#Alcohol Rehab Los Angeles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aishnico · 1 year ago

Note

I'm thinkinggggg....maybe something angsty to fluffy with Slash?

#𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃: 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

» summary: you were tired of your boyfriend’s drug habit, so one night you asked him to choose between you and his habit. when he left you without an answer, you went to let all these things out of your head.

» word count: 2.1k

» warnings: angst to fluff, alcohol, described drug use, grammar issues

another glass has broken with your heart. you couldn't fix the glass once it's broken but the heart could. countless apologies, excuses, and promises would fix your heart, but not properly.

but you were sure this time, it surely broke and couldn't be fixed.

you looked at the floor. vodka was spreading through it, so your tears across your cheeks.

he turned his back against you. leaned his arms over the table. "don't... don't ever tell me what to do. you are supposed to be my girlfriend, not my mom, damn it!" he then rushed over to you. you weren't scared of him. you knew he would never hit you. but you were scared what was he going to say next.

"it's not my fault that you can't make me feel better than this shit!" he showed you a little pack of white dust. you felt helpless. you would hide his drugs away from him. and he was that addicted to find them no matter where they were. you would do this because you cared about him, and didn't want to see him killing himself over and over.

you wiped your tears and stood up. "i don't want to see you killing yourself anymore. you're not only killing yourself, you're also killing me! don't you care about me?!"

"bullshit, you're not dying. you're well enough to argue with me!"

"don't dodge the question, do you care about me?! do you want me to be happy?!" you were yelling at him and your voice got weaker. he was silent, looking at the floor. you gulped and approached him.

"i'm going to ask this you once again. you would always change the topic but this time you don't have a choice but to make a decision. drugs, or me?" you asked. looking at his big, brown eyes sincerely.

he looked at you. he wanted to say something, you felt it. or maybe you were wrong. he didn't say anything and went to the bedroom. you were standing not knowing how to react or what to do.

you wanted to swear to him, telling the most painful words to him. but at the same time, you wanted to talk with him again. trying to convince him to get clean for the nth time. you didn't care how much this was going to take. you just wanted to be happy with him.

but guess he chose to be happy just alone.

you left the home and went to the busy streets of los angeles, trying to find an empty cab. after minutes, you found and entered inside. you told the driver the name of the bar where you would often hang out with guys. you wish one of them was there.

and of course there was the indispencable axl! he greeted you nicely but his smile dropped when he saw your heartbroken face. "sugar, what happened?!"

you didn't answer him, just sat next to him and buried your head in your hands. he patted your back. "is it slash again?" you raised your head and looked at him.

"i asked him to choose between me or drugs, he didn't even answer me! i don't know how many times i tried to get him to the rehab, how many times i hid them from him. he just... *sob* can't give up on his first love. i'm nothing to him."

"that's not true, you mean a lot to him. i can't even imagine how he would be like without you."

you sobbed and buried your face again. "do you want a drink? i want a drink. i'm going to buy us drinks!" he went to the bartender. after a couple of seconds, he was walking through your direction but stopped once he saw a beautiful chick. he then gave her your drink. fucking carrot... you thought and stood up from your seat.

you were walking across the people, trying to forget things at least for tonight. and you stopped once you saw a couple of guys snorting cocaine. they smiled at you. "wanna join?" you didn't answer but sat next to them. maybe you could befriend them and let all these things out of your head. but you weren't talking with them unless one of them approached you.

"what's bothering you? we don't want to see people in deep thoughts around us. just forget them. let them go even for just one night." he probably understood that you've never done this before.

he rolled up a small piece of paper into a straw. there was already a big amount of cocaine on the table. he grabbed his razor blade, chopped it, and made a short line of it. he looked at you.

"wanna try? if you don't, then i will." you sighed and wondered how is the feeling this thing gives to your boyfriend or your friends. you then took the roll of paper from him and quickly snorted the line.

you gasped loudly and pulled your head backwards. after a couple of minutes, you felt yourself hot, your palms were sweating and your heart was beating like crazy. the guy beside you laughed at you.

"how does it feel?"

"i... i d-don't know, i feel anxious, i g-guess?" you stuttered. he rubbed your back. "then you should snort again, you will start to feel happy. trust me."

you felt unsure but remembered the times when slash would come home to you happily. he would cling to you and refuse to let you go for a while. he would be so lovey-dovey with you. his current mood would also make you cheerful. but then you realized it's not because he saw you again after an exhausting day, he was because of this shit. you wondered if you could be cheerful like him at the moment.

so you nodded and he chopped again and made you a roll. you took a deep breath and snorted all of it. your head became more fuzzy but a couple of minutes later you felt cheerful and excited. you chuckled at yourself and stood up while staggering.

"now i get it," you grinned and winked at him. then you started to go to the dance floor. you were staggering but you didn't care. you were walking between people and saying them good morning! while smiling. they looked at you strangely.

when you approached the dance floor you started to move slowly, and accommodating to the song. after a couple of seconds, you were dancing like crazy, not minding to look cringe. everybody here was like you, after all.

the guy who helped you to snort stopped behind you. when you turned your head to him you smiled.

"i was looking for you, wanna dance together?" you closed your eyes and shook your head to him. then turn your back against him again. you suddenly felt a pair of hands around your waist.

"now, now. don't be like that. you look so precious and funny right now. let me enjoy your company for a while." his face now was behind your ear. he whispered "maybe we can bring this to another place..." you then turned to him and knitted your eyebrows. "i thought i said no?" you left him there and started to look for axl.

your body temperature was increasing, and so was your heartbeat. you started to struggle more, you knew you looked pathetically and never wanted to do it again. even if your little happiness lasted a couple of minutes.

"axl... axl wh-where are yhou? call shlash..." you couldn't even speak properly. your legs started to shake. you found the door and exited the bar. you were walking to the road. eyes searching for your boyfriend. maybe he was worried about you so he came here to look for you?

“shl-soul, are yhou h-here?" you were squinting, trying to figure out which car was your boyfriend's. and before you realize it, you were hit by something massive.

you woke up with loud noises. you grimaced because fluorescent light was dazzling your eyes. you slowly blinked and turned your gaze to where the sounds were coming from. you saw axl and slash, arguing about something.

"how could you let her snort?! why didn't you stay by her side?!"

"she's not a child, especially not mine! she can make her decisions now, you know!"

you saw slash sit on the couch in front of you. he buried his face in his hands. axl sighed and left the room. when he did, you heard sounds of crying and sobs.

"how could i let this happen..?" he sounded helpless. it made your heart clench. when either of you would cry, the other one would join after. it was mutual. so tears were leaking from your eyes now. he raised his messed up face and looked at you, eyes widened at realization.

"sweetheart, you're awake!" he cheered but his voice was broken. you didn't say anything. he grabbed your hand and placed it on his, caressing gently. "how do you feel?" he asked.

you just shrugged. "i don't know, my legs hurt." he shut his eyes and gulped. "i... i am sorry, for not being there with you." his voice sounded shaking. you wanted to ask him if that was all he wanted to apologize for, but before you opened your mouth, he continued.

"not only for this. i am sorry for not listening to you, even though you only cared about my well-being. sorry for making you cry and feel heartbroken. you never deserved this, never. and i don't deserve your concern.

when you asked me to choose between you and drugs, i went to the bedroom only to think about that. i didn't choose them over you. i could never choose something over you. you're my priority, my everything. i never want something bad to happen to you. i could never get over this." he finished and kissed your hand carefully.

you sighed. "oh slash, i don't even know how many times we talked about this. same thing happens every time..." he looked at you with his big pretty brown eyes. "i swear this is the last time, we'll never talk about this. i swear. i don't want to make you miserable anymore. you deserve nothing but happiness. and i'm more willing to give you that."

you raised your head and looked at the ceiling, sighed again. "did that accident have to happen for you to say these?"

he straightened up. "don't tell me you did this on purpose..." his voice sounded nervous. you shook your head. "of course i didn't, i just always wondered how this shit makes you happy but i'm not, so i wanted to try it once."

"pretty, you know this shit is nothing compared to you. i was mad at you for you hiding it, but that's not an excuse for to me say those untrue things to you."

you smiled at yourself, wondering if axl or duff talked to him about this. finally, you gave up on yourself.

"i love you so much, slash. and i guess we both understood how is to lose almost someone."

"i love you too, sweetheart. more than everything. and yeah, you're right. i don't want one of us to experience this feeling again. " he smiled sincerely at you.

you tried to move your body aside and patted to empty space. he looked at you worringly. "are you sure, doll? i don't want to hurt or crush you." you just chuckled and opened your arms to him. he hesitated but climbed to the bed. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him for a kiss. the kiss was sensual and full of love. you missed his plump and soft lips on yours, on every part of your body.

you then run your fingers through his dark curly hair. you loved playing with them carefully. he doesn't like it when it hurts.

you wanted to deepen the kiss because you missed him so much. you don't remember when you two kissed like this last time. but he pulled out looking at you breathlessly, then lay beside you.

"after we go home, i'm gonna search and then register myself on a program. this time i'm gonna complete it, i swear." he grabbed your hand and pressed a wet kiss on it. then did the same thing to your cheek. "slash!" you whined but he knew you actually liked it.

you were lying on his chest while he was caressing your waist. you've felt peaceful. and felt like your eyes would shut soon. he noticed it and planted a wet kiss on your forehead. you giggled.

"i love you." he said while sincerely looking at you. you smiled and snuggled to him. "i love you too, my big crybaby."

369 notes · View notes

ghoulfuckersincorporated · 1 month ago

Note

Hot take: Cooper Howard was an avid drug user before the bombs. Boyfriend was a big Hollywood star; all that pressure and you’re telling me that he’d be clean? My guy was prolly seeing more snow than Alaska.

Another Anon with 100% correct opinions who deserves a kiss straight on the mouth. Mwah.

But also...do you guys have backdoor access to my drafts? Yet again, someone comes into the ask box discussing a topic I was already thinking heavily on for a long-form piece; definitely touching on a lot of this in the next installments of Duplicity. Mister Howard doesn't deal with stress in the healthiest of ways. I also have a follow-up to this question in the inbox and I'm so glad you sent separate asks, actually, because I have a ton to say about this topic.

Substance use was absolutely a cornerstone of Cooper Howard's life long before the bombs dropped.

His vices of choice are primarily alcohol and cocaine (and cigarettes, obviously, but that's a societal addiction in the world he comes from), the former especially. Cooper is the definition of a high-functioning alcoholic. While he did dabble a bit more in party drugs when he and Barb were younger, when he was first starting to become famous and make good money, he more or less gave them up when Janey came along.

The coke use started as a social thing, a curiosity and a fun enhancer that he, and even Barb, occasionally, would dabble in. While he'd never pressure her to use (well, not that much, at least...), the few times she did are pretty fond memories to him, even after they split. She's always been a pretty straight-laced, serious, and high-achieving person, and he loved seeing her open up any time she decided to let her hair down. Plus, the sex after they got home would always be extra wild.

Addiction runs in the family on Cooper's side, so he grew up around people who drank a lot, and began drinking rather young himself as a result. He's been a fan of the sauce for a long time, far before his marriage or even his time in the army. Once they'd made it to Los Angeles, social drinking became a pretty big part of the Howard's lives, both using alcohol and sharing drinks with important contacts as a way to network their way into better opportunities. Barb isn't nearly as much of a drinker at home, save for an occasional glass of wine with dinner or a celebratory cocktail to top off a big accomplishment.

Coop's relationship with alcohol changed after he returned from his deployment; for the first time in his life, he began to more frequently use booze to chase away feelings he didn't want to feel, thoughts he didn't want to have. However, he kept a pretty solid handle on his habit for a long time, at least in terms of keeping it a secret. Janey's birth made it easy to keep his consumption to a minimum for several years. However, as his career began to decline as he aged (and as Vault-Tec became a more and more prominent presence in his life), he turned back to the bottle. When his stress began to peak, he started using cocaine more and more to "take the edge off".

He gets quite defensive (even aggressive, depending on who you are and how hard you push) if you start asking him too many questions about his substance use. Doesn't appreciate the implication that he has a problem he can't control. Cooper is already painfully aware of the number of things in his life that he has no control over and refuses to add another to the list. His manager, a pretty good friend with good intentions, very casually mentioned him possibly checking into rehab exactly once and he absolutely blew his lid. The idea of the public knowing about his struggles, judging him, laughing at him is more than he can bear, and that fear only intensifies after he spends over a year being mocked for his divorce and career backslide.

Besides, if he went to rehab, Barb would know, and that idea humiliates him. As far as he knows, he's hidden his problem from her for a long time.

Barb sees the signs much more clearly than he thinks, though. He comes home from parties she didn't attend incredibly late, teeth-grittingly on-edge and horny, but can't get it up properly due to the blow. Has the lingering smell of whiskey on his breath when she kisses him in the morning and conveniently always has a coffee waiting for her so she doesn't ask for a sip of his. Towards the end of their marriage, she finds a couple of flasks in places so obscure that they can only be hidden stashes, implying he's drinking so often that he feels the need to have near-constant access to alcohol.

Cooper's been a poor sleeper since his time in the service. He came back changed in more ways than one, but that was the most noticeable. However, he acts different when he's awake from insomnia versus when he's awake because he's fucked up. A regular night of bad sleep includes him quietly curled up in a chair, studying a script or watching the television turned down low as he tries his best to will himself into some rest.

When he's high, though, he has too much energy to sit still, so sometimes she'll wake up to him finishing up some household task that absolutely could have waited, or even doing things they pay people to do. She finds it hard to believe that he, for example, did four loads of laundry overnight or gave his car a meticulous tune-up because he was just that bored, despite his insistence. Once, she found him out in the back yard in the middle of the night, shooting live ammunition at a target and murmuring to himself. Though she'd stayed up and lingered at the window for hours watching over him, for the first time ever in their marriage, she'd been afraid of him, too unsure of how he'd react to approach.

She hadn't known it at the time, of course, but they'd be divorced within two years of that night.

His addiction issues absolutely came up in court, though they weren't the focus of any of the discussions. Barb withholds some information. While she fails to truly grasp all of the reasons her marriage ended, and therefore goes into the divorce angry and wanting to get back at him for his perceived rejections, she doesn't want to completely drag his name through the mud. But she still mentions a few aspects of it, namely those she feels could impact Janey. Cooper takes this very personally, especially when their custody split is decided and he's dissatisfied with the outcome.

After the split, when he no longer sees his family every day and spends significantly more time alone, his use increases, as does his tolerance. All the while, his ability to hide his dependence slowly wears away. Unfortunately, he has no idea what's in store for him in the future.

If he did, though, it'd probably only drive him to use more.

#the ghoul was there inside cooper long before the bombs dropped your honor #cooper howard #prewar!cooper howard #cooper howard headcanons #sugar daddy!cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul headcanons #barb howard #janey howard #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

23 notes · View notes

dreamwatch · 7 months ago

Text

The Last Song

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Eddie’s not sure what wakes him. He turns awkwardly onto his side, head on his arm, watching the tops of the trees rustle, light twinkling through the branches. It’s warm, like it is all year round in Los Angeles, hard to tell one season from the next.

The bedroom door clicks open, the sound of bare feet on bare floors as Steve approaches the bed. He sits on the edge, his hand already reaching out for Eddie.

“You look tired. You want me to call them? Tell ‘em you’re not coming?”

He is tired. Not the kind that feels earned, from hard work or hard play, the kind that seeps into your bones and sets up home there, the kind sleep doesn’t cure. The warmth of the sun and the comforter, of Steve’s hand on his skin, will pull him back to sleep if he stays.

“No, I promised them, I should go today.”

“They won’t mind if you don’t.”

“I’ll mind.”

So he showers carefully, dresses slowly, and allows Steve to drive him to the studio.

The boys are at the mixing desk playing back some of their tracks that have already been recorded. It’s been a struggle, this album, over a year with a record label breathing down their necks, turning the screw, piling on the pressure as the time in the studio drags on.

And that’s on him.

The thing about fucking up when you’re in the public eye is they never let you forget. It’s like a bad report card (and fuck knows he had plenty of those in his time), it hangs there over everything no matter what you achieve. One trip to rehab and they never let you forget it.

He hasn’t had a drink in three years. He deals with it, has good support, puts in the work. But there are other things in play, things from his childhood, things from Hawkins, Upside Down things, and they’re fucking insidious. There’s no twelve step programme for that. He tried therapy years ago; he said probably ten words about his mom, five about his dad, and fuck all about things that go bump in the night. It was pointless.

His mind and his body and his soul are being held together with bandaids. The band have been beyond supportive; they’ve had their hard times over the years but they never leave anyone untethered, it’s just not how they roll, you know? They’ve given him time, kept the heat from him as much as they can. And he loves them for it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Gareth says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Poison’s fourth best album,” he replies, laughing at their looks of disgust.

“Fuck, dude, no.” Matty scowls like he’s been physically wounded. “We’re not bringing that neon juju shit into this sacred studio of metal.” He stands and takes Eddie in a hug. “Fucking good to see you man,” he says lowering his voice, and Eddie squeezes him back tightly.

The thing about them is they don’t have to hide; there’s no shame in struggling, they’re long past all that shit. So it’s comforting to be back here, the studio feels like home.

“So what are we doing?”

Jeff spins on his chair. “Last track of the album. Drums and bass are locked in so those lazy fuckers are done.” Matt and Gareth protest but Jeff ignores them. “Just you and me now, man.”

Something hits him, something about the wording of that. Just you and me now. It’s always Matt and Jeff or Eddie and Gareth, but it’s the two of them out front every night. Jeff who all but told him to fuck off when he auditioned with Wayne’s shitty acoustic. Jeff who gave them their name. Jeff who held him over hotel toilet bowls while he emptied his stomach, telling him he was okay.

It’s funny how they’re all pieces of a puzzle but the parts fit together whichever way you place them.

Eddie settles on the stool, grabbing his guitar. “Okay, so Defeat the Darkness, right?”

Jeff taps the edge of his guitar. “Actually, we’ve changed it up. I’ll play you what we have, and…” Jeff shoots a look to the control room, Matt and Gareth watching them keenly, “we’ll go from there.”

“Sure.” It’s not what he prepared for. And okay, he hasn’t been around but changing the track list without telling him? That’s not cool. But he’s a pro, and he doesn’t want to fight, so he gives a thumbs up.

The track comes through, and he doesn’t recognise it. They had a couple of maybes they cut, but this isn’t one of them. It’s fast and messy, the floor toms heavy in the mix, Matt’s bass reverberates in his ears. It’s almost punk. The guide vocal and guitar part come in and—

Oh.

Jeff cocks his head. “You recognise this?” he asks, clearly amused.

He hears those words, those stupid fucking words they wrote in Gareth’s garage, Jeff and Eddie on their own because Gareth and Matt were watching the Dukes of Hazzard and even back then Eddie wasn’t giving one flying fuck about Daisy Duke. So they wrote a song. And they laughed until they cried, because it was awful, and stupid, and hilarious.

Eddies doesn’t really know why he’s crying, maybe because it’s just been an awful fucking year and he’s raw with pain. But it’s not sadness, or not entirely. It was so fucking innocent then, so simple. This singular point in time where life was, well not perfect, he’d lost his mom, he was poor, but everything else was so rich. And sometimes he yearns for those days, without contracts and lawyers and commitments.

“It’s been good, right?” Jeff says smiling, like he knows exactly what Eddie’s thinking. Maybe he does.

All these years, four stupid kids who wanted to be rich and famous. Still friends, still killing it.

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles. “It’s been really good.”

Okay so the song they wrote was called Fuck Hawkins, and I wrote lyrics but ran out of words. I’ll save it for another time!

I can’t believe it’s over, it’s been a blast! ❤️🤘🏻

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #matt (unnamed freak stranger things)#steve harrington #steddie #cw alcoholism #cw mental illness

36 notes · View notes

chickwiththepurpleguitar · 7 months ago

Note

Song prompt: Close Behind by Noah Kahan

Check DMs for more details :)))

Sorry this took so long! I didn’t have an idea I liked enough for it, and then I recently got re-obsessed with this show, re-read my longfic, and suddenly had an idea :) It’s sad I hope that’s what you were hoping for :) Hope you enjoy!

Tw: mention of a suicide attempt.

This is sorta vaguely in my All Too Well series, but it should make sense even if you haven’t read it. When I eventually move this over to ao3 I probably won’t make it part of the official series, mostly cause I was too lazy to check my own continuity, but it’s definitely inspired by that series’s specific brand of canon divergence.

Tagging @felicitysmoaksx by request :)

“So you know I worry that you’re all I have to lose”

“I live my life in years to come to prepare myself for sorrow”

“I should change this way of thinking, that all my fears are facts of life”

—Close Behind by Noah Kahan

“Bobby always thought he wasn’t good enough, always thought he’d be forever on the outside, always thought Luke, Reggie, and Alex would wake up one day and decide they wanted to go back to just having each other and didn’t need Bobby anymore, and technically, in a twisted morbid sort of way, he was right.”

—i might be okay but i’m not fine at all

***

They have a band meeting.

Luke holds Julie’s hand, because he can, and stands before his boys (come on, Luke, two out of three of his boys) and says, “I wanna fix things with Bobby.”

Alex and Reggie look at each other, and then at him. Reggie says, “Okay, man! Whatever you need.”

Alex says, “Just, you know. Be careful about it, okay?”

Luke bounces a little on his toes, trying to redirect the anxious energy buzzing underneath his skin. He looks at Julie, who gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and then back at Alex and Reggie. “I need to stop jumping to conclusions. I don’t want to get back at him. I don’t want revenge. I just… I wanna understand what happened. Will you guys help me decide what to say?”

They settle around Julie’s dining room table with some snacks courtesy of Mr. Molina and a place set for Julie’s mom, as a sign of good luck. Julie pulls up Trevor Wilson’s Wikipedia page, and they get started.

The beginning is laughingly low in detail. Trevor Wilson was born in New York. Trevor Wilson relocated to Los Angeles at age 18. Trevor Wilson was discovered at an open mic at Ridley’s Bar on July 22, 1998.

“That’s—” Reggie starts to say.

“Yep!” Luke interrupts, hands gripping the edge of the table. “Keep going, Julie!”

“Despite not being native to the city,” Julie reads, “Wilson became a household name among Angelinos in the music industry as soon as his self-titled debut album was released in September ’98.”

“And that would be…”

“Our self-titled debut album,” Alex fills in, patting Reggie’s hand. “We know, Reg.”

Luke puts his head in his hands and lets out a long, muffled groan.

“It’s okay, hey, we knew this part already!” Julie rubs Luke’s arm comfortingly. “Do you wanna keep going?”

“No,” Luke says into his hands. “…Yes.”

He sighs and drops his hands back into his lap, just in time to see Julie, Alex, and Reggie exchange a look. Like they’re worried about him.

Maybe they should be.

Julie takes a breath and looks back at her phone. “His album got a bunch of hits. His second one… didn’t. He, um… oh, god, I remember this, I was like five or six and Trevor had this crazy mental breakdown on live TV. He, like, threw a desk and cried a bunch. Says here he chugged a whole bottle of tequila and told a reporter he just wanted to be loved.”

“Oh, wow,” Reggie says.

“Jeeeeez,” Alex murmurs.

Luke stares at Julie’s phone like it holds all the secrets of the universe. “Bobby got drunk?”

“Next couple paragraphs are all about his history with alcoholism,” Julie reports with a sympathetic wince. “And then he went into rehab in 2010, I remember that too, my mom told Carrie and me he was on a ‘business trip,’ but it was, like, all over the news.”

“Damn,” Alex says under his breath.

Reggie pouts. “Poor Bobby.”

Luke feels like there’s an ice cube steadily tracing a path through his bloodstream. “He, uh. Really had it rough, didn’t he?”

Julie reaches over to take his hand, but her eyes don’t stop scanning down her phone screen. A few scrolls later, and her face goes sickly pale.

Luke’s heart skips a beat. “Julie? What’s wrong?”

She clicks her phone off and lays it face down on the table. “Nothing!” she says in her high-pitched lying voice. “I think we’ve seen enough, don’t you? Trevor lost you guys, and obviously was going through it for a while, and no matter why he stole your songs, clearly he felt pretty guilty about it, so I think that’s a good enough start for a reconciliation! How about you start by apologizing for haunting him—”

“Julie,” Luke interrupts, unable to unsee that look on her face. “What’d the rest of that page say?”

She takes a deep breath, shifting in her seat, and looks all three of them in the eye in turn, hand still clutching Luke’s. And then she says, “A few years ago, right when Carrie and I stopped being friends… Trevor Wilson tried to kill himself.”

Luke makes a sound like all the air has been punched out of him. He closes his eyes, and the blackness, paired with the ringing in his ears, makes his friends around him seem to disappear.

Makes the world seem to disappear, leaving Luke with nothing but himself, and his memories of a Bobby who doesn’t exist anymore, and the painful truth of the life Trevor lived.

The songs don’t matter, in light of this, do they? The music doesn’t matter, the legacy doesn’t matter.

What matters is that they messed up. They assumed the worst, never bothered to get all the facts, haunted a man who’d been chased by ghosts his whole miserable life.

They may have lost the music of Sunset Curve. But Bobby lost them.

“So, uh.” Alex’s voice brings Luke’s focus back. He opens his eyes and realizes they’re all holding hands now, him and Julie and Alex and Reggie, one big band circle. One big family. Alex squeezes his hand. “We’re all gonna go apologize to Trevor now, right?”

“We have to,” Reggie adds. “His life has been so… sad.”

“Well, not anymore,” Luke promises. “He didn’t lose us, guys. All that sad stuff his brain told him— it was wrong. He is loved. And he’s not alone.”

Reggie nods. Julie smiles. Alex says, “Course he’s not alone. He’s getting us back.”

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #julie molina #Trevor Wilson #tw suicide #cw suicide #just a mention of an attempt but take care of yourselves #I should start tagging my asks so I can Find Things

10 notes · View notes

michelle-is-writing · 2 years ago

Text

Left Behind ch.2, Nikki Sixx

Word Count: 1.3k~

Read Chapter 1 here!

TW!: mention of prior drug and alcohol use, rehab, slight angst

Five months of being back in Los Angeles had proven to be just the same as when Nikki and I lived in Los Angeles all that time ago. The only difference was the new apartment I lived in and, of course, Nikki. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night we broke up, and it’s been slowly weighing on me as time goes on. Now six months pregnant, I try to find things that once made me happy like before, but it hasn’t been easy.

I don’t know how Nikki’s doing right now; I don’t even know where he is. The guys called me a lot when I first left, but I never answered their calls, and eventually, they slowly stopped. The only time I answered was when Mick tried calling me, and I explained where I had moved to and why; I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant, however. I hardly even turned on the TV anymore, too afraid to see a news report concerning his death from an overdose, only to be revived in an ambulance afterward.

Hearing what happened made me want to go to him and just make sure he was okay, but I felt like I couldn’t. I knew I was probably the last person he wanted to see, and sadly, I didn’t want to see Nikki the way I saw him before I left, strung out and barely holding onto himself as the heroin constantly coursed through his body. I don’t want memories like that coming to mind when my little girl eventually asks about her father. I want to be able to talk about the good moments we had before everything came crashing down, and I ended up where I am now.

Getting home from my shift as a hospital receptionist, I sit down on my couch and rest as my back relaxes from the reduced straining caused by my large bump. I didn’t think I’d be this big until maybe the last couple of months, but that’s not too far away. I just wish the swollen feet would go away. Out of everything, that has to be the worst part of my pregnancy.

Hearing a knock at my front door, I lift my head from the back of the couch and look toward it. In the time I have rented this place, no one ever comes to my door, not even solicitors.

Standing up from my couch, I walk over to the door before looking out the peephole, only to see an all too familiar figure. However, there are a few differences between him now and the last time I saw him. A small noticeable difference is the small strip of hair growing down his chin. On the other hand, the major difference is the healthy look he has, all while being nervous as he stands in front of my door. I’ve never seen Nikki insecure about anything, always finding confidence from somewhere.

Unlatching my door, I open it, Nikki’s eyes instantly catching mine as he comes into my full view. He doesn’t look sick like he used to, with the skin around his eyes no longer holding a purple hue to it and his cheeks appearing a tad fuller. By the looks of it, Nikki might even pass as clean to someone, but for me, I find myself in disbelief at the thought. I can’t assume anything and make myself hopeful like so many times before.

“Hi,” I murmur, completely lost as I stare at the man in front of me. He shyly smiles back, also appearing lost for words. Mick must’ve told him where I was since I haven’t told anyone else.

“Hi, baby,” he responds, his eyes flickering down to my noticeable bump before flashing back to mine, now wet with tears. “I’ve missed you, a lot�� You have no idea.”

“Where have you been, Nikki?” I can’t help but ask, taking a step outside my door to fully face him. His arms awkwardly linger by his sides, not quite knowing what to do with them. A long time ago, Nikki would have instantly taken the chance to pull me close, but now, his actions are halted by uncertainty.

“In all honesty, I’ve been in rehab for the past several months,” he confesses, my eyebrows jolting in slight shock at his revelation. “Me and the guys, we all checked ourselves in. And now, we’re finally clean,” Nikki adds, his smile shining with a bit of pride now. At the same time, I also feel myself proud of him despite everything else.

“That’s great, Nikki,” I tell him, watching a tear slip from his eye. My instincts tell me to wipe it away from his cheek, but the hurt that remains holds me back from doing so.

“I-I know what I said when you left was horrible, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Nikki tells me, causing the harsh memories to flow back into my mind. “I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m sorry I did,” he continues, making me tear up as he steps forward to cup my cheek in his hand. “My memories of us were the only thing getting me through withdrawals, and every time I thought about the night you left, I broke down. I never wanted to lose you, and I never wanted you to go through anything alone.”

My eyes squeezed close at his last comment, the reminder of what he used to say to me, making my heart clench in my chest. “Two against the world,” I can hear his voice from long ago say. The words were a reminder that I wasn’t alone in anything I did; I had someone there to catch me if I fell. But I’ve been alone for a while now, and it’s not that easy for me to just open myself up to him all at once like before, unfortunately.

Seeing his eyes linger on my belly, I find the courage to take his hand in mine and rest it against my bump. “Why don’t you come inside, and we can talk some more,” I suggest, his hand ever so gentle as he runs it against my sweater. “I can show you pictures of our baby girl too, if you’d like,” My voice ends up in a whisper as I say the words I’ve wanted to tell Nikki ever since I discovered our baby’s sex.

At my comment, Nikki looks back at my face with even more tears clouding his eyes before pressing his lips to mine in the softest kiss Nikki has ever given me. His hand still remains on my belly, albeit his fingers are now intertwined with mine. I didn’t think I’d get to do this with Nikki again; I didn’t even know if I’d ever get to see him again.

Pulling away from the kiss, Nikki’s smiling face lingers in front of mine as he rubs his thumb against my cheek. His touch still remains gentle, careful with every move he makes. “I’d love to, baby,” he answers me, his voice choked up a bit. “I’d love to more than anything.”

Smiling back, I can’t help but feel more tears begin falling from my eyes. This feels almost unreal to me, and I can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of emotions hit me all at once. Nikki holding me just like he used to is one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, and as he wipes away my incessant tears, I realize just how amazing this moment is. Nikki is clean, he knows about his little girl, and he’s finally back. The Nikki I once loved is back.

143 notes · View notes

alwaysxinxtrouble · 2 months ago

Text

Alexander Reign Scarpa Birthday: April 27th, 1986

Alexander was the third child to be born to Max and Sarah Scarpa in Tulsa, Oklahoma. His childhood was rough between his parents choosing drugs over grocery shopping and leaving his older brother Liam to raise him and their sister, Emma. Both Max and Sarah were in out of jail as well as disappearing for weeks on end. He relied on Liam for everything throughout his childhood; food, clothes, getting to school. Everything his parents should have been doing. The local police knew the family by name with the kids following in their parent's footsteps of getting into drugs and alcohol at a young age, committing petty crimes for money. Despite this, the family kept falling through the holes in the system and the siblings were never removed from the house.

When Alex was 14, he went out to the garage to get a box of waffles from the freezer and found Emma's body. She had overdosed in the middle of the night and died alone. Seeing her like that and knowing she died alone with him and Liam only feet away in the house, he decided he didn't want to die like that. He didn't want to live like his parents anymore.

Shortly after Emma's death, Liam was arrested for being drunk in public, possession, and was ordered by the judge to go to rehab, leaving Alex on his own. While he understood Liam didn't have a choice in leaving, when he never returned after being released from rehab, Alex couldn't help but feel abandoned by the one person in his life who cared for him. It made him angry at the world, not knowing what he had done so wrong in life for his family not to love him. It was when he realized if it was up to him on whether or not he survived.

Alex pushed himself in school to get better grades and bring up his GPA. Food wasn't a sure thing at home but during his school's required cooking class, he fell in love with food and cooking. He found comfort in cooking and knew what he wanted to do with his life. He started applying for scholarships to every culinary school in the country, desperate to get away from Tulsa so he could have a fresh start at life.

Alex excelled in culinary school, having to pick a part time job to help fund his expenses and save up. After graduating, he started the rigorous task of job searching. One of his teachers helped him get a job working as a line cook at Holbox in Los Angeles, CA. He worked there for a year before getting hired at Kali. Another year at Kali and Alex moved to NYC to get a job working the line at Atera. Over several years, he worked his way to sous chef, something he took great pride in considering what he came from.

Alex hasn't seen or spoke to Liam since he was arrested and sent to rehab. Neither Liam nor Alex know they work in the same city.

#muse: alex scarpa #drugs tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #overdose tw #death tw #abandonment tw

3 notes · View notes

felixgreene-rp · 10 days ago

Text

Your favorite funny (?) man ;-)

Full name: Felix Greene

Age: 37 (July 4th, Cancer)

Occupation: Promoter at Lyric Hyperion

Gender: Cisgender man

Sexual Orientation: Bi-curious

Height: 6'0"

Traits: Passionate, goofy, secretive, impulsive

Pet/s: Bull Terrier named Jojo

Fun fact: He loves to make soup for his friends. Not the best cook but can make a mean clam chowder.

(TW drugs, overdose, mental illness)

Felix's parents immigrated from Scotland to Pennsylvania before he was born. Philly was all Felix knew but his family never let him forget his Scottish roots. They imbued a sense of pride, a sense of community and a sense of identity for him at a young age.

Felix was always the kid who'd put on skits for his mom and dad. In high school he was a bit of a class clown. Everyone knew him as funny guy. This inspired him at 20 to move to LA, start writing material and reaching out to clubs. Everyone gets a shot in LA, right? Right? This did not bode well for Felix.

His jokes weren't landing with audiences outside of his inner circle. Crickets. A pity chuckle once in a while. Onstage he suddenly felt lonely. Was everyone around him wrong? Or worse, lying to his face? Felix couldn't handle the rejection so he turned to what his ex-best friend recommended: coke.

At first, Felix was nervous. Cocaine, dude? His friend, who also was an aspiring comedian, nodded and said it'd give him the boost he needed. So he tried it and fuck, he loved it. Eventually Felix's friend hooked him up with his dealer. From there, the spiral began.

Felix was already quite familiar with pot and alcohol. Then it was coke. Then he thought Why not? with pills. Felix tried anything he could get his hands on at one point in his life. So what if no one thought he was gonna make it in stand-up? At least he had drugs. Drugs made him feel better about his situation. About himself!

"Hey man, you alright?" His ex-friend knocked on the bathroom door at a get together. No response. "Dude. C'mon man, what the fuck?" Still nothing. His friend started to worry. "Guys? Could you help me break down this door. Felix locked himself in there and I don't think he's doing okay."

Felix's overdose sobered up everyone around him. Immediately he was brought to a hospital via ambulance and after detoxing, was admitted to rehab for 6 months. Felix? Felix are you still with me? You have Bipolar 1 disorder. Felix couldn't believe it. The doctor explained how his big move to LA plus the drugs triggered a manic episode and that he was lucky to be alive.

In a NA meeting, Felix met a comedy vet who was also sober. This vet eventually became his sponsor and introduced Felix to other sober comedians. Felix knew so much about comedy, one of them offered him a job. Felix worked his way up to promoter and now is 4 years clean. He loves his job and loves his community in Los Angeles. He is grateful for his sobriety and now feels like he can focus on other things...like his nonexistent dating life.

#bio #angelcity.intro

4 notes · View notes

thrivetreatment · 5 months ago

Text

Thrive Treatment is a premier alcohol rehab in Los Angeles, offering comprehensive and individualized treatment plans for individuals struggling with alcohol addiction. Our highly qualified team of medical professionals, therapists, and addiction specialists work collaboratively to ensure that every patient receives the care and attention they need for a successful recovery.

Thrive Treatment 3101 Ocean Park Blvd. #309, Santa Monica, CA 90405 (855) 232–1334

My Official Website: https://thrivetreatment.com/ Google Plus Listing: https://www.google.com/maps?cid=8070610015888882261

Our Other Links:

Los Angeles Treatment Center: https://thrivetreatment.com/treatment-services/ IOP Programs Los Angeles: https://thrivetreatment.com/treatment-services/intensive-outpatient-program/ Drug Detox Los Angeles: https://thrivetreatment.com/treatment-services/detoxification/ Los Angeles Video Game Addiction Treatment: https://thrivetreatment.com/what-we-treat/addiction-treatment/gaming/ Marijuana Detox Program Near Me: https://thrivetreatment.com/what-we-treat/addiction-treatment/marijuana/ Inpatient Residential Treatment Center LA: https://thrivetreatment.com/treatment-services/inpatient/ Dual Diagnosis Treatment Center Los Angeles: https://thrivetreatment.com/what-we-treat/dual-diagnosis/ Mental Health Facility LA: https://thrivetreatment.com/what-we-treat/mental-health/ Sober Living LA: https://thrivetreatment.com/treatment-services/sober-living-homes/ 12-Step Program Los Angeles: https://thrivetreatment.com/what-is-a-12-step-program/

Service We Offer:

Signature Programs Detoxification Residential Inpatient Partial Hospitalization Intensive Outpatient Program Outpatient Program Interventions Sober Living Homes Aftercare & Alumni Support

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thrivetreatment Twitter: https://x.com/thrivetreatment Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thrivetreatment/ Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/company/thrive-treatment/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ThriveTreatmentCA/

#Alcohol Rehab Los Angeles #Alcohol Detox Los Angeles #Los Angeles Detox Center #Dual Diagnosis Treatment Center Near Me #12-Step Program Los Angeles

0 notes

reyhan-birlik · 3 months ago

Text

REYHAN BIRLIK. 32. PR Consultant. Midtown.

tw: parental dysfunction, alcoholism

Reyhan Birlik was born as a last-ditch effort to save a marriage between two people too selfish to ever truly love anyone but themselves. Her mother, an insecure Turkish soap star already edging past her prime, didn't want to risk the stretch marks or the bloating that came with pregnancy, but her husband, as the face of a burgeoning health and lifestyle empire, insisted he needed a complete family unit to really sell the brand. Not that it mattered - they were divorced by the time Reyhan was five, and that same year Birlik Enterprises™ reached a record profit of $85,000,000 in sales. Her father didn't make much of a bid for custody, so he didn't put up a fight when her mother married an American producer and relocated them to Los Angeles two years later.

On paper, it was the glamorous childhood. She attended the best schools, where her friends and classmates were the children of the Hollywood elite. She visited her father's compound in Turkey every summer, and for her 16th birthday, she got a brand new BMW. She wanted for nothing. And yet, she was miserable...

Her parents were little better than self-absorbed toddlers, and despite the continents separating them, they fought in ways that had Reyhan constantly playing the middleman. Her stepfather was no help, and once Reyhan's mother realized her new husband couldn't help her break through to American markets, her grip on stability slipped further. As for Reyhan's father, he was questioned by the MIT no less than 8 times over the years for charges ranging for potential money laundering and suspected cult activity. And always in the middle was Reyhan, clinging on for dear life.

College provided her with an escape she desperately needed, and she jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from Los Angeles and her parents' influence as she possibly could. It was there that the man that would one day become her husband, and he was so different from everything she'd known that she couldn't help falling in love with him. With him, she found a new family — one she actually wanted — and on the night the MIT finally found a charge that stuck and her father was indicted for tax fraud, she asked him to marry her. He accepted.

Maybe it was because she only had her parents to look to as role models, but the marriage didn't last. It was possible she'd just never learned how to be a normal human being. But she stuffed her heartbreak in the same place she kept all her trauma — a tiny compartment deep in her chest — and just as she had before, she ran away.

It turned out her childhood spent enabling her parents made her uniquely qualified for a career enabling egotists and corporate sociopaths. And so, almost by accident, she became a corporate PR consultant. She spent the next several years traveling the world, cleaning up messes for companies with oil spills, CEOs with leaked tapes, and any other assortment of public relations nightmares. Her latest assignment has brought her to Wilmington, where she has been hired by the city to help rehab their image in the wake of recent scandals.

#muse #about #//i'm going to do a better header soon i promise!

3 notes · View notes

radiosilnce · 3 months ago

Text

FULL NAME: malakai carter rivers

NICKNAMES: kai (by everyone who knows him)

AGE: thirty three

BIRTHDAY: august 3rd, 1991

GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he & him

OCCUPATION: world renowned dj / music producer / songwriter

NEIGHBORHOOD: oak gardens

LENGTH OF TIME IN BLUE HARBOR: born and raised + left for 13 years + been back 2 yeara

FAMILY: willow rivers (mother) + darius rivers (father)

TRIGGER WARNINGS — drugs + drug addiction, alcohol, rehab, death.

born and raised in blue harbor as the only child to a set of affluent, loving parents.

loved music growing up, listening to anything from hip hop and rock, to country and edm.

his parents always encouraged him to do what made him happy and music was a big part of that journey for him.

kai begun writing and learning how to play several instruments (favors the piano and the guitar). as he got older and technology became more of a thing, he begun teaching himself how to make music on his computer and uploading it all to soundcloud.

throughout his youth he spent a lot of time partying, drinking to excess and doing drugs along with good friends from school.

when his friends went off to college the partying didn't really stop for kai, who decided to not attend college much to his parents' dismay.

moved to los angeles to attempt to make something of himself within the music industry and parties were a big part of that, spending every moment he could networking and attempting to have his music heard by the right people, while working as a bartender.

was signed to a label when he was twenty and had his first number one single when he was twenty one.

became famous for his upbeat danceable tracks with a deeper meaning. writes songs about anything and everything that inspires him, but makes sure that every track can be made into an acoustic version where the lyrics still make sense and have feeling to them.

begun writing and producing for others in between his second and third album, after having made a name for himself in the music industry.

has toured the world several times, has numerous accolades to his name and loved every moment. never having stopped partying throughout it all, he gained a bit of a reputation throughout his career as a partyer.

checked into rehab for his addiction to cocaine the first time when he was twenty eight and a second time right before his thirty first birthday.

hasn't touched drugs since he checked out of rehab to the news of his mother having passed away while he was in with no means of contact to his parents.

immediately moved back to blue harbor to take care of his grieving father, who in turn supported his son in staying clean. has the occasional drink still since alcohol was never his vice and smokes weed at times, to calm his growing anxiety.

has taken a complete break from the music industry since he returned to blue harbor to take care of himself and his dad, but constantly fears becoming irrelevant.

lives in a large mansion in oak gardens, that he's completely moved into and sold his place in los angeles. has a home studio where people close to him know where to find him when he's deep in thought. usually with some form of instrument in his hands.

is still settling back in the small town despite having been back for two years.

#intro.bh

5 notes · View notes

llittletingoddess · 2 years ago

Text

Borderline

Midnight at the big city

At the bar drinking all on my own

Just thinking about that girl and me

How something's going wrong...

---------------------------------------

Genre: AU, Psychology, Drama, Angst, Character Study

Words Count: 1.4k

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please be patient. Also note that it's based on real occurrences but do not claim to be accurate. Everything described is merely the author's point of view ♥

---------------------------------------

July, 2022.

The evening Los Angeles always captivated the gaze of millions. Lavish parties, tipsy girls, expensive outfits... Perhaps the dream of any foreigner. After all, that's what the American Dream looks like, right? But when you're a little over 50, all these delights of life become less interesting. People consider you worn-out material because you're no longer in the loop — how do people over 50 dare to show up at the same gatherings as the hottest Hollywood stars? James Hetfield? Cool... Oh, look, it's Doja Cat with a bald head!

Yeah, LA is quite the dump. But no matter how much he hated this place, there's nowhere else to go.

James sat at the bar of some dubious pub where you'd never expect to find a celebrity, let alone one of his caliber. Leaning on his left arm, he watched the bubbles rise in his glass. He despised himself for this decision. Going through another rehab treatment and then relapsing— it was the act of a pitiful man. He promised his family, but mostly to himself, that he would never drink again. And yet, he relapsed. How foolish. When did his life spiral down into such an abyss? There's hardly any time for reflection between tours and recording albums. You have a contract and obligations — fulfill them. No one cares about what's going on inside you. On stage, you have to be the same superstar you were 30 years ago. At this rate, it's easy to turn into a soulless money-making machine. But he does it not so much for himself as for his family.

Family...

Returning to reality, James emptied his glass in one gulp and slammed it back on the counter, furrowing his brow. Was it the bitterness of the drink? He knew very well that it wasn't. Looking at the glass, he waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the bartender.

"Another one."

"Of course, sir."

Curious whispers started circulating in the pub. James Hetfield, the frontman of Metallica, in such a simple pub on the outskirts of Los Angeles! But he paid no attention. Let them whisper — public life was never easy. Taking out his wallet from the inner pocket of his jacket, James pulled out a bill and placed it on the counter, his gaze lingering on a tiny photograph that was always with him. Kirk and Lars considered it slightly strange, but when did he ever listen to them?

In the photograph, it was him and his family. There was little Marcella, who threw tantrums throughout the photoshoot, first-grader Cali, who hadn't lost her charm over the years, Castor, his pride and the heir to his legacy… and Francesca. James looked at her attentively: big blue eyes, light hair, a modest smile… It seemed like he found a literal copy of himself, someone he could always talk to, laugh with, and share stories with their children on Christmas. And how wonderful she was in bed! James had tried numerous experiments, but it was Francesca who managed to conquer Big Het's heart. She was so simple, so beautiful, his one and only…

"Here you go, sir."

A new glass of alcohol brought him back to reality. Somewhere in the background, an old Thin Lizzy song played, but he didn't care. Soon everyone would find out, and that annoyed him the most. Tabloids would write made-up reasons, attribute an affair with some socialite, and that would be the end of it. Why did it even matter to anyone why this happened? Peace — that's all he wanted at the moment.

Setting aside his wallet, James reached for the glass again. Only now did he realize that he hadn't thanked the bartender. Well, to hell with it. His hand trembled slightly, whether from nerves or the reawakening addiction. It consumes you, whispers in your head like a serpent in paradise, gripping you with its dead hold, and you'll never be the same again. Suddenly, James decided to look at his wrist's tattoo, which he got shortly after completing the first rehab program. "Lead us not into temptation." Yeah… he didn't feel like drinking anymore.

Rummaging through his pockets, Hetfield discovered a nearly whole cigar. Nowadays, he started smoking much more often, despite protests from those around him. "Stop it, you'll ruin your voice!" Lars, Kirk, and Rob all pleaded in unison. But he alone was responsible for himself and his health. Bringing the ashtray closer, he lit the cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke with a sigh of relief. The high-quality tobacco pleasantly scorched his throat, providing the long-awaited relief. But thoughts kept replaying that conversation, as if on a cheap record:

"Francesca, I think we should get a divorce."

"What?! But why?!"

Why?..

He himself didn't know for sure. After rehab, when everything seemed like it should be getting better, everything began to crumble: the pandemic, concerts, the studio, more concerts, more studio time, endless evenings in his office with a guitar in hand… but she didn't need that. She needed him primarily as a husband and father. "You're never home with all your concerts!" But how could she not understand that he was doing it so she wouldn't need anything?..

"Shit!"

A sharp pain pierced his wrist. The cigarette ash fell directly onto the knuckle of his finger. James disgustedly flicked the remaining ashes into the ashtray and sighed. He hardly felt the pain because his soul hurt more. His heart was shattered into tiny pieces, and no amount of alcohol or cigarettes could soothe it. Here he was, James Hetfield, the leader of the world's most popular metal band, sitting on his pile of money in complete solitude: his children had grown up and scattered (on tours, he hardly noticed how quickly his little birds grew up), he had divorced his wife, and besides fame, he had nothing left. But can fame provide the same care and tenderness that his beloved Francesca gave him? The question remained unanswered. And now what? Who needs an old man with a weakening body and the beginnings of deafness?

Taking another drag, James finally looked around. His gaze was drawn to a young girl who smiled back at him discreetly. Clearly a fan, one of the tens of thousands. Perhaps that was his only option - to find a young girl to spend his money on. She wouldn't nag him, but she would provide satisfaction. Sex for money, and with a girl who could pass for his daughter?! James cringed at the thought. At least not now. He wasn't ready yet. And perhaps he never would be because no one could piece together his heart again. No one except Francesca.

A notification buzzed. Judging by the familiar sound, James knew it was their secret chat with the guys. Taking out his smartphone from his pocket, he read the message:

"Hey guys, how about jamming with that new riff James wrote last week? If we don't get our fucking album moving, the fans will tear us apart!"

"I'm out, sorry. Need to help Cali with the move."

"Whatever you say, Mama Het!"

James smiled. Lars' cheeky language always made him smile, although he had long memorized all of the Danish jokes. Imagining the grumpy little Lars grumbling at everyone around him was amusing. The guys shouldn't know. At least, not yet. Their families had become one long ago, and any division always came with stress in the group. And what would happen when they found out about James' divorce? He had been a model family man, 25 years of marriage! He didn't want them to pity him. It would immediately lead to suggestions of seeing psychologists, sympathetic looks, and phrases like, "Maybe you'll still reconcile?" We won't reconcile. However much he regretted the decision, there simply was no other way. Maybe without him, Francesca would be happier. His one and only, his dear Fran.

Midnight approached. The streets grew louder, and the pub filled with new people. James felt uncomfortable in such conditions. The sheer number of people only intensified his loneliness. How was he supposed to give the remaining concerts of this year in such a state?! He needed to gather himself. Both at home and within himself. Thanking the bartender, he extinguished his cigarette and, casting a fleeting glance at the untouched glass of whiskey, smirked bitterly. There was no turning back; ahead lay concerts, the studio, the release of new music. He sincerely believed that music could distract him. James walked out of the pub, plugged in his headphones, and played one of the demo songs from Metallica's upcoming album. Well then.

It's time to start over.

#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fanfic #metallica #i'm so shy to post it

35 notes · View notes

mattnben-bennmatt · 8 months ago

Text

Ben Affleck's interview w/ The New York Times (18 February 2020)

Ben Affleck Tried to Drink Away the Pain. Now He’s Trying Honesty.

The actor speaks frankly about everything from his addictive behavior and his divorce to why he lied about that back tattoo.

By Brooks Barnes

Warning: This is not one of those celebrity profiles that uses a teaspoon of new information to flavor a barrel of ancient history. There is no paragraph where the star and the writer pretend to be pals — gag — while doing an everyday-person activity. What was everyone eating? Who cares. No, you will not get served the obligatory canned quote from Matt Damon.

This is Ben Affleck, raw and vulnerable, talking extensively for the first time about getting sober (again) and trying to recalibrate his career (again).

Affleck, Oscar-winning writer, director of the Oscar-winning “Argo,” better actor than you remember — and, yes, alcoholic, divorcé and proud possessor of a mythical back tattoo — has four movies coming out this year. Dad Bod Batman has been banished, and actual films are back on his docket, including his first all-on-him movie in four years: “The Way Back,” a poignant sports drama that arrives in theaters on March 6. Affleck plays a reluctant high school basketball coach with big problems — he’s a puffy, willful, fall-down drunk who blows up his marriage and lands in rehab.

You read that correctly.

“People with compulsive behavior, and I am one, have this kind of basic discomfort all the time that they’re trying to make go away,” he said a couple of Sundays ago during a two-hour interview at a beachside spot in Los Angeles. “You’re trying to make yourself feel better with eating or drinking or sex or gambling or shopping or whatever. But that ends up making your life worse. Then you do more of it to make that discomfort go away. Then the real pain starts. It becomes a vicious cycle you can’t break. That’s at least what happened to me.”

He cleared his throat. “I drank relatively normally for a long time. What happened was that I started drinking more and more when my marriage was falling apart. This was 2015, 2016. My drinking, of course, created more marital problems.”

Affleck’s marriage to Jennifer Garner, with whom he has three children, ended in 2018 after a long separation. He said he still felt guilt but had moved past shame. “The biggest regret of my life is this divorce,” he continued, noticeably using the present tense. “Shame is really toxic. There is no positive byproduct of shame. It’s just stewing in a toxic, hideous feeling of low self-worth and self-loathing.”

He took a sharp breath and exhaled slowly, as if to slow himself down. “It’s not particularly healthy for me to obsess over the failures — the relapses — and beat myself up,” he said. “I have certainly made mistakes. I have certainly done things that I regret. But you’ve got to pick yourself up, learn from it, learn some more, try to move forward.”

“The Way Back” was originally called “The Has-Been.” That downer of a title was dropped during development as the film became less focused on what a basketball talent the main character had been in high school, Affleck said. Suffice it to say, no star wants to appear on a poster next to the words “The Has-Been,” especially not after two box office disappointments. “Justice League” (2017) took in $658 million, a puny sum by superhero standards, and “Live by Night” (2016), a period gangster drama that he also directed, flatlined with $23 million.

Affleck, 47, has been working like a madman to get his career back on track. The hard truth is that the outcome is not guaranteed. Moviegoers, women in particular, will ultimately decide: Is forgiveness for transgressions still something that society in all of its Twitter-fied polarization allows? To some, Affleck is still the guy who broke Garner’s heart and who was accused of groping a talk-show host in 2003. “I acted inappropriately,” he said of that incident in 2017, as the #MeToo era dawned, “and I sincerely apologize.”

Hollywood has certainly granted Affleck clemency. He just finished acting in “Deep Water,” a psychological thriller co-starring Ana de Armas (“Knives Out”) that’s due in theaters in November. He’s on Netflix this month in “The Last Thing He Wanted,” an abysmally reviewed mystery anchored by Anne Hathaway and directed by Dee Rees. Affleck has also been working with the Oscar-nominated Nicole Holofcener (“Can You Ever Forgive Me?”) and Damon on the script for “The Last Duel,” which begins filming in France this month. Set in the 14th century, “The Last Duel” re-teams Affleck and Damon as screenwriters for the first time since “Good Will Hunting” in 1997; Ridley Scott is directing the film, which has Oscar bait written all over it. Disney plans to release “The Last Duel” in theaters at Christmas through its 20th Century label.

Affleck is also zeroing in on another directing project for himself. It probably won’t be that previously announced remake of the 1957 drama “Witness for the Prosecution,” he said. Instead, he wants to tackle “King Leopold’s Ghost,” an epic about the colonial plundering of what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo; Martin Scorsese has signed on as a producer. (Affleck co-founded the Eastern Congo Initiative, a nonprofit advocacy group, in 2010.)

Africa in 1900 is a long way from “The Batman,” which Affleck was supposed to direct himself. He stepped aside, allowing Matt Reeves to take over (and Robert Pattinson to don the cowl), after deciding that the troubled shoot for “Justice League” had sapped his interest. Affleck never seemed to enjoy his time as Batman; his sullen demeanor while promoting “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” in 2016 resulted in the hit meme Sad Affleck. “I showed somebody ‘The Batman’ script,” Affleck recalled. “They said, ‘I think the script is good. I also think you’ll drink yourself to death if you go through what you just went through again.”

He has not talked much about his alcoholism since completing a third stint in rehab in 2018. (The first two were in 2001 and 2017.) But the arrival of “The Way Back” has made the subject impossible to avoid. Affleck has also accepted that the second word in Alcoholics Anonymous does not apply to him — certainly not after he (briefly) relapsed in the fall, turning up smashed on TMZ a few months after making it known that he had achieved one year of continuous sobriety.

“Relapse is embarrassing, obviously,” he said. “I wish it didn’t happen. I really wish it wasn’t on the internet for my kids to see. Jen and I did our best to address it and be honest.”

Growing up in Massachusetts, Affleck saw his own father drunk almost every day, he said. “My dad didn’t really get sober until I was 19,” Affleck said, becoming guarded all of a sudden. (It was one of only two times when he chose each word carefully, with the other being his answer to a question about Harvey Weinstein’s trial on charges of rape and sexual assault. Early in his career, Affleck starred in multiple movies that were backed by Weinstein’s companies. “I don’t know that I have anything to really add or say that hasn’t been said already and better by people who have been personally victimized or who are survivors of what he did,” Affleck said. Three years ago, Affleck announced that he would donate all future residual payments from Weinstein films to anti-sexual assault charities.)

“The older I’ve gotten, the more I recognize that my dad did the best he could,” Affleck said. “There’s a lot of alcoholism and mental illness in my family. The legacy of that is quite powerful and sometimes hard to shake.” Affleck’s younger brother, Casey, 44, has spoken about his own alcoholism and sobriety. Their paternal grandmother took her own life in a motel when she was 46. An uncle killed himself with a shotgun. An aunt was a heroin addict.

“It took me a long time to fundamentally, deeply, without a hint of doubt, admit to myself that I am an alcoholic,” Ben Affleck said. “The next drink will not be different.”

It seemed like a good moment to point out how many stars had started to speak out about getting sober — Brad Pitt most notably — and how that was lessening the stigma of addiction and, perhaps, inspiring people with substance problems to seek help. Jamie Lee Curtis, sober for two decades, appeared on the cover of Variety’s “recovery” issue in November. Discussing their sobriety in recent books and interviews have been Demi Lovato, Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Simpson, Demi Moore and, of course, Elton John, who has sponsored Eminem.

Affleck cited the sober A-listers Bradley Cooper and Robert Downey Jr. as “guys who have been very supportive and to whom I feel a great sense of gratitude.” Affleck continued. “One of the things about recovery that I think people sometimes overlook is the fact that it inculcates certain values. Be honest. Be accountable. Help other people. Apologize when you’re wrong.”

Honesty. Hmm.

Let’s talk about honesty for a minute. Shouldn’t he have been honest from the start about the damn back tattoo rather than telling “Extra” it was “fake” for a movie?

“I resented that somebody got a picture of it by spying on me,” Affleck said, shifting on the sofa where he was sitting. “It felt invasive. But you’re right. I could have said, ‘That’s none of your business.’ I guess I got a kick out of messing with ‘Extra.’ Is your tattoo real or not real? Of course, it’s real! No, I put a fake tattoo on my back and then hid it.”

For the record, it’s not nearly as garish in person.

Affleck has a habit of putting himself in the cross hairs. He thought it was a good idea to star (with Damon) as a fallen angel in Kevin Smith’s “Dogma” (1999), which Disney decided was too blasphemous for its Miramax label to release. Playing Batman as melancholy and middle-aged was certainly not the safe choice. “The Last Duel” has already provoked indignation on social media; Affleck and Damon play a knight and a squire who are forced to duel after a woman’s rape accusation.

And now comes “The Way Back,” a spare film with a 1970s vibe about a man imprisoned by alcoholism.

How exactly does he make these choices?

Affleck laughed. “I’ve never been very risk-averse — for better or worse, obviously,” he said. “Regarding ‘The Way Back,’ the benefits, to me, far outweighed the risks. I found it very therapeutic.”

“The Way Back” was directed by Gavin O’Connor (“The Accountant,” also starring Affleck and a surprise hit) from a script by O’Connor and Brad Ingelsby (“Out of the Furnace”). It cost Warner Bros. and Bron Studios about $25 million to make and was primarily shot in San Pedro, a working-class area of Los Angeles.

“I think that Ben, in an artistic way, in a deeply human way, wanted to confront his own issues through this character and heal,” O’Connor said by phone.

Jack Cunningham (Affleck) is a construction worker coping with devastating personal loss. His home away from home is a lowlife bar, the kind of place you can smell before you go in. Sometimes he holes up in his apartment to down cases of beer. He starts each morning by drinking beer in the shower, the can balanced on a sad soap caddy.

Without knowing the extent of his alcoholism, the principal at Jack’s alma mater asks him to coach the boys’ basketball team, which has even less self-esteem than he does. Melvin Gregg (“American Vandal”) stars as a player with off-court troubles.

“The hardest part of the movie for Ben was really the basketball,” O’Connor said. “If you’ve never really played before, being on a court is like, you know, being on ice skates for the first time. Once that part clicked, we were cooking with gasoline. He was already ready to go to really deep, dark places with the drinking.”

Michaela Watkins (“Casual”) plays Jack’s worried sister. In one memorable scene, he sits in her kitchen pretending to be fine — fine. When she challenges him, he explodes. “Out of nowhere in one take, Ben backhanded the beer can sitting in front of him,” Watkins said by phone. “It was immediate, and it was scary and it was exactly the right instinct. He was a powder keg, and she had no idea that she had lit it.”

Affleck talked about that moment, too.

“She’s pressing to see if he’s OK, and I know how uncomfortable that can be for an alcoholic — when you have that nagging, irritating, suspicious feeling that the person is right, but you don’t want to admit it. Smacking the can was my version of backed-into-a-corner, primal level of denial, the way our minds hold onto these addictions in a reptilian way.”

Toward the end of “The Way Back” (spoiler alert) Jack has a powerful interaction with his ex-wife (Janina Gavankar, “The Morning Show”). He is in rehab at this point, and, when she comes to see how he is doing, he offers her an unflinching apology.

“I failed you,” he says. “I failed our marriage.”

It’s rough stuff, especially when watched through the prism of everything that has gone on with Affleck offscreen. You can’t help but think about similar conversations that he must have had with Garner.

“It was really important, without being mawkish or false, that he make amends to her — that he take accountability for the pain that he and only he has caused,” Affleck said.

O’Connor said that Affleck had a “total breakdown” on set after completing the scene.

“It was like a floodgate opened up,” O’Connor said. “It was startling and powerful. I think that was a very personal moment in the movie. I think that was him.”

#ben affleck #the way back #the last duel #on addiction #on divorce #jennifer garner #batfleck #early childhood #tim affleck #on tattoos #interview #the new york times #2020 #originals

6 notes · View notes