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thedragonqueen1998 · 2 days

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Today at work i got insanly inspired to write and once i got off work, i immidiently went on my phone to type it out. XD I just finished a 3 hour long writing ses(had a 15 minute food break in the middle). ^^ Probably just gonna forever gonna be a wip thing, but it was fun and i'm kinda proud of it. Despite it being rough in some parts, mostly because i wanted to rush to the 2nd half and i didn't wanna get stuck, i'm happy to share it. ^^

It's a kinda long, so i'm gonna add a Read more line to not fill your dash with text. Also, first time trying formatting out! XD

So, originally this post was just gonna be a "i actually wrote something! Look!" thing, just showing of some work i did, but after writing the reason why i wrote a line a certain way, it went into something very sad and kinda dark, so if you don't wanna read about death, a light mention of suicidal thought and grief... just stop after What even is my life.

Idk why i wrote it, but it took alot of effort and it feels... important to me, i guess. Part of processing and such. So, yeah. Read at your discretion. Thank you for your time. 💜

Ezio had many regrets in his long life. Not being there when his father and brothers were arrested. Of not being there more for his sister and mother. Of not trying to be together with Cristina. Not being able to save her. Or being able to save Uncle Mario and Monteriggioni. But biggest of all, not having spent more time with his family before the execution.

He had love, but didn't cherish it. Didn't truly feel it and took it for granted. But unlike so many others, Ezio could take those regrets and change them. Thanks to Desmond.

When he walked into the Library, he thought he might get an answer or two in return for many more. He truly didn't expect that calling out Desmonds name while the Apple bathed the walls in gold would result in it being answered by the being himself.

The being looked like a man, clad in a white light, eminating from a strange device under his right arm. His face looked like an exact replica of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad's face, though his build was closer to his. Broad shoulders hidden underneath a strange hooded white doublet and long legs wearing strange tight fitted pants made from a material he did not recognise. Even the scar was the same as his! Was Ezio made in the image of the one he was the Prophet for? Was Altaïr the herald? All questions Ezio wondered, but not knowing if Desmond was like Minerva or not, he dared not waste any questions if the beings patient was thin.

But first: "Are you Desmond?" He had to know, have it confirmed, even if the being appeared after the name was called.

"Ezio? Is this the Library? Am i seriously bleeding while dying!?" Desmond was looking around at the empty tomb, before his eyes returned upon Ezio.

"Yes, this is Altaïr's library. You are bleeding? I do not see any blood and you are dying!? Is there anything i can do to help you? Please, my lord. Tell me what i need to do to save you." Ezio was desperate to know his purpose and if all his life lead to this moment, where he could save Desmonds life, he would fulfill it.

"There's nothing you can do. I am dying semi willingly and even if this is some Animus infused death hallucination, it is nice having my last moments with you, even if your not really here. I am so sorry i couldn't answer any of your questions or try to save you from losing everything. You never deserved any of it. In the end it didn't really even matter. I am sorry you wasted your time chasing riddles and ghosts." He looked so grieve struck while saying it and the look Desmond had while gazing down onto Ezio could only be described as lovingly.

"What do you mean? Could you have saved my uncle!? My father and brothers!? Why didn't you if you do not think i deserved it! I have served the Brotherhood almost my entire life, sacrificed so much trying to find out what Minerva meant and now your telling me that it was all for nothing!? If you think i wasted my time then give it back!"

Desmonds eye's widen before softly smiling and saying: "Your right, you wasted your time and sacrificed too much for nothing. Let's change that."

Before Ezio knew it, the world went white and he knew nothing more.

—————

When Ezio awoke, it was to a bed he hadn't seen in almost 40 years. His childhood bed and his room. He couldn't believe it. He was given a second chance. To live his life. To right wrongs. To save his family! To think going to the Library would result in this!

At the thought of the Library, Ezio suddenly remembered Sofia. To have forgotten her and even abandoned her without a second thought left Ezio feeling guilty. Would she wait outside the Library before realising he would never come back? Or because he is now in the past, a past where he intends to change the future, would she never meet him? Never exist? The thought of her hurt, but like so many others, Ezio knew that him being in her life would have risked hers. Even if she knew and accepted it, it is still better if she never got the chance to know him and inevitibly suffer because of it. Same with Cristina. Though he could now choose her, he knew that despite the many mistakes in his life, the Brotherhood was not one of them and his refusal to properly let her go killed her. Letting that life affect her once again was too cruel. It was for the better to just let her go.

Federico nudged him with his elbow. "Brother, what has you thinking so hard you look like you bit into something bitter?"

"Nothing much, just wondering what i should get." Ezio smiled and laughed. He was currently out with his family on a trip the market. The last time around, he had decided to sneak off to spend some time with a girl he didn't even remember the name of anymore instead of spending time with his loved ones, to his great shame and regret. This was the last thing his family had done together outside of dinners before the execution in 3 days. That he missed out on it was one of his biggest regrets, but Desmond let him change it.

That Ezio might never truly understand or know what or who Desmond is, how he watched him in the Vault or even what Minerva's people and the Pieces of Eden truly were will forever haunt him, but the trade to see his family again and to even be able to save them is a fair trade. He can go his life wondering these questions and maybe try to find them now that he will have more time, thanks to already knowing the Templars plans and who will be an enemy or ally.

He felt a finger poke him inbetween his eyebrows.

"There you go again Brother. Thinking too hard! Be careful or you might hurt yourself." Federico teased before yelping and then laughing when Ezio pushed him.

"Please don't start fighting now sons." Their father said before turning back to the stall owner to continue discussing what wares to buy and the prices.

"Sorry Father!" Ezio said before giving his brother a teasing look that promised this was not over.

Ezio remembered this day well enough. Not to remember the woman he decided to chase, but enough to know that when his family had been at the market a horse had run wild there and according to Claudia, nearly trampled her down in the confusion.

He was a bit sceptical to believe it was as close as she had made it out to be, but he knew horses much better now than he did before. After years of riding them to and from places in the chase for his targets, he knew that having one running towards you in a blind panic could scare anyone. Even though he knew to be wary of them and treat them with respecy during his original childhood, he didn't truly get how these gentle beings could be as scary as his sister had made the poor creature out to be.

According to his family, it had been a war horse, bloodied, running around in a blind panic, probably scared from a skirmish. Being chased by guards hadn't helped and eventually the guards got a good shot at it and put it down.

Ezio wanted to save his sister years of fearing horses, so he kept an eye and a ear out for any signs that the animal was on it's way.

There. A scream. Everyone stopped and looked around for the source. The source was still hidden by the crowds, but in the distance you could start seeing people moving away from something coming this way and the screams were getting closer.

Ezio breathed and slipped into his Second Sight, the Eagle Vision, as he now knew Altaïr had called it. Or more accuratly, Eagle Sense. With the years, his constant use and need for it had changed his Sight. It had become much stronger, letting him see farther, expanded his hearing, to let him hear his enemies heartbeat and even know what moves they were going to make. Even let him know where his enemies was going to go on a patrol route.

It truly was a gift and now he would use it to try and predict where the animal would go, as to lead his sister and family away from the danger. Then he saw it. The shine of something important. Something that glowed as strongly as the Apple of Eden had. The horse.

There was much about his Gift he could not explain. He had tried, but it is much like explaining sight to a blind person. Why things he didn't even know about could glow gold and lead him to the answer. Why allies glowed blue and enemies red, nor how he could tell friend from foe and now. His Sight told him, with the same intuition as telling friend from foe, that this horse was Desmond.

How is Desmond here? Why? Did he lie about dying? Or was certain death only a large chance that Desmond beat? Ezio supposed it did not matter. If he lets events play as they had before, Desmond would be struck down by an arrow within minutes. Oh, maybe Desmond had tried to prevent his father and brothers demise, but was struck down in the attempt? Though, why choose to do it as a rampaging horse? Either way, Desmond was clearly panicking, almost upon him now. If Ezio could not calm him down, his death was guaranteed.

But how? Ezio has just seconds now to plan a way to stop him before he is trampled down.

Then, he finally realises, that among the bright gold he shines, he also glowes blue. Such a deep colour which he has only seen in the greatest friends or closest family and he knows, Desmond would never harm him. The look of pure love on Desmonds face made more sense now.

So Ezio decides to not move and simple raise up his hands, as if to pet the horse.

"EZIO!"

————

Desmond was in pain. He knew that Juno lied about his death being quick and painless, but god, why did it have to hurt so much!? During his hallucination, it wasn't nearly so bad! And can't forget the weird nightmare he's having ontop of it. He's a goddamned horse on some battlefield. He was rearing up when the nightmare started, neighing as his rider was shot and killed by an arrow.

There's so much blood. The smell strikes fear in his heart. There's so much red. He slips into Eagle Vision and there's even more red. Not a spec of blue. A sword slides against the armor he is wearing and the screech of metal is too much. He bolts.

He needs to run. Away from the monsters with sharp sticks. Away from the smell of blood and death. Away from the shadows hiding hunters. They follow him. They chase him for a long time.

He is getting so tired.

He needs to get back to the barn. His owner would make everything alright. He would croon soft noises he did not understand, but the tone was soft and gentle. He would give him a treat while brushing him down after a hard days work.

He did ride him into scary battles he did not understand, but afterwards he would wash and groom him extra thoroughly, while feeding him the best apples, crooning more sounds in a happy tone. He would repeat one of the few sounds he understood, which meant "him" and "pay attention to me".

Dante.

But he wasn't on his back anymore and he didn't hear his voice. Just the loud, scary noises of more men in the shiny hard thing. They had the pointy sticks too and tried to take the things dangling from his mouth. Only his owner can touch that! Only he is to be trusted with them.

Running is getting harder, there is large, straight hills in the way and the path is narrower with many strangers in it.

There is still so much red. He can still smell the blood, feel it clotting his fur. Too much red!

Blue.

Suddenly there's blue in front of him. He knows blue means ally. Though why and how this person is blue confuses him. But he is Blue and running him over is not good, but why is he standing there!? Does he not see the red!? Smell it!? Does he not understand we need to run!?

"Desmond"

That single word pierces the fog of fear and wild panic that has flooded Desmonds mind. Ezio is in front of him, hand already gripping the reigns while the other rests on his muzzle.

"There we go Desmond, everything is alright."

Desmond still feels phantom threads of fear, but with Ezio's calming blue glow and his voice saying gentle reassurances, it feels far away.

Now with his mind fully human and not driven by horse instincts or memories, the question becomes: How and why the fuck is he a horse in 15th century Italy with Ezio!?

What even is his life.

————

So, a couple parts i'm stupidly happy about is the "He had love, but didn't cherish it. Didn't truly feel it and took it for granted." part. This, as you can probably tell was inspired by the famous quote "When I was a young man, I had liberty, but I did not see it. I had time, but I did not know it. And I had love, but I did not feel it."

I believe Ezio didn't fully understand liberty until he tried to live a peaceful life with Sofia and realised he would always fear Templars taking revenge on his family and time, because the knowledge that he would never see his children grow up to adults had never been a concern before he met Sofia. He probably thought he wouldn't have a family at all.

But love. Love he would understand what he missed. He would understand it just days after he lost his father and brothers. Those moments you missed out on. Of opportunities to spend time that you squandered away. Time you will never get back, because in real life we don't have time travel.

And now i understand it. Before the end of the last year, i was like Ezio before the loss. Before i lost my grandparents only a few weeks apart.

Those opportunities to spend time was rare and thankfully i took most of them, but i still squandered it away by not actually spending time with them. I just visited and hid away in my room, wasting the time by sitting on the phone.

I will forever regret that because ny memory is shit and besides a few childhood ones, i have no memories of them. I still remember their voices, they were pretty distinct thankfully, but how long until i forget that.

It hurts and as someone who is afraid of death and it's finality, such a reminder that time and love is finite is soulcrushing. It is only recently that i have truly started to think of my grandparents and i guess try to process the fact they are gone forever.

When we first got the news that my grandpa had died, i was even more glued to my phone, not wanting to acknowledge what was happening. I also didn't wanna sleep and only got some when i passed out from exhaustion. We even went to the doctor to get time of work and some sleep medication i didn't dare end up taking.

I even had thoughts of just taking all the pills and just sleeping, to get away from the pain forever. But i'm thankfully too much of a coward, so it just stayed thoughts. I'm doing much better now and as i mentioned, i think i'm starting to process the fact that they are gone.

So, yeah. This post went in a direction i didn't expect. But it feels important and maybe in a few years i can look back at this post and see a snapshot of who i was and reflect on who i am now. So, here's to the future me and anyone else who needs to hear it:

I hope things are going well and if they're not... well, things get better. They always do. You're loved and even if your loved ones are gone, they live on in you. You will carry that love with you, for the rest of your life. 💜

#personal #personal thoughts #dealing with grief #tw grief #tw grieving #tw suicidal thoughts

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thimbell · 1 year

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Some snacks for @intotheelliwoods of their wonderful 2al comics.

Grief counseling flavor because on of the last updates got me TTvTT

lol whoops oh shit. only 30 image per post. part 2 here in a sec.

#rottmnt #2al fanart #2al #Ell come get your juice #doodles #peepaw leo #?#not sure how to tag this rip #tw grief #tw grieving

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s0fti3w1tch · 1 year

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I decided to actually finish coloring this

"Let's open your birthday gifts when you come home"

Tentative Devotee AU Masterpost

#tw sibling death #tw child death #<- believed to be (but not actually)#tw grieving #my art #buwan's art #td!au donatello #td!au leonardo #<- sorta #tentative devotee doodle #tentative devotee au #rottmnt tentative devotee au #decided to color this as sort of a vent I guess

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characcoon · 1 year

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Masks and Shields

Part 1 (Here!) | Part 2 (TBA)

For context, first consider the idea where Mikey from the future is training his young self in the mystic arts because that's all my brain is microwaving these days. Coolio.

Now, some extra info about this story, of when and why Mikey stopped wearing a mask.

Donnie has been killed, his entire research facility turned into a pile of ashes. One of the main pillars of the Resistance, the brains of the operation, the guy who built and idealized 70% of their systems and weapons and equipments is gone, so is a good portion of his projects.

It's a dark moment. One of the biggest blows the Resistance has taken in a long, long time. Their members are on edge, expecting Leo to say something, but he doesn't show up to the memorial. Mikey has to speak alone, with no time to mourn. He doesn't tremble.

- Cityspeaker: a word I took from Transformers and mashed together with my own idea of how Mikey came to have and train his mystic powers in the bad timeline. More on that soon, I suppose.

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its-the-pilot · 3 months

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Dancing With Your Ghost | One-Shot

I'm not sure why I felt like writing something sad, but here it is! Working on the next chapter of Waves as well, just needed to get this out of my system first 😭

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin made a promise and he's determined to keep it.

Warnings: major character death, grief, funeral, sad stuff

Length: 2.5k words

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader, Jake Seresin x Female Reader (friendship)

| Masterlist | Rooster One-Shots Masterlist |

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Dancing With Your Ghost

Jake Seresin stood in the doorway to your bedroom, a dark frown on his face as he studied the subject of his thoughts carefully. You were sitting on the bed, your knees drawn up to your chest as you stared out the window, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t want to be there, especially not on today of all days, but he had made a promise.

He said your name quietly, not intending to startle you, but when you visibly stiffened, he realized he had. He didn’t move from his place in the doorway as you swiped at the wet trails on your cheeks with the pads of your fingers, waiting until you turned your head to acknowledge him.

“Hey.”

Cautiously, he started moving toward you, noticing as he got closer that your hair was still damp from your shower. “It’s almost time,” he managed, hoping that the reminder would pull you out of your dark thoughts.

You returned your gaze to the window as you nodded, a vacant look in your eyes. The skies were heavy with gray clouds and it had started raining, a light spring shower, but nonetheless a rare event in San Diego. ‘Fitting,’ he thought to himself, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to you. “C’mon… want me to send Nat in to help you get ready?”

“‘M not going,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Sighing, Jake moved closer and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. “You really think that’s what he’d want?” he asked, looking down at your profile as your chin rested on your knees, making you look much younger than you were. “He’d want you to have closure, darlin’.”

“I can’t,” you croaked out, sniffling. “I can’t go and see him like that. I don’t want that to be my last memory of him.”

The past week had been hard on everyone, but understandably, as his wife you had the hardest time coping. He watched as you twisted the set of rings on your finger, the sight making his chest clench uncomfortably, a reminder of what you had lost.

-------------------------

“We’re here.”

The words sent a chill down Hangman’s spine as he looked up from where his cover rested on his lap to the front door of your house. Stepping out of the car, he walked beside the CACO officer and the chaplain wearing his service dress blues, stopping when they climbed the steps to your porch.

Moving to the front of the group, he reached up and knocked on the door firmly, clasping his hands in front of him as he waited for you to answer.

Inside, you were planning to tell Bradley that you were pregnant when he got home in a few hours. There was a cake in the oven and a white onesie with “Daddy” painted on it drying on the counter when you opened the door, your smile fading as soon as you saw the set of solemn faces before you.

You locked eyes with your husband’s wingman and instantly knew why they were there, not needing to be told about the malfunction Bradley had experienced with his jet earlier that day. Your knees gave out as the realization hit and Jake caught you in his arms, slowly lowering you both to sit on your porch as you sobbed into his uniform coat, looking up to his companions helplessly.

-------------------------

Releasing another heavy sigh, Hangman shook the memory from his mind and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, hating the way you tensed under his touch. Everyone -- himself included -- had been hesitant to approach you, not knowing what the right words were. There wasn’t exactly a right way to go about comforting someone who just lost their husband and the father of their unborn child.

After a moment Jake felt you lean into him, the tension in your body relaxing some, and it made him smile a little. He squeezed you gently, silently letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere and that if you wanted to talk, you could.

“Why did he leave me? He promised he wouldn’t.” Your voice was so quiet that he almost let himself believe you hadn’t spoken at all, simply because he wasn’t sure how to answer the question.

“It was an accident, darlin’,” he explained, his thumb rubbing circles against your shoulder. “You know he loved you more than anything, and he would have been so happy about the baby.”

You simply nodded and wrapped your arms around your slight bump protectively. When you finally pulled away from Jake he noticed that you were wearing the NAVY t-shirt Rooster used for workouts, his scent still embedded in the fabric.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you managed, pushing yourself to your feet shakily and heading to the window.

Jake leaned forward, his eyes never leaving you as he rested his elbows on his knees. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him, instead focusing your gaze on the street outside, following a car as it passed. The tension in the room was palpable, and Jake could make out the knots in your shoulders under the t-shirt you wore.

He struggled to hold back a quiet sigh as he said your name again. When you didn’t reply, he stood and moved toward you, dropping another kiss to your cheek before squeezing your shoulder gently. “I’m gonna go downstairs, alright? We’re leaving for the service in ten minutes.”

A single nod was the only recognition you gave him before he turned to leave the room, closing the door almost silently behind him. Once he was at the bottom of the stairs, he allowed himself a moment of grief, releasing the shaky sigh he had held back moments before. Internally, he cursed himself, hating that he wasn’t strong enough to show you that you weren’t the only one in pain.

“Did you get her to talk?”

Hangman turned at the sound of Phoenix’s voice as she stood in the kitchen behind him, a frown on his lips. “I tried. Don’t know how much good it did.”

She nodded, smoothing the front of her uniform to give her hands something to do. “This was his biggest fear, leaving her alone with a baby that would never know him,” she explained, a sadness to her voice that neither of them were ready to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” he replied, leaning against the counter heavily. “It’s not fair how history repeats itself.”

Natasha moved to stand beside him, her heels making her slightly taller than his shoulder. When he glanced over to her, he couldn’t help but notice the way her neatly manicured nails were digging into her palms, leaving little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

The two pilots stood in silence, unsure of what to say to each other. It had been a week since the accident, and the Daggers had been spending time at your house in shifts so that you weren’t alone, giving them something to focus on besides their own emotions surrounding the death of their teammate.

It was Bradley Bradshaw’s only final request -- that his squad look out for you. He had pulled Hangman and Phoenix aside only days after proposing and made them promise that if anything happened to him, you would be taken care of. They had agreed, of course. You had become a part of their Dagger family as soon as Rooster introduced you to them years earlier, knowing from the start that you were The One.

The sound of your bedroom door opening pulled both Jake and Natasha from their silent thoughts, simultaneously pushing away from the counter as you came down the stairs and stopped in front of them. Your hair was pulled into a simple ponytail and your makeup was natural looking, something Bradley liked. You wore a knee-length black lace dress that wasn’t too tight around the middle, one that Nat had laid out for you that morning before you woke up. You were still early in your pregnancy but there was a slight bump that you didn’t want everyone to see yet -- only the Daggers knew about the baby.

“I think I’m ready,” you stated quietly, briefly looking each of them in the eye before stepping past them.

Moving with you toward the door, Jake lifted your coat off of the hook and helped you into it before leading you out to his truck with a gentle hand at the small of your back, Phoenix following close behind. The drive to the cemetery was silent as you stared out the window, your fingers playing with your rings again as your hands rested in your lap.

When you arrived, Jake rounded the front of the truck and opened your door, offering a hand to help you out. “Ready?”

Accepting his help out of the tall truck, you leaned up and kissed his cheek softly before turning and giving Nat a hug when she climbed out of the truck behind you. “Thanks, both of you,” you whispered, offering a sad smile before moving toward the group of uniforms near the gravesite.

Jake closed his eyes as she walked away, taking a deep breath to center himself as Nat stood beside him. “She’ll be okay,” she assured him. “Hopefully she’ll get some closure.”

He nodded, looking over to his fellow pilot. “Yeah… I hope so.”

The funeral was standard for a Naval Officer as you stood at the gravesite, Bradley’s surrogate father Pete Mitchell on one side and Jake on the other, the rest of the Daggers nearby for any additional support you would need. You did your best to hold back tears as a folded flag was placed into your hands by Admiral Simpson, though you lost the battle when you watched Bradley’s squadron approach his coffin one at a time and pound their wings into the smooth wood.

Finally, cradling the folded flag to your chest, you stepped forward, hesitantly brushing your fingers over the coffin that encased your husband. You closed your eyes and recited a quiet prayer, tears sliding down your cheek and landing on the casket.

After a moment the crowd began to disperse and Maverick came to stand beside you, his hand moving to rest on your back gently. You didn’t protest, leaning into him for support, having grown close to the older man over the past few years since Bradley reconnected with him.

“I thought we would be together forever,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears as you finally pulled your hand away from the casket. “Silly, huh?”

Maverick shook his head, taking your hand when you dropped it to your side, squeezing it gently. “That’s what he wanted. He never loved anyone the way he loved you.”

Looking over to him, you offered a grateful nod, tears shining in your eyes. “Thank you,” you replied quietly, biting your lip. “It meant a lot to him to have you back in his life these last few years.”

“It meant a lot to me too,” he affirmed. “Just trust that his mom and dad are taking care of him now, and know that he wishes more than anything he could be here with you.”

A fresh set of tears began sliding down your cheeks as he spoke, clutching the flag tighter to your chest. Releasing Maverick’s hand, you swiped at the tears just as Hangman approached, offering the older man a salute. The same was returned, followed by a handshake between them.

“I’ll let Jake get you home,” Maverick said simply, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently. “Are you gonna be okay tonight?”

You nodded, looking down at your feet to prevent your eyes from sliding back to the coffin. “I’ll be okay. I have to get used to it sometime.”

“I’ll be there,” Jake assured him, prepared to stay as long as you needed him to, taking his promise to Rooster seriously. “If you want me to, of course.”

Maverick watched as you shrugged half-heartedly, wishing that he could take your pain away. “Okay,” he nodded, giving you another kiss on the cheek before clapping Hangman on the shoulder. “Take care of her,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern for you.

“You know I will, Sir,” he replied, waiting until the older man departed before turning to fully face you. “Ready to go?”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from moving back to the casket at the question, wanting to stay there forever if you were being honest. Clutching the flag tighter, you forced yourself to look up at Jake and nod your head. His large hand found the small of your back once again as he led you back to his truck.

“Where’s Nat?” you asked, allowing the blonde aviator to open the passenger door for you.

“She got a ride with Coyote,” Jake explained, watching you climb inside before rounding the truck and sliding behind the wheel. “I can call her when we get back to your place, if you want?”

“No,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You don’t have to stay with me either. I”ll be fine on my own.”

Jake started the truck and frowned at her reply. “‘Okay’... ‘fine’... you’re starting to sound like him,” he pointed out, beginning the drive back to your house.

You didn’t say anything in response as you rested your head against the window of the truck while he drove, never once letting go of the folded flag in your arms, holding it as though it was a lifeline. When he finally pulled into the driveway and parked the truck, Jake moved to your side again to open the door, tapping on the window and waiting until you reluctantly lifted your head from the glass so as to not hurt you.

“He’s not coming home,” you declared, your voice eerily calm despite the tears that stained your cheeks. “I’m never gonna feel him hold me again.” Your eyes were fixed on the house in front of you, and Jake’s heart broke as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

His hand ran up and down your back, feeling the moment when your resolve finally broke, your body shaking as you sobbed into the lapel of his uniform coat just as you had on the day it happened. “Everything will get easier, darlin’,” he tried, unsure if he was trying harder to convince you or himself. “And over time… it’ll hurt less.”

“I don’t want it to hurt less, I want him to come back,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you continued to cry. “I just want my Bradley back.”

Jake’s eyes fell shut at the sound of his wingman’s name coming from your lips, the first time he had heard you use it since he died. He knew that you understood what you were asking for was impossible, but in that moment as he held you trembling in his arms, he would have done anything to take Rooster’s place.

If only to see you smile one more time.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hurt/comfort #tw death #tw funeral #tw grieving #Youtube

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loveyourlovelysoul · 7 months

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Gentle tip & reminder: give yourself time and space to grieve properly anything you need, cause if you don't do it well enough, if you don't welcome all the emotions you feel (whatever type they are), and if you don't allow yourself time, you'll sooner or later have to go back to the same issue and heal it again. Don't try to rush things, to avoid feelings (I know they hurt), to pretend... it won't work, sadly. Ofc you don't have to do anything alone, you can ask for support in the meantime. When it will be time, you'll be out of it. Stay strong and hopeful. And take care of you.

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finleyforevermore · 2 months

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Liam's tumblr is gone..

Even though he's not with us anymore, I did still look at his blog sometimes.

That was all I had left, probably the same case for some of his other friends..

I'm in mourning all over again..

#tw death #death tw #tw mourning #grief tw #tw grief #tw grieving

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cutthroatkindness · 2 years

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Please understand that the saying "Time heals all wounds" only applies if you work in tandem with time. If you don't acknowledge and tend to your wounds, they will only fester and become infected with time.

So please, let your tears fall, let them clean your wounds. Then, pick yourself up and keep going and time will keep up with you. 💛🌺

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frownyalfred · 2 months

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If this too much or too personal please ignore!

But I was just wondering if you had any advice for grieving? (I lost a close family member very recently)

I'm so sorry for your loss, anon. I don't know your exact situation, but I hope your loved one's memory is a blessing to you and your family. I'll leave my thoughts below the break, since I'll discuss death and dying a little.

I am, as many people on here likely know, still grieving the loss of my father. It was sudden and unexpected. It was bloody and somewhat traumatic for our family. Thinking about it still leaves me dazed and unfocused.

Grieving is such a strange process. I've been talking about it with my therapist weekly, and her main takeaway has been that there is no right way to do it -- and that it is far from linear. There are positive moments and regressions. There are funny memories and difficult truths to grapple with. There is anger, confusion, sadness. Despair. So many unanswered questions and moments that hover on the edge of veneration simply because they are the only ones you have left.

How did I grieve? I cried a lot, at first. I took off work and sat shiva with my family. I answered a thousand well-meaning messages and played one singular song on repeat on my phone. I barely slept. I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I woke up crying without remembering exactly what I had been dreaming about.

Then, as if in reprieve, my brain let up. I slept somewhat normally again. My body was no longer on the edge of tears at any given moment, nor was I entirely numb. Slowly, I began to think of normal things again; new television shows, updating a chapter, irritation at the banal things like traffic and work.

And anon, I thought to myself, this must be it. I'm no longer "grieving," or at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I was eating, sleeping, going to the gym and work, updating my works and hitting the club again on the weekends.

But I wasn't done. And I'm not sure I ever will be. I wanted to be done, in so many ways. I was mad at my father for dying, for making me grieve, for keeping me in this state where I couldn't be confident in anything I was feeling, any progress I was making. Where I could remain silent and resolute at his burial, but sob like a baby in my apartment when the concert t-shirt he gave me was stained by some soup.

But that's a lot to put on the dead. And sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that -- that he is dead, that there is a gap in my life I keep trying to skip over, like avoiding tonguing at the aching tooth in the back of my mouth. And when I forget, the world is more than glad to remind me, whether through well-meaning neighbors, colleagues, etc etc.

I suppose that's a long way of saying, I think I'm still grieving anon. I'm not sure I'm doing the best at it, active or involuntary as this process seems to be. I have an amazing support network, but so much of this work seems to be solitary, even when someone is sitting right next to you, crying with you.

The Jewish saying "May their memory be a blessing" has been a good focal point for me, I think. It dovetails nicely with the Mandalorian saying "Not gone, merely marching far away." I've thought about both a lot in the last few months, because I'm a huge nerd and also because I don't think the cultures are too dissimilar.

Let your loved one's memory be a blessing in your life, anon. Remember the happy moments, and speak them out loud if you're able. Don't let their name remain sacred. Don't sanctify them, for we are all humans and humans are complicated, but don't leave their life behind you.

Those memories of them, those funny moments and sad days, fun trips and strange conflicts, those are all yours now. No one else has them. And when you and your family are gone, those memories are gone too.

Other small things that have made this whole process easier: Starbucks and DoorDash giftcards (seriously, some days are too hard), letting myself take time off hobbies (gym/writing) without penalizing myself, naming my grief and allowing myself to sit in it (I'm sad today about x, and I want to lie down for a few hours. I'm lying down because I'm feeling sad about x, and I'm allowed to feel that way). Going to the gym and running until the natural endorphins help. Talking with my families about good and complicated moments with my dad. Writing, when I'm able. Reminding myself it's okay to not be very functional, that it's okay to not be perfect and you would never expect someone who is grieving to be so. Talking to a therapist and getting treatment for what I experienced. Accepting the kind words of others, even if they hurt or are unintentionally difficult.

I'm sorry you're going through this anon. I know how you feel, or at least some of what you feel. I hope you have support and loved ones around you who can help shoulder some of this process.

<3 Jay

#tw grief #tw death #tw dying #tw grieving #personal #about me #forgive me for being terribly emotional and personal for a moment #asks #anon

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