#loss of parental figure

[painsandconfusion]

Ship in a Bottle

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Twenty-Five

(tw: child abuse, bad caretaking, broken nose, broken glass, character death, alcohol consumption, mourning, loss of parental figure, homicidal compulsions, hallucinations, blood, corpse mention, knife, a very unhealthy outlook on handling emotional pain)

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“There- n-n-n-no no no- not quite like th…..YES - right there. That’s perfect - hold it exactly like that and I’ll do the glue…”

Ethan bit down on his tongue, eyes beady and focused on the little rope and the narrow piece of wood between his fingertips that held it in place. Every breath, heartbeat, and thought shifted it from position - but he was determined to prove to David that he could do this. That letting him help wasn’t a mistake.

David grins. Warm. His fingers pinch the piece just above Ethan’s to give the glue a little testing tug as it sets. “Perfect - I think that’ll do it.” He twists it away again, and picks up the minuscule bottle, looking over the fine details and the line of thread they’d just run from the foremast.

Ethan smiled too - smiling came easy with David. His was infectious - Caroline always said so. When David was gone, the little foster family was mundane if anything. They kept to themselves and kept quiet. Just the constant thrum of reality tv buzzing through the house and down to Ethan’s room in the basement.

But then David would come. And the tv would turn off. The house would light up - Caroline would smile, giggling even, when he kissed her. 

David’s workshop made up the second room of the basement - right next to Ethan’s. Ethan usually just lingered in the doorframe, watching him work - but this time, David let him help. He couldn’t afford to mess it up.

-

The car door clicked shut behind him, muffled further by the snow that crunched under his feet.

It was a small cemetery. Rural. 

Evidently David’s family had some kind of plot.

It had taken Ethan weeks of searching for David when he finally escaped. After all those years of running and bleeding and screaming, all he wanted was to sit in silence next to the man and watch him build a boat. Even just one more time.

It took weeks because that’s how long it took Ethan to cave. To check the obituaries.

And there he was.

-

David ruffled Ethan’s hair. And for once, Ethan didn’t mind. The touch didn’t seem to be malicious or self-serving. Just absentminded affection and affirmation.

He handed the little bottle to Ethan to look over. The glass was warm at his fingertips, retaining light and that extant goodness that poured from David’s skin. Like a little of his life seeped into the boats he made.

Maybe that’s why they looked so real.

A three-beat stomp from upstairs made the little thing flinch at his fingers; it was quickly followed by a voice- “DAVID IT’S ALMOST TWO IN THE MORNING GET THE KID TO BED”

David blinked rapidly, and turned incredulous eyes to his watch. “Ah shit-” He knocked back the rest of his tumbler of whiskey and stood up, “YEAH- ONE SEC-” He sucked air in through his teeth, shrugging a ‘whoopsie?’

Ethan bit down on a laugh, setting the bottle carefully back on the tabletop as David snapped off the light. “Thanks for letting m-”

“No thank-yous, just get your ass to bed before she beats mine.” He nudged Ethan playfully toward the door.

Ethan squeaked, but moved easily, heading toward his room. “...tomorrow can we-”

“-oh yeah, I’ll be here when you get back from school. I won’t start without you.”

Ethan turned a grin to him as he reached his door, ducking inside. “Sweet - I’ll see you then.”

-

Graves lined up in only semi-reasonable rows. Some were off. Some were big. Some small. Some rusted over or draped in lichen. Some pearly and grand.

Ethan knew the name of the cemetery. 

He hadn’t gotten the time or the heart to check it - so he had no idea where it was. 

The cemetery was small, but not that small. There were hundreds of headstones here. 

And he had to check them all. 

Air pressed against his tight throat, elbowing its way inside. 

It pressed out again as Ethan’s phone buzzed.

He flicked a glare up to the dry, grey sky. Anything to put this off a little longer…

He slipped it out, scanning the message - then shooting back a reply, ignoring his quickly-numbing fingertips.

Bestie 😘: when r u coming home?

Me: I literally just left.

Bestie 😘: that doesnt answer the question

Me: Idk like an hour or two? 

Bestie 😘: cool, I got time then

Me: Time for what.

Bestie 😘: making soup

Me: What kind?

Bestie 😘: butternut squash

Me: Haven’t had it.

Bestie 😘: well ur gonna and ur gonna like it

Me: Optimist.

Bestie 😘: realist

Me: Again. Optimist.

Bestie 😘: whats wrong with a little optimism?

Ethan didn’t answer.

He just tucked the phone and his fingers back into the warmth of his pockets, finally starting his search in earnest.

-

Ethan bounded down the stairs with the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips long after he’d bitten it back. Time to finish the model. Add the last touches of stain and shading. 

It was going to be done.

Ethan was going to finish making something.

Something in his own hands that he could be proud of.

He dumped his backpack on the ground and rounded the corner into the little workshop. “I’m here! David, I-”

He saw the wreckage before he heard Caroline’s choked sob.

Splinters of boats littered the ground, haphazardly strung together with bits of rope and string. Frays of stretching glue that refused to let go.

Stomped to crumbled lumps of pieces.

The whole collection.

Ethan just…gaped at her as she swiped the little bottle off the table - the smallest piece yet, trying to process what he was seeing.

“N-no don’t! Don’t that one’s n-” his voice choked out into nothing as the glass shattered against concrete.

He lurched forward, a sob catching in his throat. 

He was barely in range as her elbow threw up to block his advance.

Whitehot embers exploded behind his eyes as his nose crunched back. It dazed him - sent stars sparking across the air.

Still, he scrambled forward, ignoring the warm wet spreading sensation as he scrabbled for the tiny ship stranded amongst the wreckage of its brethren.

-

There it was.

He’d missed it the first pass. The stone was small. Almost flush with the ground. The name, engraved in metal and bolted to the small rectangular stone. 

The world seemed to stop completely. Any remnant of a breeze ceased. Birds stopped chirping. Squirrels ceased their chases.

He just stared at the stone, feeling the burn of the nonexistent wind ripping the moisture from his eyes.

-

“Wh-why- what are you doing!? David’s gonna-”

“Do NOT say his name - cheating fucking bastard-!” An invisible string jerked him to a stop as her food crunched down on the tiny thing.

Ethan stared as her foot pulled away to punt some other bit of scrap - already torn asunder, though evidently not enough for her. 

Bits of glass and wood pressed into his jeans, pricking at his knees as blurred, bony fingers scooped up the precious tiny thing from the floor. 

The foremast was snapped completely off. He plucked it up, vibrating with the force of a sob he kept swallowing as he tried to pinch it back into place - but the ship was crumpled. Sideways and wrong.

Then was snatched out of his hand.

Ethan stared up at Caroline, tears spilling down his blank face. “Wh-where is he-?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Pl-ease lemme see him-”

Ethan didn’t recoil as the slap snapped his head to the side. He just let his face turn, eyes dead on the ground as the pain wrapped around his head.

“Are you kidding me!? You’re never seeing him again. I don’t want to hear another word about that disgusting drunk.”

She stepped past him, pausing at the door to look back on his kneeling form.

“..don’t you dare cry over that piece of shit. You’re sixteen goddamn years old. Act like it.”

Then she was gone.

The creaking footsteps pulling a flinch from him every stair. 

He stared down at the tiny foremast between his fingers. Barely a sliver of wood now. 

He didn’t move for hours. His mind wouldn’t let him. He just stared at the little splinter, rolling it between his fingers as the blood ran from his nose. Gradually stopped. Dried. 

Then the puddle of it started to film. Fray at the edges. Crack.

Finally, numb, he tucked it into his pocket, stood, and grabbed a broom to clean up this mess.

-

Cool earth seeped into his jeans, chilling the skin at Ethan’s knees. It sent pinpricks of acid shooting up his leg - he ignored them. The pain was fake. Just cold. 

He swirled the little foremast between his fingers. Rain and decay has softened it a bit. Cracked it. Made it more akin to cork than mahogany. 

Still. It was David’s. Its condition didn’t change that.

Ethan didn’t want to have some dramatic fucking graveside speech. He didn’t want to pull the ‘I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can…’ bullshit. 

David wasn’t there. He couldn’t hear a thing. His ears were probably close to rotted off six feet under where Ethan stood. He hoped to hell that ghosts weren’t real. Ethan didn’t believe in heaven, so no good there. And if reincarnation was a thing, then David wouldn’t be here anyway.

So he didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a point.

He just set the little sliver of wood in front of the stone, tucking it a little under so it couldn’t blow away.

They’d keep each other company, these two dead, broken things.

They belonged together.

-

Ethan pressed the door open with half as much force as a breath, letting it slowly push away from him in a wide arc. 

Silent.

He stepped inside the room.

In the moonlight, everything glowed white. Caroline always liked white.

White shag rug on dark floorboards. White sheets. White blankets. 

White pillowcase stained with her smearing mascara and darkened by a puddle of tears.

White walls.

White sheer curtains that let in white moonlight.

But all Ethan could see was red.

Deep, thick, oily red splashed across the perfect, pristine room.

Red seeping through the blankets. Melding through her nightgown.

He could see it spreading dark and smeared across the floor, soaking into the rug as she dragged herself across the floor. Gurgling. Desperately reaching for the door.

Red splattering the walls.

Red pooling through her whiteblond hair. 

Red on his hands. 

On the knife.

It twitched between his fingers. Beckoned to him. Begged him.

But Ethan didn’t obey its call. 

He just walked back out of the room, closed the door softly, felt its weight between his fingers as he pressed it - still clean - back into its place in the knife block.

He didn’t sleep that night, riddled with woken dreams of what he might have done.

-

Ethan didn’t linger. Only a moment of silence marked his grieving before he pushed up off his knees.

Stood.

He turned back toward the car, leaving the graveyard without a word. Without a backward glance.

David was dead. There was no point dwelling on it.

Still. The tears were stubborn, skittering hot down his cheeks anyway.

He brushed them away as fast as they came.

Time to move on.

.

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(tags: @prisonerwhump, @whumpawink, @mabledonut, @heathenwhump, @paleassprince, @happy-little-sadist, @wormwriting, @distinctlywhumpthing, @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @michaeltalks @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @shelfsdesires @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-stars @d-cs @suspicious-whumping-egg)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

[nixie-deangel]

@phisworld14 these all directly follow up from your ask!

🥺 chap2 of helper - a/b/o hangster

"What?" No, seriously what? What was she talking about? They had tried to argue with her about what he had in his papers? "Mav tried arguing with me about who you'd want to help and Bagman tried to suggest you'd want anyone but him to help you out." Phoenix made sure he was looking at her before she rolled her eyes at him. "

🔥 virgin jake - hangster

"I think not," she teased. "Seriously though, how bad did you fuck up with this, Brad Brad?" "Don't call me that," he whined before letting out a long, heavy sigh, choosing not to give her a verbal answer. He knew he’d pay for it but he really did not want to put into words what an absolute dumbass he’d been when dealing with Jake. "Seriously, Bradshaw, is it really that fucked up or are you just blowing shit out of proportion because your ass is dramatic?"

💔 icemav break up / icedad

"It looks like Mav won't be able to make it after all, kiddo," Ice says after a moment of floundering on how to phrase it. "Oh." "I can try and see if I can pull in a favor or two?" he offers halfheartedly. Though he really isn't sure if he'd be able to do much. Not with graduation being in less than two weeks. And already devoting most of his energy outside of his offices to dealing with Carole.

Make Nixie Write This Weekend!

[kaitcake1289]

you are watching mythic quest season 3. i am watching the mythic quest season in my mind where cws death has an actual effect on most of the characters that prompts their development. we are not the same

[telekitnetic-art]

So I got a phone call from my mom this afternoon letting me know that my family’s dog, Takaya, is being put to sleep tomorrow afternoon.

This has been a long time coming for sure; I found out her health was in decline from my dad a month ago when he came to visit, but I’d hoped she might be able to make it into the new year.

I did a facetime with my mom tonight to say goodbye to her face to face before she gets put down, and to put it lightly I feel pretty miserable. She’s been a part of our family for a long time; I think we estimated that she was about 15 years old. She’s been such a good dog and was always so energetic and I’m going to miss her deeply. It feels even worse that I can’t be there in person to say goodbye, as I’m in a city a twelve hour drive away.

So’untë & nenyusten’, Takaya. Misiyh for all the memories and happiness you brought to our life.

[thought-42]

I just checked the word count on the main Chissezra au gdoc and. well. I sure hope somebody out there wants to read over 21000 words of Ezra Bridger building a life for himself in the Chiss Ascendancy

[navree]

the concept of having children being so tied into political ambitions and machinations throughout history means that a lot of people do seem to straight up forget that these people were, like, family, and likely acted as such a lot of the time

[isa-ah]

anyway sorry if i get all schloppy emotional on my blog for the holidays these last few months of the year can hold so much trauma lol

[why-yes-i-am-an-adult]

Laszlo calling Guillermo "the boy"

[comet-wire]

Ngl I've been having a gender crisis again on top of all the stuff that's happened with my dad, I think I still identify as male/masculine idk 🗿

Same with my ace/aro spectrum placement ☝️🗿

[patience-hope-strength-courage]

I have often got too attached to people in life who can be seen as “parental figures” after losing caregivers in life. I realise this probably hasn’t been fair on them but also on some level for me too as I have usually ended up hurt and then they also leave after promising they wouldn’t. 💭

[violetkatgrove]

tempted to make a ebeg post but also theres so many other things going on that i wanna just stick to getting money via commissions but also i can b arely draw right now so. u can see the struggle

[rotblume]

I'm not crying, you're crying!

~

Disney's (and Pixar's) and Dreamworks' (and xxxxx) underrated "old" movies such as Dinosaur or Spirit, Balto and Aristocats, Brother Bear or Rise of the Guardians, Atlantis and Treasure Planet, even Hercules or Lilo & Stitch e.g., and yes, some of the newer ones as well, will forever have a special place in my heart and are in fact some of my childhood (and all-time) favorites ..

but those two lovely little ladies had me crying several times now and I don't think that's gonna stop anytime soon, family deaths just hit too close to home these past years

[woodsteingirl]

i have a really nice relationship with my mom except for the times when in my heart i’m like i miss her so much so badly and she’s literally like. in her bedroom and I’m in mine. and that’s not her that’s my weird brain.

[telvannibugmusk]

When you come out as trans your family will tell you it's like processing a death and you're expected to be patient and hold space for them to feel that way. And not be offended by how absurdly melodramatic and disrespectful that sentiment is

[tributes-vamps-and-ginnyweasley]

We don't talk enough about what it's like to grieve a parent that's still alive.

When they change. Either because they go through things in life and become different, or you just learn who they are outside of your clouded view from being their child.

When we're young, we rely on our parents. In my experience (and the experience of others I've talked to), it doesn't matter if they're good at parenting. It's our instinct to reveire them, to love them, to idolize them. And when they change, it's like you've lost them. In a way, you have. Because the person you knew, the one you loved, has disappeared in front of you. And only a shell of them remains. Someone with their face, their voice, the same scars, the same wrinkles by their eyes. But they aren't them.

And usually this happens in adolescence. When everything else in your life is already being questioned and changing. And the person you are supposed to turn to for support and guidance has abandoned you. And yet, they're still there. In your day to day, living with you, talking to you. But not there.

And you are left to grieve this relationship, this important person (maybe the most important person to you), this idol of yours. And nobody understands it. The parent you now have won't understand. Will feel attacked and defensive. And it's so incredibly isolating.

Maybe it's just me, but it is something so gut-wrenching and terrifying and emotional. In a time when you are naturally unable to properly regulate and understand those emotions. And we should just acknowledge it a little more.

[agnimybeloved]

regarding that last post... not that black butler's canon has to be uplifting or have dadbastian or a happy ending to be "good" (i'm actually partial to tragedies especially the cyclical kind and would love for the series to straight up end with despair and the collection on the contract lol) but i do think that toboso's largely fumbled the found-family/interpersonal,/introspective aspects of her story and sacrificed a lot of narrative and thematic meat there for low-brow and off-putting comedy.... which is really exactly all she does with ciel's trauma as well-- shallowly using it for the purposes of trauma porn and/or comedy/inappropriate fanservice.

ciel only seems to have reasonable responses to his trauma when its aesthetically convenient if that makes sense. i honestly could go as far as to say that she depicts his trauma fetishistically-- every instance i can recall of ciel having an extreme traumatic response (i.e. vomiting, flashbacks, psychosis) is represented with (imo but honestly.... i'd be shocked if this wasn't intentional...) sexual undertones. his episode during the green witch arc doesn't have one of these moments within the episode itself as far as i can recall, but certainly i think the preceding/inciting medical emergency that forces him and sebastian to bathe together contributes to the reoccurring sexualization of "sickness" (physical & psychological).

not to mention ciel's subsequent episode is treated as the dramatic peak of his ptsd and something that he "overcomes" through sheer force of will (and the threats of sebastian... neither of which are a proper/reasonable way to handle such an extreme trauma response) and doesn't really battle going forward in the story. of course a lot of stories take this "one dramatic moment and then its fixed" approach to representing mental illness, and it makes narrative sense for toboso to want to more or less settle that thread to gear up for the important blue cult arc, but i think toboso's handling of mental illness in general goes so far beyond suspension of disbelief and tastelessness that i think she should lowkey be brained for it. the way she intermittently writes ciel's traumatic experiences as something horrifying and wrong and to be given sympathy meanwhile relentlessly putting ciel in inappropriate fanservice situations that diminish the severity of csa & pedophilia as well as disrespect the complexities of trauma and turn them into comedy... mind boggling...

overall though i think that black butler shows a real mastery of narrative arcs while falling short in terms of character arcs. most of the time these arcs are shown in retrospect with the addition of new backstory, but it feels as if the characters in present have barely grown at all... not that every story has to be character driven and a static character type makes sense for someone like sebastian, but for all that ciel is a unique and mature thirteen year old due to the circumstances of his life, he is still a thirteen year old, and one that has experienced a significant trauma quite recently at that. not allowing him coming of age-esque character arcs considering all that sort of breaks the believability of his character imo.

but i think that coattails does a lot in staying loyal to ciel's character and experiences while also respecting his trauma and bringing the depth and flexibility of adolescence to his worldview and actions that toboso unfortunately seems disinterested in. i love that aforementioned chapter of coattails and its sentiments especially with how it reexamines ciel's actions at kelvin's manor and the worldview that lead to burning it down with the children inside... not that it was an out of character decision for ciel in the moment, but i think it established a lot more severe facts about his character and worldview than toboso is willing to address in her writing and therefore feels unresolved. coattails' remedy to that awkwardness by coming full circle is so intriguing and fulfilling in contrast... it shows how adolescence and trauma can work together to so completely convince one of hopelessness and yet how just a bit of hope can change that worldview entirely. literally just the honest love of a random dog and the mundane care of a guardian... there is a cure and it is this..... what da helllll....