Only Moreso - Mania - 3/3
Title: Only Moreso - Mania
Rating: M
Genre: Drama
Fandom: Marvel's Earth-199999
Warnings: Suicide ideation, self-medication in damn near the worst possible way, violent imagery (mostly happens in Tony's head but still), mental-health stigma, a lot of self-loathing, and a no-punches-pulled depiction of what mania can look like.
Summary: Mania: He gets used to waking up and feeling sick with gritty eyes, gets used to seeing nasty bags under his eyes in mirror (he gets pretty good at covering them with makeup) and his limbs feeling like they weigh a metric ton and being barely in his control when he gets out of bed, gets used to minor hallucinations (little things in the corner of his eye, the occasional noise he knows isn't real).
A/n: A couple things: this is
mortalfool's prompt from
avengerkink (the gist of which is "Tony is bipolar. Go!"). Tony has type II bipolarism (the lesser known version) and this is what happens when you put a type II'er on certain kinds of anti-depressants without the protection of a mood-stablizer. Only Moreso is half of Mark Vonnegut's memoir's title, Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness, Only Moreso, which is about surviving a much more difficult variety of the illness.
"What the hell has been going on here lately?" Obie demands, looming like an angry god over the sofa as he drops a blanket on Tony's lap. "Hospitalized twice in the last two months for stupid stunts? Do you have a death wish, Tony?"
Tony picks miserably at a loose thread in his blanket. His cast is itchy and his broken collarbone is making him feel nauseous.
"Well?" Obie demands. "Do you? That was not a rhetorical question, Tony, because it's a fucking wonder you didn't. They had to get out the jaw of life to get you out of the wreck."
"No," Tony says quietly, uncertain if he's grateful or not for the fact that Obie waited until Tony was released to do this.
"Then what's been going on here?" Obie asks, dropping down next to Tony's uninjured knee on the sofa. His voice is gentler, coaxing.
"Nothing," Tony says. Nothing he wants to tell anyone about, anyway.
"It's not 'nothing'," says Obie. "It's definitely something, in fact. Tell me." When Tony shakes his head, Obie says, "C'mon, you can trust me. It's not drugs, right? I know you said you weren't doing them, but Tony, if it is, we can get you to, like, the Betty Ford clinic and it'll be ok after you get out of rehab."
"It's not drugs." Tony sighs. "I don't know what it is." He carefully rests his head back against the arm of the couch and ignores Obie's hovering, searching for patterns in the last few months. When was he clearheaded? When was he not? Aside from drinking, what could be the factors?
"Tony?" Obie asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "How could you not know?"
"It's complicated," Tony replies, not making eye contact with the other man as he thinks. And reaches a conclusion. Tony huffs out a sigh, wondering if he can tell Obie and not be judged for it. Obie's different than the others -- Tony could call Obie 'dad' and not really be lying (although Obie himself would probably object to it). He was there for Tony's graduation from MIT, he was there when Tony's parents died, and myriad other occasions that are supposed to be attended by family. Shit, Obie had gone to his little league games and swim meets and judged at his debate tournaments sometimes. Tony's actual dad was too busy and didn't care enough to show up for anything, unless it was something he made Tony do (in the rare instances of him paying attention to something besides whiskey and work) and there were awards or publicity involved (because god knew that's all his father thought Tony was worth).
"Well?" Obie says, a hint of both command and demand in his voice.
Tony looks at him and decides to take the plunge. "I think that it might have been the meds I've been on."
"Meds? Like painkillers?" Obie's expression is calculating, probably figuring out how much damage control will be needed. "Popping pills is still drugs, Tony."
"Not painkillers," Tony replies. "An anti-depressant."
"What?"
Tony's never heard quite that tone from Obie before and it sets him on edge -- the last time he heard something that even sounded similar, Obie had gotten the deal of the century in a merger. But this was Obie. "...I thought I might be depressed and mentioned it to Doctor Santam, who prescribed me something."
"And that went well, didn't it?" Obie asks sardonically. There's something disgusted in his eyes and Tony starts to feel nervous, watching Obie with wide eyes as he leans over, and Tony, who has never felt threatened by Obie in his entire life (as opposed to his father, who was Threat itself), feels his anxiety ratchet up when Obie looks at him like he figured his father might if he knew about the meds. "Let me tell you something, Tony. Everyone feels blue now and then, but only the weak -- the attention starved weak -- need medication to get out of a funk."
"It wasn't just a funk," Tony says defensively. "It was a full year, Obie, of misery and it wasn't the first time."
"Your parents had just died, Tony," Obie replies. "That's all. Lingering sadness that turned into a funk."
"They had died a full year before the 'funk' as you insist on calling it, set in. I had been mostly over their deaths by that point and then," Tony mimes a swooping drop with his hand, "it got awful. I tried to make it better - got out in the sun more, did things I used to enjoy, and stuff, but it didn't work."
"A funk," Obie repeats. "It was a funk. Unless you are that weak?"
Tony's jaw clicks shut. "Fine," he grinds out, weary and hating that he was right about the way people -- even Obie apparently -- would see him if they knew. "A funk.
"Good boy," Obie says brightly and pats his knee. "I knew you could do it. I'll send in your girl to take care of you soon -- you're going to have to deal with the media this time, by the way, because I am done fishing your ass out of the fire -- and you may want her to call your publicist for you."
"She's not my girl," Tony mumbles as Obie leaves, trying to ignore how badly he wants to crawl into a hole and die.
This why he never tells anyone anything, Tony thinks as he dumps the remainder of the pills in the toilet and flushes. It always come back to hurt him. As he dumps the bottle in the trash, he wonders how he let himself forget.
Hypomania >>
Rating: M
Genre: Drama
Fandom: Marvel's Earth-199999
Warnings: Suicide ideation, self-medication in damn near the worst possible way, violent imagery (mostly happens in Tony's head but still), mental-health stigma, a lot of self-loathing, and a no-punches-pulled depiction of what mania can look like.
Summary: Mania: He gets used to waking up and feeling sick with gritty eyes, gets used to seeing nasty bags under his eyes in mirror (he gets pretty good at covering them with makeup) and his limbs feeling like they weigh a metric ton and being barely in his control when he gets out of bed, gets used to minor hallucinations (little things in the corner of his eye, the occasional noise he knows isn't real).
A/n: A couple things: this is
mortalfool's prompt from
avengerkink (the gist of which is "Tony is bipolar. Go!"). Tony has type II bipolarism (the lesser known version) and this is what happens when you put a type II'er on certain kinds of anti-depressants without the protection of a mood-stablizer. Only Moreso is half of Mark Vonnegut's memoir's title, Just Like Someone Without Mental Illness, Only Moreso, which is about surviving a much more difficult variety of the illness.
"What the hell has been going on here lately?" Obie demands, looming like an angry god over the sofa as he drops a blanket on Tony's lap. "Hospitalized twice in the last two months for stupid stunts? Do you have a death wish, Tony?"
Tony picks miserably at a loose thread in his blanket. His cast is itchy and his broken collarbone is making him feel nauseous.
"Well?" Obie demands. "Do you? That was not a rhetorical question, Tony, because it's a fucking wonder you didn't. They had to get out the jaw of life to get you out of the wreck."
"No," Tony says quietly, uncertain if he's grateful or not for the fact that Obie waited until Tony was released to do this.
"Then what's been going on here?" Obie asks, dropping down next to Tony's uninjured knee on the sofa. His voice is gentler, coaxing.
"Nothing," Tony says. Nothing he wants to tell anyone about, anyway.
"It's not 'nothing'," says Obie. "It's definitely something, in fact. Tell me." When Tony shakes his head, Obie says, "C'mon, you can trust me. It's not drugs, right? I know you said you weren't doing them, but Tony, if it is, we can get you to, like, the Betty Ford clinic and it'll be ok after you get out of rehab."
"It's not drugs." Tony sighs. "I don't know what it is." He carefully rests his head back against the arm of the couch and ignores Obie's hovering, searching for patterns in the last few months. When was he clearheaded? When was he not? Aside from drinking, what could be the factors?
"Tony?" Obie asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "How could you not know?"
"It's complicated," Tony replies, not making eye contact with the other man as he thinks. And reaches a conclusion. Tony huffs out a sigh, wondering if he can tell Obie and not be judged for it. Obie's different than the others -- Tony could call Obie 'dad' and not really be lying (although Obie himself would probably object to it). He was there for Tony's graduation from MIT, he was there when Tony's parents died, and myriad other occasions that are supposed to be attended by family. Shit, Obie had gone to his little league games and swim meets and judged at his debate tournaments sometimes. Tony's actual dad was too busy and didn't care enough to show up for anything, unless it was something he made Tony do (in the rare instances of him paying attention to something besides whiskey and work) and there were awards or publicity involved (because god knew that's all his father thought Tony was worth).
"Well?" Obie says, a hint of both command and demand in his voice.
Tony looks at him and decides to take the plunge. "I think that it might have been the meds I've been on."
"Meds? Like painkillers?" Obie's expression is calculating, probably figuring out how much damage control will be needed. "Popping pills is still drugs, Tony."
"Not painkillers," Tony replies. "An anti-depressant."
"What?"
Tony's never heard quite that tone from Obie before and it sets him on edge -- the last time he heard something that even sounded similar, Obie had gotten the deal of the century in a merger. But this was Obie. "...I thought I might be depressed and mentioned it to Doctor Santam, who prescribed me something."
"And that went well, didn't it?" Obie asks sardonically. There's something disgusted in his eyes and Tony starts to feel nervous, watching Obie with wide eyes as he leans over, and Tony, who has never felt threatened by Obie in his entire life (as opposed to his father, who was Threat itself), feels his anxiety ratchet up when Obie looks at him like he figured his father might if he knew about the meds. "Let me tell you something, Tony. Everyone feels blue now and then, but only the weak -- the attention starved weak -- need medication to get out of a funk."
"It wasn't just a funk," Tony says defensively. "It was a full year, Obie, of misery and it wasn't the first time."
"Your parents had just died, Tony," Obie replies. "That's all. Lingering sadness that turned into a funk."
"They had died a full year before the 'funk' as you insist on calling it, set in. I had been mostly over their deaths by that point and then," Tony mimes a swooping drop with his hand, "it got awful. I tried to make it better - got out in the sun more, did things I used to enjoy, and stuff, but it didn't work."
"A funk," Obie repeats. "It was a funk. Unless you are that weak?"
Tony's jaw clicks shut. "Fine," he grinds out, weary and hating that he was right about the way people -- even Obie apparently -- would see him if they knew. "A funk.
"Good boy," Obie says brightly and pats his knee. "I knew you could do it. I'll send in your girl to take care of you soon -- you're going to have to deal with the media this time, by the way, because I am done fishing your ass out of the fire -- and you may want her to call your publicist for you."
"She's not my girl," Tony mumbles as Obie leaves, trying to ignore how badly he wants to crawl into a hole and die.
This why he never tells anyone anything, Tony thinks as he dumps the remainder of the pills in the toilet and flushes. It always come back to hurt him. As he dumps the bottle in the trash, he wonders how he let himself forget.
Hypomania >>