#Death and Loss

[come-away-with-me87]

I said I wasn't going to be on social media today, but I just had some thoughts flowing around in my head.

In my nearly 37 years, I have lost many loved ones, including my dad, both of my sisters, and countless friends.

Today is the one year anniversary of losing my younger sister; she was only 32, and lost her life due to addiction.

I have the support of friends and loved ones, of course. But I just wanted to thank YOU, the people of tumblr (as well as AO3), for you to know how much you have also helped me in my healing process.

I have read some amazing stories on both platforms; I especially tend to read the ones about Shouta Aizawa, Kento Nanami, and Levi Ackerman. Some of those stories have genuinely made me feel things.

And to those who have been reading my recent stories about Aizawa: THANK YOU. Your kind words and likes on my stories have brought such warmth to my heart.

Thank you to all ♥️

[glensys]

Neurodivergent Grief

This might just be us, but we handle grief and death very differently than most, and we kinda just chalk it up to our autism and how it affects the way we think, or our BPD and how that effects our emotions and relationships. Or perhaps it’s the intersection of the two comorbidities. Idk.

But we don’t grieve for death. When someone dies, be it a family member or a celebrity or a friend of a friend… we’re apathetic. We just say “welp, shit.” and move on. It’s hard for us to understand how other people are so heartbroken and devastated over losing someone in that way. We all die, big whoop. We understand the feeling of loss and the idea of missing getting to interact with someone, and not getting to have more memories or content or whatever with/from them, but it doesn’t really hit us in that same way.

However, we grieve for relationships. For abandonment. We grieve for people who still live. When people make a conscious decision to leave us, or we leave them, that’s what hurts. That’s what gets us crying with the metaphysical feeling of holes in our heart. That’s what gets us to miss people. Death isn’t a choice, not really. Even those who choose to die- it’s not really a choice but a survival instinct, in a way. The brain’s way of getting you out of harm, be it physical or emotional. That doesn’t hurt us. It’s not your fault you left, you just died. It’s as natural and inevitable as birth. But to choose to leave… that cuts straight to the bone marrow. To the heart.

We realized this long ago, but it’s the grief we feel for losing TikTok- the hurt and anger at the government, the loss of a community…. That’s what inspired us to make this post as our debut of coming back to Tumblr. We might not understand the death of people, but the deaths of relationships and community strike that same chord of grief.

[serpentineego]

Chapter 6 of "In A Perfect World" now on AO3

[hardyharharcomedy]

I'm an adult orphan and everyone is afraid of me.

No really, it's true. I get so many tone deaf and insensitive comments policing my grief and it used to drive me bananas. I mean, it still does but finally a light bulb went off and I realized how much culture has not prepared anyone for dealing with loss and realized I was maybe even triggering people. It doesn't make it okay, but knowledge it power.

Wanna know more? Please read the full blog post here on my site. Thanks!

[speckledsolanaceae]

for your OC ask game, tell me about my boys!!

3 Wuld, 7 Loezia, 19 Wuld, 25 Loez

Answers under the cut ♡

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

Wuld's fatal flaw is probably what being subjugated from an early age did to his brain. He does not see himself the way other people do, and the way other people need to in order to process emotion, injustice, ownership, etc. The result of his entire life is that he has no metric for fundamental tenets of humanity, such as love, right/wrong, and sense of self. This I would consider "fatal" because it's hard to say he was truly living until he found Loezia, who introduces him to these concepts for the first time.

His capacity to build a foundation for such concepts is limited by how late in life he's conceiving of them, but it's not beyond his capability.

If we're talking about what might become his fatal flaw, it might be his obsessive personality.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Two major things: I understand him better, and he's more fully himself. At some point in Wist, I started to refer back to the characters themselves to maintain consistency, rather than to the people they were inspired by. That was a marked moment.

As a whole, though, he's stayed pretty consistent. His emotional/psychological stability, however, has been in brutal flux. The beginning of Wist has him in a fairly manic and desperate state of isolation and loneliness. Currently, he's in survival mode. Those two modes look pretty different.

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

In canon, the closest we've gotten to enraged for Wuld was when the bandits attacked the lakeside camp. He's been angry at other parts in Wist too, like when Geran denied him information. What we know from those is that when he's mad, he acts out—the exception being when he feels he can't, either because it will jeopardize something he's working for, or because it will endanger his life (see his encounter with the masseuse).

So assuming he's in a position where he won't jeopardize anything, including his life, by acting on his anger, I think that Wuld being freely enraged would involve him killing someone. Presumably someone who has pushed him past his limit, rather than someone random. Perhaps violently. It's been a while since he last killed someone, and he might just be a changed person since then.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

Lots of things to love about Loezia, so I'll think of my second favorite. I love his yearning to live. This is fundamentally the biggest point of tension for his character, where his base desires clash with his grief. He is loyal to his core and devotes himself to people because he finds his own sense of value and worth in how he can serve others. His existence as a walking memorial is built upon that major part of his character. It is also what cripples him, because he wants. Oh, he wants. He wants to belong to people so intrinsically, and he lost his community so so long ago. He wants to live again, the way he loves best to live. This is painful for him. His yearning to live undercuts his life purpose, which is to die honorably for the sake of those he loved, who could not fight for their lives at all.

[kingofkingsschizo]

TO LOVE A BIRD TO KILL A BIRD

I must’ve been about 10 years old and I loved looking at wildlife. I loved looking at the birds and how they gathered in the mornings and how they would sing to a new morning. One day I came out of my front door and I seen a bird in distress. It was a pigeon. He couldn’t fly for whatever reason. So I took him under my wing. I put him in a cardboard box on my porch with bread and water. I fed him daily. I made sure that he was getting better. One day I noticed he was ruffling his feathers and I knew he may want to fly. I went off to school that morning not knowing my bird would not be there when I got back. It was confirmed to me by my mom that my bird had flown away and I felt that I did him a Justice. I missed my bird, he was a shiny thing , his eyes sparkled. One day I was returning for lunch from school. My mom met me out on the porch when I arrive to the house. I approached her on the porch. She said guess who I have here. And there he was on the banister, looking at me, blinking his eyes up at me, how they sparkled. It was my bird. I remember those eyes. Oh, how I love the bird, he was back.  I fed him more bread and water. Then I had to go inside for my bath after I came out the next day I noticed that he was gone. My bird was free.

 a got a couple years older and I got into activities like shooting b.b. guns. Back then they had a local Kmart department store that had a BB guns on sale. I convince my mom to let me have a BB gun. I took the gun home. I loaded it with BBs. I had something on my site. There was a black bumblebee buzzing around the steps and I took my first target and I shot the abdomen from the bee clear off of him while he was in flight. 40 yards away. There was a wire, a phone wire up high. I took my aim at a bird high on the wire and took a shot. I heard a thump, and I hit the bird, and it fell to the ground. I was in my backyard, so I went around a house on the corner to see what I had done. There he was something like a sparrow, but more like a dove. I had killed the bird, and from one eye he bled. A rage of emotion came over me and I screamed. Why did I kill the bird!!! and a stream of tears ran down my face. As I write this post I’m still reminded, I loved the birds, but I also killed a bird. Never kill a bird it may haunt you for the rest of your life.

[mysticalblizzardcolor]

Understanding Death and Loss Realize yourself as the indestructible soul. https://yogananda.org/understanding-death-and-loss#:~:text=Death%20is%20only%20an%20experience,and%20that%20existence%20is%20eternal.

Guru Dev  https://instagram.com/reel/Cs1U2_uNwN9/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igshid=Y2Q0NmNiMjc3NQ==  

[terracegallery]

Healing Grief Art...

I thought a purple iris was the perfect image for my poem on loss and grief. Art and poetry to comfort those that have lost a loved one. Get It HERE.

[delicateavenuereview]

Monster

They said ‘we are here for you,’ 

‘anything at all that you need,’

Their eyes, too, showing their grief

But how do you explain

Every ounce of pain

This monster brings-

How do you explain

The absence of pain

Like I’m a puppet on his strings

And how do you explain

The flames burning ablaze

Taking everything in their way

Then he puts the fire out

And I’m left in doubt

Removed and distant

In a near instant

Because this monster, he thrives on the rise and fall,

The emotions of it all,

He loves to watch you drown

If only to help you, reach for you, and save you

The next time he comes around

So how do you explain

That you feel detained

Held hostage against your will

And how do you explain

That you feel insane

A captive to his thrill

He swallows the flames one at a time

Ignoring his most recent crime,

He leaves you drowning 

In guilt, shame, and all of the blame 

Wondering, questioning, doubting

And how do you explain

The lack of control of my brain-

I’m at mercy to this monster

And how do you explain

The violent terrain

He’s created in his wake

And how do you explain

I don’t know ‘what I need’ for my brain

And everything feels like a mistake

Because I can’t explain

Every ounce of pain

Surging through my veins

I can’t explain

The absence of pain

And it makes me insane

So please explain

How to sustain

This monster I never wanted to meet

Please, help me, and explain

How to contain

This monster we’ve named grief

That is, in fact, what I need

A

[mbrainspaz]

I mean I didn't put it in the tags because I never needed therapy for him specifically but I wept the day he died. My boss at my first office job put an arm over my shoulders and started laughing at me, saying I was so sensitive. I cried again in 2022 when I finished the Shepherds Crown alone in a field under the stars.

My answer is yes for Heath Ledger. I was obsessed with him when he died and it broke my little pre-teen heart 💔

[jeffrey-matucha-author]

The Closet: A Punk Short Story

I read a story from my latest collection Short Songs - Gail Burp, a rising star in the alt-music scene, goes through her walk-in closet as she decides what to wear to visit the final resting place of a friend.

Just one of the many stories about rock and rollers living lives of noisy desperation!

[calltoamentor]

Writing to The Living After Serving the The Dead

Grief brings out the most complicated sides to people. Buried under the mundane death tasks and the heart rending realization that life will never be the same, the authentic self is given minimal room to exist. Seriously though it's a show about death.

Grief brings out the most complicated sides to people. Buried under miles of mundane death related tasks and the heart rending realization that life will never be the same, the authentic self is given minimal room to exist. And, well, when all you have is a hammer, everyone looks like nails. Today, as we transition to blend the two blogs together, lets talk about how my experience as a…

[mpotato]

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[x3no9]

Couldn't sleep so I wrote a fic. I get dark at night. Work in progress.

Ghost x Soap

Revenge, death, sorrow and profound, transcendant love (also sex)

[feral-ballad]

Mosab Abu Toha, from Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza

[oftenoffler]

NO NO NO NO NOT MY PATIENT NOT MY PATIENT