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deaddovedecadence · 3 months

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Hello, how do you think the batfam will react to a reader with bad habits? And the reader is underage. Like at one time the reader got into not the best company or just wanted to seem cool, and now she smokes, maybe reader abuses alcohol. I'm just wondering how the batfamcan handle this.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Alfred

disapproving english eyebrow™️

no but seriously he’s have you detoxing the minute he finds out about it. Having a nice drink at dinner with the family is fine but only if he’s able to supervise what you are drinking and how much. He’s be damned if he has to deal with another bruce

Bruce Wayne

doesn’t panic, even if his brain is screaming at him to trap you away forever and keep you from everything that could hurt you.

Calls in Dinah to talk to you about what is and isn’t safe for you because he will fuck it up and if he fucks you up after all of this progress that you guys have been making, duke will be the cause of his murder

Dick Grayson

oldest daughter exhaustion because he does NOT want to deal with another jason-smoking-to-fuck-with-bruce-and-becoming-addicted situation.

Tells you that if you don’t knock it off he will make you and is smiling while promising that you will not enjoy his methods

Jason Todd

panics his ass off

He yells at you for being stupid because he’s trying to quit and how did you get into that and why did you ever think it’s a smart idea and just panics in general

Cassandra Cain

thinks that it’s easily solvable, most reasonable

She starts you excerising with her every single time you get the urge so that you literally can’t move your arms anymore. Duke often joins in and eventually it becomes a form of bonding for the three of you

Duke Thomas

he gets you patches or helps wean you off of it because they’re a good sibling like that.

honestly to themself, takes the time to think about whether they want to keep you addicted and act like the good sibling by keeping you supplied increasing your dependence on them but then realizes that his brain is getting a little too demony for their taste and stops

Tim Drake

makes you listen as he lists every side effect of every substance that you are taking

threatens the crowd that you were with if you don’t start quitting immediately. Feels a cold quit is good punishment for being on substances in the first place

Damian Wayne

thinks it’s stupid and yells at you, considers violence but is restrained by duke and dick

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clownehonk · 8 months

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Twinkle twinkle little star Alcoholics don't get far Unless they drink and drive Let's go for a ride

#jschlatt #schlatt #dsmp schlatt #schlatt fanart #jschlatt fanart #uhhhh #my art #dsmp fanart #dream smp #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #implied death tw #eyestrain tw

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sweaty-confetti · 1 year

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be more chill iceberg because i got bored !!!

inspired by @yappyphantom

p.s. if you know most of these i’m so sorry and same

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laced-boots · 7 months

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I see many posts about Harry's Expression, both from people arguing "It looks creepy, disturbed, disgusting" and people saying "it's just a very normal expression" but both miss what the Expression represents to Harry - it is genuinely an expression of his pain, because it represents a time in Harry's life which he cannot move away from, a time he has felt left in, the people who he was mimicking who no longer exist. The Expression began as an attempt to mimic Guillaume de Million, representative of the disco era following the failure of revolution, who died during a bender. It is a man Harry wanted to be when it was chic, and is now representative of Harry's worst fears of himself.

The scene with the mirror is a showcase of Harry's self loathing, and it is disturbing and strange to Harry, because it is about the disconnect between the culture he began using drugs and alcohol in and the man this has left him as. It does not matter if you simply see a normal man, or a drunken creep (which Harry is not, I do think you are just being mean to long-term alcoholics if you hold this belief), because Harry only sees the expression of himself as a young man who began drinking and partying as a way to enjoy himself in a breaking society, on the face of a man this drinking has destroyed.

It is showing that Harry's body is trying to live in an era where he was still very much an addict, but before it was visibly destroying him, and a reminder that this cannot be the way he continues to live.

#The Expression #disco elysium #harrier du bois #harry du bois #addiction tw #alcoholism tw

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kenobihater · 8 months

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ON LAMBERT AND ALCOHOL

be drunk - charles baudelaire / the drunkards (1883) - james ensor / dialogue from the witcher 3 / the third hour of the night - frank bidart / dialogue from the witcher 3 / genetics and alcoholism: is alcoholism genetic or hereditary? - americanaddictioncenters.org / dialogue from the witcher 3 / the drunks (1907) - josé malhoa / be drunk - charles baudelaire

#len's weavings #web weavings #lambert #lambert tw3 #witcher lambert #the witcher 3 #lambert web weaving #the witcher 3 web weaving #alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #abuse tw #child abuse tw

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filmnoirsbian · 2 years

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Joan Tierney

#spilled ink #poetry #addiction tw #alcoholism tw #my writing #id in alt text #tcp #white lies

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kaijuno · 4 months

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My dads gf died on the 3rd from alcohol withdrawal and it’s really fucking me up bc I just had a relapse and was withdrawing at about the same time as her and the hospital wouldn’t help so I had to do my seizures and DTs at home and like. That’s how she fuckin died. Had a seizure alone in her home.

#she was only 43 #which is kinda gross my dad is 68 #alcoholism tw

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applesaucesims · 4 months

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It was quite late already, when Emma came home from a long day at the studio. She had only just arrived, when suddenly, she heard the baby crying upstairs. Quickly, she went to check on him, only to find him all alone in his room, when Niall was supposed to be looking after him.

The dull sound of glass falling onto carpet followed by a louder thump drew her attention away for a moment, unsure what just happened in the other room. With Louis in her arms, Emma made her way next door, where she found her husband trying to pick himself off the floor. It seemed as though he tripped and fell, while holding a glass and bottle in hand.

In hopes of offering some comfort, Emma sat down next to a quietly sobbing Niall. To him, however, any sign of comfort was still far away. He had been on edge for days, maybe weeks at this point, only calming down the slightest amount when numbing his brain with alcohol. Now, there was no excuse to keep that from his wife any longer. And while Emma was not exactly able to understand the way he felt and why, she would do anything to help him, since he clearly had trouble all by himself.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Louis: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Emma: "Louis? It's okay sweetheart. Your mummy's here. But where's your father gone?"

*faint crash*

Niall: "Ugh... what the-"

Emma: "Niall!? Are you alright? What happened?"

Niall: "I- I don't know."

Niall: "I- ouch... I was just getting a refill and then I fell."

Emma: "Louis was crying when I came home."

Niall: "I know! But I was gone for a minute, I swear! I just cannot stand that noise!"

Niall: "Gosh, Emma, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do anymore."

Emma: "What do you mean?"

Niall: "Everything feels like it's too much for me these days."

Niall: "I love our son, I really do! But when I look at him, I see my life going on without me. And then I just want to crawl into bed, hide away from it all. The alcohol helps drown it all out, but it makes me feel worse afterward."

Niall: "I feel so hopeless, Emma!"

Emma: "Oh, sweetheart, don't say such things!"

Niall: "What else am I supposed to do? Everything seems to be going wrong."

Emma: "We'll figure out a way through this. Together."

#alcoholism tw #postnatal depression tw #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 legacy #1930s #emma jones #niall mcgregor #louis mcgregor #too bad therapy wasn't very common at the time oh well #ignore that the curtains are invisible i had a graphic glitch at the time and was too lazy to restart the game

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preservationofnormalcy · 6 months

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(Happy Halloween! I'm doing a rare OOC note at the beginning that this one is darker than other interviews, so a content warning for descriptions of gore, body horror, and alcohol/alcoholism.) [I am in the darkly lit reception area of Office Security, known by the rest of the Office as O-Sec. It’s late, and most employees have gone home for the night. Most of the lights are off, but along one wall there is a spot of quiet activity. This wall is covered in neatly ordered brass plates, bearing names and dates. This is a memorial. Plates above some columns list broad date ranges, and others list specific dates or events. One larger section that stands out is labeled “Operation Deep Whisper”, which seems to have taken place in the 1970s.

Several people in work clothes are working along one section of the wall, furthest to the right - the most recent. A series of plates, larger and more ornate than the others with a photo attached, are being taken off the wall. One worker takes down the last plate - an african-american woman smiles at me over his shoulder as he does, and I see the name Agent Pearlgate before the plate is slid with the others into a wooden crate.]

K] Damn shame.

M] Security Director Knight?

K] Affirmative.

[I’m not startled by his presence, despite his sudden appearance. A middle aged, tall caucasian man, salt and pepper hair over a simple dress uniform. I know this man has more clearance than most people in the Office, but his clothes are unassuming. An undershirt and tie, a name tag and badge the only things betraying his rank. His stature is tall and proud, confident, but the only thing that would truly stand out in a crowd of military men would be his mask. A strange mask, black and sleek with vents on either side. His voice is not affected by it, a low, gravely, world-weary tone that sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of an action movie star. It’s almost too perfect. Knight nods, then pauses and jerks his head down a dark hallway.

Motion activated lights precede us as we walk down the hallway, Knight’s hands grasped together behind his back. They shut back off as we pass, giving the sense of a spot of light moving through the darkness.]

K] Heard I was being interrogated.

[The half-joke is obvious despite his tone, giving me a wry look back over his shoulder.]

M] A couple simple questions, Director.

K] That’s what they all say.

M] Including what the “damn shame” was about. Why take down a memorial?

K] I can’t answer that. Directive 61722.

[His tone was serious, and I know better than to pry. We enter his office, and it’s about what I expected - sparsely furnished with serious-minded furniture, plaques and medals adorning the walls, models and weapons mounted on stands sitting on bookshelves. The part of his office that stood out was the lighting. The office was very dark, with only one light on directly above his desk. It’s by that light I was able to make out shapes on the walls. When he sits at the desk, the light reminds me of an interrogation room light, a solid conical beam from the lamp above him, illuminating his arms but leaving his face in shadow. Silently, he pulls a bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk, filling one shot glass and hovering the bottle meaningfully over the second one, looking to me.]

M] Just a sip.

K] You driving?

M] I’m a lightweight, Director.

[He relented, pouring a tiny amount into the bottom of the second glass and corking the bottle.]

K] So…what’re your questions?

M] I’m conducting my observations based on posters I see in my site tours, and I saw yours. The…ontophage one.

K] Nasty little assholes.

M] What?

[He leans back, and in the shadows I can see him pull his mask away from his face, drink, and replace it.]

K] The ‘phages. Nasty little assholes. Feral, mindless as far as we can tell. One of the most annoying things we deal with, and that’s saying something. We lost whole sites to them, before we started scrutinizing a lot of our “lost item” cases. Now it’s just a matter of recon and elimination. Ever seen a shotgun shell loaded with ‘phagebuck? Hell of a thing.

M] Usually I’d ask what your department does, but I think in this case it’s pretty obvious.

K] There’s things that go bump in the night, ma’am. And O-Sec bumps back.

M] I wouldn’t think that many supernatural things could be dealt with like that.

K] Comes with the territory. One of the professors could explain it better, but if you exist in realspace, you take up some of the traits of realspace. Like a vulnerability to bullets.

M] It’s that simple?

K] Not really ever that simple. Sometimes you have to dress it up a little. Silver bullets, cross-tipped hollow points, phagebuck, tindalosian powder, magebore, chronojacketed rounds. Hell, I’ve done fieldwork in flintlocks. But for the most part… It’s like getting invited to your friend’s house as a kid. Some families take their shoes off at the door, and you have to play along. They come here, something about our reality makes them play along, at least partially.

[Knight pauses.]

K] We face a lot of different shit, ma’am. Shit I don’t even want to think about. The guys in the button up shirts do a damn fine job with Plan A. Diplomacy, problem solving, the whole deal. Compassion, that’s what the Office is about. But sometimes they need us. We’re here to be Plan B, Plan C if need be.

[I take a small sip of the drink.]

M] I guess that answers a lot of my questions. Every org needs security. I guess it’s just a question of how efficient, and that may be beyond me. My superiors will want to see your records from Los Angeles.

K] That may pose a problem.

M] The Directive.

K] Mm-hmm.

[There’s a moment of heavy silence, and Knight breaks it by leaning on the table.]

K] You wanna know what I think happened?

M] Seems like it might be above my clearance. Not above yours, though. So why is it what you think happened, and not what you know?

[Another pause. I can sense Knight narrowing his eyes.]

K] The names out there. That’s what happened. Omega Hand. Agent Fairweather, Agent Scratch, Agent Pea—th’rest…

[He sighed, putting his glass on the desk. It only now occurred to me that he might have been drinking before. Why else was he here so late? This last glass was only the icing on the cake.]

K] I was supposed to be there, you know. In LA. But I got…I was scared.

M] Of…of what?

K] …1991. On assignment in Alaska. There was this…cult. Necromancy, but they were…organized. We don’t get that a lot. Usually just whackos trying shit in their basement, too suspicious to be organized, but there they were. Threatening a ZU-class normality collapse. Managed a guerilla army one hundred strong, living and arming up in the cold up there. We weren’t…prepared for it. We even had backup from the RCOE guys, but it wasn’t enough. Picked us off one by one, sewed us back together again. My buddy Akers, he…he came back and he had these...knives on his hands…walking on shredded femurs bolted to stilts. I was the only survivor. Almost wasn’t. They brought me to their leader, this…this corpse. Wasn’t even animated. Just a corpse, rotting and bloated and…one of ‘em touched me. My face.

[He reached up to his mask, pulling it free. In the cone of light, I can see his lower face - everything from his nose down is desiccated, rotting. Sewn up skin but bone white teeth, a smell like rot and formaldehyde roiling across the table. I choke on my vomit, and as he speaks again, he slurs from the holes in his cheeks.]

K] Every time I die, I come back. And every time I come back, I leave a little more on the other side. Every damn time there’s less of me. And I got scared.

[He places the mask back on. I am forcing myself not to vomit, unable to look at him. He seems nonchalant, looking at the bottle of alcohol again.]

K] Damndest thing….I can still taste the booze just fine.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #interview #ontophages #body horror tw #gore tw #alcoholism tw #microfiction #sci fi #horror #writers on tumblr

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strqyr · 1 year

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qrow's alcoholism was played more as this "haha he's drunk and causing chaos and not giving a damn, that's funny"—i mean, "he's always drunk" wasn't exactly said out of concern—but what i really love is that it was never played that way for the two kids who grew up with him visiting them every now and then.

it's not even the scene in v6 when ruby and yang find qrow blacked out drunk in front of the cotta-arc's house—by then qrow's alcoholism was already treated with seriousness it deserved—it's the moment in v5 when qrow returns with oscar, happily drunk, and ruby reacts with a facepalm and disappointment, "Qrow, did you get drunk again?"

so really is it any wonder that tai gives qrow that Look in v3 when he arrives drinking out of his flask and even shaking it to get the very last drops like. it was something that very much affected ruby and yang, who even says in v6 that she's "never seen him this bad" so clearly seeing qrow drunk was something they got used to seeing growing up.

#rwby #qrow branwen #alcoholism tw

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mcdennis · 28 days

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okay so like. i've talked about this before but as someone who is a recovering alcoholic it's so interesting to me to see how the media portrays alcoholics. when we think about sunny they show the not great sides of alcoholism. there's a whole episode where they literally go through withdraws. with sunny, it's clear to the viewers that the main characters are problematic and damaged individuals and that their coping mechanisms are not healthy. but in other shows i see people like dodging that. specifically i think about ted lasso and ted's heavy drinking and relying on drinking to cope with his stress and sadness. there's a little bit of "oh this is not great" in the one scene where he snaps at nate while he's drunk but otherwise? they just avoid the topic in general. and same in mythic quest with david's drinking. like he says in an episode that he needed a whole bottle of wine and some xanax to sleep. but they just move on from it completely.

i don't know where i was going with this but it's just something i think about from time to time.

#chuck posting.#alcoholism tw #iasip #mythic quest

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thegcng-arch · 3 months

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just an update that i am doing okay! making a plan to start going to support groups and/or aa meetings. i am still going to be taking this week to step back from tumblr and clean up this blog. i am trying to find a way to enjoy writing as a hobby without causing extra stress and anxiety in my life. thank you all for your patience and kind words.

#chuck speaks.#i totally understand if me cleaning up this blog #or moving blogs again causes you to part ways with me #genuenly!#i understand that it can be frustraiting #i just appreciate everyone being so understanding #alcoholism tw

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j2x3e · 15 days

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Younger Reinhard cleaning up for Heinkel

#The context is that teen Reinhard is cleaning up the shattered bottle Heinkel just threw at him or something #tbh I doubt that Heinkel try that lol #but fanon is fun #best father-son relationship #blood tw #alcoholism tw #reinhard van astrea #re:zero #re: zero #re zero #rezero

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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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part one

Indianapolis, Indiana Summer 1995

Steve has been sober for six months when he gets the call. Six months is a big deal, his sponsor had told him when he’d gotten his chip last week. Steve often finds himself shoving his hand into his pocket now, fingers seeking it out constantly, smoothing along the metal edges. It lights up his insides to think about it. He hasn’t been proud of himself in a long time, not since… Well. It’s been a long time and it feels good.

Seven months ago, Frank and Doug had sat him down. He’d been late to work almost every day that week, something totally out of character. They’d said they were worried about him, that he wasn’t the same. What happened?, they’d asked. What’s going on? Steve had rolled his eyes back then, hearing all that, but he’d listened. For two weeks, he didn’t stop at the liquor store on his way home. He didn’t slide Eddie’s tape into his stereo. He struggled to fall asleep without the gin, but he woke up on time and crawled into bed at a normal hour, even if he tossed and turned.

Since he wasn’t playing the tape, he’d been listening to the radio, just whatever happened to come on when he hit the “seek” button. That’s why he’d heard it. Eddie’s new song. He hadn’t listened to any of Eddie’s new music since Eddie had left, couldn’t bear to hear what he’d lost by being scared. He’d let his guard down, hadn’t been paying attention at first really. But he’d recognize Eddie Munson’s voice anywhere, in any life.

He’d been making himself dinner. He’d always loved cooking, but he’d stopped when he hadn’t had anyone to cook for anymore. He was chopping onions, singing along to something he recognized, before that song had faded and a new one started, with no introduction. The minute he heard Eddie coming from his speakers, his hand slipped and he’d sliced right through his finger. He’d let it bleed there, all over his cutting board, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe. Eddie sounded only a little different, older than on the tape Steve had memorized inside and out, every breath and every swallow, every chord change, every slide of fingers against strings. This was different. Strange and unfamiliar, wild almost. It made Steve’s heart hurt to hear it, to hear an Eddie he’d never know.

Steve had abandoned his dinner plans, left the onion half chopped on his counter, the cutting board splashed with his blood. He’d wrapped his finger in a dirty napkin he’d left on the kitchen table that morning and hadn’t even bothered to shrug on his coat before leaving the apartment and making his way as quickly as possible to the liquor store on the corner of his block. He’d drank a whole bottle of gin that night and slept through work the next day. Repeated the same thing over for three days.

On the morning of the fourth day, Robin had shown up at his door. Doug had called her, she’d said. She’d been mad at him then, so angry to see the rotting onion covered in blood on his kitchen counter, the empty bottles of gin broken in his sink. She forced him into a cold shower, stacked clean clothes for him on the counter, and then went to clean his kitchen. When he came out of the bathroom, she was pouring the last of his gin down the sink. She’d even gotten rid of the beers he’d forgotten were in his fridge, shoved all the way into the back.

She’d made tea and then forced him to sit on the couch while she told him how much they cared about him, how much Dustin and Nancy worried about him. How she’d never forgive him if something happened to him. He’d looked up then, into her shining blue eyes, tears on her lashes, and he’d felt the last part of his heart crack in half. He couldn’t believe he’d made her look like that, feel those things. He’d never forgive himself for that.

They’d cried together and he’d explained it all to her, all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to say in the three years since he’d seen Eddie last. She’d held him as he cried and then he’d begged her not to tell anyone. Please don’t tell Eddie, he’d whispered into her neck. Please. Robin promised and then she’d taken him to his first meeting where he’d gotten his chip for 24 hours sober. Steve had thought that was kind of silly, cheesy even, but the smile on Robin’s face had been so bright, so beautiful, that he couldn’t help but return it. Strangers had congratulated him, shaking his hand, and it had felt good, something accomplished for the first time in a long time. So he’d kept going back.

Now he’s six months sober and his phone is ringing when he comes in from work that evening.

“Hello?” He says, picking it up from the cradle as he toes off his shoes.

“Steve, I—Hi,” El says. “How are you doing?”

“Hey, supergirl,” Steve smiles. It’s been a few weeks since Steve has heard from El, Max, and Lucas. “Doing good. Just got home from work. How’s things on your end?”

“I—well. I do not know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it,” El breathes out. Her speech is still a bit stilted from her time in the lab, from relearning language patterns. She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I felt something.”

“You felt something?” Steve’s brow furrows, confused. His hand finds its way to his pocket, his fingertips running over smooth metal.

“Yes. Something. In Hawkins.” She seems almost afraid to elaborate. “I—you are the closest one, Steve. I called Will. We are coming, but…” She trails off.

Steve finally catches up to where this conversation is going. El felt something. Will is coming home. It’s the Upside Down. Vecna or the Mindflayer or something. He feels just a tiny bit vindicated, justified in his insistence on staying in Indiana, on keeping watch. But mostly he feels terrified. Paralyzed by fear. The scars on his side throb with phantom pain.

“Right,” he says, his mouth dry, throat tight. He thinks he might cry, panicked tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I need to get to Hawkins?”

“Please,” El says in a rush. “Please, Steve. Someone needs to be there, before Will and I get there. We will be fast, I promise, just—“

“No, uh, yeah, I’ll get there. Tonight. I’ll get there. Don’t worry, El.”

“Thank you, Steve. I’m sorry. Please be safe. I’m calling the others. We will be there.”

They say their goodbyes and then they hang up. Steve lets the phone fall from his hand and back into the cradle. His hands feel hollow, weightless. His fingertips ache. He grips his six month chip in his sweaty fist.

Before he leaves, after the five minutes he allows himself to panic before getting behind the wheel of his shitty car, he calls Frank and tells him he likely won’t be at work tomorrow. Frank must hear something in Steve’s voice, because he doesn’t press for details, just tells him to be safe and call when he can. Then he calls Wayne Munson, the only person Steve still knows in Hawkins. Steve tells him to get out, now. He doesn’t give Wayne details, but after ’86, after everything had been explained to him, it’s not hard to convince Wayne to get gone.

Steve grabs his nail bat from where he keeps it underneath his bed. The grip is so familiar in his hand, the weight of wood and metal, even after all this time. It feels real, solid; it’s something to hold on to.

Steve gets behind the wheel of his barely functioning car, places the nail bat in the footwell of the passenger seat, and speeds his way to Hawkins.

~*~

Hawkins, Indiana Summer 1986

Steve and Eddie are in Steve’s room, lying across Steve’s bed, sweaty and naked. Eddie is sprawled across Steve’s chest, pressing kisses into Steve’s bare skin.

“Can’t wait to leave this place, Stevie,” he whispers, laying his head over Steve’s heart.

“Me, too,” Steve says, because it’s true. He can’t wait to live with Eddie and Robin, to wake up every morning with Eddie in his bed. But he can’t help the fear that rises in his throat, the panic at leaving Hawkins behind. He has to swallow, audibly, painfully, to keep it down, to keep it from spilling out of him and all over the space between him and Eddie.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly, sitting up slightly so he can look into Steve’s face. “We won’t be far. The Upside Down is gone, Will and El both said so. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know,” Steve lies. “I’m just—“

“Not ready to leave Indiana,” Eddie responds, because this is a conversation that they’ve had several times before. Eddie always says the same thing. “I can wait, Stevie. I can wait for you to be ready.”

Steve believes him, in that moment. He believes Eddie when Eddie says he’ll wait, when Eddie says it’s okay to be scared. He believes it, because he loves Eddie and he knows Eddie loves him.

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Fall 1990

“Steve.”

Steve can’t look at Eddie, can’t bear to see the expression in Eddie’s big, wet eyes. The band had gone to countless meetings with the label that wanted to sign them over the course of the past six months. They’d met with lawyers and accountants and managers and agents. They were doing it. The band was signing, they’d finally get their big break. This is what Eddie had always wanted.

“What if something happens?” Steve asks, begging, pleading, willing Eddie to understand him. He doesn’t understand how Eddie isn’t afraid, but then again, Eddie had only seen it all once, hadn’t lived in fear as the monsters came back, over and over and over again. “What if something happens and we’re not here? What if no one’s here to do anything?”

“Steve,” Eddie repeats. His voice is even, level. Calm. “I can’t live my life being afraid. That’s not what I want for myself and it’s not what I want for you.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. Eddie leaves that night, sleeps on a bandmate’s couch. A week later, he comes by for his things, packs them away in his duffle and a few boxes, and then he’s gone. There’s no big fight. There’s nothing to make him hate Eddie. He can’t blame Eddie for leaving and Eddie can’t blame Steve for staying. It’s all just incompatible. Part of Steve doesn’t believe this is it, doesn’t believe Eddie will really stay gone. But he does. A year passes, then two, and Steve stops waiting for Eddie to come back.

~*~

Hawkins, Indiana Summer 1995

The first thing Steve notices when he drives into Hawkins is the smell. It’s something rotten, like sulfur and something else, something Steve can’t quite identify. It must’ve happened fast, since Wayne hadn’t mentioned it on the phone. The air is heavy with it, hot and humid. The sky is dark, almost black with clouds. He drives past Wayne’s tiny little house, makes sure the truck is gone from the driveway, before he heads toward the center of town.

The smell gets stronger as Steve drives closer to downtown Hawkins. Nothing much has changed in the years since Steve has gone. The small theater had shut down about a year ago, driven out of business by the multiplex they’d built over the ruins of Starcourt, but it still stands there, abandoned and dark. Melvald’s is still there and so is the diner that Steve had taken Eddie to on their first date, once Eddie had been released from the hospital. Steve feels like he’s stepped into a snow globe, a time capsule that’s preserved all the best and worst parts of his past. Hawkins has been frozen in time.

Steve only feels a faint prickle of fear now, replaced by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The heat presses down on him, making him sweat. He parks his car in front of the abandoned theater and grips his bat tight in his fist as he steps from the car. He walks down main street, following his instincts. That’s when he sees it.

Right there, in the center of town, breaking through the asphalt in front of City Hall, is a gaping, bleeding red wound. The world, cracked in half.

part three part four part five AO3 link

~*~

These are the lyrics I imagined Steve hearing when he cuts his finger:

Singing, “if it’s meant to be then it will be,” and I forgive it all as it comes back to me. But I’m still praying for that house in Nebraska by the highway out on the edge of town, dancing with the windows open, I can't let go when something’s broken. It’s all I know and it’s all I want now.

(Ethel Cain but make it metal (these lines are from “Sun Bleached Flies” off of Preacher’s Daughter, one of my favorite albums from 2022))

I had NOT planned on expanding on that initial post, but then I had an idea and I wrote this in about an hour. When you’re inspired, you’re inspired, I guess!!! because there was no hint at a part two, no one asked to be tagged in subsequent posts except for one person ( @eddiemunsonswife ). Hope everyone who liked the first part finds this one anyway!!!! Thank you for all your sweet comments and tags :)

#steddie #alcoholism tw #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie blurb #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson #rockstar eddie munson #this is titled 'I'd kill myself to hold u one last time' in my files D:#my writing #steddie angst #I can't let go when somethings broken

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