#tw mourning
Text
Hi. My dad died. Disappearing from here for a few days/weeks.
Nothing is abandoned and I’m doing as well as I can. Please keep me/him/our family in your thoughts. He was an incredible man and I used so much of him for inspiration in my writing. Love you dad 💜
355 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sooooo.... the disaster twin stuff really got my heart in the oof ouchy ouchy. How about Mikey and Raph? I feel like we haven't seen much of their POVs nothing against Donnie at all but I'm super curious
Hey! I kinda just scroll through Tumblr when I'm on my break sometimes and I just wanna say that your stuff's fucking cool. And as someone raised in a cult as well I'm very intrigued to see where you go with Tentative Devotee.
Mikey and Raph are...
It's hard to draw family portraits when you're not growing with us
How were you gone so fast?
Also: Aww thank you! I'm glad you're intrigued. I hope my upcoming work is enjoyable!
TD!AU Masterpost (to be updated soon)
#td!au leonardo#td!au raphael#td!au michelangelo (mentioned)#buwan's art#my art#tentative devotee doodle#tentative devotee ask#buwan answer#tw sibling death#< not really but just in case#tw mourning#rottmnt tentative devotee au
586 notes
·
View notes
Text
Liam's tumblr is gone..
Even though he's not with us anymore, I did still look at his blog sometimes.
That was all I had left, probably the same case for some of his other friends..
I'm in mourning all over again..
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Parting Glass
Hey I've been through some shit the last few weeks so let's do Christmas the Irish way. By making it ✨miserable✨ and putting Eddie through situations. But with a hopeful ending.
Just as a note of warning, this fic contains death, funerals and Eddie working through his grief. It was originally devised as a part of this fun little challenge and then... welp, I used it to process. 😅
The prompts I got were: Eddie arrives to town recently single to inherit something, Steve lives in the town and is a famous musician (but not here). Eddie falls in love with the holidays, the town and some guy. I'll be honest these prompts got away from me so they're not followed exactly.
AO3
For my granddad.
It was nearly Christmas and Eddie was driving back to Hawkins for the second time in two weeks.
He was alone.
Again.
And for good this time.
The last time, when he had come back when Wayne was sick and not getting any better, he wasn’t supposed to be on his own.
In the days leading up to it, Jack had been in his ear the entire time.
“I’ll be there for you.”
“I won’t let you go through this alone.”
“You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I’ll support you the whole way.”
All over the phone. It couldn’t be helped. Eddie was a writer, he could work from literally anywhere. Or at least anywhere that had an internet connection. Even then, he might not need that. Just a post box.
Jack was back home in their apartment that Eddie had bought them with his first big paycheck.
Eddie had called to tell him that Wayne had passed, numb and monotone and not really fully registering just what that meant. That he was gone. Like gone-gone.
Forever.
He wasn’t just gonna… open his eyes again and start talking. He wasn’t gonna go back home, or sit in his armchair or shout at the tv or lie in his own bed one last time… And… What about his mugs? He… Wayne had so many mugs, what was gonna happen to them? He loved those mugs.
And Jack had said he’d be there. He’d promised.
And then he wasn’t.
Because something had come up at work or he thought he was coming down with something or he hadn’t got enough sleep the night before and didn’t feel safe making the drive and he felt really bad about it, just a steady stream of excuses but also- that was it.
I feel really bad about it. Full stop. No attempt to say, I’ll make it up to you. Or even just the bare minimum of I’ll try my best to be there no matter what.
And like a flash in the pan Eddie went from devastated to angry to just cold acceptance.
“Fine.” He’d grit out over the phone, feeling simultaneously broken hearted and fucking indignant. Because, yes, it was a little selfish to feel like Jack should have thrown all that to the side to be here with him. But his fucking family had just died. He was allowed to be a little selfish.
Eddie needed him there.
Didn’t just want him there, he needed him there.
But instead he had to go through it all, alone.
He was on his own just before Christmas, trying to organise a funeral for the only family he had.
He didn’t have much time to think straight. He resolved to put it all out of his mind until this was all over because Wayne deserved his attention right now.
Eddie had expected it to be small and quiet if he was being honest with himself. Wayne had been a man who kept to himself and all he had was Eddie.
He was just thankful the local funeral home wasn’t completely decked out in tinsel and lights and trees. It was going to be hard enough as it was without a constant reminder of the time of year.
Quiet and subdued, with just a few stragglers, as depressing as that was. He could handle that right?
But then the people started turning up at the funeral home and they just didn’t stop.
The entire trailer park came out to see him, even Mrs. Cartwright, who was stone deaf and half blind with a bad hip, shuffled into the room on the arm of another of the neighbours, a red headed young woman, to offer her condolences. Then there were Wayne’s coworkers from the plant, the farmers he’d talk to in the pub, his fantasy football league, childhood friends that he hadn’t spoken to in years but still wanted to pay their respects, teachers from the school, store workers, the nurses who looked after him. Eddie’s own friends, the Corroded Coffin boys, the Hellfire kids, Rick, even some of his most loyal customers from back in his dealing days.
It kept going, just floods and floods of people young and old passing through the room to pay their respects, offer their condolences and shake Eddie’s hand.
He was completely overwhelmed. By the end of it, his hand was fucking sore, his throat was raw and if he lingered on the thought any longer, of how many people had shown up for his uncle, had loved him, he’d start crying all over again, even though he was pretty sure he’d run dry.
Jeff, Gareth and Grant hung around for hours after they’d been through the procession once, waiting for a moment to talk to him and ask if he wanted them to stay with him for the rest of the funeral and after. For as long as he was back in Hawkins.
It went unspoken that Eddie had been in that room alone and they were trying to save him from that, so he took them up on the offer. Stood with his oldest friends that he really should have spoken to more over the years while Wayne was lowered into the ground.
They took him out for a few drinks afterwards but Eddie didn’t have it in him to make it a whole night thing. He was exhausted, but he promised to stay in better contact.
When it all was said and done, Eddie found it incredibly difficult to get into the car and drive back.
He didn’t want to leave Wayne here alone.
He didn’t want to be states away anymore.
He wanted to be home. In this shitty little small town that he had hated growing up in but was such an important part of his life, that was familiar and sedentary and fucking quaint and most importantly had a memory of Wayne in every single corner.
Jack would never go for it.
But now that Eddie was on his own, in the car, it gave him a lot of time to stew on just how long he’d been on his own already.
Eddie loved fast and Eddie loved hard. If someone gained his trust or his loyalty, he would do anything for them. It would be a very, very hard thing for someone to lose. But it also made him incredibly blind to their flaws.
This wasn’t the first time Jack had pulled out of something at the last second. And most of the time it was just because he didn’t want to do whatever it was, regardless of if he had made promises about it.
And Eddie had let it go each and every time before because, well, it was fine. He got over it and it wasn’t that big of a deal.
But he had needed Jack there this time. And he’d done it all alone.
If the situations were reversed, Eddie would have crawled on his belly through broken fucking glass to be where Jack needed him and nothing less than an explicit “I don’t want you there” would have deterred him.
And when he got back to their apartment and Jack had turned to him with a sympathetic, “How was it?” Eddie fucking lost it.
He’d screamed so loud and with so much anger and devastation, the neighbours called the cops and again Eddie was on his own trying to explain what had happened while Jack just shuffled around in the background looking vaguely guilty and shell shocked, muttering “You never told me you wanted me there” when the cops finally left.
And Eddie was just fucking done. He was broken. It was finished.
“I didn’t think I had to. My family died. And you had been telling me the entire time that you’d be there. You told me you’d be there for me. And then you just weren’t.”
So that was it.
Eddie couldn’t stand to be in that city anymore. Anonymous and lonely and fucking claustrophobic. Couldn’t stand to be in the apartment with its white Christmas lights and expensive baubles and store bought charm without an inch of personality because it “looks prettier this way.”
The fucking cushions that couldn’t be used to prop up his back because he’d squish the filling and the throws that were there for decoration, placed perfectly, giving the apartment the impression of lived in warmth without any actual emotion in it.
He sold the apartment to Jack, waiting for the heartbreak of the end of a years long relationship to finally hit him. But it never did.
Maybe his emotions were all worn out and it would hit him properly later.
The same way he knew he still hadn’t fully registered that Wayne was gone yet.
So.
Now he was here.
Standing in the cold of the trailer park, his breath fogging up in front of him, snow crushed underneath his boots and night blanketing him. He had a box of stuff in his arms, rooted to the ground between his still warm car and the dark and shadowed front door, thinking hysterically for a moment that he hadn’t asked Wayne if he could move back in.
But he couldn’t, of course he couldn’t, Wayne was gone and he wasn’t coming back and Eddie had no way of contacting him in the fucking afterlife if there even was one to ask if he could turn up on his doorstep again in almost the exact same way he had nearly fifteen years ago.
Wayne would have probably given him a light smack over the back of the head and told him he was always welcome, no matter the circumstances.
Still.
It felt wrong to just assume he could be here without checking in with him first.
He could hear his voice in his head, could almost see him standing silhouetted in the warm glow of the doorway, looking soft and worn in. “Get your ass in here son, before you freeze to death.”
Eddie blinked and the door was closed and dark and empty again. There was no noise coming from inside the trailer, no sound of the tv going, no smells of cooking, no heat, no light.
It was an empty shell.
The glow of the other trailers surrounded him, the small muffled noises of life going on inside each and every one, warm yellows spilling out of their windows or multicoloured lights lining their roofs or their porches, Mariah Carey singing her heart out somewhere in the distance.
“No one ever tells you the front door is one of the hardest parts.”
Eddie jumped, whipping his head around to find the same redheaded woman standing off to the side, bundled up in a thick homemade scarf and puffer jacket, her hands in her pockets and winter boots unlaced, like she'd just thrown them on, the grooves in the snow behind her telling him she’d walked to him from somewhere across the park.
Eddie squeezed the box a little tighter to himself, finally feeling the biting cold through his fingers.
“Yeah. I-” he swallowed, looking up at the door again. “How long have I been standing here?”
He could hear the snow crunching under her boots as she came closer. “I don’t know.” Fabric rustled somewhere beside him as she shrugged. “Mrs. Cartwright only told me you were out here a few minutes ago. I dunno how she even noticed, she can barely see five foot in front of her face.”
Eddie turned to the trailer he remembered the old lady living in to see her sitting by the window, squinting out into the snow. She offered him a toothless smile and a little wave when she saw the two of them looking back.
He was just about able to unstick his hand from the box to wave back.
“And you’re her-?”
“Neighbour. But I check in on her as often as I can. She’s good company.”
“Oh.”
The two of them stood there, in the cold, in the snow, just looking at each other and Eddie could feel the spectre of the dark and empty trailer looming over him. Before this redhead turned up, he could have conceivably turned back, gotten into the car and found a motel room or something for the night. This might have all been easier to face in the daytime.
But now he’d been seen, he was trapped and he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.
“When my mom died,” the woman said, coming around to face him, “I just kinda switched off. I was on autopilot for a lot of the time but my first day back at the trailer after the burial, I couldn’t go inside. She wasn’t in there anymore. Same as you, I don’t know how long I was out there before Steve came and found me.”
“You’re Max.” Eddie said, his brain finally putting the pieces together. “Wayne talked about you.”
Max’s face broke out into a wide delighted grin. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Eddie smiled back. “He said you never wore your helmet when you were skateboarding.”
She snorted. “Yeah. And the one time he finally convinced me to, I took a hell of a tumble. Broke my-”
“Leg, I think it was?”
“Nah, man.” Max shook her head. “Not just my leg, I broke my damn femur. Strongest bone in the body and snap.” She clapped her gloved hands together, muffling what should have surely been a hard impact. “With six months of therapy to go along with it. Got me into the job I’m in today, though.”
“He said you’re a physical therapist?”
“Yup. And he said you’re a writer.”
Eddie nodded.
“Well then, Writer Eddie Munson. How do you feel about the front door now?”
He looked back up, finding that it wasn’t quite as intimidating as it had been before.
“A little better.”
“Good. I’m glad. Can I give you a hand?”
“Oh, uh-” he looked back down at the box in his hand, flexing his fingers around the keychain he still had hanging off his thumb. “Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind.”
Max nodded, stepping forward and taking the box from him. Eddie gave her a small smile before squaring his shoulders and facing the door once more and stepping up towards the porch before he could stop himself.
Amongst his set of similar shaped keys, he easily found the one to the trailer, the same one he had cut out of a black blank when he was younger and so edgy.
With a deep breath he slipped it into the lock and turned, feeling it catch like it always did halfway through and jostling it in a way that was so familiar from years of doing the same thing, it hit him like a truck.
He swallowed down hard as he gestured Max in, switching the lights on.
It didn’t smell like Wayne anymore. Not really. It had been weeks since anyone had been inside. But the memory of the smell was there.
It was freezing, an empty shell of a building that had been left to hold its ghosts. The pipes were probably frozen through too, but he and Wayne had handled that plenty of times before, this would be nothing new.
Everything of Waynes was still here. His boots were by the door, his jackets were hung up, his mugs lined the walls. The remote was on the floor next to his recliner, like it had been accidentally nudged off of the arm and hadn’t been picked up yet.
It was like Wayne had just stepped out, or was hiding in another room.
Eddie could feel his heart start to crumble just a little more.
The two of them got his boxes and bags unpacked from his car and into the trailer in silence. He was pretty sure Max knew that he was just waiting for her to leave so he could break down in peace but even so, she turned to face him after placing the last box down.
“You can say no.” She said, hands back in her pockets. “But a few friends are flying in on Thursday and we’re going to meet up at Cathy’s. You’re welcome to come if you’re feeling up for it.”
Cathy’s pub, Wayne used to go there all the time. The actual name of the place was The Attic, but no one called it that, everyone called it Cathy’s. As much of an Irish pub as one could get out in Hawkins without actually being an Irish Pub. It just happened to be run by an Irish woman who refused to entertain four leaf clovers and green pints and had kicked people out in the past for calling it ‘Patty’s Day’ instead of ‘Paddy’s Day.’
Eddie nodded at her, his eyes already starting to mist up from everything settling around his shoulders.
“Thanks.” He sniffled. “I’ll think about it.”
She offered him a gentle smile and said her goodbyes, not lingering around when he so clearly wanted to be on his own.
He watched through the window as Max carved a path through the snow back to Mrs. Cartwright’s trailer, before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and starting to unpack.
Last night had been one of the roughest nights of Eddie’s entire life.
He’d only managed to switch the electric heater on and open one box before the silence got to him.
He’d switched on the tv and had to flip channels for far too long before he found what he was looking for because he didn’t know where the sports channels were hidden away, he’d never wanted or needed to look for them before.
But having the trailer filled with the sound of sports commentators and the crowds in the stadium and an obscene amount of advertisements was enough to make him crack.
He’d ended up in a ball on the floor, crying so much he felt like he’d never stop, breathing so hard he felt himself getting lightheaded.
Every time the tears subsided and he had started to get a handle on himself, he saw something that would start the cycle all over again. The Garfield mug, Wayne’s favourite winter hat, the stash of red vines he kept hidden beside his armchair, a habit he got into and never got out of when they were living together to keep them away from Eddie’s sweet-tooth.
By the time Eddie had pulled himself up to curl into the couch, he had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a nest of Wayne’s clothes surrounding him, the smell just barely lingering.
He drank himself into a stupor.
The morning after was equally rough but in an entirely different way. When he was woken up by the sound of daytime life outside the trailer door, bleary and foggy, he recognised his surroundings before anything else.
“Wayne?” He’d called, half expecting to turn to find him in his armchair, the sounds of the sports channel still filling in the space of the room.
But then he remembered.
All over again he remembered.
He was barely able to do anything for himself that day. Most of it was spent staring off into space, waiting for things to get better, like everyone always said it would. Waiting for the pain to dull and to be able to function again.
He stood in the doorway of what had been Wayne’s bedroom and then his own and became Wayne’s again once he moved out.
He never thought he’d be back here, moving back into this exact same bedroom all over again.
He didn’t sleep in the bed that night. Or the night after.
He couldn’t. Not yet.
He had managed to get the water running, so that was a plus and by the time he had some of his stuff unpacked the trailer no longer looked like a warehouse full of boxes, but instead looked like a cluttered and messy home.
He didn’t have the strength to move any of Wayne’s things, so his own stuff just kind of existed in corners or on countertops and it was fine.
Everything was fine.
This was his life now.
This was what he wanted.
It was fine.
Snow was starting to swirl around him as he stood outside Cathy’s, slowly accumulating in his hair and building up around his boots as the warm light and laughter inside seeped out of the building.
There were twinkling multi-colored lights lining the outside and glittering through the fogged up windows and Eddie could see inside was decorated with green garlands draped from every available surface, red, gold and silver baubles woven in throughout and topped off with a healthy smattering of tinsel.
It was the most inviting thing he had seen recently and he ached to go inside. It was just so full of memories.
But he was stuck.
Rooted to the spot like he had been outside the trailer door a few days ago.
Wayne would have loved all of this.
He loved Christmas.
He loved Christmas late nights at Cathy’s.
And it was only really then, when he’d been so painfully aware of it in the back of his mind for the last few weeks, that this was going to be the first Christmas he had to endure without Wayne.
“Eddie?”
Well, no running now.
But it wasn’t Max this time.
“Eddie Munson, my god. Is that really you?”
Eddie turned and was met by the sight of someone he hadn’t seen in the longest time.
“Chris?”
Chrissy Cunningham was standing in front of him in all her short and bright glory with a blinding smile on her face. Something deep in him warmed under her gaze. They hadn’t been friends for very long before they both skipped town in opposite directions, not to mention the ill-fated crushes they had both quietly harboured for each other once upon a time, but that was never gonna work out.
Even so, a friendly face he recognised was just what he needed right now. Someone to help him brace everything in front of him through those doors. The Wayne of it all. And the terror of potentially being introduced to a whole group of people as a new outsider, in mourning, no less.
A loud burst of laughter rang out from inside as they looked at each other and Eddie felt something fizzle and settle gently in his chest.
In a tiny little moment, they clicked again, still friends after all this time, no matter the distance.
Chrissy looked at him, a thousand emotions passing through her eyes as she worked through what she was going to say. She had definitely heard about Wayne’s death. Wayne had taken her in on more than one occasion when her mother had gotten to be too much.
Eddie had to get his ability to collect strays from somewhere, after all.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. By the time I heard I couldn’t get a flight in time and I should have been here for you.”
“It’s okay.” he smiled at her. And it was okay, really.
She wormed her hand in between his elbow and his side where they were clenched tight from the cold, looping her arm through. “I’ll stick with you the whole night if you want me to.”
Eddie’s whole body sagged in relief, not knowing he needed to hear it until he did.
“Please.”
Chrissy nodded, a steely look of determination on her face and their arms held tight together as they pushed their way inside.
The warm glow and homely smells hit him immediately and he felt his shoulders loosen even more. It was loud inside but not unbearable, the sounds of conversation mingling in with the speakers softly playing out a mix of traditional Irish music and what had to be some Christmas best hits album.
Eddie dragged his eyes across the bar, while Chrissy looked around at the people sitting at various tables and booths.
“Are you looking for anyone in particular?” He asked.
“I only just flew in today. I’m supposed to be meeting up with a number of- oh! There they are.”
She pointed towards the back by the fire that Cathy had put in, claiming it couldn’t be a proper pub without a fire. The series of tables were all pushed a little closer to each other, overflowing with people and Eddie had to blink at them a few times, realising there were definitely a few familiar faces grinning back at him and waving the two of them over.
The first person he recognised was Max, her bright red hair standing out amongst the sea of browns and chestnuts and blacks. It was then that his eye was drawn around the table and saw his Corroded Coffin boys and the Hellfire kids looking back at him.
Damn, he’d forgotten to tell the boys about his impulsive move back here. He hadn’t really told anyone about it apart from Jack. But they didn’t seem to hold it against him. It was plain as day on their faces that they knew he might not exactly be doing things logically right about now.
And then there were the Hellfire kids.
Or he supposed he could hardly call them kids anymore.
They would all be somewhere in their mid-twenties at this stage and wasn’t that just a mind trip?
They all stood to greet Chrissy and himself, hugs and pats on the back all around, the Hellfire kids and Max introducing one of the few truly unfamiliar faces amongst the bunch, El. Another woman he vaguely recognised gave him a small wave but eventually he realised who she was, because this was a small town and everyone at least knew of everyone in one way or the other.
Robin Buckley, from band.
What a strange mix of people.
She and Chrissy shared a long look with each other, eventually revealing that Robin was her long term girlfriend.
Eddie nodded along, told her it was nice to meet her but couldn’t help the taste of bitterness that rose up in his throat when he looked at the two of them, not being able to remember the last time he had been out with Jack and feeling like his company was enjoyed and Jack wasn’t just waiting to go home with or without him.
It had barely been a week since they had broken up but the loneliness had been there for a while.
He had only just managed to get his coat and scarf off before Cathy appeared at their table, a drink in each hand.
“Eddie, darling.” She said, placing the two drinks down in front of him and scooping him up into a hug. “It’s so good to see you back home, love.”
She was an older woman, warm and wrinkled and soft, smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke and perfume in a mix that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was.
“Thanks, Cathy.” He muttered into her neck, pulling back away only to find his face in her hands.
“If you need anything at all, you know where to find me, right?”
He gave her a shaky smile, not really sure what to do with himself, he could feel everyone else at the table watching them.
“Yeah.”
“Good boy.” She grinned back at him, petting his cheek before gesturing down at the drinks she dropped off at the table.
“This is for you, love. On the house.” She pointed at the beer bottle. “And this one,” she rested her hand next to the glass of whiskey, neat. Wayne’s drink. “It’s tradition. One last tipple for your dear uncle. And none of you,” she whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at everyone in the booth, “are to touch it.”
They all stared up at her wide eyed and nodded while she turned her smile back on Eddie. “You take care of yourself, now. You hear me?”
“I’ll do my best.” He gave her a short salute and she rolled her eyes at him in a good natured way before turning and heading back to the bar.
Eddie swept his eyes over the pub, hoping to get an idea of how much of a scene had been made, as quiet as they had been tucked away in their corner. But before he could take a proper inventory, the doors were pushed open and even from the back of the pub Eddie could feel the cold following in the figure's wake.
The newcomer brushed the snow out of his hair and stomped his shoes out before flashing a smile at Cathy and weaving his way through the tables towards them.
He was almost offensively pretty, his cheeks, nose and lips rosy from the cold, unwinding a scarf from around his neck, giving Eddie a glance at a spattering of moles across his skin. He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to get out the last of the snow.
He looked so familiar.
It had been a long ten or so years since they'd seen each other, but it couldn’t be.
Could it?
“Hi, sorry I’m late, I-”
“Harrington?”
Steve Harrington stopped short, standing in front of him, staring at him with cheeks getting slightly redder.
“Eddie.” He said, a little breathlessly, running his hand through his hair again, but it seemed to be more from nerves this time. “Hi.”
Oh, so they were on first name terms? Okay, he could deal with that.
Except that maybe he couldn’t deal with it, because his childhood Big Gay Crush was standing in front of him, smiling at him and looking like he’d just been beamed out of the campest Christmas movie in existence, the warm glow of the Christmas lights and the fire dancing across his skin, bundled up in a dark red sweater and his hair was somehow still perfect.
But he was saved from having to respond as the group started shuffling around to greet him, Robin reaching out to pull him into a tight hug, like they hadn’t seen each other in ages.
Eddie moved back, sitting down at a stool at the edge of the tables, next to Chrissy and across from Robin and Steve who were whispering fiercely to each other, Robin explaining the whiskey on the table wasn’t to be touched and sending what they must have thought were subtle nods in his direction and well, he wasn’t sure what else he expected from tonight.
Apparently he was a local spectacle now.
But still, his boys were here, the Hellfire kids were here, Chrissy was here, he had plenty of people available to him to distract himself from Steve sitting directly across from him.
He had only managed to get halfway through the drink Cathy had brought him before he was approached again, this time by an older man who he recognised as one of the guys on Wayne’s shift.
He placed a fresh drink down in front of Eddie and told him Wayne was a good man, that the world was a little dimmer for his passing and he was a hell of a baseball player back in the day, could throw a ball at speed like no one he had ever seen since.
Eddie smiled and listened as the guy spoke, the clear affection and joy he had for his uncle warming his heart.
It was barely ten minutes after that guy had gone back to his own group that Eddie was approached again, another drink placed down in front of him and more sympathies and stories of Wayne’s past gifted to him from people who had known him.
It went on like that throughout the whole night, a steadily revolving door of people coming to talk to him about his uncle.
Stories of the stupid and dangerous shit they had gotten up to in their childhoods, stories of cow tipping (which Eddie had heard from Wayne’s own mouth was a bold faced lie but a fun one to tell), tractor racing (which he had not heard about) and one time Wayne had been chased out of Farmer Dan’s barn by the man himself wielding a shotgun, convinced he’d been corrupting his daughter.
Stories of nights playing poker, learning to never ever trust his poker face, his abysmal luck when it came to his fantasy football teams and how much he loved to get a bit of drink in him and sing at the top of his lungs, which Cathy always humoured, often joining in.
Almost as if she had been summoned, Cathy appeared at his other side.
“Will we have a little sing-song for your uncle, love?”
Eddie looked up at her and thought about it. To hear the accented and cracking old voices singing along to the songs that just seemed to live in pubs like these would probably hurt, but it would be like lancing a wound.
It would sting but it would be healing.
“Yeah.” He said. “I don’t see why not.”
“Would you do us the honours, then?”
Eddie felt his eyes go wide. He was never really much of a singer. “Oh. No,” he blushed, shaking his head, “I don’t think so, I’ll leave that up to the professionals.” He gestured around to the group of older men he had managed to collect as the night wore on. “If it’s one thing Wayne didn’t hand down to me, it was his singing voice.”
Cathy waved him off. “Oh nonsense, you have a lovely voice.”
He really didn’t.
“I really don’t.”
“We’ll be singing along with you anyway-”
“No, I’d rather not-”
“I could do it for you.”
Eddie turned to face Steve who was looking the least nervous that he had for the entire night, his gaze steady and confident, clearly comfortable in his singing ability. Robin was staring hard at the side of his head, like she was trying to beam thoughts directly into his brain. Eddie’s heart was thumping in his chest and he could feel his cheeks start to heat up, something he was pretty sure had little to do with the drink.
“You sing, Steve?”
Robin’s mouth ticked up at Eddie’s question though she tried to hide it, like she was harbouring a little secret.
“I’ve been known to.” Steve’s own lips curled up, shooting that tiny little smile Eddie’s way and-
Oh.
Oh shit.
Childhood Big Gay Crush, you’ve been upgraded to Current Big Gay Crush.
“Any requests?”
Eddie thought back.
There was only one song that came to mind to kick them off.
Wayne had always loved a certain type of song to sing in the pubs and when Metallica came out with a cover of one of them, a cover of the Thin Lizzy version? It was solidified.
It was their song, regardless of which version was being sung.
Now he just had to try to get through it without bursting into tears.
“Whiskey In The Jar.”
Steve smiled at him bright and blinding. “Thank god you didn’t say The Rattlin’ Bog.”
Eddie grinned back. “I couldn’t dump you in the deep-end like that, sweetheart.”
Cathay was practically bouncing with excitement and when Steve opened his mouth and started to sing, not a hint of bashfulness or embarrassment to be seen, it didn’t take long for Wayne’s friends to join in, singing and clapping along, stomping their feet and whooping.
Eddie just sat and listened. Just for that one song. He could feel it settle around his heart and clog up his throat but he could handle it. Steve’s voice was smooth and clear, like it all came to him with zero effort, like he was born to it, the bastard.
Eddie was able to keep it together through that song and while the applause surrounded him and Steve was starting to field suggestions for more songs, the rest of their table started to join in, the energy of the pub becoming electric.
As the night wore on and Eddie was handed drink after drink, he found himself drifting right into the group, until he was in the middle, Steve’s arm stretched over the back of the booth behind them, squished in together as they were. They didn’t strictly need to be as pressed up against each other as they were, but neither of them were moving and Eddie would take his comforts where he could, listening to the voice vibrating from the body next to him.
Eddie was able to hold it together until they decided they’d do one last song and he knew he wasn’t going to survive it dry eyed.
Of all the money that ever I had,
I spent it in good company.
Steve had barely gotten through the first verse before the tears started, just a slow and quiet trickle but noticed immediately regardless.
Steve’s hand dropped from where it was at the back of the booth to land around Eddie’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze while Chrissy took his hand, resting her head on his shoulder.
Steve sang slow and unaccompanied, his voice ringing out clear and steady while Cathy and Wayne’s friends listened with heads hung low. He let the last notes fade out, keeping Eddie tucked in tight to his side as the applause rang out and everyone started making their moves to head home.
Even as Eddie had to go through the rigmarole of shaking hands and kissing cheeks, much drunker than he thought he was, Steve held onto him. He heard more than one of Wayne’s friends mutter “You take care of him, you hear?” or “Get him home safe” and each time Steve smiled and nodded, assuring them he would.
He didn’t know exactly when he had become Steve’s problem but he was too drunk to care, it was nice to be looked after for once.
Sunlight was spearing straight through his head. Someone hadn’t closed the blinds properly last night and now he was being assaulted by this world's version of Pelor in what had to be some kind of revenge for something terrible he must have done in a past life.
Dragging his eyes around the trailer, he was thankful that he was on the couch. He hadn’t slept in Wayne’s bed since moving back here. He didn’t think he would be able to for a while yet. At least not until he started moving some of his stuff out and who knew how long that might take.
It didn’t feel right, taking Wayne out of his own bedroom for the second time in his life.
But even so, he wondered which poor misfortune from the pub last night had been the one to deal with him and take him home, probably seeing the state things had been left in and the fact that he was clearly using the couch as a bed.
Maybe it had been Max. He kind of hoped it had been Max, he felt like she could probably relate the best, though Chrissy would have been kind about it too.
Eddie was able to drag himself up to sitting, still clad in his t-shirt and boxers, so at the very least, whoever had spilled him onto the couch last night didn’t get an accidental show.
There was something sticking in the back of his head that it could have been Steve who brought him home but that would be the most embarrassing eventuality of all so he just straight up ignored it, making his coffee as strong as humanly possible and dragging himself and the coffee into the shower.
Today was gonna be… today was gonna be an inside day. He didn’t think he could stomach the outside world, all the brightness and snow and Christmas lights and festive cheer in mourning and hungover.
His trailer was the only one left in the park undecorated. He couldn’t…
He just couldn’t.
Not right now, anyway.
Maybe next year.
He and Wayne had always done it together. Even when Eddie had moved away from home, he’d make the drive back down at the start of December every year to help, staying the night and then going back to Jack for a couple of weeks then coming back again for the week of Christmas.
He-
Oh.
He was going to be completely alone this year.
He didn’t just not have Wayne.
He didn’t have Jack either.
And no doubt, everyone who was back in town was back in town for their own reasons, to see their own friends and family, not to bring in a stray mourner who would undoubtedly bring the mood down.
Well, that was fucking depressing.
But it was fine.
He’d make himself a mountain of waffles and eat nothing but those all day and watch stupid horror movies and smoke himself into oblivion to avoid the destructive hangover and it would be fine.
It would hardly be a Christmas but it would be fine.
A knock at the door made him blink and woke him up from his daily routine of staring off into space. He had finally found himself feeling somewhat human, at least physically. Dressed and dried and on his second round of coffee and first round of painkillers, standing in the doorway to Wayne’s bedroom again when the knock came.
He glanced between the front door and the bedroom, wondering if it was even worth it to see what salesperson or caroler was on the other end. They didn’t deserve his moody ambivalence, but whoever it was knocked again and maybe just the sight of him would be enough to scare them away.
He swung the door open and nearly closed it immediately when Steve looked up at him with a shy smile.
He didn’t know if he could handle this right now.
“Hi.” Steve said, his cheeks pink either from the cold or from embarrassment, Eddie wasn’t sure which.
He was like… fifty percent sure that Steve might be, maybe, giving him some signals but also he got very, very drunk last night and he was pretty sure he remembered crying on someone’s shoulder after he got home too so, he was probably not the best judge of these things.
“Hi.” Eddie clutched his coffee cup tighter in his hand. “I’d invite you in, but I would rather you not see how I’m living right now.”
Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I’ve already- nevermind.” He shook his head. “I can’t stay long anyway, I just wanted to check if you were okay after last night.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows and blew a breath out through his lips. “I’m… I’m. Well. I’m… coping, I suppose.”
Steve nodded, eyes cast down to glance around the porch. There was a flake of snow clinging to one of his eyelashes, Eddie didn’t know how it got there. It hadn’t been snowing that morning, not from what he’d seen anyway, cooped up inside. Steve looked up towards the roof of the trailer and then around the edges, no doubt taking in its depressing and undecorated exterior.
“Listen, I-”
Steve hesitated, his cheeks burning a little brighter, hands shoved in his pockets and arms curled in tight towards himself. Eddie felt a little bad about leaving him out here in the cold, not even inviting him in regardless of how it was inside, it felt unnecessarily mean but he didn’t know if he could handle having Steve in his space right now. He felt like he was at either a knife’s edge or unbearably dull this morning.
“I wanted to offer you- or, I don’t know. If you didn’t have any plans, that- well, I’m hosting everyone at my place on Christmas day and you would be more than welcome if you wanted to come. Y’know… if you weren’t… if you didn’t-”
“If I’m gonna be alone?”
Steve turned his big sad eyes on him, mouth gone slack from shock.
“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I never meant to suggest-”
Eddie shrugged, taking a sip from his mug.
“It’s an unfortunate fact, right now, Stevie. I am alone. It’s depressing but it’s the truth.”
“Well.” Steve took a big breath in. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Eddie hummed, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Who’s everyone? I don’t know if I would be able to handle your parents. No offence.”
Steve scoffed. “None taken. They haven’t set foot in that house in nearly ten years. It’s not theirs anymore, it’s mine.”
“Oh. They dead too?”
To Steve’s credit, he didn’t flinch at the words that were maybe a little harsher than they needed to be, he met Eddie’s eye, determined and unwavering.
“No, they’re not. They left Hawkins, left me the house, called it my inheritance and drove off. They’re in New York now. We exchange Christmas cards but that’s about it.”
Eddie was a little bewildered.
“You don’t talk to them at all?”
Steve shrugged. “We know who we are to each other.”
So Steve still had parents out there in the world and they just… didn’t talk to each other? And from the sounds of it, all three of them seemed fine with that? Now that sounded depressing.
“Steve, I’m… I’m sorry.”
Steve tilted his head, their eyes never once wavering. “It’s a different kind of mourning, I suppose.” He shuffled a little bit in the cold and fuck, Eddie really should have invited him inside, but it looked like he was getting ready to leave anyway. “So, on the day it’ll be me, Rob and Chris. The kids will come over later on in the evening. And I think Dustin has invited those three guys from your band too, so they might show up. Like I said, no pressure, you do whatever it is you’re comfortable with but I think they’d all like to see you, I’d-”
Steve swallowed, his face getting pinker.
“I’d like to see you.”
Eddie could feel a grin tugging at his lips, something giddy and hopeful blooming in his belly despite everything. “Oh, would you now?”
Steve flashed him a charming grin, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly while he dragged his eyes down towards Eddie’s lips and then back up. “I would.”
“Well then, I’ll have to see what I can do.”
Despite the things he said to Steve, he wasn’t sure he was going to turn up until he did.
He’d gotten into his car Christmas morning with a thermos of hot chocolate and an insulated blanket and visited Wayne.
He’d placed Wayne’s old fashioned chipped and battered mug that he only ever drank hot chocolate out of at Christmas time, a painted wreath and ‘Merry Christmas’ decorating the front, down next to the wooden cross dug into the head of his grave.
The headstone wouldn’t be finished for another few weeks.
He spread the blanket down over the snow, wishing he’d thought to bring a cushion but powering through regardless.
He poured out some hot chocolate for himself and Wayne, sat back, drank and just… talked.
He told Wayne about his breakup with Jack, about selling the apartment, about moving back into the trailer, apologised for not checking in with him first before he did. He talked about everyone who came to the funeral and the night at the pub, the songs, the people he spoke to, the friends he found there.
Steve.
He might have spent a little longer talking about Steve. It was nothing Wayne hadn’t heard before, though. Eddie had talked about him a lot during school.
He rambled and tripped over his words and laughed and cried.
He was alone in the graveyard. No one else was visiting at this cold hour of the morning, they would all probably stop by after mass or after dinner but Eddie hated the idea of not seeing him first thing.
Going back home after that was hard.
His hands were stiff and creaking, his ass was so numb from the cold it had come back around to hurting again and he didn’t know if it would ever thaw, but sitting in his van outside the trailer, looking at it cold and empty and undecorated he knew he couldn’t spend the whole damn day here.
He wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to show up to Steve’s but it seemed like an informal enough invite so he tried to distract himself as best as he could before he could make his appearance at an appropriate time.
He called it tidying but it was really just moving things around from corner to corner, trying to find spaces for his stuff to live, but at the very least the trailer no longer looked like Eddie had just dumped his entire life out onto the living room floor.
Which… he had but it didn’t really look like it anymore.
By the time the evening started to close in around him, he figured now was as good a time as any to go, it was certainly a better idea than sitting around with his blank word document, bouncing his knee or chewing on his fingers or staring off into space.
He did try to at least pull himself together to look presentable enough. Or as presentable his ripped jeans would allow him to be.
At the last second he reached for one of Wayne’s flannels, a buffalo check in red and black that felt Christmassy enough, slipping it on over his t-shirt and under his jacket.
Steve’s house was completely decked out. Even from the outside Eddie could tell he’d gone all out, every edge of the roof was crawling with twinkling warm white lights, there were LED candle arches lighting up every window and a large wreath surrounding the door knocker. Through the windows he could see that the inside was much the same.
Steve’s whole face lit up into a bright smile when he opened the door to Eddie standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“You came.” He breathed.
“I did.” Eddie smiled back. “I hope you don’t mind, I'm a little empty handed. By the time I remembered it was polite to bring something to these things it was already too late and I’ve been a little scatter-brained recently-”
“No, no. That’s fine, Eds.” Steve waved him in and Eddie tried not to let his stomach completely fly away with him at the nickname. “Come in. I’m just happy you're here, empty handed or not.”
Just like Steve had that night at the pub in his red sweater and perfectly tousled hair, the entire house looked like it had been transported out of a Christmas movie. The space was warmly lit by various lights strung around the bannister, fresh green garlands swagged over doorways and the fireplace, which was roaring and warm.
Red and green stockings were lined up over the mantle, almost too many to fit, and a large regal Christmas tree was decked out to the nines with a mishmash of different coloured decorations.
The tree and the garlands gave the whole place an inviting smell, complemented by the scent of cooking and baking that was wafting in from the kitchen.
Steve helped him slip his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up over the coat rack.
“Can I get you something to drink? You’re just in time, dinner should be coming out of the oven any second now.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
Steve shot him a blinding smile, turning and disappearing through an entryway while Eddie wandered to stand in front of the fire.
He stared down at it, letting the warmth spread over him wondering if he really should be feeling… more? Less?
He still felt sad that Wayne was gone and excited at the idea that something might be brewing with Steve, but was that right? Was that normal? Should there be other things? He didn’t know.
He was distracted from those thoughts by the sound of bickering coming from the kitchen.
“Rob, let me just-”
“No, get out!”
Steve stumbled through the doorway with a little pout on his face, managing to keep the two wine glasses in his hands from spilling over.
“Did you just get kicked out of your own kitchen?”
“Yeah.” He grumbled, handing one of the glasses to Eddie and Eddie did not blush when their fingers light grazed one another. He was an adult fucking man who’d done many filthy, dirty things in his life. He did not blush at a finger graze. “She won’t let me do anything else. Said I’ve cooked enough already which, I don’t know how that could possibly be true considering it isn’t even finished yet but-”
Steve cut himself off with a bite to his lip.
“Sorry, that’s- nevermind. I’m rambling.”
“It’s okay, Stevie. I don’t mind.”
Steve smiled, a little more to himself than to Eddie and said softly, “I like it when you call me that.”
Eddie had to drag his eyes away, the sweetness of Steve’s grin was too much to handle right now.
“I like it when you call me Eds.”
They were just standing there smiling at each other and slowly rocking on their feet, like they wanted to inch forwards but neither was brave enough to take the leap.
“Are you in the food industry? Is that why Robin gave you the boot?”
“No.” Steve shook his head. “I think I probably would have liked it, but no. I sing. Singer-songwriter, really but- I mean- I’m in music.”
“Really?” Eddie’s mouth was maybe hanging open a little wider than it needed to be, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t torn his eyes away. “I mean you have the voice for it, but shit, that’s not an easy industry to be in.”
Steve shrugged. “It could be worse. I work independently so I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck about it.”
“Anything I would have heard?”
“I dunno.” Steve blushed, hiding behind his wine glass as he took a sip. “Don’t really think it’s your type of music.”
“I’ll give anything a try once.”
Steve grinned a little and Eddie could tell there was a joke hidden in there somewhere that Steve graciously didn’t voice aloud. “It’s a mix of everything I suppose. But if you were to put a genre on it I’d call it indie rock.”
“I’m just letting you know right now, little eighteen year old Eddie is green with jealousy. I’ll have to look you up.”
“Please don’t.” Steve grimaced, his whole face bright red. “I don’t think I would be able to live with the embarrassment. And what about you, anyway? How’s the new book going?”
“Uh,” Eddie cast around for an answer before gulping back a mouthful of wine. “It’s going… it’s going. I’ve been kinda stuck at a wall for a few months now, but hopefully something will come to me soon.” He frowned to himself before looking back up at Steve. “How did you hear I was writing a new book? I wouldn’t have even thought you’d remember who I was, like in general.”
“How could I not remember you? You’re hard to forget.”
It was Eddie’s turn to hide behind his wine glass now. He wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, considering everything about his past relationship.
“But… uh. As for how I knew,” Steve rubbed that back of his neck, “I’ve read them. Your books, I mean.”
Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“You have? And you read them knowing it was me who wrote them?” He laughed to himself. “Didn’t think you’d be into queer vampire action romance.”
“You have no idea what I’m into Eds.” Steve answered, his eyes low and lidded, a smirk pulling up at the side of his mouth.
Eddie was saved from making a further fool of himself when Robin and Chrissy appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Feast’s served!”
The girls each said their hello’s, an arm squeeze from Robin and a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Chrissy before he was practically pushed down into his seat.
The dining table was large enough to have everything on the table, turkey, ham and all the trimmings, bowls with spoons sticking out of them and plates with tongs, even enough space left over for candles and decor in the middle of it all.
As bowls were passed around and both Steve and Robin made the first move on the food, tipping servings out to Eddie and Chrissy before themselves, Eddie found himself getting lost in conversation from all three directions.
He gossiped with Chrissy while Steve and Robin bickered over the best cut of the turkey.
Throughout the dinner, Robin tried to sneakily get rid of her sprouts by dropping them one by one onto Steve’s plate when he wasn’t looking, but he noticed every time, savouring them with a satisfaction that could only come from someone who actually liked them.
He got into his own good natured argument with Robin about marching band while Steve and Chrissy talked sports.
And he flirted.
Brazenly.
Probably far more brazenly than he should have but Steve always rose to meet the challenge with a curl of his lip and a glint in his eye.
By the time dessert was making the rounds he was pretty sure he could have fallen asleep sitting at the dining table, but finding room for the cakes and pies and trifles, as always.
Steve had stopped drinking after that first glass and while Eddie didn’t exactly want to get completely plastered, he still allowed himself to get to a polite level of tipsy.
The girls had no such worries, already rosy cheeked and a little sloppy by the time the kids and Eddie’s band arrived.
The rest of the night was full of Christmas music, the most ridiculous games of charades which Eddie won every time, pulling on his old DM skills and after a passionate argument on what the worst Christmas movie was, the winning candidate was turned on, everyone laughing and jeering along with it like it was a Rocky Horror showing, Eddie pressed into Steve’s side on the couch.
It was during a particularly loud moment, all of them booing the screen when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.
Pulling it out he saw the screen light up with a name he hadn’t really thought of for most of the night.
Jack.
He stared down at the name for longer than he really needed to before sighing to himself.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Steve glanced between the phone and his face before settling into a gentle smile.
“Okay.” He gave his shoulder a small squeeze and Eddie got up, bringing the phone to his ear and stepping out of the room.
“Hello?”
There was a momentary pause on the other line before a quiet voice spoke. “Hi, Eddie.”
Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to say back to him. Why are you calling? Why are you suddenly interested? Has the guilt finally gotten to you? Is it because it’s Christmas and you thought I’d be alone?
In the end he didn’t have to say anything.
“I’m just- I guess I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” Jack sounded resigned and a little sad. If they had still been together, Eddie would have been trying to drag him out to the Christmas market or trivia nights or Christmas parties for the last few weeks and they would have been heading out in a day or two to spend the rest of the holidays with Jack’s family in Ohio. Jack had only come back with him for a Christmas with Wayne once before.
But it sounded like Jack was already with his family. Eddie could hear his mothers Michael Bublé Christmas album playing softly in another room.
“I’m doing…” Eddie sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m doing okay.”
A loud chorus of laughter burst through the sitting room, shouting and jeering following quickly behind.
“You’re out somewhere?”
Eddie glanced back through the door, watching everyone gathered either talking to each other, pointing in indignation at the tv, tucking into another serving of dessert or knocking back the last of their drink, all backlit by the Christmas lights and the fire.
“I’m with friends.”
“Good.” He could hear Jack nodding, wondering how he was handling his mothers questions or his fathers awkwardness that Eddie usually deflected for him. “That’s good. I’m glad you- I’m glad you’re not alone.”
No thanks to you, Eddie wanted to snap but kept it down. He didn’t have the energy for an argument right now. Didn’t want one. It was Christmas and he wanted to keep the comfortable, fuzzy feeling around for as long as he could.
Steve lifted his eyes, looking right at him and grinning, something soft, something warm and easy, just for him.
Eddie smiled back. “Yeah, me too.”
Steve drove him home that night. It was nearly two in the morning by the time he was bundled up in the car with a lap full of tupperware and his heart feeling lighter than it had for weeks now.
He’d been offered a room to stay in, but had refused. He didn’t want to impose any more than he already had and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to be at home.
Plus he hadn’t brought anything for an overnight.
When they pulled up, Eddie tried to shuffle his way out of the car without dropping anything but eventually had to huff and hand some of the containers over when Steve offered to help him carry them all.
They were inside before Eddie remembered his previous refusal to let Steve in through the door, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Steve gave a cursory glance around but his eyes always seemed to be drawn back to Eddie, placing the containers down on the kitchen counter and assuring him he’d be back in the morning to drive Eddie back to his car.
“I hope you had a good time.” Steve looked at him, all warm and gooey and too good to be true.
“I had a great time, I think I needed it.” Eddie fidgeted with his rings, nervous all of a sudden. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Of course. It was great to see you, I’m glad you came.”
They stood, staring at each other and Eddie had the urge to hide his face behind his hair, but he resisted.
Steve reached out, brushing a curl behind his ear and then leant in, placing a sweet and chaste kiss against his cheek and Eddie was left completely dazed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, nodding. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
He watched Steve step out onto the porch and slide into his car, driving away with a little waggle of his fingers. Eddie unconsciously brought his hand up to brush over his cheek where he could still feel the tingle of Steve’s lips against his skin.
When the headlights of Steve’s car turned the corner, Eddie closed the door, staring at it in silence for a few moments before a hysterical little giggle burst out of his throat.
His whole body was wracked through with momentary excitement, forcing him to spin in a silly little circle. He stifled another giggle, sighing it out before his eyes landed on the couch.
He looked back up at a photo from a few years ago, of him and Wayne on a road trip that they had taken, sitting on a wooden fence surrounding a national park. Wayne always said it was just “One step at a time, boy. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t take that first step.”
“Yeah, I hear you, Wayne.” Eddie responded out into the empty trailer. “First step.”
He looked up towards the bedroom.
He felt like, maybe tonight, maybe he could be comfortable with that first step.
Pulling a fresh set of bedsheets out of storage and turning back to the bed with them bundled up in his arms, he figured he’d just have to take it one step at a time.
I made a short playlist to go along with this fic containing the songs sung and the different versions mentioned along with one or two others I think they may have sung and my own favourites.
Some of you may have read I lost a family member a couple of weeks ago and I suppose this is my way of working through my feelings about it. It hit a little harder than I had intended but was healing to write nonetheless.
AO3
As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the Stranger Things Writers Guild Discord for their motivation!
Christmas lights divider by @silkholland
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#penny00dreadful#eddie x steve#steddie fanfic#steddie fic#fanfic#tw character death#tw funeral#tw grief#tw mourning#christmas fic
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Well we learned two things today Technoblade in fact never dies, and Philza Minecraft is so very brave.
738 notes
·
View notes
Text
❥ WRONG PLACE, RIGHT TIME — levi ackerman x gn!reader, swearing, death, loss, mourning, modern au, angst, hurt/comfort, maybe slightly ooc levi, this is kinda sad but it has a good ending i prommy<3 PLS read the warnings and enjoy!
The columbarium looks even more miserable than usual, soaked in rain and grey under the clouded daylight. You’re standing in front of it, one hand tightly gripping your umbrella, the other gripping your late spouse’s favourite flowers even tighter. You’re wondering if it ever gets easier and holding back hysterical laughter at the same time. Of course it had to be raining on the day of the month that you’re visiting their urn, like a scene from some depressing drama.
You always knew that death is a part of life, the conclusion we’ve all had pre-written for us since the opening paragraph. And you knew it was hard. You’ve had distant relatives pass, and felt some of the weight that comes with grief and accepting death; you’ve seen and been told your fair share of how loss changes people, both temporarily and permanently. But it’s clearer now more than ever that knowing something is not the same as being prepared for it. You knew it was hard, but no amount of knowledge could ever make you understand just how hard it really was.
You know now though. When someone dies, they freeze in place and time, into a forever still-life image of what was and will never be again; a catalogue of memories that lasts for as long as you can remember them. They become a concept, an imaginary something whose existence can only be proven by what they left behind in the physical world. A name — and the anecdotes and personality traits others think of when you say it. Preserved in your mind like a pocket of air in ice, they’ll stay; never moving forward, only back to the moments and memories that make up what’s left of them.
You’ve had the same moments and memories playing on loop for weeks. Not really on purpose, they’re just kind of there. There when you wake up, when you check the fridge with an empty belly and no appetite, when you decide to put off showering for another day, when you’re alone, when you’re with friends, when you’re trying to sleep away the feelings in your chest. You feel as ghostly as the images of them that flash behind your eyes, comforting yet haunting all the same.
Wet footsteps pull you out of your thoughts. There’s sweat between your fingers where they’re still clinging to the plastic-wrapped bouquet. You tilt your head in the direction of the footsteps. A man stops some feet away from you, face concealed under his umbrella and one hand tucked into the pocket of his dress pants. If he notices your presence or stare, he doesn’t show it.
You’ve been coming here every few weeks, and every time without fail, this man is here too. At first, you thought he was a stalker, but he never approached you or stood closer than three feet, let alone looked at you, so that feeling was short-lived. He asked you for a light once, but other than that, you’ve never interacted.
You often wonder which one he is there for, who the person was, what his relationship was to them — but you never bother to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds. He never brings anything with him either, aside from the occasional lighter and cigarette packet, and tends to stay longer than you. You’re only really here to soothe a healing wound and replace the flowers once they start drooping. The ones from last month droop more than normal under the weight of their wet petals, and you hope that the heavy rainfall won’t do more harm than good to the fresh bouquet you just put up.
A month later, the sky has just a few clouds dotted across it. The weather has been hectic, so as you’re approaching the columbarium, you’re curious to see how the flowers have been holding up. Before that though, you notice him first, standing in that specific spot that’s all his own by now. He’s dressed in the usual: a long-sleeved shirt, a blazer and matching trousers, all well-ironed and spotless, and a pair of polished Oxfords. You’ve always imagined him as a lawyer or office-worker of some kind; he certainly looks the part, especially with his tired face and perfect posture. There’s so much you don’t know about him, you can’t help pondering over things like what he eats for breakfast or if he has any pets or allergies, and imagining him in scenarios like typing away on a computer at a tidy desk or yelling ‘Objection, hearsay!’ across a courtroom. You’ll never know if any of those things exist beyond your imagination, and you have no way of knowing for certain either, but you like to think about it from time to time.
Two months after that, you notice he’s had a haircut. You can never tell when his undercut starts to get thicker, but once it’s trimmed, it becomes so obvious that it was overgrown before. It’s clear that it’s done professionally, and that he must be particular about his hair in general, if the perfectly combed middle-part and licks of gel are anything to go by. He looks good, you think, but as with most thoughts about him, you drop it before anything else can follow. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he lights the cigarette between his lips, then pockets the lighter and takes in a drag. His form is slanted and controlled in an effortless kind of way. He looks good, even in your peripheral vision.
The following month, you’re switching out the flowers with a different kind than normal since your florist didn’t have your usual. You think it’s the first time he ever looks at you, at least with any sort of interest in his eyes. It seems like a trick of the light at first, the way his silver eyes dart away when you glance at him. In fact, you’re still not really sure it actually happened, but you like to think it did, if it means he’s at all as curious about you as you are about him.
Three months later is the one year anniversary of your spouse’s death. For once, you’re not on your own; their family and close friends hover near their niche, paying their respects and exchanging embraces. You’re off to one side, not feeling particularly talkative or social, which is no surprise given the occasion. He arrives as he always does, but stands further away than usual, and with a more guarded expression. You wonder if the number of people intimidates him or makes him uncomfortable, or if there’s just something on his mind. After a short while, everyone starts to head off for the memorial service. You’re the last to take your leave, looking over your shoulder at him and hoping for a second of eye contact that never comes.
The month after that, he is nowhere to be found. You don’t think much of it initially — he’s never late but sometimes you’re earlier than he is — but he never arrives. You stay embarrassingly longer than you normally would to see if he shows up. He doesn’t, and you chalk it up to some minor thing, like a change of plans or a visit cut short. It isn’t until two months later, when he still doesn’t show, that you start to worry. You’re not sure what exactly you’re worried about, or if it’s something to even worry about in the first place. You start to visit every week and convince yourself that the only reason for it is that you’re just missing your lover more these days.
The relief you feel when you see him four weeks later is monumental. You’re practically buzzing as you walk up to him and you don’t even know you’re smiling until you feel your mouth corners drop at the sight of him. He’s always had faint shadows under his eyes, but you’ve never seen them this dark before, and his gaze is so heavy that it’s akin to a dead man’s. You wonder how much sleep he’s had, if any, and if it has anything to do with why he hasn’t visited these last few months. You wonder and you wonder but none of it leaves the confines of your mind. You’re just strangers, after all; two strangers who regularly see each other, but strangers nonetheless. All you can do is sigh, the joy of seeing him subsiding, and go to switch out the flowers.
“You’re later than usual today,” he says so quietly that you almost think it’s just a voice on the wind that you hallucinated in your desperation to speak to him. You stare at him, waiting for any sign that his low, hoarse words weren’t just a figment of your imagination. He just stares back at you, one eyebrow arched and his eyes expectant.
“Um, yeah,” you say, slowly, just in case you imagined the look on his face too. “I missed my bus so…” You trail off, tempted to smile at the fact that you’re actually, finally speaking to him. The swarm of unanswered questions that you’ve been trying to avoid suddenly floods you all at once. “It’s been a while since I last saw you here,” you say on impulse, but nothing else makes it past your lips. Lingers of why is that? and where have you been? and are you doing okay? die on your tongue.
He sighs. “Shit happens, I guess,” he mutters. His tone is void of all emotion, apart from maybe the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying too much for too long. You’re not sure what to say, about to opt for a hum of agreement when he speaks again. “I just needed some time away. Got two of these to take care of now, after all.”
You swallow nervously, trying to think of how, if at all, you should respond. How could he say that so casually? Like a comment on the weather or an arbitrary greeting? Your stomach hollows at the thought alone. Two urns; two whole people. That’s two names, two different faces and personalities, two lifetimes full of memories and smiles and tears, two amounts of habits and mannerisms, two lists of likes and dislikes and hobbies and pet peeves, of favourite films and colours and animals. That’s two whole people that he knew and he’s standing here like he hasn’t lost them both.
“Spare me,” he says, the flame of his lighter dancing over the tip of his cigarette. “My mother died when I was just a kid, so I don’t remember her. And that old bastard’s lived long enough, if you ask me. It was about time he kicked the bucket.” He tucks his lighter away and exhales some smoke, staring at the cigarette between his fingers. “Besides, it gets pretty tiring hearing the same shit the second time around, let alone the first.” His lips purse as he breathes in and pulls out the cigarette again, along with a slow trail of smoke. His eyes are on you as he says, “You, of all people, should know what I mean.”
Your gaze gravitates toward the flowers beside your partner’s urn. He’s right. It’s comforting the first few times — the condolences, the ‘sorry for your loss’s, the sympathetic glances — but after a while, it loses its warm touch. It starts to feel like an awkward finger, prodding at a bruise to point it out, even though you know it’s there, and all you wish is for it to heal already.
“Levi,” he says next, and all you can do is look back at him, puzzled.
“What?”
“My name,” he says through another trail of slithering smoke. “It’s Levi.”
You smile at this break in character, this rare show of warmth. You might not really know this Levi guy, but you get the impression that he doesn’t do things like this — whatever ‘this’ is — very often.
“I’m (Name),” you say, and that’s all it takes for the rest to pour out. “It’s good to officially meet you, by the way. I know we’ve technically known each other for over a year now but, also not, I guess…” You chuckle awkwardly. “Since this is the first time we’ve properly spoken to each other and… I don’t know. I suppose it’s just nice, is what I’m trying to say? If that makes any sense?”
Levi just takes another drag of his cigarette and for a second you think this is it — you’ve fucked it up by being weird, you could not have made it more obvious how deprived you were of human interaction if you tried — but then he turns to face you. You get a good look at his eyes, almost appearing sunken in by the dark shade of purple under them, and the dips in the hollows of his cheeks that make themselves known in the change of lighting. Then you spot the creases in his suit and shirt, his loose, ungelled hair, the scuff marks on his shoes. And that’s when you think: who am I kidding? This is a man who is mourning a second person before he could understand how to mourn the first. He is just as deprived and sad and lonely as you are; if anyone is to understand you, it’s him.
“The feeling is mutual,” he says. Then he smiles, faint and fatigued, and it feels like a shift. Right then, you feel your heart nudge forward. For the first time since your partner’s death, you feel really, truly present; like all this time you’ve been on autopilot with your consciousness trapped in the memories of your lost love, stuck in moments long gone. You know the deceased are chained to who they were, unmoving and silent and still, but somehow you’ve only now realised that you don’t have to be. You’re allowed to move on.
So you decide to take the leap. “Do you…” you start, and figure it’s too late to go back now. “Do you want to go get a coffee or something?”
Levi lowers his head as if thinking. “Well, I’m more of a tea guy myself,” he says before dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. He smiles again, and your heart nudges forward some more. “But sure. Let’s go get coffee. Or something.”
After that, the rest is history.
Sometimes you wonder if he ever would have spoken to you at all, if not for you being late because of that bus, or if the entanglement of your lives was inevitable from the beginning; pre-written since the opening paragraph. You were two lost people whose paths happened to cross — and maybe it was the wrong place, but God, was it the right time.
#divider by benkeibear#cw death#tw death#tw loss#tw mourning#aot fic#levi fic#levi fanfiction#levi angst#levi hurt/comfort#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi x y/n#levi x you#levi x gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#{♡} juno writes !!
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I noticed a few people have been following me bc a couple artist friends of mine have been drawing my Swap Pap, Gale (love you @flamingbiscuit @a-snowpoff and @mmhinman [who drew the ref below]) so I’ll post some information about my boy here, for those of you wishing to know more about him.
I’ll be including some general HCs about him, as well as his backstory below the cut (though it’s currently very much a work in progress). I hope you enjoy ^^
TW for Gale’s backstory include no-mercy run mentions, death, and mourning/grief.
HCs
He has a humming stim. He constantly listening to many different songs from different genres, and while there’s no real consistency between them, one thing they’ll have in common is that they’ll stick in his head for hours. As a result, his Undyne started to refer to him as a Nightingale. Gale for short, hence his nickname.
He works as a software programmer full-time, so he has some cash to burn. He also runs a side YouTube channel where he teaches kids how to code. He enjoys being entertaining to kids, and while he likes them just fine, he’s probably in need of a babysitting lesson or two.
He has a number of stims outside of humming. He has chew necklaces for his chewing stim and it a notorious pen clicker. Also leg bouncing. Lots of leg bouncing.
He's not normally very athletic and is even a bit too indoorsy, but he really enjoys swimming. Something about just letting himself drift in nice, cool water he finds soothing. If he lived by a large body of water he would also enjoy paddle boarding and kayaking.
He owns a bearded dragon named Mush (also called “Mushy” or in some cases “Mushymushymushy”). Gale bought a nice large terrarium full of all the needs for his little friend and keeps them plenty happy. Mush will often rest on Gale’s shoulder while he works.
His love language is physical affection. He'll stop if you want, but if you let him, he's going to reach out at every opportunity. Rub your hand while you hold his, snuggle up on the couch (platonic or romantic, he’s down wither way), lazily fiddle with your hair, etc.. He also tends to lean into the people he likes when he laughs.
He does origami as a hobby. Paper folding was also a stim for him and he decided "heck, I'll do something artistic as shit with this" and he took it up pretty easily.
His absolute favorite food is gnocchi. It's pasta in a cute little bug-shaped package and they're fun to chew.
He does little Mandela designs in his notebook just as doodles, not really seriously.
He enjoys comically bad movies as well as romcoms. He also prefers movies that are more focused on the characters than the plot, though will make an exception if the comedy is especially well done.
He's a bit of a gamer, but only really enjoys single player games. He specifically prefers smaller indie platformers like hollow knight, shovel knight, etc..
He’s got a very relaxed attitude, which he often expresses through mischief and playing ignorant. He is very off-the-cuff when it comes to how he interacts with people, and will often say whatever first pops into his head, for better or worse.
He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and if he’s upset about something chances are you’ll know right away. He’s usually a pretty happy guy, but when the mood shifts, it’s almost a complete 180.
He highly values honesty, and would rather someone be blunt with him than try to spare his feelings. He’s not a fan of being given flowery words or people dancing around an issue for his sake.
That said, he does still try to emotionally connect with people who are having a rough time, and will often adapt to the people around him. Need cheering up? He’s a great distraction. Need a shoulder to cry on? He’ll comfort you all night. He’s not the best with words, but he’ll do what he can to put smiles on his friend’s faces.
Backstory
Gale’s Underswap is much like any normal Underswap in the begginning. He was raised by his older brother (his swap sans), who is training to be a royal guard and to be the hero his little brother always thought of him as. The two grew up in Snowdin, though Gale would often leave town to explore the dump and find new tech to tinker with. That’s where he met his Undyne, and the two would often talk about their experiments over Undernet. Gale is very close with Undyne, and considers her his best friend.
This peaceful, happy life is interrupted with the arrival of Chara. In this particular Swap AU, Chara begins to a no mercy run, makes it through Snowdin and finally reaches the border to Waterfall. Gale has decided to step in after seeing the disaster the human had caused, and he rushes in recklessly, hoping to stop them before they can reach Undyne and the other Waterfall monsters. Gale has decent HP and attack, and he figures that if Chara took a swing at him, he could tank it and knock them down in one blow.
He doesn’t know just how futile that would be.
The fight commences, both dodging each other’s attacks. Chara seems to predict Gale’s attacks, and dodges them easily. They wear Gale down, until he’s out of breath, and at their mercy. Chara swings their weapon one last time, but before they can hit Gale
Sans throws himself between them, reducing his HP to zero.
Gale watched Sans die in front of him, and being frozen, he just. Sits there. Shaking. Unable to move. It’s then that Chara snaps out of their trance. They realize what they’ve been doing. What hurt they’ve been causing. They try to reach out to Gale, but before they can touch him, he teleports away in panic. After this, Chara starts sparing monsters, effectively being a pacifist from this point. Eventually, Chara defeats Toriel, and they leave the Underground, seemingly to never be heard from again.
Gale, grief-stricken, moves in with Undyne. He helps Undyne with her experiments, and learns to code in order to earn his keep. He starts seeing a therapist through Undyne's encouragement, which helps a bit, but he never quite goes back to normal. He does eventually get used to masking his sadness, using his humor to get genuine laughs from his jokes and divert attention away from the things he’s not ready to talk about. With his brother and lifeline gone, he's also a lot more dependent on the people around him now. It's something he has to grow past.
3 years after Chara’s initial fall, another human falls, and is handed over to Captain of the Guard Alphys. Working with the human, she crosses the barrier. Undyne and Gale eagerly await news, and finally, after months, she returns with the seven souls needed to break the barrier. “Volunteers” she found. Chara included.
With this second chance being the kick in the pants he needs, Gale decides to move out of Undyne's, stop mooching, and build the better life his brother always wanted for him. It takes a lot of work, and those scars still run deep, but he's doing better for himself and actively working hard to better his life, as well as the lives of other monsters affected by the human.
It helps him sleep at night. Maybe one day it'll be more than just coping.
#undertale#underswap#Underswap Papyrus#Gale#My OC#Dusky's OC#tw death#tw mourning#tw no mercy run#tw genocide run#I wrote all this at like 5 AM I'm sorry for any incoherence uhfidjoskjfhuj
610 notes
·
View notes
Text
Getting Better
Warnings: mcd, grief, mourning
Caretaker was empty. An empty shell that refused to stop living. An empty husk of the vibrant person who they were. They were empty of all things except for their sorrow, their grief, and their longing for Whumpee.
Knowing that Whumpee had suffered at the hands of Whumper, that they failed to find and save Whumpee in time, consumed Caretaker. It was all they could think about.
Everyone told Caretaker that they should move on. That they should try to get better. That Whumpee wouldn't want them to live like this. But they couldn't. They wouldn't. Because Whumpee was dead and they were alive.
And that didn't seem very fair to Caretaker.
And so they would be empty. They would be empty of all things except grief. Because it was all they deserved.
#serickswrites#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#whump community#tw mcd#tw grief#tw mourning#whumptober#whumptober 2023#whumptober day 31#“i thought i was getting better”#prompt: emptiness#queue
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
what is your favourite thing that you’ve ever written?
this maybe isn't the answer you were looking for/expecting, and it's a little bit personal/deep, so sorry for that.
my actual favourite thing i've ever written is the eulogy i wrote and spoke at my mum's funeral. she passed when i was 16 after a long battle with cancer, but her passing was still very sudden. we were told she had about 6 months just days before she died.
it was more of a 'celebration of life' rather than an actual funeral. my mum wasn't religious and we wanted it to reflect on her more rather than a god she didn't believe in. it was amazing. friends she hadn't seen in years travelled from across the country and even the world to come and say goodbye to her. there were so many people that we didn't have enough chairs, and the room was completely full because people had to stand at the back and sides.
i've put it below the cut, if anyone wants to read it. it's obviously very emotional, so be prepared. but it's also very hopeful, in a way that i think you have to be when you experience a profound loss.
i turn 21 in just over a week, and i think about her and this speech around my birthday. 16 year old cher was very scared, but hopeful that things would get better, and im glad she was right.
I think everyone is aware of the fact they'll have to say goodbye to their parents someday from quite a young age. I think the problem is I never imagined it would be this soon.
To an extent I had prepared myself when mum was first diagnosed with cancer. I had to accept that there was a chance I had to say goodbye. But then I didn’t have to.
I never got the chance to prepare this time. Maybe that's what feels so bittersweet. Would things have been different if I’d known sooner? If I'd known the last time would be the last time. Would I hug her tighter? Would I say all the things I needed to say?
Or would I have just never let go?
Would any of the words felt right? Would any of it have felt enough? Or would I have spent forever regretting the words I misspoke or the ones I missed? Maybe this way is better because it was unclouded by the fear of the future.
There are so many things I wish I'd told her. That I didn't blame her. That it wasn’t her fault. That I loved her more than she knew. That I hoped she found peace.
I really hope she has. I think in my heart I know she has.
I see her in everything. In the sunset and the sunrise when the sky is clear. In every Robin or Blue Tit that seems a little too calm around me, that lands a little too close or sings extra loudly. I see her in the kindness others give me, because I know she has inspired it because they loved her. It's like she’s talking to me. Like it's her telling me things will be okay. When I hug my family or friends I hold on extra tight as though it's her, and I never ever want to let go.
I think something I hadn't considered is how hard listening to music would be. Because suddenly all these words have a new meaning and you hear them in a way you never have before. Or a song comes on that I know she loved and I realise I'll never hear her sing it again or watch her dance to it while we're stopped at traffic lights.
For the last four years people have told me how strong I am. I don’t think it's true. I think she was strong. She pushed through every day. She put up with [brother's name] and I at our worst and our best. she brought people joy and she made people feel loved. She never stopped fighting. I don’t think I'm strong, I don't think any of us are. I think every day she kept going she gave everyone a little bit of her strength. I think she made us strong by being strong. I think her strength inspired ours. Everything I am is her. Some days I look in the mirror and I feel like I'm looking at her, if not for the way I look then for the person I am. Because I'm a reflection of her. Of everything she taught me. I have always lived every single day of my life trying to make her proud. I hope wherever she is she knows I'll never stop.
She always gave the best advice, even on the days where it wasn't what I wanted to hear or I got angry because I didn’t think I agreed, she always knew what to say. I only wish I could ask her one more thing.
What do I do now? What happens from here? How do I keep going without you?
I'd like to think that I know what she'd say. She'd tell me I'm strong. She'd tell me she's with me. She'd tell me she believes in me and she'd hold my hand.
All of my memories of mum right now are painful. Because I know they're just memories. But they make me hopeful because I can hold onto them forever. They make me hopeful because someday remembering her won't hurt, it'll feel warm and I'll feel love. Someday we'll all be okay.
Our memories of mum keep her alive. Even when she’s gone. I want you all to think of her and when you do, I want you to smile, just like she always made us all smile.
Remember her with love. Remember who she was. She loved you.
So to you mum. Because I know you're here and I know you're listening. I hope you see how loved you are. I hope you feel it. I hope you know I don't blame you. I hope you know it wasn't your fault. I hope you've found peace. I hope you know just how much I love you. How much we all do. I can't wait to see you again.
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
One of the best things about that Mario & Luigi footage is that it's made me feel reasonably certain now that their reunion WILL be a big deal and WILL be emotional. I have been living in "omg what if Mario and Luigi don't get to properly hug when they reunite, i will DIE" territory for so long, but if they've got heart wrenching lines like THAT just in the scene where they get separated, then they have to pay that off later in the movie, that's just plain ole Storytelling 101! Finding/saving his brother is Mario's whole quest, his ultimate reason for going on this adventure, his emotional throughline. From everything we've seen, I think the people making the movie are smart enough to know that the culmination of that has to be a big moment. :)
(Also I deserve to be thrown in ANGST JAIL for this but what if it was even kicked up a notch and there's a period of time in the movie where either brother thinks the other is dead? Maybe Mario does crash off Rainbow Road/is presumed dead and news of that gets back to Luigi from Bowser or his minions OR Bowser taunts Mario that he's already disposed of Luigi when Mario demands to know where he is (but he's actually just escaped, or Bowser's just lying to hurt Mario/throw him off his game so he can get the upper hand). Thinking of them reuniting after THAT, having to grapple with the idea of the other really being gone forever...oh man, i would simply disintegrate into DUST)
This ask does make me feel better :)
You see...with everything that's going on in the movie, my fear is that the writers have got too swept up in adding in so much, that the reunion will end up being glossed over.
But I do have to remain hopeful. I mean, if the writers took time for the Bros to have a precious moment during the wrap zone scene, instead of fast forwarding straight to the Mushroom Kingdom, then they seem to be on the right track 👍
Going into your angst idea: Oh believe me! When I was made aware that the blue shell in the Mario Movie poster was targeting Mario, my whole brain came up with a scene that could make it into the movie (not saying it will, just might) -
Mario gets knocked off Rainbow Road, presumed dead by the others. Word reaches back to Bowser, who gleefully tells Luigi that Mario, his brother, his blood, is dead.
And Luigi...just breaks down. All hope of seeing his brother again grows into an agonising ache of despair. He blames himself. Convinced that if he never fell into that pipe and got lost, Mario wouldn't be gone.
And the worst part is that there is nothing for him. Nowhere for him to go (remember, Luigi hasn't met Peach, and has no idea about Toad or the Kongs, so it wouldn't occur to him to go straight to the Mushroom Kingdom for safety) Luigi is all alone for the first time in his life...
And then he's reunited with Mario and hugs and tears ensue 🤗
#super mario#mario#luigi#the super mario bros movie#super mario movie#mario movie#super mario movie spoilers#mario movie spoilers#mario and luigi#mario bros angst#multicolour ink answers#chloecherrysip#tw death#tw character death#tw breakdown#tw grieving#tw grief#tw mourning
70 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you think Clark (and Diana) reacted to Jason's death? Or do you have any headcanons about the aftermath?
I can't think of much off the top of my head other than something someone mentioned to me recently at my dad's funeral. That there is no greater pain on earth than losing a parent, other than losing a child. I.e., the worst death most people can conceive of is losing a child, not even a partner or a father, etc.
I imagine Bruce would break down in private as much as possible. And Clark and Diana would see a stiff, if distant, mask in person. Bruce would be fine, except that he isn't. Because he's going through something unimaginable, something neither of them can truly help him with.
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: death
I wish my mom’s death wasn’t affecting me so much. She was an awful person and she made my life and so many other people’s miserable. She hurt me in so many ways I can never describe but I’m still mourning and I don’t know why. This shouldn’t be affecting me this much.
#tw death#tw depressing thoughts#tw depressing stuff#tw grief#tw mourning#text#text post#txt#txt post#my text#my txt
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Idea for 3 and 4 I want to share
3 and 4 are shown to be both fairly recluse, but 3 appears to be slightly less recluse than 4, which can be seen in their promotional poster
3 is peering further past the book, a smile on their face, unlike 4, who appears to be more afraid and scared of moving forward
I’ve dug deeper into this though
Again, both of the twins are recluse, but 4 appears to more afraid than 3. In most instances, 4 can be seen hiding behind 3, or 3 is comforting 4. There are instances where the roles are swapped, but again, 4 appears to be more recluse than 3
I feel like 3 and 4 have a bit of an “older sibling/younger sibling” dynamic. 3 is the older twin, so 4, the youngest, clings to their older sibling for protection, like how a younger sibling would hide behind their older sibling for the same reason
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part Five:
Mourn
He snuck away once again from the usual and repetitive world, traveling all the way over to Shiver Star.
Midnight.
He walked, glancing over to the rock he was sitting on when they met, nostalgia washing over his body. A shiver rolled down his spine. He kept walking.
The creek, it was so small compared to his now grown up body. He easily crossed it with a swift jump. The malinchonic forest rested before him. He stepped in.
One AM,
Two AM.
He eventually traversed it, and found himself walking once again in that oh so bittersweet and gorgeously evocative daisy field, in which lied the pond, and then, the maple tree.
He got closer and closer. The tree now watched over a tomb. He sat down, gently laying down a bouquet of white tulips on the grave.
Ades took a deep breath:
"....hey flower bud... I'm back.."
"..."
"...you know, I've.. been taking care of myself... just like how you told me....."
"I've made friends.. I'm their older brother now.... they don't know about you, though, nor do they know I come here... us aside, I think I might have found a family again... haha......"
"even so..."
".... it doesn't feel complete without you."
"I know.. it's been over nine thousand years..."
"...but I don't think... the pain will ever go away, no matter what I do or how hard I try....."
"......maybe this is why they say love hurts... d-doesn't it now..? hahaha..!!..
HAHAHAHAHA!!!"
tears streamed down his face, as he desperately attempted to drench his grief in horribly hysterical laughter.
"...I.....I'M SORRY..."
he snapped,
".. I... COULDN'T PROTECT YOU FROM THAT ILLNESS..."
"..I... MISS YOU.... SO MUCH...."
"..AND.. IT HURTS.... IT HURTS!!..."
"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!!!"
he now covered his face with his paws, screaming.
"I.... I love you... I miss you..... please.... don't leave me behind... please.........."
he broke down, crying his heart out in despair.
Oh, poor, poor man.
Fylass belongs to @george228732
Selene belongs to @moon-mage
Dero belongs to @monsterhatdoodles
Dolly belongs to @ilikesillythingswooo
Twilight Knight belongs to @that-fanperson-meg
#THE END!!!#FINALLY 😭😭😭#I MEAN#NOT AT ALL A GOOD ENDING#BUT I FIGURED NOT ALL STORIES END WELL NOW#DO THEY? ~ ;)#kirby ocs#sir pleiades#miss dulciana#dulciades#tw angst#tw trauma#tw death#tw mourning#tw screaming
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
As I showed my mom my carefully thought out character design, how much my art of Techno has changed, every little doodle I’ve done, the writing I’ve done, my laptop wallpaper of the cabins, my map of the whole Antarctic base and more-
She said “he really meant so much to you, didn’t he?” and that really made me think.
All she knew before this was I’d watched him for over a year and I was very sad, then I started telling her about it all. How my life has become a web and in every thread there’s a bit of him.
She asked to see what his character looked like and I showed her. I started unraveling every creative project I’ve worked on in months, every corner of my life.
So yeah, guess it does help to talk about it. . .
532 notes
·
View notes
Text
What if Hades had an emotional, environmental impact in the Underworld? A much deeper influence, a sort of extension of himself and his godly reign over the afterlife?
What if extreme thunderstorms raged across the layers of Hell if Hades ever got angered, nothing natural to Earth, raining burning acid or heavy hail?
What if a moist fog dampened Hell's atmosphere, fueled by Hades' despression and sadness?
What if colorful asphodel meadows grew thicker and brighter than usual, carrying life almost like sunshine, cheerfully lighting up the darkest corners of the nether when Hades is happy? The black skies clean, timid clouds swimming slowly like fish, freshening the air like peppermint, devoid of that infectious pure darkness unlike anything the tortured dead normally sees.
What if those happy flowers can quickly wilt into nothingness? Earthquakes swallowing entire fields of crops, leaving behind empty vessels of lingering death and reeking corpses. Dark withering roses, marigolds, and various sharp spider lilies replacing the afterlife gardens when Hades finds himself in deep mourning?
#mypost#thoughts#hades#ror#record of ragnarok#hades ror#hades record of ragnarok#tw mourning#tw sadness
36 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
greatcomputerinfluencer
Untitled
littlechxxseburger
▐✃Just A Little Human
rajresut
Rajresut.com
feedne2
تاسيس شركات فى دبي