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one-time-i-dreamt · 2 months

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When I was very young I had a terrifying dream where my kneecap exploded and water or some sort of liquid started pouring out of it. my mom held me while I cried and water gushed out of my kneecap and flooded my grandma and grandpa’s house.

#dream #body horror tw #injury #horror #nightmare #crying #grandpa #grandma #house #flood #grandfather #grandmother

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regular-gnome · 9 months

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Does Collector have his own mask like his siblings? Why doesn't he hear it as often as them?

they don't like the intimidation factor of masks:p

I didn't really explain it too well. It's about distancing yourself from the situation. Archivists are on a planet to perform a task and leave. They do not believe other creatures to be on the same level so they do not need to relate to them and don't want creatures to try and relate to them. Collector on the other hand wants the connection, they want to play with titans, find new friends so chooses not to distance themself. In my previous job we had to have a whole face mask and clothing so nobody could recognise us, change the stance and the way you walk. After a while you feel a bit like a different person and become indifferent to how anyone perceives you. Thats at least the idea behind the masks:p

#im sorry guys #toh #the owl house #toh archivists #the archivist #toh collectors #toh fanart #owl house #the collector #toh collector #tw blood #and also as a side note #i make a killer grandpa btw #c:i Anatomist

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queen0fm0nsterz · 16 days

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A few days ago I went to visit my grandpa, as I haven't seen him in a few months.

He's on his death bed; his time is fast approaching. I saw it in his eyes. They looked glassy.

My father warned me that it wouldn't have been pretty to see him like that. I wasn't expecting it to be. He's been sick a while and my dad has been taking care of him almost entirely by himself, so I knew it wasn't gonna be nice. Though I'll say, seeing my boisterous, larger-than-life grandfather reduced to the shadow of a man left a bitter taste in my mouth - and tears in my eyes. Still I did not cry. I didn't want grandpa to see me, just in case. I realized that he wouldn't have been able to see me anyway: he looked almost lost in thought. Completely out of it. All he could do was hold his face in his hands, too weak to even roll over.

He didn't respond to my dad when he called for him, nor did he acknowledge my presence initially. My dad glossed over it. Apparently he's not been able to recognise my dad for a few days now. Still, I could have sworn I heard my grandpa mutter his name a few times.

After a while, something happened. Grandpa took his hands off his face and glanced around. Then he looked at me. I cocked my head to the side and said hi. His eyes went wide when I smiled at him. He smiled back. Half hearted, strained, but it was there, and I was so relieved. My dad was wrong; he recognised me. He knew I was there and that I came to say goodbye. I extended my hand towards his own over the bed. He was far away, I thought had to lean in, but I didn't need to. He reached out first. His hand was shaking, purplish in color, but it held mine like it was his last lifeline.

For some reason, this reminded me of something. From times when grandpa wasn't sick, and I heard him talking to my dad over the phone. My dad is a 60 year old man: and still, before hanging up, my grandpa always told him, "A dopo amore." ("Later love"; in Italy, parents oftenly refer to their children as "love"). Because he's still his father's love, even at 60 years old. Me and my sister were also given the same nickname by grandpa, and even as he was fading away, I was still his "love". I felt it in the way he held my hand.

That's how I wanna remember him. So I won't be going to see him again, nor will I look back. I left him with that.

A dopo, amore.

#carols.txt #not sure why i decided to write this all out #i've been emotional about it. i wanted to draw a comic to explain these emotions i've been feeling #the grief im experiencing #this is ok to reblog/comment btw I dont mind #maybe this is my way of grieving #grandpa is 90 years old he lived a long fulfilling life #and though im sad to see him go i am glad i could meet him ultimately #im 20 years old after all #lots of people my age dont get the privilege of having their grandpas alive #tw death #tw grief #^ just in case someone doesnt wanna see this

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karda · 2 months

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been living with my stepdad for like 3 years and have literally never seen any of his side of the family bc they live 7 hrs away and never cared to visit their disabled and dying grandpa but now that hes dead they're making plans to come next week to go through his stuff. he has no stuff. the last 5 years hes lived in sweatpants and button up shirts. u want his boots?? u wanna go through his filing cabinet? wanna rifle through everything he owned for value? i hope u die

#everything of ours is mixed in this house. you want to go through the garage? my stuffs in there #we live here #ik u dont know that because u literally dont know me but i live here and i know your grandpa better than you do #rambling #sorry im just. pissed the fuck off #death tw #death mention #vent

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earthmoonz · 28 days

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WIFEY. | EPISODE SEVEN (7.7)

start / previous / next

On the way home, the two drove in heavy silence while traffic mounted. Rain had resumed and Max’s anxious unease had given way to pained exhaustion. They retreated into their self, mind overrun with memories of their mother, and the bubble of grief they often swallowed was forming a lump in their throat.

Meanwhile, Lena was at a loss. She knew that nothing she could say would improve things. She was hesitant to cross the lines of a newly formed dynamic. She’d tried her best not to listen back at the house, but from what she did hear, it was clear Max loved their mother. Her death had been a great loss. The loss that Lena knew was different. Her father’s passing felt like a gift. She wondered if her brother’s disappearance was a curse.

Eventually, Max’s growling stomach broke the silence. They realised that aside from a croissant at breakfast and crisps from a petrol station on the way to Sandra’s, they hadn’t eaten today. Suddenly, all they could think about was food. Thankfully, Lena echoed their sentiment. The pub they found seemed like well earned mercy. Food fixed most things, with any luck it would provide a useful distraction.

(transcript below)

(MAX): Can we get something to eat?

(LENA): Course.

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sheepstiel · 4 months

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anyways. maybe just treat people the same no matter their current weight. maybe don't comment on their food intake or eating habits or ask them about their fitness routine unprompted.

#it's medical. i'm taking meds that make me lose weight grandpa. there is no routine.#i'm not opposed to it because i have expendable rolls here and there. but it could be dangerous. my doc isn't even weighing me regularly #sheep talks #cw body image #tw weight-loss

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one-time-i-dreamt · 10 months

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Bluey ate my grandpa.

#dream #bluey #grandpa #horror #nightmare #death tw #family #grandfather

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gins-stim-emporium · 2 months

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boomer , bubby x coomer (hlvrai) stimboard! (with no clay / slime) for @gmanwhore ! ヽ(≧◡≦)八(o^ ^o)ノ

green goop! / lasers / indium

boxing / 🥊💚 🩵🥽 / rocket

plasma ball / lava bottle / flask & fire

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suiana · 9 months

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What happens when reader grows up a bit? I’m just imagining reader in like an emo phase, flipping people off but going to grandpa and grandma to help them back cookies, and grandma puts their hair back in cute little bobby pins :D

(reader is around 13-14)

platonic yan grandma would be ecstatic!! she had a similar phase when she was younger too n would definitely encourage u ^__^ obviously teaches you how to do your eyeliner n gives you fashion tips ;)

platonic yan grandpa on the other hand would only sigh as one of his favourite people goes through this same phase again (he was childhood friends with granny n saw through her entire goth emo phase) LOL but he'd still love u :33 he'd even beat up or hire people who bully you 😂😂

#suiana's sinners #yandere #tw yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yan grandpa #platonic yan grandma #suiana brainrotting #suiana rambling

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alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

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“Hey, Steve—”

He stops, placing his feet carefully, all too aware of the added weight strapped to his back. The ax makes him sway slightly—or maybe it’s not the ax, he thinks, turning back. Maybe it’s the weight of Eddie’s gaze crossing with his, maybe it’s the promise of something awful looming over them. Maybe it’s the stench of fear and decay, so prominent here in the world of creatures that want nothing but to destroy.

The moment feels heavy, giving them all another reason to hesitate. They look at each other for a long second, Steve’s gaze curious, Eddie’s skittish and unsure. To see Eddie Munson unsure is so rare even Dustin looks surprised. Steve feels exposed, more exposed than when he was half-naked and everyone could practically see the inside of his body. He desperately needs Robin to reassure him that he’s still there because one more look into Eddie’s eyes and he’ll lose it.

The silence between them seems to stretch into eternity, Eddie’s gaze drops, then he looks back up, and suddenly—

Suddenly Steve’s six again, roaming around the new house his parents bought not too long ago. The house is weird, Steve doesn’t like it. It’s bigger than the other one, looks fancier and Steve has already been instructed not to touch anything and to play only in his own room should he find it necessary. Entering his father’s study is strictly forbidden, so naturally, his mind is set on trying to get inside that room somehow, even if it means getting in trouble. But he has to find it first.

He passes yet another guest room when he catches something with the corner of his eye. His tiny feet carry him to the window, and then immediately outside into his brand new backyard, where in the furthest corner he finds a big, spectacularly green tree with—yes! A treehouse!

He’s so excited, finally having something just for himself in this big, empty house, where he’s not allowed to do anything but breathe and study. He’s up the ladder in no time, using as much force as he has to lift the flap and hoist himself inside.

He looks around and jumps in excitement. It’s perfect. It’s like—like magic, like he has teleported himself into another child’s room. There are stacks of colorful books in the corner, a patched-up blanket on the floor, some toys, some board games, even. Is this place real? He can’t wait to tell his mother how grateful he is for that, he’ll have to give special thanks to his father, too, because his father always says that everything he has is due to their goodwill—

Steve’s startled when he hears the ladder moving again, then he takes a step back when the flap goes flying open and a head full of dark, curly hair appears just next to his feet.

They stare each other down, the intruder’s dark eyes wide in shock, Steve’s in fear mixed with surprise. It’s a boy, probably around his age, but how did he get here?

“Are you… real?” Steve asks, not knowing what else to do.

The boy furrows his brows. “Obviously?”

They stare at each other for a second longer, then something flashes on the boy’s face and he nods to himself like he’s made up his mind. Then he clambers inside and stands in front of Steve. He’s a little bigger, dressed in clean but shabby clothes. His gaze is scrutinizing.

“Why are you here?” he asks, his tone accusatory. Steve wants to take another step back, but his feet are locked in place.

“We’ve moved in today.”

“Oh,” the boy’s face deflates, but his arms are still crossed protectively over his chest. “For good?”

“Uh. Yes?” Steve feels out of his depth. His parents told him that he shouldn’t talk to strangers, but… “Why are you here?”

“There’s a hole in the fence,” the boy shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “It’s my hang-out spot.”

Steve isn’t sure what a hang-out spot is, exactly, but he still nods. Neither of them speaks for a moment, then the boy’s arms drop to his sides and he reaches for the blanket.

“Alright, I’ll get my stuff and—”

“No!” Steve yells, clutching the other end of the blanket and trying to yank it from the boy’s hands. “I mean… We can play together here. These things are cool,” he says, his face getting hot. He’s telling the truth, the things in the treehouse are cool, but also—Steve isn’t allowed to play with other children, not the ones he’d like to play with, anyway. Only the ones his parents choose. This boy is none of those.

He takes a look around, clearly thinking about his options. Then his eyes land on Steve. He looks and he looks, and Steve feels a little like when the teachers his father hires to train him in things he doesn’t really understand ask him questions to which he has no answers.

This time, the outcome of the evaluation, as they like to call it, is positive. The boy drops the blanket.

“And you won’t tell your parents I’ve been here? Ever? You can’t tell.”

“I won’t,” Steve says earnestly, shaking his head. He won’t tell. He really won’t.

The boy looks at him for a while longer and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he smiles. His smile is wide and welcoming, so wide Steve can see the missing tooth in the back of his mouth. “Okay,” he says, simply. He’s so eager to play he immediately starts gathering toys and books. When he reaches for something lying on a high shelf, his tee rides up.

There’s a big, angry bruise on his back.

Steve wants to ask about it, but his parents told him not to pry—

“What’s your name?” he asks instead. The boy whips his head around and furrows his brows at Steve again.

“You sure you won’t tell your parents?” Steve nods. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he replies without hesitation.

“I’m Eddie,” the boy replies, sitting down on the floor and urging Steve to sit down next to him. He complies.

“I’m Steve,” he introduces himself, sitting down somewhat gingerly. The boy grins again and Steve can’t hold back his own smile any longer.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. How much do you know about elves?”

In no time, they become secret best friends. They hang out almost every day throughout the summer, and Steve learns so much about magic and fantastical worlds and creatures he can’t think of anything else. Sometimes they just sit down and draw, sometimes Eddie reads his books out loud, forcing Steve to see how cool they are—Steve’s not too good at reading himself, but he enjoys Eddie’s stories.

Eddie has a knack for making things up. One day, when Steve hoists himself inside in the worst of moods, having heard that he really is and probably will forever be no use in business from his father, Eddie just starts telling him a story Steve’s sure he’s never heard before. Then, next time, Eddie is in the worst of moods, fresh circular marks burned onto his arms, so Steve takes his poster paints and decorates the skin around them to make them prettier—which, sure, not the smartest idea, but it works, Eddie’s laughing, all okay.

When school starts, they keep it a secret. They pretend that they don’t know each other in the corridors, giggling between themselves when no one is around. They still meet up afterward, even in winter—then summer comes and everything’s great again. Steve has a best friend, and they play together and they share secrets together, and his parents can’t do anything about it, because they don’t know.

Steve has a best friend. Until said best friend disappears suddenly during the school year. Without a word. Steve has heard something about his parents, his father, but he’s not allowed to ask questions—he promised not to tell, didn’t he?

He doesn’t ask, but he still hopes. Every day, he climbs up that ladder and waits, waits so long, until the memory of Eddie’s voice gets blurred and distorted, and his smell no longer lingers on the things he left in their treehouse.

Steve gets to see him again when he’s in middle school, freshly moved to Hawkins, not expecting to meet anyone he knows here in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. He’s so surprised on the first day of school—their new house has no treehouse in the backyard, but Eddie is here. It must be Eddie. His hair is buzzed and he looks like he’s had enough of life, but it’s him.

Only, he doesn’t seem to care that it’s Steve. Maybe he doesn’t recognize him? But he does. When their paths cross in the corridor, he stops so suddenly, his eyes go big, just like they did in that treehouse for the first time. He’s just about to smile when Tommy, Steve’s new classmate, appears around the corner, calling out for him, and Eddie’s face turns to steel. Steve remembers his accusatory glare. It’s there.

Eddie turns heel and runs. Steve tries to talk to him again, but it doesn’t work. Tommy hangs around him like a vulture, scaring Eddie away—and besides, is it really Steve’s job to talk to him? He’s not the only one that’s confused, hurt, even.

Oh, it hurts like hell. It was never supposed to happen.

Steve spends a few nights crying over that. Then comes high school, people start calling him King Steve and Eddie looks at him with such disgust it makes Steve want to take a shower whenever their eyes lock in class. Steve’s senior year is torture because he shares it with Eddie, who clearly hates him so much he’d spit on him if he had a chance. Even after Steve’s fall from grace, Eddie doesn’t stop looking at him with anger burning in his eyes.

And he’s almost always looking, while Steve misses him like crazy.

Eddie kinda makes him think that he’s completely unlikeable. That he’s broken and can’t be fixed, can’t befriend anyone—until Robin.

Oh, Robin. Amazing, caring, beautiful, smart, snarky Robin. The relationship he builds with her quickly becomes the most important one in his life. She’s as much a part of him as his hand or heart is. Steve’s not a poet, but he’s sure, really sure that she’s the one thing he didn’t know that was missing in his life—like a part of his soul was wandering somewhere around the universe, lost and unable to come back without help.

What he has with Robin is unique, complete and incomparable. No one understands him the way she does, no one loves him the way she does. Among others, these are the things that make their friendship so unlike any other relationship Steve’s had. Robin isn’t just his friend. Robin is something entirely different, something Steve can’t, for the life of him, put into words.

On rare occasions, though, thinking about her does bring up memories of Eddie. Was it similar with him? No, it wasn’t. But then what was it, exactly?

Steve’s quite successful in pushing those moments away. He is, even when the kids join Eddie’s little nerd club. He is, even when the manhunt starts.

It’s the piece of shattered bottle pressed to his neck that makes him lose it. It’s Eddie’s misery, fear, and the real, tangible danger he’s in. The words he says to Steve along the way (you'd have let me die if Nancy hadn't jumped?). It’s the fact that they still don’t talk, not about things that matter, even though they suddenly have to coexist in a world that wants them destroyed and they have to do everything in their power to stop it. Together.

It’s the fact that Eddie may not make it. Even if they get out of the Vecna situation, will they be able to save Eddie from the people that see him as some kind of evil sent by the heavens to decimate them?

Steve’s worried, so worried. He’s worried about the kids—hell, Max is his top priority. But at the same time, other thoughts float in the back of his mind and he can’t seem to shake them off.

He can’t keep them all safe. Someone has to risk everything, they just don’t know who, exactly. For that, Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. Leaving things unsaid… It will kill him too, eventually.

Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. He hopes. He hopes and hopes, and—

Eddie’s gaze is on him again. Not skittish. Still scared, still unsure, but set, at the same time.

“Make him pay,” he says, a sense of finality overpowering his words.

Steve can’t believe it. He wants to scream, he wants to shake Eddie’s shoulders until he sees some sense. That’s not what you wanted to say! That’s not how it ends! That’s not how we part before possible disaster!

And he’s angry, he’s sad, it hurts like hell, because—what if Eddie doesn't care about him at all? Has he ever cared? Is he supposed to care for both of them? What’s he supposed to do now? Go up there, slap him, yell at him, hold him?

Steve doesn’t know where that last thought comes from. It’s certainly not something he should do at any point.

The eyes of Nancy, Dustin and Robin drill holes into his skull. He’s waiting for too long, hoping that maybe it’ll resolve itself.

Only it won’t. Eddie won’t say anything else. Steve won’t run up there and hold him. Instead, he nods. Eddie nods back, sealing the deal. Steve holds his gaze a little longer – their last chance.

It goes unnoticed. His team sets out and for the sake of them both, Steve is going to hold on to the hope of seeing another day.

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