#tw implied alcholism

[inky-evergreen]

Anthony my boy fucked up Bad😔... Also I have a youtube channel :3

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny pt.5

If Danny hadn’t thought about quitting and going to rehab before, he’s definitely going to do it now.

It had been one of those days. Danny had sluggishly managed to usher Jason to school- pulling himself together for their walk to the building, because he wasn’t stupid and this was still Gotham- before going home and relapsing. He knew, going into the first bottle, that he was going to regret it. But he still hadn’t felt the buzz, so he went out to get more.

“Just one. I can stop after, if I want to.”

Spoiler: he could not, actually, stop if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to, which was the whole problem.

So, one bottle became two, two became three, three became six, and by the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Danny had a pile of bottles scattered around the couch and an intense look of self hatred set upon his brow. He was buzzed, but his stupid ghost biology refused to absorb anymore alcohol.

“Stop brooding, Danny. It’ll hurt your brain.” Jazz said, a hint of worry around her joking insult. “You’re forgetting something important.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled out back at the haze of her-hah- ghost.

The door clicked open. Danny whipped his head to wards the door, snarl on his face and ready to lunge at the intruder, when he came face to face with a scuffed up Jason.

They froze simultaneously, but before Danny could do anything, Jason’s hands tightened on the door knob. The kid’s eyes darted to the floor, where the bottles laid, and back up at Danny’s face. What he found there must not have been good, because he took a step back.

It was fear.

Danny felt his heart drop and his throat go dry. The self hatred doubled in size and weight, but he smacked it down in favor of scrambling for the words- anything- to fix the damage his stupidity and addiction caused.

“Jason.” He said, voice raspy. Had he been screaming again? Good start, good- nope. Never mind, Jason is using the door to shield himself now. Danny glanced outside and-

“Oh. I- I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He turned back to Jason, who eyed him warily. “I- I forgot to pick you, didn’t I.”

“…I can walk back by myself.” The hesitant but full of bravado reply made Danny’s ghostly obsession to protect rear its head.

“Still. I’m… I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason evaluated him, noticeably eyeing his open hands and purposefully lax posture, before stepping inside. He doesn’t close the door behind him- clearly leaving it as an option just in case he needed to bolt. Danny stood up slowly. Jason watched him, and his hands. His smaller hands- Ancients, Danny was scaring a kid- curled up into fists.

“What… how did you get hurt?”

“Got mugged.”

“Are you okay? No- wait,” Danny flooded his liver and blood stream with ectoplasm, and his head instantly cleared. Ah, the agony of being coherent.

Danny subtly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus.

“Of course you’re not.” Danny stepped away from the incriminating bottles, slowing to a stop once more as Jason shifted backwards like he was either going to spring at Danny or bolt out the door. “Why don’t we get you patched up? And you can tell me about your day. That I missed, when I forgot to pick you up and that I’m really really sorry for.”

Danny held his breath as Jason considered it. “Are ya drunk?” Jason asked, tilting his shoulder to slide his Wonder Woman backpack down, hand clutching at the opposite strap. A good bludgeoning weapon, even if Danny would rather be electro shocked to death again before he ever hurt Jason.

“No.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he looked down again. Danny recognized the motion, a bolt of heavy nostalgia slamming into his chest as he remembered another red-head doing the same thing when he tried to bullshit his way out of something.

“I was buzzed but… I’m a meta. Alcohol doesn’t exactly affect me. I had to drink a lot to even get buzzed, and it’s gone now.”

“Y’er a meta?” Jason straightened, not completely losing the vigilance, but less tense.

“Yes. I’m completely sober right now, I promise.”

Jason stared at him, inhaled, and relaxed. “You better be.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Whatever.”

——

Danny placed the bandages over Jason’s cuts.

“I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

Jason shoved at his shoulder, grumbling “I c’n do it myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to, though.”

The kid looked away for a moment before softly admitting, “I was… worried. Cuz, I thought somethin’ happened.”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Jason slipped more into his alley accent the more upset he got these days, having learned some of the local accents at his new school and regularly swapping those out instead of sticking with his alley accent.

“Thank you. For worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Point. From the mouth of babes came the painful truth, right?

“No. I’m not. But I will be. I’ll go to rehab, Jason. I don’t want to forget picking you up again.”

“Whatever.” Danny hid a smile as Jason ducked his head, looking endearingly like a grumpy duckling. Like, Jazz, when their parents made those blueberry ectoplasm pancakes she liked but thought they’d forgotten that she liked.

“And thank you, Jason, for coming back alive. I- I should have been there, but I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I want waffles and ice cream for dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, you musta felt real bad if you’re letting me eat that for dinner.”

Danny grinned down at the head of black hair (with their red roots once more poking out) and ruffled Jason’s head. “I let you eat like five chili dogs in one go. This should not be surprising. But I’ll let you skip the veggies today too.”

“… No, I want the veggies too.”

Danny let out a bark of bright laughter.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever risking Jason looking at him like that again. The kid looked like he thought Danny would come swinging at him, despite their previous meetings where he had, perhaps and with plausible deniability, swung for Jason, but never against him.

That night, after he tucked Jason into bed, Danny signed up for rehab. As a matter of fact, Jazz’s words coming into mind, Danny also signed up for therapy. For him and Jason. Yeah.

——

Off camera, they talked about why Jason react to bottles and hands the way he does, and why he’s so scared whenever Danny slips back into his addiction. I’m just rlly too tired to write it.

——

Danny, who thought his addiction wasn’t that serious and that he could stop anytime because he stopped for Jason: I’m cured!

Also Danny: drinks as soon as Jason goes to school

Danny was one hundred percent using Jason as a crutch and when he felt like Jason was safe, he slipped back to his habits. The only reason Danny’s not dead- well, deader than he normally would be- is because ghost biology makes it so that alcohol is cycled through quicker. Like the Flash, but less fast? Anyways, he had enough to make him lose track of time and forget important things (Jason) and that’s what addiction can do to you, amongst other things.

Jason might seem calm but that’s actually a combo of his go to trauma response (fight) and his experience of 1) being on the streets and 2) living with a previous drunkard coming into play. Also, you might be like what kind of kid wants to eat veggies? And to that I answer: KIDS THAT NEVER HAD ENOUGH TO EAT. I would have killed for a veggie stir fry with a lot of chicken back as a kid lol

On a lighter note, the whole time they’re having this interaction, I kind of imagined it as two chickens just kind of dancing around each other.

[bloomeng]

an au where izzy and ed are ex’s but have remained roommates that work just a lil too hard to (not actually) avoid each other:

The note hangs on the fridge. "Down to one beer." Izzy frowns at it. And who's fault is that, asshole. It's not like Izzy would touch any of that lite shit.

Ed's bedroom door is closed. Ed's bedroom door is always closed these days. Izzy was starting to find the grain of its wood to be more familiar than Ed. They dance around each other, cohabitating in a shared space passing each other like ships in the night. Ed is out till the sun has practically risen, and Izzy leaves for work at eight. Izzy tries not to dwell on the fact that the separation really only exacerbated a preexisting routine.

It was Ed who had started the notes. After everything he walks on eggshells around Izzy, terrified that if he even so much as raises his voice Izzy would shatter. A ridiculous notion. Izzy had gotten this far in life, he wasn't about to shatter now. Regardless Ed's voice had simply seemed to peter out one day. He never realized how much of a constant it was until he was faced with silence. The notes were really starting to grate on his nerves, but he supposes the notes do lead to less yelling.

Sometimes— when Ed has the decency to return before the rest of the world starts getting up for work— the bang of the front door closing rouses Izzy from his sleep. At least that's what he grumbles to himself into the darkness of his room. On those nights Ed usually crashes on the couch, the sound of the TV muffled by the door. Lord knows what he's watching; cable television past dinner was downright awful, but whatever it is makes Ed laugh. Not loudly, just enough for Izzy to hear if he concentrates. He sleeps better those nights.

The note on the fridge leers at him, Ed's scrawl mocking him. He tears the note from the fridge, crumpling it as he shoves it into his pocket.

When Ed returns that night, he opens the fridge to a new case of beer with a note attached that reads, “Make it last.”

[januscorner]

Verbie Week Day 3: Bender

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

A weird crossover nobody asked for

Ok, I am nearly done with the mutuals stuff but I am taking a break and sketching Freddy. The context may not be as bonkers as what I'm going to tell you all but how I found about this film is literally a story full of casualties and an event let to another and now we are here.

I have zero idea how that even happened but I guess the stars were aligned and it was destiny to make this (IDK how my friends keep inspire me to do this stuff-)

Long text ahead and a bonkers story...twice

TW: for small mentions of gore, scars, and burns

There is no romance in this, and there will be no romantic feelings outside already established couple

Before we start, some of you intellectuals might go "Phantom/Iva, isn't this Christine from Phantom of the Opera but if she was older?"

(Those who saw the post on Twitter could already tell this is going to be wild-)

And my response is basically:

That is actually Nancy Thompson from the first "Nightmare on Elm Street" but dressed up as Christine from the POTO. Now, everyone will, might start to put the dots together and go "ARE YOU MAKING A CROSSOVER OF NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET AND PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!" and realized "Don't...Don't tell me Freddy is the phantom..."

And here is where I step in with the context story and an explanation to all this mess because in technicality, Freddy Krueger was indeed an Erik Destler!!!

Yes. That is a fact.

I am not kidding. Robert Englund was a Phantom but not precisely to the Musical but to the movie...which was more adapted to the book but in all sense is basically the same story but with some changes. Nevertheless, he is a Phantom in my standards and the movie he starred in will appear if you type Freddy Krueger phantom of the opera, or type Freddy Krueger of the opera (but it will lead to different results)

Now, how did I even found about this fact? Here is where the bonkers story and unrelated events led to this. I suggest that you get your popcorn because this is one hella comedic ride. I'll make it into sorta "How the Grinch stole Christmas" narration because why not, this is slowly descending into madness so why not embrace it?

How the hell did I found about this?

Once upon a time, Phantom was in her living room waiting for a ride. They were accompanied by their oldest sister, who had some peculiar film playing around. Phantom got curious and decided to watch as the dumbass kept forgetting her promise to look the name up. Eventually she remembered what she had in mind. She search the name up and it turned out to be a "Stepfather III" movie.

"Wait...that movie has sequels?" Phantom asked herself surprised as she stared at the Wikipedia page.

The movie "Stepfather" was no stranger to our Phantom, because she already heard it before thanks to watching reviews of awful movies all out of her hatred of "Prom night 2008." She did found out that other sequels unrelated to the first one were make and she went.

"Oh that's cool. I guess that is the end of this."

Or so she thought. Eventually she got curious to see if the main actress who played the protagonist had a fruitful career. She did, after Phantom checked the filmography list. Eventually she left the page after giving it a quick scan, but later she returned when she found a familiar name inside.

"Wait....The Phantom of the Opera?" Phantom asked.

Indeed, it was a "Phantom of the opera" movie much to our dear protagonist's delight. She decided to look up the story but obviously not reading the cast name, as this would be foreshadowing for this part of the tail. Eventually her delighted turned into

"What. The. Actual. FU-"

It turned out the story was...well not bad...but clearly mad. It involved time travelling Christines, no broken Chandeliers, immortal Phantoms who sold their sold to Satan, and some guy named Richard who is meant to be Raul. Oh, and I forgot to say Christine's last name is Day now too?

Yeah, the story was bonkers, but Phantom was oddly curious to see what it looked like, so she search it on YouTube. So, she carefully watched the clips and trying to understand what the fidgety fuck was even going on in Phantom of The Opera 1989. So she kept watching and start to realize.

"This Phantom looks familiar?"

So, instead of searching the movie and checking the cast like a normal person would, Phantom decided to read the comments to see what they would say. The first thing that she was:

(yes, this is a real comment XD)

And then it hit our little Phantom. Robert Englund was an Erik on this peculiar tale, but also obviously someone had to roast Gerald Butler too-

So, Phantom searched up the movie again, and in fact the Original Freddy Krueger was there! Now people would say "but it's the same actor playing two different characters!" Yes, I am aware, but OMG just look at unmasked 1989 phantom and try to tell me otherwise not to mention this phantom wears a wig because he is also bald.

Now, Phantom is aware both are characters played by the same actor, but since Englund is the OG Krueger, she cannot unsee this now and so will you. Not to mention this Erik is also an immortal being too (i...I guess.)

To end this tale, the movie is hard to find as Phantom have tried but not even Tubi wants this mess and YouTube will recommend you nightmare on elm street as a suggestion, so yes even YouTube agrees

Freddy Krueger is Erik Destler.

The end

(Take this as humor.)

How the hell did I even get the idea to make a crossover? (Surprisingly not a bonkers backstory, but there is no correlation into how the hell did the idea even happened) + Concept!!

Now, how the hell did my mind went "Phantom of the Opera x Nightmare on Elm street 1"? Surprisingly, this is actually a normal story but how I even got there is already weird. Basically, I texted my friend (who also loves POTO) to ask "did you know the OG Freddy was a phantom? and she went "That's interesting and yet Heather langenkamp does look like the OG Christine. So I wouldn't be surprised if the films are connected" (she said this in the sense of similarities of POTO. Not in a ship sense btw.)

So....what did Phantom did?

Make a damn crossover based on that comment because the idea of Erik from 1989 threatening Christine! Nancy via "Go to sleep, angel of music" could not leave their mind. This is all in the sense of a nonromantic story because "eww" and "Nancy in the first film is a teenager" as one would do.

So, now you guys are probably asking "Phantom, are you even ok?"

I'm probably insane at this rate, but let's get down to the rambling about this idea because I swear it's not as fucked up as it sounds like. It is a crazy idea, but I promise Freddy would not be precisely as closer to Erik Destler as a character, but rather more focused on...well himself.

You will see what I mean

How to summarize this bonkers idea?

Somewhat around in the mid 1900s, Frederick Krueger was an inspiring artist who wrote many operas, songs, but found himself wishing for a long-lasting legacy as people aren't fond of his gothic tales. In his desperation, he makes a deal with Satan himself for people to adore his music and for his legacy to remain forever under the curse that Freddy wouldn't die unless he founded a worthy successor to carry out his legacy so he would be remembered.

With this task, Freddy slowly falls into madness and desperation as he becomes a piano teacher at his studio but finds no one of his students worthy to carry out his legacy. So, after a group of teens attempted to steal one of his pieces, he begins a blood rampage as he believes neither of his students are worthy of listening to his songs.

Eventually the parents around Elm Street to get furious and are led by Marge and Donald Thompson to take justice in their hands, so Freddy and his studio is burned down as he swears revenge on their parents and taking away what they love the most. The parents make a pact to keep this a secret, and Marge Thompson starts to rely on drinking to help her cope with the guilt of committing murder, not to mention she also started drinking due to her messy divorce with Ronald (who has becoming protective of their daughter)

After a few years, Nancy Thompson is started to have recurring nightmares of a mysterious man chasing her with intents to murdering her as he claims she's the main actress of his newest Opera (which I don't have a name as for now, but it indeed is about her demise) After she wakes up, she realizes that the injuries in her dream has transferred into reality.

So, after some teenagers mysteriously died in the night. Nancy and her boyfriend Glenn along with their friends Tina and Rod, decide to investigate who is the mysterious Phantom that appears in their dreams and is trying to trap them in his Opera House of Horrors as they embody the main characters of his most recent play with Nancy playing the lead role (who intends to have the goriest death in his play)

What changes did I make into this au?

The biggest change is that the Phantom is NOT in love with Christine (Nancy) but rather knows she is the daughter of the duo that led to his murder, so he will want to give her the worst fate possible. I do think about implementing some aspects of what I read from the third movie by having Nancy having some control of her nightmares, which could lead to Freddy finally finding the Protégée he was trying to find for so long which would add to a dynamic of Freddy trying to convince Nancy to join him in exchange to protect what she loves the most but with the catch that she'll follow Freddy's footsteps. (Still, the only romance would be just between Nancy and Glenn as they are already an established couple)

The other change, is obviously Freddy Krueger's backstory, which is a merge within his original story and Erik's backstory of the 1989 film. I wanted to play with the whole Opera aspect of well...the phantom of the opera but also Freddy's nightmare nature from the original films. So Freddy's main and latest story is a reflection in his death as a human and how he intends to kill the legacy of those who claim it, which would explain why Nancy would be played as the main lead.

I did change Freddy's nature as he is more like an under dead creature that has a physical form in people's dreams and nightmares and can shake shift, but his form would reflect his burns he, and of course the opera house would be based on his abandoned studio.

Also Freddy Krueger's appearance will be based into Erik's appearance as I actually love to take on the Phantom's mask on this. I won't spoil a bit but it does add to the thriller aspects of the 1989 POTO film. You can search for the clip that contains his backstory, so you guys can see what his mask actually is. I will eventually reveal it later when I finish his sketches. Anyways, Freddy would hide his burns with his clothes and other ways 1989 Erik hides his appearance in the film

Would this be correlated to the Nightmare on Elm Street Franchise?

Most likely no. I am mostly familiarized with the original Nightmare on Elm Street 1, and this is precisely the only film in the crossover that I would be referencing too. I might do some small nods to the franchise as some small Easter eggs, but please keep in mind that this crossover will be treating both stories as a Stand-alone film as this version of Freddy is not the same as the Freddy from the franchise.

If you have questions, curiosities, or simply want to ask me "why, phantom, why?" Ask box is open for y'all.

I'll try to get the mutual's drawing by tomorrow and maybe the Phantom Krueger sketches too.

[prayantis]

Dog’s gotta make a living

Manhunt oc au writing

Veltun danced their fingers over an array of tools in his bag before ending the dance on a scalpel, gently taking it out of its pocket.

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do?” They questioned the man that lay strapped onto the bed. The man squirmed in his place at the sight of the scalpel. “Please,” he begged “I, I have a kid!”

“I have to make an incision, and er, then we’ll see what happens.” The doctor continued, ignoring the man’s plead. He took the scalpel and dragged it over the man’s body.

The man howled in agony. His eyes tightly shut themselves. Veltun continued its business and opened the man’s stomach at the cuts they’d made.

The door suddenly slammed into the wall, being kicked down by them.

The man’s eyes opened to see the source of the noise.

The figure who stood at the door wore a long, large black and red fur coat that matched it’s long hair, being also red and black. Continuing the red came in the shirt, which was open at the top before being closed at the end. They stepped into the light showing their cigarette that hung in their mouth.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, hello to you too dad-“ the doctor paused. “Director” he spoke sharply. It came over and stuffed a cloth into the victim that lay bleeding on the bed to keep him quiet.

“Well are you?”

Veltun took a camera from it’s stand and handed it over to the figure. “I am.”

The director took the camera, pressing on a button to make it release a tape. “Thank you, doctor.” They said cheerfully. “I’ll get this edited down for our people later.”

The doctor just nodded before walking back to the man that bleed on the table. “What is that it?” The director asked raising its arms. “No goodbye kiss for daddy?”

Veltun struck his middle finger at them.

“Oh you’re too sweet Vel!” Vernexo gleefully said as they skipped into the room, swinging his arms. “Do you need any help working the camera?” The doctor grabbed a new tape and pressed it into its slot into the camera.

“Does it look like I need any help?”

The director shook his head, before looking to the couch in the room and deciding that it was gonna be it’s bed for the evening. “I’ll just take a nap down here then, you know how screams put me to bed!” They cheered.

Veltun rolled their eyes, “I’d apologize for that but,” it peeled back the man’s skin, “I think you want me to apologize for that!”

Vernexo took refuge in the couch, laying its body down and curling into a ball. They dozed off to sleep as the man screamed in agony. Sleeping, just like they had done on that faithful night so long ago…

The early night left Vernexo wanting.

The bottle fit perfectly into their hand. As if it was meant to be! It had to be. It was a sign, that film school was a scam and they were doomed to be a wannabe director. Film school, they thought. What a stupid idea. He should’ve just stayed on the ranch, it’s what was expected, it’s what should’ve happened. But no,

Vernexo had to be different, had to be an artist, and it’s media was films!

So, xe went to film school, and graduated. If only they told you that the big world wasn’t ready for all the ideas Vernexo had. No one gave a shit about how it’s a metaphor for racism, classism and all the fucking shit that’s normalized now. All they wanted was a feel good movie about silly demons and angels, and to get a diversity hire. 

Vernexo wandered the streets, chugging the bottle every now and then. He stared at the gate. “Carcer City Graveyard” they kicked the gates open and stumbled into the yard. Hopefully it’d get to read something good off a tombstone that’d make them laugh and forget about his troubles.

Vernexo ambled through rows of tombstones with nothing interesting on them. He stopped to take a drink of the bottle once more, after taking their drink, he looked around for something seemly interesting.

It’s gaze paused at a tombstone underneath a tree, the branches hung over the tombstone making it almost impossible to see. As if, hidden.

“Here I come!” They drunkly slurred out.

He tumbled over to the hidden grave before falling to his knees to read the grave. He took another drink of the bottle as he read.

“Lionel Starkweather. 1952 - 2003. Director and beloved friend and man.”

“Jesus fuck! Starkweather!”

Vernexo had seen and watched films of Starkweather, who was quite well known even out of the States. While his name had fallen into obscurity over the years, they remembered watching his one of films in the theaters.

It had been a drama, quite experimental and a bit on the crazier side. Quite colorful too.

“Damn Starkweather, I can’t believe you’re dead! I guess that’s what I get for not having a TV. I loved that really fucked up film you made in the 80s! I didn’t understand it until I was an adult and when I didn’t understand it; I made it like, my WHOLE personality for years!” They ranted.

He’d gotten thirsty after talking and drank more of the alcohol. Realizing they had finished the entire bottle, they chucked it to the side before passing out.

About an hour passed with xe dreaming of going to the ranch once more to see the family and-

Vernexo felt a kick in xir legs, and heard a deep and raspy voice.

“Hey, you’re on my friend’s grave. Get off.”

“Oh sorry about that.” They said after gaining consciousness again. It rolled off the grave and onto the dirt. Closing his eyes once more to sleep again.

“Why are you even here?” The voice interrogated.

Xe rolled onto xir back, “I just thought that we should speak, director to director you know?”

“You’re a director?”

“YES, the world is just not ready for me, maybe if I’m still alive in 20 years my films will be ready!”

The masked man looked around before crouching down to Vernexo, “I’m a producer, and I think you could be my new director.” He whispered.

Vernexo took a second to register. Looking at the ground and back to the figure again. “For real?!”

“For real.” The man reassured, he offered his hand.

“I’m Mr. Nasty.”

Vernexo grabbed his new boss’s hand, “Vernexo W. Vesper, at your service!”

[moralpuppet]

@chaosmultiverse prayed: ❛ you can’t save everyone. ❜ -Evan Afton

&. 𝐡𝐢𝐭 ‘𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

❝  Gosh.  Well  I  wouldn’t  want  to  give  up  on  the  heathens.  …  or  my  Dad.❞    Orel’s  not  sure  where  his  father  fits  in  any  more.  He’s  a  man  of  God  but  he’s  a  man  of  alcohol  and  sin.  But  there  was  still  hope  for  everyone.  There  had  to  be.

He  blinks,  then  turning  his  head,  quizzically,  ❝  is  there  someone  you're  afraid  you  cannot  save,  Evan?❞  

[cuervitodeisla]

tfw close family don’t notice your alcoholism cause you already stumble on your words and are extremely awkward when sober

[monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation]

Bts

Im ready to get obsessed with someone or something again. And bartender make it unobtainable

[strawberista]

⚅— @fangedstories asked: —⚅ ⚅— "۞" —⚅

Muse Introduction Meme

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

⚀ Muse: Silon {From @meadowthorns }

Silon stretched his good arm high over his head and gazed out at the way the morning dusted over the horizon and made everything look just a little hazy. If he weren't in the position he was currently in, maybe he could have even enjoyed it. But as things stood, he was sitting next to a long-dead campfire with no provisions and a long way to go. Nevermind the fact that he had a man tied up like a sack of potatoes and needed to drag the lout for miles into the next town. This was probably one of the most unpleasant jobs that he'd ever taken on, but he had to do what he had to do.

He hadn't gotten too many details — he didn't really need them for a retrieval like this— but he knew this guy owed his employer an awful lot of money. It was a bad position to be in. Knowing groups like this, he was sure the guy was going to be forced to do manual labor for them if he was lucky. He might be killed if he wasn't. And maybe there might have been a part of him that felt bad about that, but he needed a way to survive and the world was cruel. There wasn't any space to have sympathy for the less fortunate right now. He needed money. To eat. To drink. To drink himself so hard he didn't have any dreams or nightmares. Anything to keep the screams of his past from calling after his tattered soul.

Silon stood and went through the trouble kicking through and stomping out the campfire, even knowing that there wasn't anything left to stomp out, then he drug his prisoner up to his feet. He ignored the groan of pain and pleas for mercy, letting them flow in one ear and out the other, and he started making his way back down the path. There was so much about this that he didn't like, and there was still that voice that told him to just be decent and cut the guy loose, cut his losses.

But that really wasn't his business.

"Shut the hell up, damn," he growled as he marched along the road. "Nothing you say is gonna change anything anymore than any other part of this trip. Got it? So can it, asshole."

It was rare for him to be so blessed, but his bickering actually worked, and he was given silence for the remainder of his trip. At least he'd be eating good tonight, in an inn he could afford and with a cup of the cheapest swill in the place. He'd drown himself. And he'd forget. And for one, confused, wonderful night he would be completely oblivious to his pain.

[reddie-ao3feed]

amazing title

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/xg3HyWT by I_LOVE_SALVIS Yea I know, amazing title right Ages: oldest to youngest (canon birthdays) •bill - 16 •bev - 16 •richie - 16 •ben - 15(he'll be 16 on June 2nd/ it's April in the beginning) •stan - 15 •mike - 15 •eddie - 15 TW: -child abuse -slurs (F-SLUR, Q-SLUR, ETC.) -HOMOPHOBIA -BULLYING -MEDICATION ABUSE(stupid ahh Sonia) -cocaine -drug abuse -alcholism/alcohol abuse -pedophilia (referenced. talking about mr.keene) -chile abuse (mental/physical) -abuse -blood -self harm -swearing -underage(sex,drugs,etc. BRO SONG REFERENCE?!?!) bonus TW: -sonia kaspbrak -henry/Patrick...(I love them tho) -connor bowers Words: 3025, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: IT - Stephen King Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter, Victor Criss, Reginald "Belch" Huggins, The Losers Club (IT), Maggie Tozier, Wentworth Tozier, Greta Bowie | Gretta Keene, Richie Tozier's Parents, Sonia Kaspbrak Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Henry Bowers/Patrick Hockstetter, Victor Criss/Reginald "Belch" Huggins, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Georgie Denbrough, Ben Hanscom & Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon & Stanley Uris, Henry Bowers & Patrick Hockstetter, Henry Bowers & Victor Criss & Patrick Hockstetter & Reginald "Belch" Huggins, Maggie Tozier & Richie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier Additional Tags: Child Abuse, Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Abusive Sonia Kaspbrak, Sonia Kaspbrak Being Terrible, Medication, Cocaine, Drug Use, Drugs, Drug Addiction, Alcoholic Maggie Tozier, Bad Parents Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Abusive Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Neglectful Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Consensual Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abuse, Self-Harm, Depression, Depressed Eddie Kaspbrak, Depressed Richie Tozier, Gay Sex, Gay Male Character, Swearing, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - High School read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/xg3HyWT

[chaotic-guinea-pig]

as a mentally ill style shipper, your request was very reasonable imo. i completely understand why having a “love=instant mental health fix” would be upsetting. the only problem i have with applying it is mainly skill-based on my part? i only have the energy to write one-shots atm, and while alcoholism is a interesting subject to tackle and explain in depth, i’m concerned i won’t be able to get that important message that across in just one chapter. feel free to not answer this part if you’re not up to it, but are there ways i can implement that in those types of stories, or should I just avoid them entirely?

hope i’m not being rude or invasive for sending this in but thanks for reading regardless. i wish you well.

-concerned style shipper

Hi anon! It's cool that you're asking this, so thank you. :] Just want to first assure you that I was not harmed when I came across that trope in fics; it's more like a peeve that's enough for me to drop the fic, that's all. And don't ever feel the need to avoid a certain type of story - you are absolutely allowed to tell any story you want, as long as you tag it and give the appropriate content warnings!

Now, to answer your question: luckily, you don't need to go heavy-handed with that message at all! It's more than enough to imply - whether it's in the narration, or from anyone's POV - that Stan still has ongoing struggles with alcoholism even after he's got together with Kyle. From the top of my head, some ways you can incorporate this: (tw: alcholism)

Depending how old they are in your fic, you could write a single line that implies Stan still attends AA meetings.

Stan's internal monologue - you could show his fears of a relapse, even after he's gotten together with Kyle (maybe he could be afraid of letting Kyle down?). Or maybe you could show him still having those late-night cravings, or still having empty bottles in his room if you want to be really subtle.

If they're aged up: Stan's reactions to parties - some recovering alcoholics would feel on the edge at the prospect of attending gatherings where there's alcohol present

Kyle's POV!! There's definitely a lot you can do here!! If Kyle is aware of Stan's alcoholic issues, write about his thoughts on it and if he's not, you could make him notice the physical symptoms e.g. mood swings.

And there's more. Anyway, the basic idea here is to write things that carry a vague sense that Stan still has alcoholic issues, and that recovery is not a linear process. If you're up for it, I recommend researching into real life stories about alcoholics in relationships to get a better idea.

On top of that, there's also the author's note. One of my favourite Style authors used it in one of their fics to emphasise that addiction is not a linear process and that it's unrealistic for Stan to stop drinking the moment he gets together with Kyle. So if you're concerned your message didn't come across, you could add this.

I hope this answers your question, anon. Feel free to hit me up more about this if it didn't!! Good luck on your one-shots. :)

[ao3snowbutterfly]

What we Make of What Could Have Been

Rated-T

Words-17,197

Chapters-8

Complete-Yes

Main Pairing-Jopper (Not the main focus)

Joyce's life has revolved around her children the moment she first got pregnant, and she's happier for it. Unfortunately, her husband Lonnie doesn't feel the same way. She tries her hardest, but things are difficult on her own. Luckily she has one person she can depend on. Jim is always there for her and the kids, and, for various reasons, he'll become even closer to the family, especially her oldest.

or

5 times Jim Hopper acts like Jonathan's father, and 1 time he is.

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

22, chalastair (derogatory) or thomastair (good)

Title from Memories by Conan Gray

Angst Prompt #22 - “I’m not going to cry, it isn’t worth crying.”

TW Manipulation

TW Gaslighting

TW Emotional Abuse

TW Alcohol

TW Implied Grooming

Summer of Angst Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But You Show Up Today, Just To Ruin Things

There was a knock on the door, loud in the silence that surrounded Alastair’s new flat. He’d only just moved in two days earlier, wanting a bit of space from his family.

He knew his mother and Risa were definitely grateful for the space, even if they would never admit it to him out loud, he knew they were secretly happy he’d left. They wanted time for themselves and with his baby brother barely sleeping through the night, it seemed impossible. So they were definitely happy for him to move out.

The knock wasn’t all that shocking, as Thomas had been helping him move in, but he’d just left with a carriage to get some things Alastair had left at Kensington Gardens.

It couldn’t have taken him so little time to do that. Could it?

He sighs as he walks over to the door, expecting to see his lover standing there but was taken aback to see a familiar head of slicked back red hair.

Charles Fairchild. His ex-lover. The man he wished would leave him alone.

“Alastair!” Charles slurred out, his name a little too loud on his lips. He was very drunk, clearly having gone day drinking, that much was obvious.

“Charles.” he answered back, trying to hide his disgust as the intense smell of gin wafted toward him.

Charles had a stupidly goofy smile on his face, a tell-tale sign of his state. He was never this carefree, always tense, always terrified someone would catch him in a vulnerable position. That they would use it against him. 

He would never look like that unless he was so drunk he couldn’t see straight. 

More vulnerable than he could ever be, not that Alastair could say that aloud to him.

“What do you want Charles? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, darling.”

The darling made Alastair’s stomach tighten up with knots, bile rising up in his throat but he swallowed it back down, determined not to let Charles see how he effected him still.

He had started to hate that term of endearment even before he had ended their relationship, as Charles had used it to belittle him and manipulate him whenever they were in private.

Oh, but darling, acting like that isn’t very flattering…

Darling, you know that my engagement to Ariadne is only for show…

I only love you, darling…

I never said that, Alastair darling, you’re being delusional…

Darling, darling, darling. The word made him sick to his stomach.

“I’m not your darling anymore, Charles.” His tone was tense, he wanted Charles to leave and leave now. Before Thomas got back.

Charles let out a laugh-a real laugh-Alastair hadn’t heard him do that in years. “Oh come on now, Alastair. Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing Alastair aside roughly so he could stumble his way into the flat. Alastair ended up flat against the door, helpless to do anything but watch him stumble and trip into Alastair’s small kitchen.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the hell he was about to witness in his kitchen.

Why did Charles have to show up today? Today, of all days.

It was supposed to be a good day, where he moved into his new flat with the help of his lover and they made jokes and ate dinner, a good day.

But now it would be forever tainted by whatever stunt Charles was about to pull.

Alastair walked into his kitchen with hesitance, not knowing what kind of situation he would walk into. All of the years of taking care of his drunk father flashed in his mind, but he pushed it back, setting his shoulders and walking in with an air of faux-confidence.

He had to be strong if he had to face his former lover and the memories between them, both good and bad.

Charles was curled in the corner of the kitchen, his body resting against the cabinets. His closed eyes almost made him look almost peaceful. But Alastair knew he was far from that.

He was here for something, but it wasn’t peace.

“What are you really doing here, Charles?”

Charles opened his eyes, one at a time, green eyes looking lazy and soft. Not the fierce green he’d gotten used to over the years.

“I told you already darling, I wanted to see you.”

There was that word again: darling.

Alastair wanted to throw up. “No you don’t. You have another reason, Charles. An ulterior motive, if you will.”

“Why don’t you call me Charlie anymore? I used to love when you called me Charlie.” Charles mused, almost to himself it seemed, his eyes lacking focus.

“Because you aren’t Charlie anymore, the same as I am no longer darling.” he explained, hoping to get a real answer out of him.

Charles chuckled darkly in response, the sound almost eerie to Alastair. “You’re still my darling, even if you claim to be Thomas’s now instead.”

Alastair tensed at the mention of Thomas. Why did he have to mention Thomas? It was none of Charles’s business, him and Thomas. He didn’t have the right to bring him up like this, not anymore, never again.

He hoped that Thomas would hurry up and come back, being alone with Charles was starting to take its toll on him and his thoughts.

“You don’t get to talk about Thomas.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you don’t have the right, not anymore.”

The ginger rolled his eyes. “I think I have every right, my darling.”

“I am not your darling, Charles,” Alastair seethed, his temper starting to flare. “How much clearer do I need to be?”

“You will see, Alastair. When he tires of you, that I was so much better than he ever was. You will see and you will regret having left me.”

The cool fierceness in his green eyes returned, no longer hazy and unfocused. Alastair had once loved that look in his eyes but now he couldn’t fathom why he ever had.

“I will never regret leaving you, Charles. It was the best decision I have ever made.”

“Oh? But you didn’t question that he would leave you, because you know he will. Everyone leaves and you know it in your heart that he will too.”

Alastair bristled. Charles had always had a way to make him feel small, to prey on his insecurities. It was no different now than it was in Paris years ago. “He wouldn’t. You don’t know him.”

“You really think that?” Charles snickered. “He’ll leave once he finds out who you really are, how pathetic you are, how clingy. He’ll leave without a second thought.”

“Shut up, Charles, just shut up. You’re drunk, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alastair was trying desperately to rein in his emotions, to collect his thoughts. He wouldn’t break down in front of Charles, he couldn’t. Never again.

Charles started to laugh, almost manically, as if the sight of Alastair made him downright giddy.

“What?” Alastair nearly yelled. “By the angel, what is so funny about this?”

“You’re about to cry over the truth! You must really think he loves you!” he giggled out, as if that explained everything.

Except it did, it clicked into Alastair’s mind. He had always enjoyed embarrassing him, and laughing at him when cried, that had always been Charles’s favorite poison.

He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction again.

“I’m not going to cry, it isn’t worth crying. You aren’t worth my tears, Charles.”

“As if that will change the fact that no one else could ever love you, darling. I even love you so much that I haven’t left, despite how much you want me to.”

“That isn’t true. You’ve never loved me.”

“But it is true, I have loved you since you were sixteen.”

“Just leave, Charles. Now.”

Charles sighed, stumbling as he got up. “It truly is a shame darling, that you’re wasting your time on that Lightwood. Especially when he’ll leave.”

“Get out.”

“Just remember that I’ve always loved you, Alastair, despite your…flaws.”

With that, Charles stumbled his way out of the flat, probably breaking things along the way as Alastair could hear things crashing down.

But maybe that was just his imagination, the background noise to what was happening around him and in his head.

He slumped down against the cabinets, similar to how Charles had been just moments earlier.

He couldn’t get his words out of his head.

You must really think he loves you…

Charles’s laughter rattled around in his brain over and over again.

The same words repeating with it.

His mind coming up with horrible words and darker trains of thought.

Alastair didn’t truly know what he believed anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Specially dedicated to @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas & @tessherongraystairs

And the witch is back 🙂🙃

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

i stand in the hallway just outside of deaths door,

as i shiver and shake and try to get up the courage to knock.

eventually,

i knock on the door,

a half empty pill bottle ratting in one fist and the neck of a fifth of 80 proof rum in the other,

i pound on the door with a noose tied tightly around my neck and a knife held up to my wrist,

and i wait for someone to answer.

for whatever reason, 

the door does not open,

death does not greet me like a long lost brother, 

i am not wrapped up tight in the only embrace that i have ever truly yearned for.

i am ripped out of the safety of darkness and away from the comforting arms that i had come so close to,

upon opening my eyes,

my first thought is that i am tired.

this was not the first time i had so lovingly approached deaths door with an anchor tied to my leg and a plea on my lips,

and it would not be the last.

because no matter how long i manage to survive the harsh cold grip of life,

deaths doorway will always be my home.

[orangeismylemon]

@misplaced-my-notes what I wanted to send lmao.

Anywho, have an angsty comic to my story 'Rings lie'.