, assuming she also felt the wisps of uneasiness that reached out of that cabin.

They gotten back into the car, Alice driving again. Alan looked around, ignoring the neck pain and how his back just generally ached. They had been in the car for so so. long. He was eager for a warm bed, a kiss from his wife, maybe a beer if she was okay with it. "Alice..?" He asked gently, looking at her as she hummed in response. "I wanted to- fuck.." Alan took a deep breath. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for all... of my nightly behaviors, when I'm not stuck in that damned office.." Alice grinned slightly, but Alan made no comment- he knew she had absorbed what he had said. "How much did I drink before we left..? Did you drink with me or.." Alice clicked her tongue. "Yes I did, way too much, we killed a twenty-four pack.. within like... oh.. shit, like, 4 hours maybe." Alice gripped the steering wheel as she looked back on the memory, he knew she didn't like her choices. "Sorry baby, I shouldn't have been enabling you." Alan nodded wordlessly, he knew why she did it. Got drunk with him to fall asleep in his arms again, to have his breathing sync with hers. He knew it was a last ditch effort to try and help rekindle their relationship a little more, to bring the rings that adorned their hands close again. He hated that she felt that she needed to be fucked up with him to feel connected with him. He knew Alice wasn't the best at these things, she was emotionally heavy, not taught to truly regulate herself either. He looked over, scanning Alice as a cigarette pack was made known in the pocket of her skinny jeans. Alice used to smoke.. badly, it would help regulate her. Soon Alan picked up on it too, then they both agreed to cut it down to a minimum. She must have been stressed, smoking them when Alan was asleep, he wondered how many packs she had whent through on the way up. Alice must have read his mind, she pulled the cigarette pack from her pocket and set it in the cubby in front of the shifter. Soon Alan's lighter made its way with it. "Oh so my lighter..?" He teased gently, looking over at her lovingly. "Yes.. M' Sorry, I couldn't find mine and it was a last minute idea.." She spoke gently, hunching her shoulders up, bracing herself for some snappy remark. Alan frowned. "Hey no, it's okay babe.. I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just playin' around.." He said carefully, a hand finding her thigh as he rubbed it gently an attempt to calm her. "Maybe once we get back to our cabin we can get into pajamas and have a nice sleepy day... smoke a blunt, drink some wine... something gentle." Alice looked at her husband with damn near bewilderment. And Alan smiled at her before picking his voice up. "Alice-" Alice snapped her head up and swerved back into her lane properly, having just passed the yellow line. "Good god.." She breathed. "Where did you find pot..? But yes.. that sounds nice.. you deserve rest." Alan chuckled warmly, eyes blinking with tiredness as the exhaustion seeped into his bones. God he missed his wife so much. "I have my ways... and maybe after we get the key we head back to the store and then find our cabin..? You deserve rest too Alice..." He said, always hating how Alice put him first. that the things they did were for him, not for them, together.

Alice nodded, soon parking in front of the diner again. "Okay. I'm gonna get the right key, return this one, and then we can finally fucking unload our car." She clapped her hands together and grinned at Alan. He smiled back weakly, watching her get out of the car and into the diner. God he was exhausted, tiredness pulled at his eyes an everlasting nagging to let himself drown in the darkness that cradled itself at the back of his skull. His eyes cracked open as the drivers door opened again and Alice plopped herself into the seat. "So.. they said.. there is no cabin in the lake. It whent down in the 70s.." Alice looked over at Alan with mischief in her eyes. Alan scoffed playfully and looked away. "Well glad that's not us." He held his hand out for Alice to take, smiling bigger as her had found its place in his.

After a while, they were on the road again, Alan had ran into the store, grabbed beef jerky, a pack of beer, a bottle of Alice's favorite wine — surprised that they had it, so. He had to get it. A small bouquet of flowers, condoms. For some fucking reason. Alan cussed himself internally as soon as they got scanned, what was he going to need those for? Not like he planned on doing anything, and was fine with doing nothing - His thoughts were that if by some damned miracle that he and Alice were to do anything those would ease her mind a bit. Considering it had been.. almost a year. Since anything, any sort of romance, that thought hurt his soul.

Alan looked around again as they pulled into what seemed like the most scenic cabin in the woods ever. He looked around, marveling around at the trees, and how pretty the cabin looked. It was on the opposite side of Cauldron Lake. God, the cabin was beautiful. A bit older, rustic on the outside, but he knew the inside was more modern. He looked at Alice, grinning at her with full fangs - he was excited to be here, with her. He got out of the car, moving over to Alice's side, and scooped her off her feet, causing her to yelp and soon laugh as her husband held her close to his chest. He grinned more, cheeks starting to hurt as she unlocked the door to their cabin for the next month, a long. nice vacation that the both of them deserved, needed.

[priestbit]

                                  [ ˑ ˑ ˑ ] 𝑫𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑰𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑺 & 𝑭𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑳𝒀 , a comprehensive study.

This meta will discuss Donnie's relationship with his actual family members and his relationship with family as a concept. Here I'll be exploring how his attitude towards it has shifted and changed throughout his life. I will be touching on some fairly triggering topics in this meta, all of which have been tagged and listed below. For that reason, this meta is under a read more. Please take care when reading, and don't worry if you aren't in the headspace to read this, there's no hard feelings.

Please be aware that the following topics will be discussed, some in greater detail than others: addiction, child neglect/abuse, allusions to csa, religious trauma, homophobia, pregnancy, addiction, drug use, alcoholism, family death, suicide, trauma, and discussions of war.

Donnie, despite all the misconceptions one may have of him, is motivated by family and legacy. It haunts him in a way that nobody talks about. Every man in the Watts family tree, as far back as they can trace being in the States, has served the military in one way or the other. Every man in the Watts family, since the end of the Civil War, has owned and trained horses for one purpose or the other. They may not have been in that profession their entire lives, but they all started there. Donnie did. His father did. His brother did. You get the idea. This is part of the reason why Donnie always felt so conflicted about what he'd do once he'd graduated high school. Would he continue the family legacy and enlist like his father had? Would he follow in his brother's footsteps and look to make a name for himself as a rancher? Or would he follow his heart and become a rockstar?

Ultimately, Donnie decided to follow his heart. He's always had something to prove, his mother made sure of that. He was going to make his family (and to him, at the age of nineteen, his family consisted of his brother, his sister-in-law, his niece, and his nephew) proud. He was going to do something that would, in his eyes, make him worthy of their love. Achieving his dreams would also show them how good of a job they did in taking him in, as he always feels as though he owes them for that (even though they volunteered to do it, and were happy to help out their little brother. Brody especially, as he carries so much guilt for leaving Donnie alone with their mother in the first place.)

I think that, as a child, Donnie based his notion of family off of what his mother told him. His idea of what a family should be was very much in line with the nuclear family, a mother, a father, the white picket fence, and two children. The idea of it was hammered into his head so often-and so brutally-that he felt othered by the fact that he was being raised by a single mother. This othering led to him resenting the very idea of the family home. He hated it whenever his mother would try to engage in things like family dinner at the dining table. Or dragging him to church every Sunday because that's what families were supposed to do.

When he was taken away from his mother at the age of twelve, he was introduced to what an actual, healthy family unit looked like. Brody Watts had gotten away from Texas and made a damn good life for himself. He had two beautiful kids, a wife who adored him, and Dogwood Ranch in his care. Spending his teen years with Brody and Cassidy helped heal a lot of childhood wounds, so much so that by the time his eighteenth birthday rolls around and his mother contacts him for the final guilt trip he'll ever receive from her all he can do is feel hatred for her. Hatred for her and love for the brother who'd taken him in, love for the sister-in-law who had become the older sister he'd always wanted, and love for the kids who called him 'Uncle D!' whenever they saw him. He wanted that. He wanted a home like theirs, warm and welcoming and the total opposite of the crucifix-infested battlefield that his mother had raised him in.

His early twenties were rough. Addled by fame he was not prepared for, and an addiction to anything that takes him skywards for a couple of hours. Heroin was the real killer. He overdosed twice, and was saved twice by a family he didn't share a single drop of blood with. Rancid Creature wasn't just a successful metal band, Rancid Creature was Donnie's entire world, and a love letter to the dear friend he'd lost in Lee Bennett (who had conceptualised the band when they were thirteen and still fumbling their way through learning how to play their instruments. Lee played bass, Donnie was the drummer. The dream rhythm section.) Izzy, Sammy and Clara were, and still are, like siblings to Donnie. He would drop anything to help them... he knew it wasn't the conventional family, but it was his. It was the only one he could have around all the touring and the TV interviews anyway.

Family wasn't just a loving partner and a couple of kids running around to Donnie anymore. But it's the prospect of a family that ultimately pushed him into getting clean. Anita Huerta, a long-term on and off girlfriend, revealed that she was pregnant, and that she wanted to keep the baby. She wanted to get clean for the baby, and so did Donnie. He'd swore years before that he'd never abandon his children, he'd never subject them to his bullshit the same way his mother had. Donnie, wanting nothing more than to cultivate a warm, safe, family environment for his and Anita's child, got clean.

Now that he's in his early thirties, he knows that he doesn't need to have the conventional nuclear family to be happy. A happy family home doesn't look the same for everyone, and despite the fact that he's always stressing over being as good a dad to Emma as possible, he knows this. Family is whoever you feel safe with, family is whoever helps when you're at your worst, family isn't just blood. Donnie took a long time coming to this conclusion, and he still struggles with undoing the mess his mother made of his brain, but he's there. And he doesn't intend on backing away from it anytime soon.

For some quick-fire headcanons about Donnie's family members and his relationships with those family members, look no further!

𝑅𝐸: 𝑀𝐸𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑆𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑇𝑇𝑆 ( fc : Willa Fitzgerald & Mary Mcdonnell. )

Melissa Rose was the youngest of five daughters. Her father detested the fact that his wife would only ever give him daughters when what he really wanted was sons. This made him angry, abusive, unfaithful, and a drunkard. Her father, Adam, was a Baptist pastor. His sermons were the very definition of 'Brimstone and Hellfire.' He was a stern but charming man, with an agreeable face and the picture-perfect family. He was all about image, and this attitude would stick with Melissa all her life.

She actually wanted to run away from Texas her whole life, she had dreams of becoming a Hollywood star. She was always told that she was pretty enough to be in the movies.

Melissa married Colton Watts on a total whim, their romance was an intense whirlwind of emotions and intimacy. She'd never been treated so kindly by a man before Colton came along. He promised her the world. And then he went to war.

When Colton returned home, he was a totally different man. He was emptier than she remembered him, and she was resentful. He would have weeks, even months, of being the happy-go-lucky sweetheart she'd married. Then he'd retreat into himself and would prefer to speak to the horses he cared for than he would to her.

Eleven years of unsteady marriage later, Brody Watts was born. The euphoria of being a new parent didn't last long, Colton would soon retreat back into the stables. The same would happen ten years later when Donovan was born.

After Colton's death, and after Brody ran away from his mother's venomous tongue, Melissa was left alone to raise her youngest son. She never called him Donnie, she would only ever call him Donovan.

Donnie, as a toddler, would actually prefer the company of his mother. He enjoyed being bounced on her hip while she went about the household chores. He enjoyed listening to her read. He found his father to be something of a ghost. However, he did run and hide under Brody's bed whenever she'd get into one of her bad moods. She was vicious, a caged animal unleashed on her family.

When Colton died, Donnie was seven. And Melissa fell hard into heavy drinking. Her fuse grew shorter, and even the smallest of mistakes made by Donnie would set her off. If he cried? She'd shout. If he spilt or dropped something? She'd shout. Without even realising it, Melissa had become her father.

Donnie grew older, more vocal, and pushed back against Melissa's temper. He was rewarded with violence, with unwarranted sermons. She would punish him by making him copy entire verses from the Bible by hand. She would take scissors to his hair whenever he refused to go and get it cut. Donnie's defensive, and often explosive temper, was born here. As was his desire to solve everything with his fists.

Melissa didn't hide what she thought of her son from him. She thought he was gay, and would tell him so. She would often fling slurs at him. She thought he was a sinful child, a demon given to her as punishment for running away from her family with his father. She would tell him this too.

She would also blame him routinely for his father's death. Something that Donnie still hasn't been able to shake.

Donnie was sent to a "summer camp" that the local church ran by his mother to "fix" his behaviour. The children would learn to camp, would learn to work, and would learn to be "more Christian" in their attitudes. It was essentially a behaviour retreat for delinquent kids. It was here that one of the pastors would assault Donnie.

The second he returned home, Donnie bypassed telling his mother anything and took himself straight to the local sheriff's station. He told them everything about the pastor, and about his mother. The sheriff was an old army friend of Colton's and had suspected that something was amiss for years. He was the one who saw to it that the social services took Donnie away from Melissa.

Donnie hasn't seen his mother since, and he hasn't heard from her since his eighteenth birthday. He doesn't even know if she's still alive or not, he hasn't thought to check. He's glad to have cut her out of his life, even if there has always been a longing in him to try and get through to her. Sometimes he misses her reading to him as a child, sometimes he misses her embrace. Sometimes he just wants his mom.

He only ever refers to her as 'mother' or 'Melissa.' Only in really vulnerable moments does he ever slip up and call her 'mom.'

A lot of Donnie's self-loathing stems from the way his mother treated him. A lot of Donnie's internal homophobia stems from his mother. A lot of Donnie's issues with his own masculinity stem from his mother. All of his issues with religion and the idea of a benevolent god stem from his mother's attitudes and the fact that she sent him away to that "summer camp." He's slowly coming to terms with this and feels so much resentment towards her for it that whenever she's mentioned he tends to get stiff and oddly quiet. It takes him a long time to learn to talk about her without feeling angry, and he does so for Emma's sake.

Donnie looks most like his mother, with her soft features, curly hair, and pretty green eyes. It's why he'd always take great offence to anybody ever calling him a girl when he was a teenager.

𝑅𝐸: 𝐶𝑂𝐿𝑇𝑂𝑁 𝑊𝐴𝑇𝑇𝑆 ( fc : Robert Redford. )

Colton was the middle child out of three. His older brother, Tristan, died in France, and his youngest brother, Michael, moved to Europe in the summer of forty-seven. His parents owned Dogwood Ranch, as many Watts had before them. It was the ancestral home of the Watts family.

He was raised Catholic, as many are in Longing.

He moved to Texas with his older brother to pursue a Rodeo career. Colton was a promising young Bronc rider and adored working with horses more than anything else. He also enjoyed playing guitar and singing. Music was always going to be a huge part of Donnie's life.

It was there he met Melissa Rose, who looked as though she'd just wandered off of a movie set. Colton was smitten with her, and she was smitten with him. They were young and reckless and felt invincible, and Colton wanted to give Melissa the world. They were married within six months, and, with Tristain's help, living on a plot of land in Copeville within the year.

Then he enlisted and went to war. Colton took his guitar with him to France and would sing for his fellow soldiers whenever he was able. He kept them entertained and happy despite the horrors they saw. He burned his candle at both ends and returned with bullet holes in his guitar, and holes in his heart.

He tried to fight the numbness with all his might. He tried to be present for his sons, but he'd often find himself feeling the chill of The Bulge even in the height of a Texan summer and would slip into his own mind for hours at a time.

To cope, Colton hid himself away in the shed or the stables, fearing what he might do if he was around his family for any longer than a few hours at a time. He could not trust his own body or mind.

As a result, his sons often saw him as a stranger. He tried to make up for it by teaching them guitar chords, showing them how to handle horses, or singing with them. He felt especially close to Donnie, who seemed to take better to his musical inclinations than Brody did. Brody seemed more interested in horses.

Donnie recalls several key moments with his father. Being taught to play the guitar, how to handle a gun, how to ride, how to be a Bronc rider, and being taken to Dallas when his father was due to meet with old war buddies.

Whenever talking about his father, Donnie often calls him his 'old man.' He seems to talk about him with far more respect than he ever does with his mother, despite feeling like he hardly knew him. Donnie also feels an affinity with his father now that he's an adult, especially since he's been through trauma and had to deal with the aftermath.

Donnie still owns his father's guitar, it's easily his most prized possession. He owned a silver signet ring with a cursive 'W' on it that his dad took with him to France and gave to Donnie for good luck. The ring had been in the Watts family for as long as anybody can remember. Donnie gives it to James Gallowes for good luck and as a symbol of his love for him.

In terms of appearance, Donnie takes after Colton's physical build. Looking at photographs of the two of them where their faces aren't visible, you could be forgiven for thinking it's the same person. Donnie also has his father's toothy smile and, according to Brody, Donnie's voice is freakishly similar to their dad's.

Donnie used to resent the fact that Colton put a bullet in his own mouth. It sent Brody away because it made Melissa worse.

𝑅𝐸: 𝐵𝑅𝑂𝐷𝑌 𝑊𝐴𝑇𝑇𝑆 ( fc : Charlie Hunnam. )

Brody is ten years older than Donnie. Has their mother's softer face shape like Donnie does, but the rest of his face is all Colton. Right down to the scruffy blond beard and pin-straight hair. Brody's whole demeanour is gruff, but kind. He's quick to smile and far more optimistic than his younger brother.

When they were kids, Brody would jokingly refer to Donnie as Yosemite Sam from Looney Tunes whenever Donnie lost his temper. It's why Donnie has a Yosemite Sam tattoo on his arm.

Brody always stepped in and took Donnie away from their mother whenever her temper would flare, and would play with him or read to him to keep him occupied. Sometimes he'd take Donnie up to the stables to look after the horses with him. In that way, Brody was more a parent to Donnie than their actual parents were.

At first, Donnie was confused when Brody took off after Colton's death. Then his mother got worse, and then he got angry at him for abandoning him with their mother. He was so angry that a month into being put into Brody and Cassidy's care, the two had a fight that almost came to blows. It didn't, because Brody outright refused to hurt Donnie anymore than he'd already been hurt. This made Donnie break down and cry. Brody held him and the two spoke about things more calmly.

This blowout didn't diffuse Donnie's resentment entirely, but it helped Donnie understand his brother's reasons for leaving.

The ten-year gap between the two meant that talking as brothers was often difficult for them. But Brody always did his best to be patient with Donnie, to be careful around his trauma and what might set him off. He would also cut through Donnie's moping and ensure that he wasn't self-sabotaging.

Brody also gives full embarrassing dad energy whenever Donnie's got friends over. He endearingly refers to Donnie, Lee and James as 'The Three Stooges.' James would also often find himself staying over at Dogwood Ranch after Donnie discovers that his uncle is mistreating him. Brody allows it because he really wants to encourage Donnie to be more emotionally vulnerable and have more friends.

Donnie and Brody love each other fiercely and will jump to one another's defence without question, even if they find it hard to have deep discussions without the help of a few beers.

Donnie hates disappointing Brody (and by extension, Cassidy), and so doesn't reach out to him for help when he should. He often needs pushing into contacting Brody by his bandmates whenever something's going wrong or he's struggling with Emma on his own.

Donnie's object permeance (yay ADHD!) extends to people. This means, that if things aren't in his immediate everyday life, he tends to neglect them. This makes him terrible at calling Brody and keeping in touch, thankfully, both Brody and Cassidy understand this and will often check in with him of their own volition.

𝑅𝐸: 𝐶𝐴𝑆𝑆𝐼𝐷𝑌 𝑊𝐴𝑇𝑇𝑆 ( fc : Freema Agyeman. )

Cassidy Jonas met Brody Watts and immediately fell in love. They bonded over a love of horses, rock music, and spicy food. They just clicked. Their friendship turned into love and ended with them married at the age of twenty-one. It was the most natural thing in the world.

Cassidy Watts was pregnant with twins when Donnie Watts crossed the threshold of Dogwood for the first time. He reminded her of her grandmother's three-legged cat, Nelson, who used to swipe at newcomers whenever they entered whichever room he happened to be sleeping in. He was jittery and jumped at every little noise. It broke her heart to learn what had happened to him, it made her angry too. Brody had to talk her out of driving to Copeville and giving Melissa Watts a piece of her mind. She couldn't conceive of ever hurting her children.

At first, Cassidy attempted to approach Donnie with kid gloves. That seemed to send him further into his shell. What seemed to appeal to him was being spoken to like an adult. A person in his own right. So she did. Because of the honesty between them, Donnie and Cassidy grew close.

Donnie had the messiest, most unhealthy head of curls when he came to Longing, and not a few months later, Cassidy had them styled and healthier than ever. Being a black woman with tight, coiled hair, she was perfectly qualified to help Donnie treat his curls properly. It was a long, careful routine that Donnie keeps to even now in his early thirties.

After the twins were born, Donnie took to being an uncle like a duck to water. He helped Cassidy with feeding them whenever Brody was out working, and would often keep them entertained when he wasn't out causing mischief with his new friends.

When Donnie's fifteen, Cassidy started to attend classes in hopes of becoming a Doctor or a Nurse, as she'd always dreamed of becoming one as a child.

If asked, Donnie would name Cassidy as the woman who raised him. She was the one who helped him out of panic attacks and soothed him whenever he couldn't sleep, she was the one who talked to him about his romantic feelings for James, she was the one who encouraged him to follow his heart after he graduated. She was also the person who put him in his place whenever he was letting his anger get the better of him.

Donnie almost exclusively calls Cassidy 'Cass', and it's always with the utmost affection. He adores her with his entire being.

Cassidy is also the first person Donnie comes out to, officially. She's the person he turns to whenever he finds himself stuck. He knows she won't judge him or think less of him for messing up. Neither would Brody, but Donnie isn't so confident with that knowledge. He's getting there.

𝑅𝐸: 𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐴 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐽𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐻 𝑊𝐴𝑇𝑇𝑆 ( fcs : undecided. )

Georgina and Jonah Watts are fraternal twins and are the only two children of Brody and Cassidy Watts. Donnie views the pair of them as his younger siblings.

The twins refer to Donnie as 'Don' or 'Uncle D' pretty much exclusively.

Gina falls in love with rock music because of her parents and falls deeper in love with metal and alternative music because of Donnie. Donnie often catches her rifling through his tapes when he's not keeping an eye on her. When he leaves Longing, he actually leaves the vast majority of his tapes and vinyl at Dogwood, so that Gina can listen to them. Gina also gifts Donnie with an Iron Maiden poster on his fourteenth birthday, Cassidy informs him that she wanted to give her uncle a present that meant a lot to him. He still has the poster now, it's in a frame on the wall of his office.

Jonah and Donnie bond over horses. Brody held no interest in actually participating in any kind of Rodeo events, and neither did Donnie, but Donnie knew a couple of tricks to help Jonah get started. He showed him how to ride and how to tend to the horses alongside Brody. Jonah also shares Donnie's love of Star Wars and sci-fi. He even starts to copy Donnie when Donnie starts keeping journals and writing things like song lyrics down. Jonah's got a big imagination and an even bigger heart. Donnie encourages him to feel things unapologetically and to talk to his parents when things are bothering him. When he leaves Dogwood, Donnie leaves a good chunk of his books with Jonah, knowing he'll take care of them.

Donnie misses a good chunk of the twins' milestones while he's touring with Rancid Creature, but that doesn't stop them from sending him letters and getting excited whenever he calls. He feels guilty for not being there more for them during this time, and he's always trying to make up for it, even though they hold no hard feelings over it.

Donnie also misses these milestones because he's too high, which he feels deeply ashamed of, despite the understanding he gets from Brody, Cass and the twins.

He might be terrible at calling, but Donnie has an uncanny ability to remember dates, even when he's deep in the throes of addiction and depression. He always sends thoughtful gifts and birthday cards/letters to his niece and nephew. He dedicates more than a couple of songs and awards for his music to them and their parents.

He's their favourite uncle, despite being their only uncle. And they will die defending him. They even show up to one of Rancid Creature's shows in Santa Fe to surprise him one year, and Donnie almost cries with happiness at seeing them. That's his little sister and his little brother! And he will die for them!

[publicabsent]

small drabble under here. warnings include: implied spousal abuse, physical violence, gendered language, mentions of alcoholism, death. <3

things have been normal. perhaps that, in itself, might have warned the medium that such smooth waters precede a violent storm. but normalcy is intoxicating, & leads to complacency.

the task was simple �� deliver the books to the addresses, picking up any that are due, nothing complex. nothing she hasn’t done plenty of times before. (except now, complacency bleeds into carelessness, & she’s misread an address.) nothing strange till the last house. the roof of it sags, shingles missing in small patches. the lawn is somehow both brown & overgrown. the door, a light, cheap wood, sits crooked between two luan-covered windows. annette hesitates before knocking, a brief chill running down her spine.

that was her one & only warning.

delicate knuckles rap on the door, which easily opens without a sound.

“h - he-hello … ? i’m fr-from the l-li—“

a sickeningly familiar cold freezes her lungs solid as the gravelly, slurred voice of a man interrupts her.

“well, well, well. look-y who’s come crawlin’ back. surprised t’see me, ava?”

like a prey animal, annette freezes as one large ghostly arm wraps around her waist, the smell of cheap booze & decay flooding her senses. delicate frame braces itself for whatever may come next, dread stiffening bone, when she’s roughly cuffed on the back of her head & released, careening forward onto the ground. she lands with a smack, palms & knees bearing the impact.

“that’s fer leavin’ me —”

one large grubby hand jerks her up by her hair, pulling a strangled cry from the girl. now she sees the face of this spirit – distorted by anger, seemingly eaten in places by the vermin of the house. he wears a puke-stained shirt & stands so big, a hulking terror in both life & death.

an open-handed slap to freckled face disrupts her thoughts, rattling her skull.

“i-i — s-sir, i … i’m n-not —”

“shut up, you lyin’ bitch! that w’s fer lettin’ me die.”

“bu - b-but i —”

putrid hand clamps around her jaw, squeezing just tight enough to be a warning. annette closes her eyes, hoping the man at least kills her quickly.

he instead begins ranting.

his drunken ramblings are lost on the medium, interjected only with hits or shakes. he says something about losing a job, about ava’s family, something about children, all half-intelligible. he interrupts himself every so often to toss the girl to the floor, stomping at her while screaming for her to listen. he manages to catch her once or twice with his feet, though she’s hardly aware. she is far away. her mind is somewhat safer, imagining her small nook of her attic. the spirit continues to shout, striking the living girl when deemed necessary.

one sharp hit — large knuckles to fragile cheekbone, jolting her back into the present — elicits a soft whimper of a response.

“i-i … m’n-n—” she can hardly speak, her stutter working in distorted tandem with her busted, swollen lip. annette figures she must be crying, though she can’t tell. her weak attempts at speech are clipped short by two hands clamping viciously around her throat, the force pushing her harshly again a moldy wall.

“y’think i wanna hear one goddamn word outta yer mouth? shove those fuckin’ excuses aside. yer a coward! a weak, pathetic little bitch! f’you couldn’ handle me, y’shouldn’t’ve married me!”

his grip was growing tighter. it’d leave bruises, she’s sure. thin hands & short nails scrabble at the half-there hands, hoping to loosen the vice grip on her throat. the dead man continues shouting, his voice louder & the louder as his hands tighten, thumbs digging into her pulse points. the volley of foul insults never stops, even when the pressure on her neck vanishes & she collapses to the floor.

the voice, now disembodied, feels almost inside her ears, screaming obscenities at ava, who would never hear them. the small, somehow still-living girl shakily climbs to her feet, favoring one side greatly. her right ankle, clearly a victim of his stomping fits, is bulbous & a sickeningly dark purple. her every breath wheezes, but she limps out of the now-empty doorframe. his voices still screams in her mind for months.

she wears scarves to hide the slow-to-fade handprints round her throat.

she wraps her ankle.

she wakes in the night, screaming and clutching her chest.

& as always, she tells no one.

[zhuhongs]

yk, i get why my brother had a drinking problem. our childhood was sooooo much. genuinely. they need to invent a belizean childhood that isnt horribly toxic and marked by cheating, alcoholism, and abuse bc the food and music and cutlure is soooo good minus the aforementioned aspects

[algolstare]

it's been 5-and-a-half-ish years since we've had even a drop of the only thing that makes living in hell bearable. i know that it is natural to seek comfort and relief from pain and fear and all the abuse we've been going through for all this time, but honestly, i dont think being here should be bearable. in the sense that being abused constantly is just by nature not okay, and if something is making it okay, making it bearable, making it comfortable enough that you dont have to leave anymore - that thing is not really helpful. comfort is not always good. i want the comfort of not being abused, more than i want the relief of feeling okay with being abused. that's all it ever did - i felt okay with things as they are, i felt okay yes but it can't be separated from the external reality driving me to seek it anyhow.

[emmetrain]

"RIKAAAAAAAAAA... THIS IS AMAZING. I am nnnnot drrrrrunk yet! Can I have some morrre?" He just took a sip. And it had been enough to make him a mess.

"Uhhhhh... We sssshould have invited EVERYONE! I miss my frrriends.."

[cidnangarlond]

now I'm thinking about this house I lived in for a year and a half ish when I was a kid and it had this awful green carpet and there was the sliding glass door out to the deck I got my first splinter on and it had a walkway to this raised deck area and in the spring and summer we'd inflate our pool and jump in off the deck and my childhood dog got in once and promptly swam to the other side and got back out and when my dad would deflate it we'd let the water rush us out to the chain fence where honeysuckle would grow and we would know then it was summer and how beautiful the sunset was and the fence we shared with our neighbor who had a female dog that wasn't fixed and our dog when he was a puppy tried tunneling underneath the fence to get to her and on the other side of the backyard it sloped down a lot so in the winter we'd sled down it before crashing into a tree or the fence and my sister and I slept in a tent in that backyard but I got scared and went in and she stayed and saw a spider hatch its eggs on it in the moonlight and all these baby spider shadows cascading down that made her scream and run back inside and that kitchen where my dad would cook all the time and I'd scrub the potatoes and my mom would make me my after school snacks and in the summer have sangria in the fridge and I'd be given the sangria soaked fruit as bb king played loud on the stereo and the sidewalk out front where my dad tried to get me to learn to rollerblade but it was a steep sidewalk and I had to bail into the grass before I made it to the road and how I tried and failed to learn how to ride a bike and had a panic attack at my best friend's house because I was so scared being away from home for a night and how in my bedroom I had a bed tent and when my dad was playing with me and my sister I thought he was attacking her for real and got a plastic bat and started hitting him with it and I gave him a bloody nose but he wasn't mad at me because he knew I was just trying to protect my sister and how she and I would play with a balloon in that hallway for ages because we were poor and couldn't afford a lot so we'd make our own fun and how my mom had a seizure for the first time in that house and got diagnosed with epilepsy and my sister had to play nurse to my mom and mother to me and I spent every moment at school worrying about if my mom had a seizure while she was home alone and died and how my parents would argue and my mom would have her chronic migraines and be bedridden for days and my dad would drink god can he drink and god could he yell and it's taken me years to unlearn the inferiority I gained in that house because my parents couldn't be bothered to pretend to care about anything I liked and wanted to show them or talk about it and I always bothering them so I thought shows and movies and everything else was more important than me so I just stopped trying and our cats probably tore up the furniture and I puked on that hideous green carpet after having cherry medicine because it tasted awful and how my favorite white shorts with blue and magenta on them got bleached in the wash and I cried and I broke my arm in that backyard and now so much about that house has changed it's almost like it never was the house I experienced all this in and I didn't have amazing times in that house but I wish I could for just one moment feel that childlike happiness I experienced once in that house again. good god I miss that house. I hate that house. I love that house

[fckingpassword]

why write metas when i can just get at the root of the idea on discord

[luxflora]

My goal to avoid alcohol until Friday vs my desire to chemically force myself to chillax. I skipped my allergy meds today, so maybe a couple benadryl?

[priestbit]

trauma does weird things to memory, and donnie notices it so much in his day to day life, especially after getting clean for good. like he will forget what he needed to get from the store, where he put his keys ( they're likely in a jeans pocket in his laundry hamper bc he's awful for leaving them in his pockets ), he can't remember songs he's written, why he wrote them. he can't remember emma's friends' names unless she patiently reminds him of them. but he can recall old testament bible verses by heart. he remembers what the priest had a sermon about on his tenth birthday because that was the day he went alone, not knowing where his mum was ( she'd passed out behind the wheel in the parking lot of the local bar, she never actually started to drive home she was so drunk. ) he remembers what his dad told him the day before he died. he remembers the look on lee bennett's face as he uttered his last words, which he also recalls with startling clarity.

[cursedphoenix]

(Been thinking, and I need to tweak Tancred’s Wizard au because it’s the only one where Rhiannon is still alive (for now…) and raising him (sort of), and I want to explore her character some more. Be forewarned: there will be mentions of alcoholism, child neglect, emotional abuse, and death via cirrhosis. I also want to have Tanc meet Aiden before he graduates, that way I can explore his character more, too. )

[iilelio]

i dont really have the medical qualifications but id love to write a book called It Can Happen When Youre 80 pertaining to abuse. For all the policing we like to do here on tungle.fuck it proves literally useless in practice. My Pa is a man that cannot say “no”. Just not in his blood. Very much a people pleaser. Youre more likely to hear “Oh, okay” from him than any other answer. His wife passed away in a very traumatic string of events and he was preyed upon by his neighbor. She took him in as an alcoholic enabler and he was sad and lonely without his wife. An abusive relationship at 80 years of age. He couldnt leave. He wanted to leave. The only thing that let him out? His own habit of enabling a drunk old woman. Finally her health deteriorated bc of the drinking to a point where she cannot live where she does- thus effectively kicking him out too. Ive got a lot of words for what Ive witnessed since 2017. None of them are good. I use this blog as a mental journal 80% of the time so excuse this one if it really makes you uncomfortable but it astounds me that, yes it CAN happen when youre 80.

[algolstare]

ha ha. see. i know we need the ability to cope with the things to stop splitting when things keep fucking Happening. and to a certain extent it is not entirely possible to prevent (more abuse! piled on! continuously! consistently! more! and more! and more! with no fucking end!) but there is things that would make it Lessen. we HAD coping skills. it is just that they were cutting, drinking, & various other forms of self harm, but mostly those 2. after quitting both of those we have just been rawing life. none of our other coping anything is beefy enough to handle all this

(caffeine is like little baby in comparison to vodka, my beloved vodka, they do opposite things. it doesnt count as a "replacement" beverage to sip on when things get too difficult, although it is what has helped me in terms of the drink-motion to be able to not have to like, willpower my way through no-drink-motion)