#alcoholic dad
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some random ignorant asshole: “you know you need to forgive your dad one day, he IS your dad after all”
me: *starts ravenously biting and beating the shit out of that person*
#traumatizedrhys#trauma giver#traumatized#actually traumatized#alcoholic dad#emotional trauma#mental trauma#physical trauma#verbal abuse#emotional abuse#mental abuse#physical abuse#ain’t no way in hell am i ever gonna forgive that man#or let him back into my life#he doesn’t get to see just how good im doing now#no thanks to him#tw#daddy issues#divorced parents#relatable#relatable posts#relatable stuff#relatable content#relatable af#narcissistic father#dni “narcissistic abuse” believers
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it was easier when i didn’t know
when he was just being confused
or forgetful and we laughed about it
or silly because he was my funny dad
not because he was drunk
when it was just a green can with something stinky inside
it was so much easier to be around him
- the cluelessness of unspoken alcoholism
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Pinky Promise
Ofc x OCDads best-friend
18+, mature
2•Easter Lily
Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3
Summary: Fathers are supposed to be the ones taking care of their child, but Josephine’s life is the other way around. Her life is booze, her dad, and her dad’s best friend - what could go wrong?
Chapter summary: Life is full of surprises - good and bad ones.
Word count: 4.6k
Warning: unprotected piv, slight entomophobia, tags left out to avoid spoilers
—
The dawn morning sun cascades through Josephine’s emerald green bedroom, causing her to slowly open her eyes and be blinded for a moment. As she tries to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through her temples, making her groan in discomfort. Memories of the previous night flash through her mind - the laughter, the music, the endless flow of cocktails and shots.
The bull.
Joey.
Gingerly, she reaches for the glass of water on her bedside table that she smartly put out for herself last night. Each sip feels like a small victory against the dehydration that plagues her. With a sigh, Josephine swings her legs over the edge of her bed, willing herself to stand up.
The world spins alarmingly for a moment, but she steadies herself against the wall. The room feels somewhat unfamiliar, even though she’s lived here her whole life - something feels off.
Dragging herself along the wall, she stumbles into her warm toned bathroom as she pulls her tank top over her head onto the floor, followed by her shorts. Starting her shower, she lets the water warm up before she enters.
After a minute or two, she sticks her hand in and determines it’s hot just like she wants, stepping in and closing the glass door behind her, she lets the scolding water cascade over her tired body. As the steam envelopes her, she closes her eyes and tries to shake off the remnants of her wild night out.
Memories of dancing on tables, riding the bull, and laughing with friends remind her that she at least had a good time last night, along with Joey and the bike ride home. Despite the headache and the nausea threatening to resurface, Josephine can’t help but smile at the fun she had, even if it was short lived.
Josephine stands in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around her, as she reviews her reflection. The steam from the shower envelopes the bathroom, making the mirror slightly foggy. She runs her fingers through her damp hair, feeling refreshed and revived after the long, hot shower. The pounding headache that plagued her earlier was now just a distant memory.
As she gets dressed for her morning run and prepares to face the day, a sense of dread creeps over her. She can’t shake off the feeling of impending trouble, and she knows it has to do with her dad. Josephine sighs and shakes it off before she makes her way downstairs, she wants to start fresh or at least, as fresh as she can.
At the bottom of the stairs, she finds her dad in the kitchen, a weary look on his face as he sits at the bar-style counter. Josephine raises an eyebrow as she walks in, studying him intently, her running shoes squeaking on the tile floor.
"What's going on, Neil?" she asks. She refuses to call him dad, at least to his face. It’s not a fitting name for him anymore.
He lets out a heavy sigh, setting down his cup, which she knows is filled with liquor. "I'm afraid- I think, I gotten’ myself into a bit of a mess, Josie," he slurs, avoiding her gaze completely, already drunk at nine in the morning.
Josephine's heart sinks. She knows he’s hallucinating again, ever since his liver started malfunctioning a year ago, him and his body just has never been the same. However, she’s also annoyed because this has become the new normal, and she wishes it wasn't.
Why does it have to be her taking care of him? She should be out living her own life, finding good friends and maybe even finding love. But she can’t, or at least she won’t let herself. So maybe it’s more herself that she’s really mad at.
“Neil,” she interrupts his drunken rant, “There’s nobody out to get you. You're delusional... Just go play your game or whatever.” She scoffs as she grabs her keys off the counter.
“Where are you going?” he slurs after her.
“For a run," she yells back as she heads out into the cool early morning air, biting her tongue before she says things she’ll regret later. The street is quiet, with only a few cars driving by on their way to work and different varieties of birds chirping and singing to each other.
Putting her keys into her shorts pocket, Josephine begins to run, her pace quickens with each step and with more intentions than she even knows.
The rhythmic pounding of her feet hitting the pavement drowns out the chaos of this morning. Running has become her solace, a way to escape the harsh reality of her life. She has come to learn that when he’s that drunk, she needs to not argue with him. It only leads to words being said that neither of them truly mean.
However, she is tired of dealing with Neil’s struggles, tired of pretending that everything is okay when it's not.
But she knows she can't abandon him, not now. He’s starting to get really bad again and his actions only keep worsening. If something happened to him if she left the house, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.
As much as she hates him, she’s still daddy’s girl somewhere in her soul. It’s almost Stockholm syndrome except she’s not in love with her dad - it’s all because she loves him. There are times she wishes that she had no love for him, and she could simply let go of that fatherly love, but she just can’t.
She keeps running, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the steady pounding of her feet on the pavement a comforting rhythm. The thoughts of her father recede for a moment as she loses herself in the physical exertion.
Each step she takes feels like a liberation from the constraints of being Neil’s “parent”. The fresh morning air fills her lungs, invigorating her spirit as she runs faster and faster, her worries and fears left behind with each passing stride.
When she finally stops at the park that's a couple of miles from her neighborhood, she collapses onto a bench, her face flushed and her body covered in sweat. She closes her eyes, savoring the feeling of her pounding heart slowly returning to its regular pace.
The cool breeze gently caresses her skin, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, cooling the sweat that clings to her body. For a moment, she is enveloped in blissful serenity - life seems okay for once.
Opening her eyes, she gazes up at the sky, the sun rising above her like a resplendent golden chariot. Its warm rays bathe her in a soft, ethereal light, casting a radiant glow over the tranquil surroundings of the park. Birds chirp melodiously in the trees, their songs harmonizing with the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. It’s so peaceful she finally feels a sense of genuine relief.
She inhales deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet scent of freedom and possibility. As she sits there, basking in the peaceful embrace of nature, she thinks about Joey and how there could possibly be something there, if they both tried.
The amount of times they’ve even slightly flirted with each other is astronomical, but neither of them, especially Josephine, would ever follow through. She wishes she did a couple times, just so she could feel something. She knows it’s selfish, but she needs that sometimes.
However, she knows the reality of their situation all too well. Both of them are guarded, too afraid to leap into the unknown and risk shattering the friendly relationship they have. And she knows that Joey whores around more than most, but she's not sure if that’s what he wants to do anymore. He’s getting to the age where most of his peers and friends around his age are having families, happy ones at that. Maybe he doesn’t want that life or maybe he does and just hasn’t met the right girl yet. Josephine softly chuckles to herself at the thought of Joey being a dad - he’d be an incredible one.
Joey deserves that.
Then there’s Josephine, in particular, who is hesitant to open herself up to the vulnerability that comes with letting someone in. Yet, there’s a part of her that longs for that connection, that spark of something more.
All she does is take care of Neil, go to work, and some weekends she gets to go out, but she wants more than those things; she wants Joey.
—
Josephine rounds the last corner before her street, and sees Joey tinkering away on his old black Mustang in his dimly lit garage. She slows down and takes a deep breath to steady herself before walking over to him. She needs to talk to him or fuck him, whatever comes first.
She needs to escape the chaos of her mind that followed her from her home, things that her run didn’t help get rid of.
“Hey, knucklehead.” Joey looks up from under the hood of his car, grease smudged on his face, at the sound of Josephine’s voice.
“Hey doll,” he smirks, “I’m busy, make it quick.” He wipes his hands on a rag, then goes right back to working under the car hood.
"I need to talk," Josephine sighs softly, her voice tinged with anger and annoyance.
“Well, start talkin’,” he grunts, “You got thirty seconds.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” She annoyingly asks him, almost in disbelief.
“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…”
She scoffs at his childish behavior, but knowing Joey, it’s what she honestly expected. “I’m goin’ inside, come in when you’re done actin’ like a child,” she fights back, swiftly moving past Joey towards the door that leads into his kitchen.
You’ve got some nerve, he murmurs to himself as he tosses whatever tool he’s using into his toolbox on the ground next to him. Josephine can hear him mumbling to himself as he follows her same steps, she smiles to herself, just a matter of time before she can get what she wants.
“Now, what the hell do you-“
With a mischievous glint in her eye and a grin on her face, Josephine pushes Joey down onto the floor, not hard enough to hurt but enough for him to stumble. “Josephine- what the actual fuck?” He tries to push himself up, but she straddles his hips so he can’t - even though she knows he could easily push her hundred-and-thirty-pound body off of him.
But he doesn’t.
Her hands instantly find their way to his shirt, pulling it over his head with a sense of purpose. Josephine gazes down at him leaning on his elbows, her expression a mixture of longing and determination. “Told you, I need to talk,” she begins again, her hands now moving to her shirt, pulling it over her head and throwing it somewhere on the tile.
Joey watches in awe as she undresses herself and then him, her movements deliberate and tantalizing, having him in a trance like state.
“All you gotta do is lay here and let me be in control,” she purrs to him, unable to get over his scent; sweat, oil, and body wash from his shower earlier this morning.
“Doll,” he breathes out as he gazes at her tits that sit right in front of his eyes, down to where their hips meet and back up her ocean-colored orbs, “We shouldn’t do this…we can’t do this.”
She smirks at his poor attempt to stop her, “Why? Who can tell us no?” She leans into his left ear and whispers, “Don’t you wanna fuck me?”
Joey's heart races underneath her hand that now rests on his chest. Her words send shivers down his spine, but a part of him still resists. He knows that this is weird, that they’re playing with fire. But Josephine’s like a drug to him, intoxicating and irresistible, and he’s done his best to not get trapped.
As he looks into her eyes, he sees a flicker of mischief and desire that mirrors his own. She’s a doll come to life, a seductress who knows exactly how to push his buttons.
He feels himself losing control, succumbing to the magnetic pull between them. In a moment of weakness, he gives in to his desires. Their lips met in a fiery kiss that burns with passion and pent-up longing, his beard softly scratching her cheeks and chin. Every touch, every caress, sends electric currents through his body, leaving him breathless and wanting more.
She feels his bulge grow beneath her, matching the rhythm of their grinding bodies perfectly. Her touch is electric, sending shivers down Joey's spine as he follows her lead.
"Right there, Joey," she whimpers, her voice a mix of desire and authority. "Just like that."
Joey's hands tremble slightly as he traces the curves of her body, his touch tentative yet eager to please. With each caress, Josephine's desires become clearer, spurring Joey on to new heights of passion. She reaches down between them, freeing his cock from the confines of his boxers.
The air’s charged with anticipation as she positions herself above him, the heat between them like fire. With a slow, deliberate motion, she lowers herself onto him, relishing the feeling of fullness and connection that envelopes them both.
Her moans fill the kitchen, echoing off the tile floors and mingling with the sound of their breathless gasps. Each bounce she makes causes her to feel an exquisite sense of fullness and pleasure that radiates through her entire being.
Joey's hands grip her hips firmly, guiding her movements as they move together in perfect synchronicity. The air’s thick with the heady scent of lust and anticipation, swirling around them like a tangible force, binding them together in a dance of passion and ecstasy.
As they move as one, their bodies pressed tightly against each other, their skin flushes with heat and desire. In that moment, time seems to stand still as they lose themselves in the raw, primal intensity of one another.
The kitchen becomes their own private paradise, a sanctuary where they can surrender to their deepest desires and fantasies without fear or hesitation. Josephine's breathing comes in ragged gasps, her body alive with sensation. Joey's eyes bore into hers, a mix of longing and adoration that makes her heart race.
At this moment, nothing else exists for Josephine and Joey. It’s just the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace that transcends time and space. Each touch, each whisper, each shared breath brings them closer together, forging a bond that will not easily be broken.
Joey realizes that letting go of control is liberating. Allowing her to take charge brings a sense of freedom and bliss. However, a spark of determination ignites within Joey. He understands that while Josephine's dominance is intoxicating, there’s a part of her that yearns to be swept away in the same current of desire.
With a newfound sense of purpose, Joey sets out to show Josephine the pleasure of surrender, the ecstasy of vulnerability - something she’s never felt.
In a swift yet deliberate motion, Joey subtly shifts the dynamics between them, turning the tide of dominance towards Josephine. He swiftly hooks his right arm around her back and flips her over, to where she’s now on her back and Joey hovers over her.
Josephine's eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and longing at the man taking control, a hunger for submission stirring within her. Her anticipation grows, her body humming with electricity.
He presses his lips to hers in a possessive kiss before trailing fiery kisses down her neck and collarbone. "Let me show you how you should be taken care of, doll," Joey murmurs, his voice velvety and low, sending vibrations through her core. With deliberate intent, he presses his lips to hers, a promise of passion and raw need.
Joey's touch is both possessive and tender, igniting a fire within Josephine.
With a primal growl, Joey thrusts into her, their bodies melding together. Velvet walls envelope him, creating a world where only the two of them exist, lost in a sea of sensation and longing.
Her back arches, and she lets out a whimper at the exquisite sensation of being filled by him. Each powerful thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through her body, building the tension to an unbearable peak. She gasps and moans low as Joey's every movement sends waves of ecstasy through her.
Joey holds her hips firmly, his touch possessive yet tender. With each thrust, he delves deeper into her, looking down where they both connect he sees his cock and pubes wet with her slick. Stirring him on even more, causing him to move his hips more and lift her legs to his shoulders.
“Fuck, Joey,” she exhausts, a surge of desire building within her, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their connection.
"I know baby, I know,” He comforts, “You take me so well, doll." His voice is husky with desire, his gaze locks onto hers. His words ignite a fire within her that threatens to consume her whole. She feels herself on the edge, teetering on the brink of something magnificent.
As Joey continues to move within her, each motion more powerful than the last, she feels herself unraveling. Her body responds to his touch with a fervor she has never experienced before. Every nerve ending seems to be set ablaze, her whole being focused on the man before her.
"Fuck, you look so pretty takin' my cock like a good girl," Joey's words are like fuel to the fire, pushing her closer to the edge. Josephine feels a whimper escape her lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes her.
As Joey continues to claim her in the most primal of ways, all the inhibitions she’s felt and the coil that’s been threatening to snap, finally go.
—
Josephine walks down the busy street early Sunday morning, the beginning of her work week at her first job, The Eastside Cafe. A job she’s had to have since she dropped out of college, that she’s learned to love over the years. She has made really good friends here, after all, working Sunday through Tuesday, three twelves.
Stepping into the cozy cafe, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and the sound of sizzling bacon greets her. The cafe’s full with customers who are eagerly awaiting their brunch orders, hoping they make it to church on time. Walking behind the doors that separate the kitchen from the dining hall, she waves to her coworkers who all smile and greet back to her.
She grabs her apron that’s hanging on the back wall and ties it around her waist and gets to work, taking orders, serving food, and chatting with the customers. She’s become the employee that all the other coworkers love and need.
She knows how to do everything and keeps the place running, if she’s being honest with herself she knows she is worth more than what she earns. But she can’t risk losing this job, she’s got a good report here.
“Josephine, can you help me move these tables please?” asks Andrea, a coworker and friend of hers.
Andrea’s right around Josephine’s age and they go out whenever they’re both available. It’s rare - Andrea has a newborn baby girl and her baby’s dad isn’t in the picture. He ran off with one of Andrea's friends after he found out she was pregnant. Josephine tries to help out whenever she can, sending her twenty bucks here and there, and Andrea appreciates it immensely.
“Yep, comin,” Josephine finishes wiping up a table and pockets her rag as she walks towards the back corner.
“Thank you,” Andrea sighs, “Apparently a party of eleven are coming after church. I think it’s the same group from last week.”
“With the rude ass kids?” Josephine groans with a frown as she picks up one end of a table and puts it with the other.
All Andrea does is nod her head, setting down forks and knives that are wrapped in napkins, “And their insane parents, who don’t say anything to their kids about the behavior. Just downin’ their mimosas without a care to the world.”
“Ugh, I wanna leave,” Josephine whines, not because of the guests coming, but because she wants to see Joey again.
It’s just been over twenty-four hours since they slept together and much to her surprise, he’s actually been cool about it. After she went home yesterday and cleaned up after her run and extra cardio with him, she offered for him to come hang out in her pool and he accepted, bringing his two large German Shepherds; Celeste and Solar, a pair he’s had since they were eight weeks old.
The whole time he was over, it was like nothing changed. He was still the cocky guy with a smart ass mouth, who flirts just a little bit more than he should. Which Josephine loved. They talked about her potential return to school to actually do something with her life. She’s more than just her father’s caretaker, she’s meant to do more.
Joey and her had talked for hours between laying in the sun, playing with the dogs, and swimming in the pool on a surprisingly hot fall day. Every now and then, Joey would go check on Neil who was passed out on the couch the whole time, until the early evening when Josephine had to let Joey go home so she could make dinner for her dad and her.
As much as Josephine despised her father, she could never let him go hungry. But the rest of the night after she put Neil to sleep, Joey called her and just let her yell and yell about how things need to change. He stayed silent the whole time, nothing but a few grunts here and there.
Then this morning, she woke up to a note on her car reading, “Taking you for a ride when you get home. No saying no.” In Joey’s sloppy handwriting, barely legible. But it made Josephine's morning and showed her that her actions of yesterday didn't scare him away.
“How’s your other job goin’?” Andrea asks as they finish setting up the tables.
“Real good,” Josephine smiles, “I’m gettin’ good hours in but I just wish I didn’t have to, but I gotta do what I gotta do. Ya’know?”
Wednesday through Friday, Josephine's factory job begins, packaging chemicals for saunas and pools around the country. Saturdays have become Josephine's only rest day. It’s starting to take a toll on her, mentally and physically.
It’s times like this that she wishes her mom was still alive. Someone she could lean on when things get hard, someone who could give her motherly advice and tell her when she’s doing the wrong thing when she thinks it’s the right thing. Josephines just had to live with it her whole life, almost hating the fact that she was born without a mother and her being the cause of it.
Neil and her could be living in Rome like they always wanted, but Josephine had to be born instead. Life is so unfair sometimes.
—
"I'm back," Josephine's voice echoes through the empty house as she kicks off her work shoes. The silence that greets her is unsettling—no sound of the TV, no familiar vomiting noises, no jovial yelling from Neil.
Growing worried, she calls out for him, her voice tinged with worry as she searches every nook and cranny of the ground floor. But he’s nowhere to be found. Panic creeps into her voice as she continues to look, ascending the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Neil, where the hell are you?” Finally, reaching the upstairs bathroom, the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she finds her father lying motionless on the cold tile floor. He’s pale, his lips tinged blue, and there’s no hint of breath escaping his unmoving chest.
With trembling hands, Josephine dials 911, her voice straining as she panics to the operator. The younger woman guides Josephine through the steps of CPR, and she drops to her knees, tears welling in her eyes as she presses hard against her father's chest, willing him to come back to life.
“Please wake up, dad,” she cries, snot and tears mixing into one liquid that drops onto her dads vomit stained shirt. He can’t die, she’s not ready for this. This can’t be happening right now, he was just fine when I went to work, how can this happen so quickly?
For four agonizing minutes, she performs CPR, each compression a desperate plea to fate.
One…two…three…four. One…two…three…four.
One…two…three…four. One…two…three…four.
And then, like a beacon of hope, the blaring sirens of the ambulance cut through the suffocating silence.
“I’m upstairs!” Josephine screams towards the bathroom door, praying they hear her. The paramedics rush in, their calm professionalism a stark contrast to Josephine's frantic state. She steps back, her chest heaving with exertion and emotion, as they take over. “I- I found him like-like this. I just got, um- home from work.” she weeps as the paramedics try to assist him.
Time seems to stand still as Josephine watches, a silent prayer on her lips. Her mind goes blank at the sight of the heart defibrillator and the sight of them cutting his shirt open, then placing it on his chest, shocking him. Then, as if in a miraculous dance with destiny, Neil's eyes flutter open, a raspy breath escaping his lips as he’s brought back from the brink.
“Thank god,” Josephine lets go of that lump in her throat that's been stuck since she couldn't find him. Relief floods through Josephine, her legs giving out beneath her as she sinks to the floor, overwhelmed but relieved. Neil is alive, saved by her quick thinking.
They load him into the ambulance quickly and leave within seconds, bringing him to the hospital. Josephine’s stuck standing in her driveway, watching the ambulance go further down her street, the flashing lights cast an eerie glow on the quiet street, until they take a right and she can’t see them anymore.
She stands in her driveway, unsure of what to do next. Her mind is filled with worry and fear, wondering what had happened to him while she was at work and if he will be okay. Tears well up in her eyes again and she just lets them fall.
As minutes pass, Josephine feels a sense of unease settle over her. The silence of the night is deafening, broken only by the distant sound of sirens, which she knows belong to Neil.
She doesn’t hear Joey running over to her, but apparently he does. "Josephine, what happened?" Joey's voice breaks through the haze of shock that carries her. Tears stream down her face as she struggles to find the words to explain the sudden turn of events that has shattered her life.
Unable to speak, Josephine simply looks at Joey with a mixture of fear and despair. Sensing her pain, Joey gently embraces her, offering a silent gesture of comfort and support. "Come here, doll," he grunts softly, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame.
#oc#original female character#original character#ofc x oc dads bestfriend#ofc x dads bestfriend#alcoholic dad#alcohlism#alcholic#smut#angst#fluff#original story#original writing#romance#tags left out to avoid spoilers!!#not everything is what it seems#dark themes#tw entomophobia#like father like daughter#enabler#ambulanceservice#josephine romano#joey reed#Neil Romano#original male character#oc smut
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The dysfunctional family yipeee
( i love shapey wdym?? 🤨)
#moral orel#shapey puppington#clay puppington#moral orel bloberta#bloberta puppington#alcoholic dad#numb mom#saint kid#shapey#furry clay
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My fucking prick of a dad ruined alcohol for me
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Lucky little favorite
(tw: verbal abuse mentioned)
Daddy held the key to me
The one that let me speak
The key that could let me shout
And free me from the deep
But that key is shrouded in the alcohol
He nails me to the edge
And makes me feel so small
Daddy said that I was lucky
Mama didn’t like hitting
Used your mouth like kerosene
And then the words would do the spittin’
Light me up
Hit me up
Light me up again
Didn’t need to lay a hand
His words could thunder in
Like a hand pulling insides out
Altering your lungs
Rewiring your brain
So you can’t fathom love
Daddy taught me when you’re cryin’
You better shut up
Told me that winning’s more important
Than happiness and love
Bought me things
To make me quiet
Treat me like a dog
And call me like one too
My name was bitch and cunt
When he’s drunk
I’m his all-time fav
When he wants to bash my soul
And nail me to the grave
#alcoholic parent#alcoholic dad#alcoholic#alcoholic poem#emotional#loss#emotional abuse#teenagehood#therapy#therapy poem#sad poem#greif poem#toxic parents#mental abuse#substance abuse#childhood trauma#mental illness#anxienty#silence#complex ptsd#ptsd#ptsd art#ptsd poem
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Hey
Hey Andy, could you please come pick me up?
My dad is acting crazy and his mood is so contagious
I need to get out of this house, I do
I can't sink back I've been doing so much better
He sits imposing at the table and he slurps his beer from an oversized mug and he stares you down with his cold eyes and his crooked smile.
And he waits.
He waits to hear something he can get angry over.
He waits to punish you for oxymorons
He sits in the warm light, fists resting on that slimy table
And he has a way of making you feel like everything unholy is your fault
And those eyes eat at you, and they appear to you in dreams
And in darkness
And in the drippy puddle at the shower drain
They convince you they can see into your soul,
That you don't know yourself,
That they've uncovered a knowingly hid evil
And one day you clean out the stale beer in the sink and you don't see his eyes anymore,
You see your own
And you stare them down the drain until they're washed away by your tears
So Andy, can you pretty please come pick me up?
#another old one i don't really like it that much i literally only wrote it to keep from having an anxiety attack at the time#i felt desperate and by god the poem reflects that at least#belfryprepz#poetry#spilled ink#alcoholic dad#alcoholic father
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I said to my mom that this is me her and my brother after my dad left
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"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.
"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.
"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."
He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.
"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.
Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.
"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.
"It happens every time."
"It happens most times."
"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.
"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"
Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.
"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."
Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.
"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.
"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.
"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."
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i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.
#steve's got expensive booze taste bcos he partied lots as a teen & he got into his dad's expensive stuff#and now it's all he likes#eddie doesn't drink loads cos he usually smokes instead so when he does drink he never wants to taste the alcohol#and he likes that they're pretty and come w fun things :)#steve also likes black coffee cos he was on that Sports Diet through hs#eddie packs his with sugar and creamer if he can#hehehe have this headcanon <3 from me to you#that i thought of rn#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steddie headcanon#heheheheh <3#i also love drinks with the most insane names. like please tell me you know what i mean#ruby writes steddie
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Dad always said I was like him
Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui
^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown
When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.
#It’s ok they do get in touch again and he prob at least lives to 40#Alright I’m ready to be normal about chilchuck again#Spoilers#I guess?#dungeon meshi#chilchuck tims#meijack#chilchuck’s family#meijack chils#Web weaving#alcoholism#cw alcohol#webweave#A couple more i liked are like a rearview mirror we’re not as close as we appear line and this french one from#Kristina Gauthier-Landry that goes like hands full of trout running up to you / look what i caught look / how much you love me#And this other one about chocolate coins that a dad arriving from work in middle of the night gives the happy little daughter running up#And it’s so anticlimatic and about transactional relationships and oughh ough it’s a good book#I am Chil is a complex absentee father truther sorry. Idc go see my analyses if you want don’t argue w me here#posts for which i am the target audience#Oh oh another one : So were we close? Or was it just the big things that held us together and the small things that let us fall apart?#The word father rotted in my mouth#Bc it’s left there to rot get it get it………..#Sigh. Like father alike daughter#I’m a truther that she’s more like her mom demeanor wise
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i find it sad that i’m more traumatized than i can remember
#i repressed/blocked out so much and i know there’s so much more that i don’t remember at all#my therapist thinks that there was probably a lot of physical abuse from my dad#but i only recently learned/remembered that i had had it once from him#it’s just so sad cuz it doesn’t seem real and yet it makes so much sense at the same time#traumatizedrhys#trauma#trauma recovery#traumatized#actually traumatized#childhood trauma#physical abuse#tw physical abuse#alcoholic dad#physical trauma#daddy issues#divorced parents#tw#tw trauma#tw abuse
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Things Wriothesley has canonically done (according to his voiceline leaks)
"escaped" from his foster home as a child (Fontaine has a bad track record with orphans)
Been homeless
Killed his foster parents (??) (apparently for good reason)
Picked a new name from an obituary (bonus points for knowing it would be hard to pronounce and going for it exactly for that reason & more dramatic reasons)
Spent almost half his life in prison
Finessed the prison trading system so hard that he became richer than all the other inmates combined
Wrote a book in prison about working out (it's very popular?? Okay, babe)
Successfully turned all the other inmates against the adminstration after the warden took all of Wriothesley's money
Beat the warden in an honourable duel (allowed by even the other guards), until the warden fled the prison
Did that on his final day, meaning there was no head administrator to sign Wriothesley's release forms
Walked into the warden's office, signed off his own release and immediately took over the job
(everyone just accepted this???? What kind of job market?????)
Made the prison so profitable that he was awarded the title of "Duke" by Neuvillette for his contributions to the economy
Hid his vision for his entire prison sentence, all the way to until becoming a duke
Is now just insanely rich. Joining the Ayato & Diluc club??
Went swimming in diluted primordial water (hun????? Go to the doctor????)
#genshin impact#Wriothesley#Genshin leaks#babe!! the trauma#it's the cryo curse isn't it#kaeya rosaria freminet qiqi ffs no one can escape it#even Diona got the alcoholic dad#is layla traumatised?? not sure#uni traumatises me weekly tbf
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Pinky Promise
OFC x OCDads best-friend
18+, mature
Main MasterList - My AO3
Summary: Fathers are supposed to be the ones taking care of their child, but Josephine’s life is the other way around. Her life is booze, her dad, and her dad’s best friend - what could go wrong?
✨Out Now!✨
1. Hibiscus
2. Easter Lily
3. ???
4. ???
5. ???
6. ???
7. ???
Josephine Romano Moodboard
Neil Romano Moodboard
Joey Reed Moodboard
#oc#original character#ofc x dads bestfriend#ofc x OC dads bestfriend#ofc#original female character#Alcoholic dad#alcohlism#like father like daughter#coming soon#first original post#not all chapters have smut#smut#serious themes#eventual smut#rebellious#bar nights#entomophobia warning#major character death (NOT OFC)#tags left out to avoid spoilers!!#original post#original story#original writing
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i love when jester does a sending spell so bad she surprises herself and i also love when caduceus says a sentence so jumbled and weird he surprises himself . genuinely very charming
#there was just an absolutely wild interaction he did in one of the eps i recently watched . tmn were all like ok never give cad#anything even vaguely alcoholic ever again WHAT was that sentence you just said. it was like backwards#and taliesin broke character to be like what the hell#also that time he realised while talking that he could make an earthquake and then stated that 3 times to himself surprised each time#hes so brainweird fr#kiddo say#and i love jesters just absolute inability to send a good message. like maybe 1 time. but other times. doot dootodoooo Donuts! etc#'we've been doing things. creepy shit' to cads dad 😭
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My dad's a prick. Me and mum are here but he was only concerned about seeing my fucking sister. Fuck him
Also beer comes first, of course
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Low-risk drinking is no more than 14 drinks a week for men, 7 drinks a week for women. 1-2 drinks in one sitting is recommended for women, 1-4 for men. It’s also best to drink for no more than three days consecutively and to abstain for several days in a row to allow your liver time to recover.
If you drink more heavily or more frequently than this, it’s most likely time to re-evaluate your relationship with alcohol.
#my grandmother was an alcoholic and it seriously messed my dad up#he was always very open and blunt about us needing to be careful about our drinking habits
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