#tw: heavy grief

[ano-po]

Kwarenta Dias

Tadhana ko ba'ng mag-isa?

Walang tadhana, aking paniniwala. Kung ang Diyos ay totoo, wala Siyang pakialam. Sino ba naman ako para bigyan ng kaukulang panahon ng Maykapal? Ayos lang akong mag-isa. Ayos lang akong manahimik.

Nung dumating ka sa buhay ko, bigla akong naniwala, na siguro ay may paki sakin ang mga langit. Araw-araw masaya, araw-araw umiibig, araw-araw iniibig. Sa mapag-isa kong pagkatao, sa pangit kong ugali, may isang taong minahal ako ng buong-buo. Nasabi ko sa aking sarili, kahit hindi ko kayang aminin sa iyo, kung lahat ng tao ay nagmamahal ng ganito, mas masaya siguro ang mundo.

Sa kaarawan ko nang ika'y ibinigay. Sa kaarawan ko din nung kami ay nagdarasal sa sementeryo para sa iyong kwarenta dias.

Minsan tumutunganga. Bakit ikaw? Bakit ako? Bakit tayo? Ano'ng aral ang nais nilang matutunan ko? Wala, walang aral ang buhay. Maaari ko namang matutunan lahat nang magkasama tayo. Bakit.

Minsan umiiyak. Dalawang oras sa jeepney, walang magawa kundi maalala ka, na sana magkasama tayo, na sana nasa motorsiklo mo akap akap ang likod mo, habang tumatawa ka sa mga paulit ulit kong kanta.

Minsan nagtataka. Kung sino ba ako bago ka makilala, kung sino ba ako nung tayo'y magkasama, kung sino ba ako ngayon na wala ka na. Hindi ko na sila kilala.

Habang buhay, isinumpa akong may mabigat na bangin sa puso na hindi ko ginusto. Hindi ko matatanggap na ang buhay ay ganito. Ayokong makalimutan na ikaw at ako ay pinagtagpo, para lang mapaghiwalay sa saktong isang taon.

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[kalivasquezart]

a change in you

part 1 // part 2 // [part 3]

[wings-of-ink]

I have come with yet another angsty ask! *bows dramatically*

(I dont know if youre planning to put this scenario in one of the bad endings so please feel free to ignore or omit some details) MC dies (Hurrah!) ROs go through MC's stuff, or if OOC, Oswin goes through MC's stuff and give other RO a letter/finds a letter addressed to them. According to MC's hobbies/skills they might find a weapon, a scarf/cape (needlework mc), random trinket (trade mc), recipe for favorite food of RO (baker mc), etc. MC wrote the letter in case they die and wanted RO to have a piece of MC to remember them by. What would the RO's do with the gift? How would they honor MC's gift? Would they use the gift everyday or as often as they can? Would they store the gift in a precious box and take a peek at it every now and then? Would they just shove it as far as they can because just the sight of it hurts them so much? Love lots to you author <3

Every time I see you in my inbox, this is the mental image of you I get:

So, at the end of my tale there won't be "bad" endings necessarily - there definitely could be, and if my mood takes a dramatic downturn…well, maybe MC won't be safe after all (kidding, it saddens me to think of them perishing after everything they go through). Anyway, the MC will have choices and each choice has its ups and downs - and consequences. Depending on how you reason with them, they may seem like bad endings (if that cheers your twisted little heart up).

Starting out with a gut-punch right away with this one…I'll write these with the context that they were together a long time - partnered up, had a family if they wanted, etc…This wasn't after a short-term relationship sort of deal - which makes this infinitely worse.

After this, I may need to hold back on any MC death scenarios for a while, lol. My widdle heart is very much attached to them. Even though I'm technically the one that keeps, like, torturing them...but, ignore that.

Oswin:  Has a penchant for keeping these things with him. He'll carry MC's weapon for the remainder of his life - he'll wear the trinket - stitch the item into his clothing - make this recipe every week. It must be near him at all times. He waits for the day they can be reunited.

Zahn:  They hoard it, keep it in a safe place and look at it frequently. If it's a recipe, they learn to cook it. Everything else they need to touch often. They press it to their face and speak to it. It hurts, but they need to.

Duri:  They want to…but they can't stand to look at it. It's too much. They have it in a box they hold as sacred. The box they can touch, feel the presence of the item within without reopening their grief. They can honor MC by going to the places they dwelt together, knowing that a part of their spirit still clings to them. 

Rune:  Their memento stands at the center of an ornate private shrine. Its setting is in the finest stone and metals that money can buy. They make themselves see it. MC's memory will live on through their pain. They sit at the shrine, light candles and play their lyre, dedicating songs to their love until they can sing together again.

???:  "You always did have a way of shining light into my darkness."

[shaotie]

'Loss'

home sick today, here's a picture for you 🙂

'Loss' speedpaint (with sad Rise music)

Two Minutes . . . And Counting on archiveofourown.org

**WARNING** this fanfic series is rated mature for graphic depictions of violence, discretion is advised, please see tags on ao3 for more info.

masterpost for my rottmnt ao3 fanfics and art.

[imembarressedsohere]

Louis and Claudia Edit.

[alchemistc]

what the agony had been for | bucktommy 3/5

Do you mind if we stay in tonight? Buck doesn’t see the text until his shift is almost over. It’s been a long day, long enough that he and Chim have spent half of it accusing everyone at the station of saying the q-word in the spare moments they’ve had between calls. He’s been regretting making such an ambitious plan for a date night when he’ll be back at work in like twelve hours, so at first the text just eases some of the tension in his shoulders. He sends back a quick affirmative, and sends a thank you out into the world when the next twenty minutes pass without a call. His overnight bag had taken a permanent vacation the day Tommy had presented him with a cleared out wardrobe drawer and a toothbrush still in it’s packaging lying next to the bathroom sink, so all there is to do is change out of his uniform and send a quick goodbye to the team before he’s out the door. The drive gives him some time to decompress. It’s been a while since they’ve had such a chaotic day, and Buck misses his boyfriend who he hasn’t seen in almost a week because of the brush fire in the Hills. He’d spent his last night off at Tommy’s, curling under the duvet and staring at the dog-eared bodice ripper laying on Tommy’s bedside table, remembering exactly what had led to Tommy laying it spine open and face down, with his reading glasses perched on top, two nights earlier.

read chapter 3 on ao3

[lifenconcepts]

I MUST recommend this for any insane fans of Barnacles, do read the tw tho.

TW: very detailed death. Like actually. If you have triggers for any sort of death related thing either from the description, action, mourning, or what not, THIS ISNT FOR YOU.

pros tho: very detailed angst :)

Spoiler or not basically Barnacles is immortal and experiences 6 deaths, all practically equally as traumatising, and yet the last one he’s forced to express this to his crew. The author didn’t change his nor anyone’s personality as it’s quite believable in their canonical selves yet is quite gruesome and incredibly descriptive. I adored it, personally.

[rightfate-posts]

Also, stupid side note, I'm sick-ish (again) and it somehow made me miss my friend :( I know it's been years but grief is something that can creep up unexpectedly and frankly never really leaves. At the least I know that she's now finally at peace, so I will cling onto that thought for tonight

[salemoleander]

My parents are taking in our family dog to cross the rainbow bridge this afternoon :(

I'm genuinely glad she won't be in pain anymore (her legs are Not Good at this point) but I'm also really sad. We've had Maia for literally half my life; I'm the one who suggested her name. I held her as a little puppy in my lap driving back when we got her. It just sucks.

[ontoheartache]

hey so the timeline of grief is so fucked up why is today worse

[uncanny-tranny]

Grief will always hit in ways people don't tell you about, and it's important to leave room for people who have "abnormal" experiences.

Grief, I've experienced, hits you in context to your past. One of the reasons I act "abnormally" is because of my own past. It's like being stunted from being able to feel the "typical" feelings you're expected to experience, and that isn't good or bad. It's not an indication that you're a bad person or that you didn't value the person you have lost - due to death, illness, or simply... losing them.

The topic of grief is really underdiscussed and stigmatized. Simultaneously, we are expected to act "right" and to never talk openly about our loss, or trauma, or anything considered "taboo."

[wormonastringtime]

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

Y'know sometimes deity work is just them shaking you by the shoulders going "DUDE JUST CHILL."

CUE THE DEATH MENTIONS/GRIEF TW bc I don't usually post about this so I feel like writing it into the post is important

The past few days, I've been completely unable to... witch. Witching is an action now. I've been struggling to get anything from my deities and guides. Tarot- which I usually can use for consistent yes/no answers- is now only giving me "maybe"s no matter what I ask. I feel like my trust in my deities and in my craft has suddenly plummeted despite having witnessed the most dramatic, flashy gift from them to my mom like a week ago. etc. etc. I tried just using the cards as their meanings and it felt... like I could interpret them but they were definitely not the usual "OH DAMN y'all just gotta say it like it is" energy I'm used to. I started to feel bad, like I'm in some sort of slump for no reason, and just generally was salty because I actively had been trying to start readings up again and now I can't until that blows over.

Then today, as I was making my breakfast, I was just thinking about it and admittedly getting a bit frustrated with myself- and suddenly one of my deities (I think Loki or Hades, I can't get a clear answer rn) just slam dunks a realization into my head like "SIR. SIR. You just had your first father's day since your dad died like two days ago. Don't ya think that mayyybe there's some feelings there, even if you're not actively processing them out in the open? That mayyyyybe you might be subconsciously processing a lot that can't be processed consciously?"

I just stood there like O.O for a second. I know I'm not the greatest at connecting emotional dots, but sometimes I forget that if I'm feeling shitty it probably has a 100% logical reason that I'm just not seeing. They brought a couple other things to mind that I'm dealing with that, while I often forget about them consciously, I currently have every reason to be in a slump about. I really am glad I have my guides there to just plonk thoughts that are distinctly not my own into my head sometimes so I stop questioning why I'm in such a weird mood XD

The point of this post is, really, don't beat yourself up guys. Plz. I mostly post happy lil funny things, but I also value transparency and authenticity. So sometimes I'll end up posting some heavier stuff, especially when I someday get more into working with heavier emotions in my craft, because I think it's important to post it. Maybe it'll make someone feel a little less alone. And, if it doesn't, then this post is just for me and that's okay <3

[wings-of-ink]

I thought of the scene from the demo where the curse decided to manifest itself in the form of a tattoo on MC's body. What if MC couldn't take a breath and the disease ended up killing them?

Can we see parents and friends POV if that happened? Pretty please🙏

Sorry for the delayed response, Anon! This was legit kinda tough for me to think about, but no worries though, I’m really okay with it. I have considered doing a short about that moment from another perspective since MC was very out of it and tensions were high. Thinking about the MC succumbing in that moment breaks my heart. I probably won’t do a direct POV type scene for their death or anything, but just give some generalizations for your ask scenario.

It would be devastating. Extremely.

Kip and Dov would not stop trying to revive the MC for a long time. There would be much screaming and crying. Both would hold the MC in their arms and rock as they mourned. Grief never ends after that.

Betony and Kavi would do what they could, but ultimately would be distraught and try to just be there for Kip and Dov. They both take the loss hard, Betony always felt like MC was family, one of her babies. Kavi feels like a failure, he hates himself for letting MC suffer (this is where Lakota gets it).

Oswin isn’t doing well either. He is filled with regrets. He never told MC the news. He never gave them his gift. He never said he was sorry. He beats himself up so damn hard and it stays with him for his entire life thereafter.

Those were the five that were around for most of that moment. Lakota was tending to Willow at the time as she was having trouble. They will be bereft when they discover what occurred.

Lakota will blame himself for not finding a way to save MC. He’ll forever think that he must have missed something or he didn’t try enough things. He cries for years, and has to avoid areas that contain memories with the MC, which is a lot of places. Though his wife wasn’t as close with MC as Lakota, she feels it too. MC is not only a friend, but a person she respects and admires, who she knows helped shape the man she loves.

That's about as far as I’m willing to go on that one. I am already tearing up. I am a marshmallow @elegantunknownphantom can attest to that, lol. You are stronger than I, Anon! Thank you for the ask and I hope the answers satisfy a bit! ^_^