#death of parent tw

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[winonaparadise]

As someone else who's previous assumption was that you'd had ffs you should thank your dad for having to bear the cross of being a cis guy with a hot girl's face just so he could pass it on to you to fulfill it's true destiny.

Or tell him to start hrt

[nikoisme]

This pain will linger with me still, I pray this too shall pass.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Family Wrath

( Implied SA, not actually SA, POV outsider misunderstandings )

Okay I want all the misunderstandings!

Misunderstandings galore my beloved!

Anyway!

For this intrusive thought that decided to hit me as I was minding my own business-

Danny is the baby that Stephanie gave into adoption when she was young.

Obvi trans Danny,

So after Stephanie realizes just who Danny is she investigates (You can't escape the Bat paranoia training)

But here are the misunderstandings: Ellie and Dante (de-aged)

" Oh my God guys I'm a grandmother! "

But wait there's more!

Danny is how old?! With kids, that are very much not newborns?

" So who's the other parent? "

" Oh some fruit-loop named Vlad, he was obsessed with my mom when they went to college together but she wasn't interested at all & now he's obsessed with me. He really wanted the 'perfect' son but I told him to fuck off not that he cared about what I wanted. So yeah, sorry for rambling-are you okay you look a little pale, is the heat bothering you? "

Danny forgets that peoples first thoughts aren't " Oh yea clone! " Or timeline shenanigans

So what these concerned people heard was " Yea this adult man wanted my mom and when he saw that that wasn't an option he targeted me as a child "

Dante & Ellie are just enjoying the show intentionally creating more misunderstandings and havoc, they hope someone will finally go beat Vlad since they're now too small to beat him.

~

Dante: " Pappa practically died when I was born. "

Ellie: "Yea I almost killed him too! "

They're technically not lying just using what actually happened in a different context

~

Alfred after hearing what's going on grabbing his shotgun: " I still have good aim."

~

Jason/Stephanie: " A little murder is fine, as a treat "

~

Just more and more misunderstandings happening around Danny with him being none the wiser.

~

Feel free to add to my nonsense, I love it, it's fun to read what people come up with

~

Just an (Intrusive) Idea

[absolutedream-art]

Next

Previous

Paleo reveals a bit about his family.  Copper comforts his friend.

[1980ssunflower]

Help me pay off my father's living expenses

Hi everyone, my father just passed away the other day and left me with several expenses I need to pay off as soon as possible (such as apartment rent, a house mortgage, and car expenses). I've been job searching but have been unsuccessful in finding one, and I have college on top of this, so I can't do this on my own. If you all could share this around and donate some money I'd seriously appreciate it. This has been extremely stressful for me as I have to figure everything out with practically no time to process my father's death and grieve.

I also still have my commissions open if you would like to support me and get some art back! DM me if interested.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My parents wanted to euthanise me, because I was 18 and ‘it was about time’.

[twinliches]

where is that post that is like at a certain level of serving cunt misgendering becomes funny because i had to attend a funeral in my conservative hometown and the urge not to wink and do finger guns at every old person who looked at my mother puzzled as she answered the question "and who is this young man?" with "that's my daughter" through clenched teeth was immeasurably hard to supress

[moider-time]

Y'know what I want? I want sick Bruce Wayne.

I want a Bruce that babies his kids when they're sick. He goes all out. 6'4 muscle-bound Jason Todd is getting tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature and whines if Bruce forgets.

As good as his memory is, Bruce can't exactly remember what Thomas and Martha used to do when he was sick. They had a routine but the intricacies of it constantly escape him. As little as that may be, it does pang every now and again that he's forgetting them, forgetting how they loved him. He doesn't want that for any of his kids.

So he babies them, treats them like the little kids he knows they aren't and rarely if ever got to be. He deals with any vomit, tears or just general irritation that comes with being sick. It gets to point where when the kids are sick and Bruce isn't home, they can barely function.

Dick: THIS IS IT- THIS IS THE END

Wally: dude you just have a cold?

Dick: JUST A- JUST A COLD?!? WALLY, ARE YOU INSANE?? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MANAGE WITHOUT MY HOT CHOCOLATE AND HOME MADE BUNNY MARSHMALLOWS??!?

Wally: ok one, bunny marshmallows? adorable. and two, i've seen you walk off a fractured collarbone, two bruised ribs and a twisted ankle???

Dick: ....yeah but the marshmallows

Wally:

But Bruce? Oh when Bruce is sick, he powers through. But when he's so sick he considers himself a liability, he curls up in a small, dark room like a pregnant cat. It's practically instinct for him – when he's compromised like that, he needs to be in a place that he's knows is safe.

Very Sick Bruce also goes into Mama Bear Mode. He wants his kids in his sight at all times or he's practically inconsolable. If they're not with him, then they might be in danger, anything could happen – how can he protect them if they're not there? Just anxiety out of the wazoo.

I can see him trying to drag his 7 kids into one room so he can keep an eye on his babies.

Damian: baba we cannot all possibly fit-

Cass: -we will

Damian:

Damian: who's going first?

The kids do make things more comfortable. Fluffing his pillows, getting him tea and making sure he has his stuffies. Bruce appreciates it but he just says that all he needs are his kids. That always has them sobbing.

(happy holidays to my cold twin @bruciemilf i was inspired by our mutual sickness lol)

[alaskan-wallflower]

imagine darry having to plan his own parents funeral

imagine darry having to pick out their coffins and their gravestones

imagine the three brothers debating on a closed casket wake or an open casket one

imagine them all being so terrified of having to see their parents mangled bodies but deciding on an open casket wake so they can see their parents one more time

imagine them at the wake with extended family who they hardly know while trying not to break at every “i’m sorry” they receive

imagine soda paralyzed at their parents coffins with this broken expression, the smile creases gone from his eyes and cheeks, just looking at the bruised and bloody mess that was his mother and fathers face, they weren’t his parents…

imagine darry burying his favorite football with his dad, a football his dad paid for and the football his dad taught him to play with and then having to get through a speech he prepared without crying, knowing he needs to be the anchor for his baby brothers

imagine pony being too afraid to go into the room with his parents, every time he gets close to looking at them he just closes his eyes and sobs until his eyes are red raw and his throat stops working, something he regrets because he never got to see his parents and say goodbye face to face

imagine the rest of the gang going to the funeral, johnny holding pony’s hand tight, feeling like a piece of him was taken with them. two bit’s face is completely blank, he’s not even trying to joke around. he’s even crying. steve holding a sobbing soda to his chest, not caring if he’s getting his shirt dirty with tears and snot as he holds his best friend in his arms. even dally looks numb. bitter. another two people the world took away from him. mrs curtis was the only one to ever get through to him and she was gone.

imagine afterwards when pony and soda are too afraid to sleep on their own, they curl up next to darry, dried tears on both of their cheeks ss they each hold one of darry’s hands, knowing they might get separated by CPS because they didn’t have any family they knew who were willing to help

imagine darry signing and filling out paperwork while praying he doesn’t lose his brothers as well

imagine the three brothers never ever leaving the house without their final words being “i love you” because god forbid anything happens to them at work or school, the other two want to make sure their last words they say are “i love you”

imagine

[cubbihue]

* how would the others react if dev got to chance to become a pixie? (If that makes any sense, very sorry if it doesn’t)

They'd be horrified and won't know how to process the information.

In this grim timeline, CosWan would have to come to terms that their youngest son is a walking death flag, while also embracing their new grandchild as much as they had embraced Timmy. It's a whole new terrifying life to navigate, but they'll do their best to navigate it together as family.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[gffa]

Update on the Lumi: I'm going to try not to disappear, because I've already spent a lot of time away from friends and social hobbies over the last month+, but I recently lost a longtime friend suddenly and, with it being in the same week as the one year anniversary of my dad's death, it's been hitting me hard, so be a little extra gentle with me if I'm more scattershot than usual. I'm processing the feelings, it's just very sudden and deeply unfair, so it's hard to get my heart around it. I'll try to get to messages and asks soon, but just know that sometimes I'm going to seem very upbeat and cheerful, which may even sometimes be genuine, but that I'm going to be easily slipping from one mood to the next. Thank you for your patience and compassion ahead of time. <3

[aghostnamedcalamity]

🪻The life of Miss Millicent Mae Ames 🪻

A Milly art dump, a bit in chronological order of her storyline too I suppose; my beautiful porcelain dancer 💜

I’d love to dive more into her and her relationship with her son, Benjamin, eventually.

[itsbebebrainrotting]

God i just want to ramble about the sunny lenay conversation today so excuse me for a second... It was just so sunny and oh my god it was rped perfectly.

They were with tubbo hanging at phils but tubbo went afk and phil chayanne and tallulah ran off. Sunny asked tubbo where they went and got told they were probably having family time, and since sunny doesnt really have much family other than tubbo to have their own family time, they asked for family time with their ma (lenays floating corpse under tubhaus). They built a little platform to stand by her and started making up a conversation they were having with her about how she became a mermaid (died) and how they can become a mermaid to join her, because by becoming a mermaid they will be safer from attack.

The entire time tubbo just doesnt know what to do because his daughters playing with a corpse so just plays along. The vibe of the stream really encapsulates how morbid it is - theres no music, tubbos voice is really sad and hes just sat there reading her signs as they discuss becoming a mermaid and how they need to catch the person who stole their ma's legs.

Its all silly childish make believe that really just highlights that sunnys so little too. Too young to be spending their free time with a corpse.

And the entire thing just feels... lonely. Sunny doesn't have many friends. Or at least comparatively they have a lot of non-friends compared to the other eggs. The only parent they have is Tubbo. They feel so alone and they try so hard to make friends and all that culminates in is them wanting family time and making up a story about mermaids with their ma's corpse.

Just a little girl playing mermaids with her mothers dead body.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

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