#cw / parental death

[schnuffel-danny]

The info is right there on his wikipedia page, Danny, you really have no excuses for this one

[dreamwatch]

Know When To Hold 'em

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #17 - Prompt: This One's For You | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse, alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry. :(

The first time it happened totally out of the blue.

It was their first big show in Indy, their home show, and of course Wayne wanted to be there, as much out of curiosity as anything. He didn’t hear a thing; Steve gave him a set of ear plugs and it was like he’d been handed a pot of gold. “I could have done with these years ago.” But he saw everything and he talked about that show to anyone that would listen, and a few that wouldn’t.

Eddie was over the goddamn moon about it so he told the audience, “My Uncle Wayne’s here tonight, everyone say 'hi Uncle Wayne!'” and five thousand people just— did it. Because Eddie asked them to. Even through the ear plugs Wayne heard it. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen the old man blush before.

So it became a thing completely by accident. If Wayne was there they played The Gambler as the last song of the encore; like the flag at Buckingham Palace telling everyone the Queen was home: Uncle Wayne was in the house. The fans latched onto it straight away, and it was one of only a couple of songs that Eddie would sing. Wayne didn’t see the band play often but it didn’t matter where they were, the moment that song started up the crowd went wild; the roar of “Hi Uncle Wayne!” rolling through the audience before everyone sang along. And Wayne there at the edge of the stage shaking his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Eddie was in Germany when Wayne died. 

‘The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep’, sang The Gambler, and that’s exactly what he did. Wayne would have got a kick out of that.

Breaking the news to Eddie was the most painful thing Steve’s ever had to do.

Tonight is their first night back after a two month hiatus. It feels too soon, but there are contracts, missed shows, obligations, and there’s only so much their manager can do to keep the label, promoters and lawyers away. 

Eddie’s dead eyed and lethargic; he’s started drinking again, Steve discreetly hid his pain medication when he noticed the bottle emptying faster than it should have. He sleeps with a belly full of Ambien and spends his day wrapped in Zoloft. Neither help.

But the show must go on, right? 

Despite everything, the grief, the fog of depression, when he walks out onto the stage he’s a supernova, the brightest of lights in the deepest of darks. He’s fucking dazzling. 

The crowd at the Market Square Arena are on fire, they explode when the band run on stage but Steve doesn’t miss the extra noise when Eddie gets out there. Eddie loosens up as the gig goes on, and by the end, when they take a bow together, he looks like a different man to the shell thats been haunting their home. 

There will be a crash later. Steve is already prepared for it.

The band come off drenched with sweat. Steve can see the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the exertion after all this time lying around like a ghost has taken its toll on a body that has seen better days. But he still smiles at Steve as he hands off the guitar to his tech, his Sweetheart, only brought out for the encores now. 

“Was it okay?” Eddie asks him, towelling the sweat from his face.

“You were amazing,” is all Steve can manage right there, but he’s buzzing inside and there’s more he wants to say. But that’s for later, when it’s just them.

The band are handing off instruments, roadies scurrying around, breakdown already underway. There’s a lot happening, and you know, Steve’s hearing isn’t that great these days but there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight. He sees the little commotion over Eddie’s shoulder, the way people halt, ears pricking up like labradors. Jeff turns to Steve with wide eyes and Matt has stopped in his tracks. And then he sees the exact moment Eddie picks up on it, the furrowed brow, the soft tilt of the head.

The crowd are singing Wayne’s song.

Everyone stops. Roadies stand there like marionettes with their strings cut.

And Eddie…

He looks devastated, his hand flying up to his mouth like he’s trying to bury a sob, stopping the grief from breaking containment.

Steve can see the band over Eddie’s shoulder, heads nodding before they’re grabbing guitars back from their techs. He knows what they’re going to do, but there’s no way Eddie is up to it, they have to know that. Jeff slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, pulls him in, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. And then Matty does it, Matty who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but Gareth is long gone, already running back onto the stage, crowd cheering at the sight of him, before Matty and Jeff follow him out. And they pick up where the crowd are and they play. Eddie usually sings it, but Jeff takes it tonight. 

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Eddie toward the side of the stage.

Steve loved Wayne, so fucking much. And maybe with all the help and care Eddie needed afterward, still needs, maybe Steve didn’t get a chance to grieve properly. He feels the ache in his chest, before he notices the calloused fingers wiping his tears away.

“He loved you, Steve.” He can’t reply, just nods, and Eddie holds him like he should be holding Eddie. And then he’s gone, out on to the stage, back with his band. No guitar, just sharing a mic with Jeff and joining as much as the tears will allow. And then the music cuts, Matty and Gareth joining them at the mic, and it’s just voices, nineteen thousand and four. Corroded Coffin, arms slung across shoulders, singing Wayne’s song. 

Singing to Wayne.

Yeah... I went there.

So, I had this idea months ago and parked it because I didn't know what to do with it. And then this prompt came along and BOOM!

[manyunhappygreenies]

"IF your mother was still alive, we would not be here at all."

dad of war but make it shadow and silver.

PLEASE DONT TAG AS SHIP TY

[steddieasitgoes]

It’s Mother’s Day 1973 and Steve’s mom isn’t home.

Instead of spending the day with her only son, she’s left to follow her husband on his latest business trip. Steve doesn’t remember where she’s going, just that she promised to bring him back a snow globe for his collection. The one that sits on the highest shelf the bookcase in his room — collecting dust.

He’s been pawned off to his nanny again. Poor Ms. Anderson who has put her own middle-aged life on hold to raise a kid whose not hers. Steve’s not stupid. He knows his parents pay her well to take care of him, but he still wishes she’d tell them off. At least, put up a fight, so she didn’t have to spend all her weekends with him.

Usually the duo stay cooped up in the Harrington’s House. Ms. Anderson will cook him a nice meal and they’ll spend the afternoon playing games or watching movies. She’ll fall asleep early in the movie and Steve will disappear to play with his toys or snoop through his parents things to try to figure out where they’ve gone this time.

Today’s different though.

It’s Mother’s Day, after all.

Today, Ms. Anderson has taken him to Roane Hill Cemetery. She lets him hold a massive bouquet of pink carnations as she gathers a picnic blanket and basket from the back of her car.

“What are we doing here?” Steve asks, struggling to keep pace with Ms. Andersons determined steps.

“Visiting my mom.”

“But isn’t she…” Steve doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” she says, spreading out the blanket next to a small gravestone. “But just because someone’s gone doesn’t mean they’re out of our lives. Coming here makes me feel connected to her.”

Steve doesn’t understand that. 

How can Ms. Anderson feel connected to her dead mom if she can’t even look at her? He doesn’t even feel connected to his own mom when she’s in the same room as him.

Maybe it’s a girl thing, he thinks.

Steve sits down quietly, after that. Ms. Anderson clearly needs this visit and Steve’s not going to interfere with her plans. Not when said plans get him out of the house for the first time in a week. So he sits and listens to Ms. Anderson talk to the headstone. Watches as she digs out a small flower pot in the ground to place the flowers in.

It’s only when she ducks her head in a prayer that Steve decides to explore.

“Don’t go too far,” she warns. “And be mindful of others!”

The cemetery is full of older people. Some sit on blankets like Ms. Anderson with gorgeous flowers and picnic baskets full of food, ready to spend hours with their departed mothers. Others, stay for a few minutes. Set down flowers and tap headstones before ducking their heads while retreating to their cars.

There’s laughter and tears and Steve doesn’t know how to feel about all of it, except lonely.

He wishes there was someone his age around here.

Steve ventures deeper into the cemetery, where the trees are taller and fuller. Older, Steve thinks. It’s through a small clearing that he spots a boy about his age sitting in front of a headstone. An older man stands behind him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He’s too far away to know for sure, but he’s pretty sure the boy is talking to the headstone. Head tilted forward, shoulders hiccuping up and down like the boy is crying. Steve wonders who he could be visiting. Certainly not his mom, right? He’s much too young to not have a mom — Steve should know.

He watches as the little boy leans forward and kisses the headstone and Steve realizes it must be.

Steve must make a sound, a gasp or a small cry because the boy and the older man’s head whip around in his direction. He’s still too far away to hear, but he can tell the man is telling the boy something. Whispering in his ear before nodding his head in Steve’s direction.

He should leave. Ms. Anderson is probably done with her prayer now and she’ll be worried if he’s not back soon, but he can’t leave. Not when he spots the little boy trudging through the tall grass towards him.

“Are you lost?” the boy asks.

Steve shakes his head.

“What are you doing all the way out here then?”

Steve shrugs. “Was that… were you talking to your mom?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, looking over his shoulder. “Uncle Wayne says it’s good to come talk to her ‘cause she gets lonely too. Are you here for your mom?”

“Oh no,” Steve says. “My mom is, well she’s not here but—”

“Do you want to help me?” Eddie asks, before Steve can finish it. “Wayne wants me to go find a yellow flower in the field over there. It’s so big I could use some help.”

“Sure!” Steve says, happy to finally have someone his age to talk to. “But why yellow?”

“It’s my mom’s favorite color!” Eddie smiles. “She said, she always felt like the sun was touching her when she wore it. It was her happy color.”

Years later, when Steve and Eddie have reconnected and they’re going through Steve’s closet to find items to donate, Eddie will ask Steve why he has so many yellow sweaters.

“It makes me feel like the sun, warm and happy,” Steve says, smiling softly. “I used to wrap myself in yellow whenever my parents left me home alone.”  

And it’s then and only then do the two of them realize they met long before they crossed paths in the halls of Hawkins High and even longer before portals to hell-like dimensions open.

[syscultureis]

(tw death)

sys culture is having to tell an alter who hasn’t been close to front for the past few years that our mom passed away because they think we’re still in school and she’s about to tell us to go to bed and immediately getting hit with an intense wave of sadness

.

[gabessquishytum]

CW: past child abuse, past parricide

Special inspector Hob Gadling hates his job. Well, it's actually not true - he loves his job, but today specifically, he hates it. First, he was hoping for a bonus, and now he got assigned to a years-old cold case 'just to ensure that no new details emerged, and the investigation needs not to be reopened.' Second, he'll have to deal with some filthy rich weirdos.

Destiny Endless is a top-tier consulting risk manager, his services costing more than Hob's yearly paycheck. Death is the founder of a successful chain of funeral homes - after all, people always die, and rumor has it that Death is the best in her line of work. Dream is a famous writer who's able to write it all: whatever genre he sets his eyes - and pen - on, the book becomes a bestseller. Desire Endless is a porn star; the only mention of their name makes armies of fans go hard, wet, and horny. Despair founded a pharmaceutical corporation and revolutionized the world by introducing new, highly effective antidepressants. Destruction seems like the only normal person in that fucked-up family of masterminds: he had made a career in the military and then fucked off to travel the world. Last but not least, there is Delirium, an artist. Personally, Hob thinks that one needs to be constantly high to come up with such colors and forms, but hey, it's not him who's paid six figures to install some mind fuckery in amusement parks, so he doesn't get to judge.

Hob wouldn't come close to any of these freaks, but he has to verify that nothing was missed during the investigation, and so, here he goes. Mama and Papa of the Endless disappeared almost twenty years ago with no trace. Their bodies were never found, and there was no evidence of foul play. They just vanished into thin air, voilà. It was presumed that they had got bored, bought themselves new personalities, and left to live someplace else. To Hob, this seems strange yet plausible: looking at their kids, it's obvious that insanity runs in the family.

Still, Hob shows up to do his job, examine old records, and talk once again with all the Endless heirs. All goes very smoothly - there's nothing suspicious, all the kids' testimonies match. Hob would gladly close the check, but there is one tiny problem: he fell head over heels in love with Dream. Now in his thirties, he's unconventionally beautiful, insanely talented, and he's got Hob wrapped around his slender finger. Dream keeps his distance at first, but eventually, they begin dating. Hob finally closes the check for good - it's as clear as day that Endless parents must be chilling on some private island - and plunges into the relationship with Dream, learning him from the other side, as someone vulnerable, insecure, and kind-hearted. There's only one strange thing: Dream is inexperienced in bed for his age, and he's always somewhat tense during sex. Hob tries to talk to him, but Dream shuts the conversation down. Hob guiltily googles his bf and finds out that despite his high profile, there are no mentions of his exes in the media. At all.

Hob is puzzled, but it all falls into place when, one night, his lover has a nightmare. Hob wakes up from his screams and, with horror, realizes that this is more than a nightmare - it's a memory. He wakes Dream up and holds him while he cries. On the periphery of his mind, Dream's screams and pleas create a terrifying story of the siblings being abused by their parents for years.

'You killed them together, didn't you? Each of you thought you were the only one who suffered and thus kept the others safe. But once you all learned the truth…' Hob whispers into Dream's hair and holds him tighter. 'It's alright, my sweetling. I'd have killed them myself for you if they had been still alive.'

They stay like that through the night. In the morning, Hob makes Dream breakfast like nothing happened and goes to work. He's got no reason to worry about the case ever being reopened: there's no evidence, and he's determined to be the only one who sleeps by Dream's side till the end and holds him through his dreams and nightmares.

I love this so much. Poor, poor Dream. And the rest of the siblings too!

Hob doesn't want to draw further attention to the case of course, but he does all he can at work to make sure that files are carelessly "lost" or at least buried so deep in the archive no one will find it for a century. It even occurs him to frame someone else for the crime to make sure that the siblings are thoroughly safe, but... its better left forgotten. God knows Hob will spend the rest of his career making sure that no one ever goes sniffing around the Endless siblings ever again.

What's more he'll spend the rest of his life helping Dream in his recovery. He makes sure that he has private, confidential access to resources that a survivor should have - none of the siblings ever told anyone about the abuse or went to therapy because they're terrified to look like they had a "motive" to get rid of their parents. Hob changes that. He persuades as many of the siblings as he can to visit trusted therapists. Not all of them go for it, but at least someone is finally advocating for them and offering a little bit of support.

Hob loves Dream most of all of course, but he considers all the siblings as his family. He hates what happened to them. He can't fix it. But he can protect and love them as they deserve. Maybe all of them can finally breathe a little easier, with a friend on their side.

[ponsibonsi]

Help my friend April fund their mother's memorial

My friend's mother recently passed away, and they've opened a fundraiser to help make a memorial possible. If someone is able to pass over a few bucks, it'd be a huge help to the family ;;

[bakvrue]

the things we don't do

izuku x reader

cw: DEATH, PARENTAL DEATH, hospice mentions, sadness, me projecting onto izuku, very very sad, grief, feeling of loss, depression, anxiety, sad (again), wc 1.2k, header by @/cafekitsune

It's been either a few minutes or a few hours. Izuku can't tell.

He sits on your couch taking a break from the room that has stolen his attention away for the past few days.

A spare room turned into a makeshift hospital. Bottles of liquid medicine easy to administer as well as adult briefs, wet wipes, cleaning supplies, and a small booklet about the process of dying sit neatly organized on a table.

Everything you need to take care of a dying parent.

It didn't sneak up on her, Inko's age and a myriad of health complications have been accumulating over the years, but that doesn't make the pain of losing someone easier; the pain of losing your mom any easier.

Izuku looks at the clock, counting the hours to make sure that he has the dosing times right, and closes his eyes. Never once did he think that he would suddenly be in charge of administering morphine, but he would do anything just to make his mom feel less pain.

He walks through the kitchen trying to remember what last he ate before shaking his head, he's not hungry anyways, and heads back to Inko's room.

He moved a comfortable chair from your living room into this makeshift hospital room so that he could at least sit more comfortably, so he makes himself at home.

It's been five days since she was brought home, and two days since she has uttered a word or opened her eyes. He can hear her soft snores over the sound of the movie he put on, one that she always put on for him when he was a kid.

He can see her now laughing at her favorite part, singing along to the music, doing that silly little dance she always did. It hurts him to look over at her now, but he does because soon he won't be able to ever again.

He holds her hand as he watches the movie with her, occasionally sending out texts to friends and family members giving them updates. He's not sure how much more he can update them since there's not much happening.

The woman in the movie jumps off of a roof onto a paper lantern zipline as fireworks explode indicating that the movie is just about over. Izuku kisses his mother's hand and sets it down gently on the bed.

There's a few minutes before the next round of medicine, just enough time to clean up the room a little bit.

The raisable hospital table that she no longer can use is converted into the supply storage and his new desk for sorting medicine. The wipes are stacked from largest to smallest in the corner, the paper towels and latex gloves finding their home next to them. A small vase of flowers is moved next to a new larger vase just delivered today, all that's left is some trash on the bedside table.

That's when he sees it.

They say that it's the smallest things that break you, and he supposes that's true now.

Wrapped up in its wrapper is half of an eaten lollipop.

He remembers the last day she was conscious he found this lollipop hiding in his pantry. It's a special one you could only find in certain shops, its chalky consistency reminding him of summer days during his childhood when Inko would eat these when she got home from work.

He had excitedly ran to her room to show her his find, and she had made excited grabby hands for it, even though her mind was slipping she remembered the joy of her favorite treat.

Izuku watched her that day enjoying the treat, until she got halfway done with it.

"Let's save the rest for later, okay Mom?"

She pouted at him but agreed, "Later."

He had wanted to be able to give it to her later, to use it as a reward for having some soup for dinner. A little treat to brighten her again.

But he didn't know that would be the last day she would ever speak to him.

Izuku looks at the lollipop again and feels sick to his stomach. He covers his eyes and walks out of the room. It feels wrong breaking down in front of the one person you wish could comfort you but can't.

He goes back to the living room with tears blurring his vision, pacing before he decides to sit.

Of course he did this, of course he took away this one comfort from her and didn't let her finish it.

His head falls into his hands, and sobs escape him as he lets himself fall farther into this feeling. He's drowning in his own thoughts.

He took away her happiness, just like every time before when he had told her no. When he said no to fast food. When he said no to this trip, or to getting that puppy, or any other things that she asked for. Every "No" rushes into his head.

His throat is raw, and he can barely breathe, he doesn't care. What does it matter when the person who cheered for him the hardest is beyond repair? What does an optimist do when their spirit finally gets broken?

He thinks about the lollipop again, and another choked sobs breaks through him.

Izuku doesn't hear your keys turn the lock as you enter your home, two large grocery bags in hand, but you can hear him. You set down all your things as quickly as possible and then set out to find him.

And what you find breaks your heart. He's folded over his knees, sobs making his shoulders shake as you quickly run to envelope him. Taking whatever weights he needs off his shoulders.

He wraps his arms around you and cries into your shoulder. He's so grateful for you, more than you could ever know at that moment.

When he's quieted down, he holds you tighter. "Do you want to know what that was about?"

You nod, "Yeah, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I do." He sniffles and wipes his tears on your shirt. "I took her happiness away from her… why couldn't I just give her what she wanted?"

Izuku can feel the tears rising up again and his lower lip starts to wobble as he continues.

"I never let her do anything, why didn't I just let her?"

"Oh, Izuku," you hold him tighter and he does the same.

"I never stopped to get her food, I never took her to do things, I couldn't even let her finish a stupid lollipop."

Your presence calms him, just having you next to him lets him hear how all of this really sounds out loud, but it still hurts him.

You pull back from his embrace so you can wipe the tears from his face. Salt steaks layered over freckles wiped away by your thumbs.

You press your forehead against his, "You tried to do what was best for her. You didn't stop for fast food because you wanted her to eat healthier, you didn't take her to do crazy things like horseback riding, you didn't get her a puppy because it would have been your puppy. You're a good son Izuku."

Izuku's lip quivers as he pulls himself into you again. He takes a deep breath as tears roll down his cheek once again.

He hears your words, he knows they're true, but god does it still hurt.

His phone alarm goes off from Inko's room telling him that it's time to give her meds. He kisses your shoulder and stands up, heading back to his mom.

[kkpwnall]

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

part one | rated t | 1270 words | cw: parental death

all my thanks and love to my beloved @fragilecapric0rnn for beta-reading 💜 you're a rockstar and your feedback was so so helpful

Eddie was born under a bad sign. That’s what his momma always used to say. Friday the 13th, and in October? He never really stood a chance and neither did anyone else he got close to. He was like a black cat walking across their path. 

[ keep reading below, or read on ao3 ]

His momma was first, of course. Cursed by the fate of Eddie’s birth from the very beginning. And if he hadn’t dawdled on the way home from school that day, if he had gone straight home just like he’d promised, if he hadn’t stopped to pick a bouquet of ditch weed wildflowers for her and got distracted by caterpillars and rollie-pollies— Well, maybe he would’ve been able to tell the 911 operator she was still breathing when he found her.

His daddy was next, not much long after. Eddie worshiped him like a hero in one of his fantasy stories, the charming, devil-may-care, down on his luck protagonist who stole from the rich and gave to the needy. But the first time Floyd brought him out on a real job, just the two of them, when all Eddie had to do was hot wire the getaway car after he heard the signal (three hoots like a barn owl), Eddie panicked. Did he say barn owl or barred owl? Was that two hoots or three? Why did the wires all look the same in the dark?

When the police cars painted him in their flashing red and blue lights, he dropped the wire cutters and ran. Floyd went down in a hail of bullets behind the car Eddie had been trying to steal, and Wayne got his own life sentence when the State dropped Eddie on his doorstep.

Uncle Wayne got the worst of it, obviously. Working himself to the bone, nights and weekends, to put Eddie through school. Not to mention senior year for a second and third goddamn time.

It was too late by the time young Eddie figured it out. By the time he decided to keep everyone at arm’s length.

It’s safer that way, for everyone.

Chrissy was just the latest in a long line. And he’d only lowered his guard an inch, a millimeter, when he saw someone just as lonely and desperate for a friend. He’d only barely started to let himself have an inkling of what an actual friendship with her might be like when—

This is exactly why Eddie doesn’t have friends. He has minions. He has little lost sheepies, he has twerps and shrimps. And that’s it. That’s enough. It has to be enough.

But all that changes the day he dies.

Or maybe it’s the day he finally wakes up. His new birthday, welcomed to the world once again in a cold, bright, sterile hospital room.

And really, the way he sees it, it’s all Henderson’s fault.

The little shit wanders in every day at visiting hours and makes himself right at home. He props his cast up on Eddie’s bed, and steals the remote to change the channel on the ancient, minuscule tv over to cartoons, and then he just… camps out! All day!

The kid will not leave him alone, no matter how cold a shoulder Eddie tries to give him. He even broke down and explained everything to him. How he’s bad luck, he’s bad news. And people who get too close to him end up dead.

But maybe the painkillers they’ve got him on scrambled his brain as bad as the bats scrambled his guts, because Dustin steamrolls right over him.

“If curses were real, which they aren’t,” he posits in his professor voice, “Your dumb curse can’t try to kill me again. It already took a shot and it missed, and the worst I got was a busted ankle.”

Eddie opens his mouth to tell Dustin that’s not how curses work but—

“And what was its goal anyway? To get you alone and friendless, dead in a ditch? Well then, mission accomplished!”

Which is… weirdly comforting when he puts it like that.

Dustin brings with him a rotating cast of the rest of the fellowship. Eddie finally gets to meet Baby Byers and finds out he’s already been recruited to Hellfire before Eddie can even say hello.

More often than not, Steve tags along too since he’s already ferrying them all between the hospital and home. Usually after he’s spent some time with Red and the other kids in her room, he’ll drop by. To check on Dustin of course.

It’s not because he likes Eddie. Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t even know him.

All that… before… it was just some harmless flirting to keep himself from completely losing it while he was on the run from homicidal bible-thumpers. And Steve was just humoring him.

So he hides behind stupid flirtatious remarks, easy to brush off when it’s always undercut with sly winks and salacious expressions. Enough to keep everything surface level. Keep him at arms length.

It doesn’t matter that his eyes still seem to linger on Eddie, even when he hasn’t said anything for a while. Or that he brings Eddie extra pudding cups from the cafeteria. It doesn’t mean anything when he stands in the doorway trying to finish one last story or joke, until the kids almost literally have to drag him out when visiting hours are over.

Because it turns out Steve is an incorrigible gossip. And Eddie’s not about to be the one to corrige him. Not when he brings an extra dr. pepper for Eddie every time he stops by the vending machine for a coke and gleefully tells Eddie which of the doctors, nurses, and shady government agents are sleeping together.

A can of coke he taps on the lid with a peculiar rhythm before he cracks it, every time.

“What’s up with that?” Eddie finally has to ask one day, when it’s just the two of them and the Price is Right.

Steve hums this confused little sound at him, tilting his head with furrowed brows as he takes the first sip.

Eddie repeats the pattern, tapping it out on his own can.

Steve blinks a few times, first at Eddie, then at the can in his hand.

“I didn’t even realize I did that,” he huffs out a laugh. “It’s uh… something my grandpa taught me when I was a kid. Y’know just for luck.”

The blood in Eddie’s veins freezes and he’s stuck like that for a painfully long moment. Propped up against the lumpy hospital pillows with his mouth half open, staring at Steve.

“For luck.” he says flatly.

“Yeah, so the fizz doesn’t explode when you open it.”

“And has that ever happened to you?” Aiming for flirty, aiming for scathing, aiming for anything that’s not desperation.

“Well no,” Steve says with an easy shrug and a conspiratorial smile, “that’s why it’s lucky. It’s like picking up a coin that’s face-down on the sidewalk.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s face-up, darlin,” Eddie says coyly, like every alarm bell in his head isn’t ringing a deafening cacophony.

“Nah see, you gotta leave those ones for someone who really needs the luck.”

“But then you get the bad luck.”

“Nah, doesn’t work that way,” Steve says, and fucking winks at him.

Eddie wants to shake him. What is wrong with him? He’s got it all backwards and it’s dangerous. How is he walking around like this?

Whatever, it’s not his problem. Steve can do whatever Steve wants. Eddie doesn’t need to protect him from himself. It’s not like they’re friends. And really, that’s the best way to protect him.

[ part two ]

[ also on ao3 ]

[dericbindel]

I'm fucked

So, after something of a spat with my dad, I got this text from him.

I have been going through intense depression the past 2 years, still recovering from an abusive relationship and a former friend who took advantage of my hospitality and fought with my ex nearly weekly. I escaped that, and then was saddled with caring for my mom in her last year of life before she passed from cancer. I have no idea what to do, where to go, but uh, if you can spare anything to support me, or have ideas fro where I can go from here, please help me.

My kofi: https://ko-fi.com/dericbindel

I HAVE SET UP A GOFUNDME: https://gofund.me/2deb64b8

SHARE THE LINKED POST HERE THAT HAS MORE INFO

[strawberrystepmom]

i have 100% complained about this before but every few months ancestry sends me an email and it’s like new vital records hit for your family tree and it’s literally always my moms obituary. sister ancestry i know that exists….I wrote it!!!!!!

[styxisms]

// I'm sorry for not being active this weekend so far. I'm still recovering from the pink eye. And I got the news that my mother's health is worse than we expected and isn't going to improve. So my father was having a long talk with me on Friday about if/when she dies. I've always been very close with my mother. I knew she was sick but I'm just not ready for all of this. We talked briefly about a transplant but idk. I just don't know. I haven't been able to talk to her about it because she said she wanted to talk later. I can't even sit alone with my thoughts at all without tearing up. I know it's part of life. But man. It's so hard. Every time I start thinking I start crying. I haven't even slept much.

[jjcocker]

guys wanna see me inflict Angsty Stuff on ao-kun.

ok hi if u pressef the readmore Yes you do

for context the one crying on the bed is not ao-kun (it's the blue glass tapper who i hc to be his dad). so lieek.

ok. basically ao-kun's mom uh. Died. of what specifically? ok so um. a little while ago I saw someonr hcing one of the squadmates as ao-kun's mom. so jmagine she leaves for something with the promise of "ill be back :]". and then she Isn't back. and she Won't be back. and ao-kun doesn't knowthat because his dad doesn't have the heart to tell any o that to him.

though I'm scared this hc is a bit too Much on a kid character (hes a toss BOY not a toss MAN),, and that everything I just said might be super inaccurate bc I haven't lost any of my parents,,

[inhcritance]

I need to find the meta I already have posted on Harry and FEAST, but now that I'm mentioning it on several threads...

While Harry is no longer a usual presence at FEAST, he's one of their constant top donors and also someone who works with them for charity galas and similar events. It's not unusual for him to reach out to FEAST if he thinks one of the initiatives for the Research Stations or from the EMF might benefit them, and it's also a reasonably guarded secret that some people at FEAST have his personal number and he's been known to help out, especially as a biochemist, when asked to.

And while nowadays Harry mostly keeps to Oscorp and, depending on the timeline, the EMF, Harry did volunteer at FEAST for several years at the suggestion of May Parker, after Harry's mother passed, and he's been very attached to FEAST ever since, for giving him a chance to help others when he felt at his most helpless. To this day, he believes he wouldn't be the person he is if he hadn't spent those years so out of his element, learning to get things done himself instead of throwing money at the problem, and while nowadays he does help more by offering funding, a part of him misses being able to make a difference directly.

One point of note is that Harry made arrangements so that his donations wouldn't stop when he went to "Europe", but the moment his father found out about them, they were stopped... and only reactivated once Harry was back in New York.

Some other fun tidbits related to the topic are that Harry learned how to cook in bulk and for many people during his years volunteering at FEAST, and it's a skill he hasn't forgotten. Enough so that when he ends up in another universe, one of his first options to try and support himself while he figures out how to get back home is to reach out to FEAST and see if they need a cook, and if he doesn't need the money, he'll likely volunteer instead.

[whumpbug]

Hi Bug, same anon who asked the horse questions --- first of all, thank you so much for the answers and I'm so glad I was able to inspire you!! I don't think you've talked about this yet but I was curious: What was Gene's mom like? I know she was killed by criminals and that event led to him becoming such an intensely strict deputy, so either she meant a whole lot to him or her death was just that traumatic. --- QUESTIONS - Well, first of all, what's her name? - What lasting affect did she have on Gene when she was alive? Did she teach him anything fundamental about life or morality that he still believes? Did she introduce him to anything that he's still passionate about? - Is there anything specific that Gene does in her memory and if so, when? On the anniversary of her death? Whenever it's her favorite weather? Every other day? Every morning? - Who, specifically, killed her (if you know)? - How old was Gene when she was killed and did he witness it himself? If so, does he remember it?

HI ANON IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU IN MY ASK BOX AGAIN!!!!! and once again you come with such amazing questions i am being so spoiled right now.

the short answer is that she meant a whole lot to him AND her death was that traumatic. but who's here for the short answer anyways

long post incoming. as always. I HOPE U ENJOY!

✮⋆˙

what's her name?

gene's mother's maiden name was Sylvia Mae LeBlanc.

she was a small, feisty woman from the deep south (louisiana) and you could tell right away from her accent. she was blonde, blue-eyed, and gorgeous. a real southern belle.

she met gene's father (who's name is clint) when she was just 17, and the two hit it off. they got married, and of course, she became sylvia delaney, and soon baby gene was born. the trouble was that sylvia's father did not like clint. clint was a rancher, and her father thought lowly of the profession. he refused to support them finacially. she ran away with clint and they struggled for quite a while, but they were determined. clint truly did love sylvia, but i don't think he was ever going to be ready to be a father. sylvia loved being a mother, but fatherhood scared clint. he never had a great relationship with gene to start, and it only got worse when sylvia died.

looks wise, gene got his bone structure from his father, but everything else is from his mama. he has her eyes, her hair, her mouth, even her nose. he was VERY blonde as a child.

✮⋆˙

what lasting affect did she have on gene when she was alive?

oh this is a loaded question and i LOVE it.

when he was little, he spent most of his time with his mom. being a rancher was a busy job, and clint didn't particularly care enough to make an effort to spend time with his kid, so gene and sylvia were very very close.

she taught him a lot about how to conduct himself. she was a southern girl, manners were VERY important to her. she'd be damned if gene didn't address everyone he met as sir or ma'am. she also was a big reader, and taught gene to read and write from just age 3. she read anything under the sun to him, and its part of the reason why he's generally considered very articulate. he still loves reading and it's one of his favorite pastimes.

she was also extremely progressive for her time. she taught him so much about how to respect people as a whole, no matter their race or gender or social class or anything. she just taught him empathy. it was a big help that gene was naturally just a sweet kid.

unfortunately for little gene, clint Did Not like this. he was obsessed with what it meant to "Be A Man" and didn't take kindly to seeing his son do things like carrying the paralyzed lamb to and from the water tin or crying after accidentally stepping on a butterfly. he saw gene as too soft from the get-go, and he made his disdain for it known.

it was a recurring argument for sylvia and clint.

still, sylvia wouldn't back down. when gene would sob after getting yelled at by clint or, worse, after being forced to go hunting at the age of 7, sylvia would hold him and rock with him and sing to him until he calmed down and tell him that its okay to cry. being gentle takes strength. the world needs more kindness like yours.

gene thinks about it very often.

✮⋆˙

is there anything specific that gene does in her memory and if so, when?

so, for starters, he visits her grave every year on the anniversary of her death. she was buried in louisiana-- she loved her home town and state. so every year, gene takes a train (haha. sorry gene.) down to visit his grandparents and aunts and cousins, but ultimately he leaves the family house to go to the cemetery and spends the day sitting by her grave and just. he just talks to her.

he talks to her like she's right there. he tells her about work, about the town shenanigans, more recently about cassidy (he talks a lot about cassidy. sylvia is looking down at him with an Eyebrow Raise.), really anything that comes to his mind. he sometimes falls asleep, head resting against her headstone, and wakes up to the sun settling below the horizon.

in terms of little practices he does, he makes his coffee a very specific way because of how she used to make it. he wears one of her rings on a chain around his neck. he has her accent, sometimes, when he's not thinking about it. he still has all his southern manners, he is respectful and kind, just like she wanted him to be, but sometimes it's drowned out by his father.

he also kept a bottle of her perfume. it smells of peach and vanilla and orange blossom. he sprays it on his pillow sometimes, when he really really misses her. those nights are always hard on him.

✮⋆˙

who, specifically, killed her (if you know)?

see this is where i have entertained different ideas. as of now, its just a random outlaw. just a random train robber that had no personal connection to gene.

however.

i have thought it could be interesting if the man was montana or someone associated with him. the timelines would (maybe) make sense, but i feel like it might also just complicate things too much. IDK. its just a little idea but for now, i'll say it was just an unspecific outlaw.

✮⋆˙

how old was gene when she was killed and did he witness it himself? if so, does he remember it?

oh boy.

cw: blood mention. slightly graphic description of death.

gene wishes he didn't remember. he really does.

she was killed on their way to visit louisiana. clint never went with them when they traveled because, again, being a rancher is a demanding profession and sylvia's family didn't take too kindly to him visiting anyways.

gene was 11 at the time. he was sitting in the train car with his mother, head resting on her shoulder, when he heard commotion coming from a few cars down.

then, the group of robbers breached their own car.

gene was petrified. he clung to his mama like a little boy, visibly shaking when they started making their way down the aisle. she whispered reassurances to him, that they would be okay, that they weren't going to give the bad men anything, that the sherriff would be there any minute.

when one of the men approached sylvia and gene, sylvia physically put herself between the man and her son. she was fesity. she wasn't going down without a fight, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give this man anything.

when she refused the first time, the man didn't shoot her. he simply murmured something to his the other outlaw beside him and turned back to sylvia, giving her a chance to reconsider. she didn't.

and then the gunshot rang out.

she got her right in the chest. it was a miracle that gene wasn't somehow hit too, as close as he was.

that was the moment the outlaws heard the shout of the lawmen, and turned tail on the job. but the damage had been done.

gene held his mama as she took her last breath. she didn't stand a chance. the bullet fired point blank into her left lung. she hardly lasted a few minutes. still, gene screamed. there was blood everywhere. on his face, on his clothes, on his hands.

he cried, he begged, he pleaded for someone, anyone to help him. to save his mama. but she didn't stand a chance.

i'd like to say that she had last words, some profound thing to say that gene could hold dear to him for the rest of his life, but she didn't she just gasped for air until she couldn't anymore.

gene remembers that day in vicious detail. he remembers what he was wearing, what she was wearing, what the man's eye color was. his memory goes fuzzy from the moment she died, though. he vaguely remembers being taken to a sherriffs office and being cleaned up with a handkerchief and being wrapped in a scratchy blanket. he remembers his father arriving, and it might have been the only time his father hugged him. it was certainly the only time he ever saw him cry.

his memory of the entire year after she died is choppy at best, nonexistent at worst. he began helping his father more at the farm, not because he wanted to spend more time with him, but because it gave him something to do. if he didn't have anything to do, he might've gone crazy.

unfortunately, and much to sylvia's dismay i'm sure, the experience hardened him. especially since he was around his father so much, he didn't allow himself to be seen as soft or gentle anymore. he got tougher, meaner, and more like his father.

its, in part, because he wonders if he had been just a little stronger on that day in the train, if he could have saved his mama. maybe if he had been quicker or more intimidating, he could have protected her like a "Real Man" should. but he'll never know. and that thought kills him.

✮⋆˙

GOD that got sad really fast. im sorry for the trauma gene. and i'm sorry for giving you another reason to hate trains cough cough @sethlost cough cough

JOKES ASIDE thank you so much for this question anon. i think by writing this all out, i have a much better grasp of gene as a person and the actual impact his mother had on him. this was such an important question and also SO fun to answer so thank you so much!!!!!

[pileofpawns]

I really wonder why Kyborg often talks about and heavily mourns Crystalena but literally never brings up his dad specifically. Was his dad a bad parent? Does Kyborg just remember his mom better? Did Blaine forget that Kyborg has a dad? I have so many questions.