Today was one of the hardest days of my life thus far, and the deed is done. I said goodbye to Alex, but all day long, I kept repeating to myself that I wanted to die, that it should be me instead of him.
Seeing the pictures of him as a little boy, and then the young man he has become, honestly makes me want to join him. I've never felt so despondent before in my life. He was lying there in his casket, pumped full of embalming fluids, and it looked like he was just sleeping.
I wanted to smack him awake and tell him to wake up, but of course, he couldn't. And not to mention, his dad, my ex-stepfather, was there, and all of a sudden, I found myself fucking screaming on the inside. That man put on his "father of the year" act, and I couldn't be more disgusted. And before he could ambush me from the side to hug me and lock me in, I did it of my own volition to get it out of the way. I do not fear any mortal man, none but him. He put me and my family through hell for ten years, and now he puts on this grieving, sympathetic father act, and I can't wait any longer for him to die.
He is an abuser of human beings and animals alike, and he is the very definition of a sociopath. I wanted to claw myself alive, sitting at the back of the room, because I was so distressed. Granted, I had my boyfriend with me at my hip all day; he held my hand and kissed my arm and my shoulder in an attempt to calm me. I was there with my grandfather, our youngest brother, the rest of my so-called family, and luckily, my childhood friend was there, too.
But I am forever angry. I am angry and enraged that my brother died. His birthday is the 21st, and he is going to be 24. He died at 23— that is too goddamn young. Still, the picture I posted here before is getting burned with him. My note will go with him, and aside from you wonderful people on here, no one exclusively knows what I wrote to him. I have had a migraine from crying so much today. I never expected to outlive one of my baby brothers. I've lost him, our niece Oaklynn, another baby that would've been born after her, our grandmother, and my own baby that I miscarried at three and a half months; the man I love died twenty-eight years before I was born, so he is a great loss to me, too.
When I wrote on the back of the picture to Alex that I'll try not to follow him, I meant it. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try for him. It's just... I'm hurt, I'm angry, and I'm baying for blood now. There are so many other cruel bastards that Death can take, i.e., my ex-stepfather, but God, if He's listening, is a right playful fucker. I'm going to try to do everything I can to honor my baby brother. He deserves that much.
And Alex, I want you to know that I love you more than life. You weren't just my baby brother, you were my best friend. Please raise some hell up in the clouds. If your confirmation verses and the arms of God comfort you, then be at peace.
Putting this behind a cut because talk of death and pregnancy (not connected fyi) and just sad stuff:
So I fell off the face of the planet. I acted up at work enough that I had my line manager actually tell me I was being a problem (I asked, so on me) and then the next day, my line manager's line manager basically tell me that I was so clearly miserable I needed to quit and start fresh. Which is not a thing I'm at all capable of but go off queen.
Anyway. Totally very periphery to me - like I cannot emphasize enough how much this doesn't directly impact me - both my sisters who happen to be in their final trimesters of pregnancy's partner's have lost their main parental figure in the last few weeks.
What a mess. So my sister's husband's mum died incredibly suddenly three weeks ago, funeral is tomorrow. Then my other sister's fiance's (they've already got a kid and house and been together for ages) grandfather who raised him and has been in and out of hospital for a year or two passed a couple days ago.
I have zero emotional attachment to either of these people, have met them a handful of times, but the knock on of my two heavily pregnant sisters and their attachment to their partners and to their family groups...
Plus the work stuff, that maybe is manifesting because in the face of real relationships and real grief is the dumbest fucking thing ever...
Anyway... getting drunk tonight on my own. Funeral tomorrow and then I'm staying small in a corner of my sister's house because her husband will understandably probably drink and she's... past eight months... Then back to work by lunchtime on Tuesday probably.
I'm curious to see if other people that grew up in the south had similar experiences. Do y'all have any specific traditions or rules regarding funerals and putting the dead to rest?
One side of my family is from the north so they have pretty different approaches to these things, but one thing the southern side of my family does is pick out flowers in a very particular way.
Most of the time, they pick out gladiolus and roses. If the person had a very specific favorite flower, they'd include that too. Typically, they go with reds, whites, or yellows depending on who died.
Small collection of weird little oc writing experiments and art
(AGAIN THERES A LOT OF TEXT UNDER THE READ MORE BEWARE)
mmmmmmm nonsense writings
I remember seeing the soil slowly flood the grave, it felt like watching watching a man drown. He was dead already of course, but in that moment. Looking at magnus' cold still slowly disappearing face, that's when he really died. Beneath the soil. Would that be me some day? Would i too die under the meaningless embrace of dirt for a company that didn't even know my middle name?
The grave was shallow, and the coffin poor. It was an insult to call it a coffin really, more a crude spikey construction of nails and scattered drift wood. It was the same gray as the rest of the place.
At least it was decent weather considering the universe being a barren wasteland. The sky stagnated as a dull grey tinted by a blue. The wasteland was quite bleak, the land bumped up and down from the dirt hills stretching to nearby off to the horizon, it felt like they would go on forever if i tried to explore. Of course I didn't, i was too afraid.
Elanor called it the company graveyard, and with 30 years of working here, I believe her.
------------------------------------------------------------
FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY
[Sable Pri psyc eval No. #2]
[[TAPE BEGINS]]
"I remember the first time there was a death at work.
The grave was in a unmonitored uninhabited universe. I apologise but I don't remember the number it has in the system. i aware it was delegated the company graveyard due to the institute's long term possession of the universe.
The grave was shallow, approximately five to eight feet deep. I don't believe anyone talked. The body was rolled into the ditch, we filled the grave, and went home.
Normally according to company policy's regarding on work deaths we would send the ashes to family with some kind of lie but magnus-
[Mr Pri proceeds to stay silent for 1 minute and 10 seconds]
I apologize, i wasn't on a first name basis with Mr Tiug. It's inappropriate to call him that-
Due to Mr Tiug's lack of family, we followed protocol and buried him in the company graveyard as i stated prior. Ms Elanor Blaidd was promoted to M.E department head soon after the burial, and three years later due to her retirement i took her place as the head of the Multiversal exchanges department.
That is all."
[[TAPE ENDS]]
[Mr Pri then became uncooperative and vague with answers when further prompted with questions by Mrs L.L Dreamuur, the institute hired psychiatrist]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Ingo has been gone for one year. After going on a journey around the world looking for any sign of his twin, Emmet realizes that perhaps, after all, his family is right. Maybe he does need to let his brother go.
Even if Emmet does not believe Ingo is dead, he cannot spend the rest of his life waiting for him to return. So, though it is the hardest thing he has ever done, he lays his brother to rest.
I know it took SO long but! The next part of Outbound and Inbound is here.
While everyone knows this series is ultimately a reunion one, this fic is really sad. I will say that it made me cry, and I wrote it :,) Still, I hope you enjoy!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
This Is How I Feel and All I Can Say Is Thank You chapter 8- The Day Before.
Spoiler warning!!
TW mention of intercourse
TW mention of minor character death
TW funerals and memorials
You still need to finish prepping for the tomorrow, but there's also something special about tonight. It's the day before everything changes forever, and the day before you say goodbye for the last time.
Tony watched the funeral pyre burn in the now barren field. Jessica had been laid to rest hours ago. All that was left was Grue. The air was still. The sun set behind him, encasing everything in shadow. Tony was still hurt from the demon attacks, his breath was still ratting. Gilver was gone, that false copy of his brother damn near wiping out anyone closest to him. Tony wiped his eyes, the glove getting wet, surprising him. The fire glowed in the growing night shadows, Grue’s daughters having long since left. It was the comfort that they weren’t seeing their father burn. Tony took a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered to the body under his breath. There was no response. Of course, there wouldn’t be. “I should’ve gotten you out of this life,”
Tony’s voice cracked and he took a shuddering breath before coughing, hard, red staining his lips. The smell of burning wood filled his nose, pulling at his memories of the world ending almost 20 years ago. He should have realized that people like him don’t get families.
----------
Tony smelled the blood before he saw the body. The sickly smell of iron and used gunpowder filled the room. There was a hint of demon blood left in the room, but Tony mainly smelled human blood.
He found Grue and a part of him died and rotted away. Tony's voice died in his throat. He fell to his knees with a dull tapping noise as the top of his boots hit the tiles of the room.
"Goddamn it, old man," Tony whispered. The other one was silent. Tony pulled the corpse to his chest and curled around. "Don't leave your girls as orphans." Tony's voice was raspy and frayed. It slowly died into an airless hiss. “Don’t leave me.”
Gently, like Grue was a delicate porcelain treasure, Tony held Grue’s body to his chest. Sobs broke from his chest as he rocked slowly. Tony’s skin blistered as the remnants of a grenade came in contact with Tony’s skin. Holy water in the grenade, smart. Grue was always too smart for this kind of work. His inner demon boiled to the surface consuming the two of them in red light. Tony’s demon form wrapped his wings around the two of them. Cries of rage filled the room as grief consumed the demon.
----------------
Tony stayed until the pyre burned out. As the fire died Tony limped over, the pain of the buckshot still fraying his nerves. With every step forward the pyre dissolved into the soft breeze. Tony reached out to touch the pyre one last time and his knees gave out under him. Silently, Tony rested his forehead on the crumbling wood. Taking a deep breath, He closed his eyes, the wood and body dissolving in the wind in front of him.
The night was cold and siphoned the strength from his bones. The moon was full above him and the stars sparkled above, almost beautiful in a mockery of Tony. The world didn’t end, only his did. Again. After Vergil fell, it was almost impossible to rebuild, but he did. And yet it laid crumbled at his feet. Soot clung to his hair and cloth, almost like bits of Grue stayed with him, after everything.
The shower afterward was numbing. Tony couldn’t cry anymore. Tony was completely hallowed. The humidity aggravated his injuries, yet they pieced themselves together slowly. The hurt in his chest from Gilver pushing that shotgun against his chest was nothing compared to his emotional pain. Nell left him with the twin guns that were perfect in every way, even better than the ones Sparda had.
Tony had to swallow the bitter hatred for his father down. It wasn’t the time for that. Tony lost track of time as he sat in the shower, the sound of the water echoing through his skull. The hot water slowly ran out, leaving him in the freezing water for a few minutes. Finally Tony decided to face the world.
He shivered as he slipped off his pants, forgoing a shirt for the time being.
It took him a few seconds to realize that he was not alone in the shop.
“What do you want, Lady.” Tony sighed. “It’s not a good time.”
“Is it ever?” Lady sat back against the loveseat against the wall. “I heard a lot of people died recently, I had to see, I can’t exactly ask for you by name.”
Tony’s eyes were sharp, flashing green. “Are you really going to give me shit for that?”
“No, that would be hypocritical. I just wanted to see if you had died, as well, but now I see that you’re alive.”
“And well.” Tony gave her a forced smile.
“D- Tony I can see the red in your eyes and your chest looks like you were dragged along asphalt.” Lady sighed.
“Don’t bother with the ‘Tony’ shit anymore It’s not doing me any favors.” Tony- Dante ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m fucking done with everything at the moment.”
Lady took a deep breath and stood up. Dante half expected her to leave. Demon attacks were at a standstill and everything was still in a state of shock, building up, before a rush of jobs flooded in, with the sudden drop in the labor force. There was a sharp click as the door locked, shutting out the outside world.
“What are you going to do now?” Lady faced the door.
“Lady, at this point, I’m going to go sleep and deal with everything tomorrow. I’ve hit my limit.” Dante sighed, wincing at the pain. “I’m tapping out.”
“That’s a first from you,” Lady frowned. “It was that bad?”
“We couldn’t even bury them. They died so brutally that in order to prevent a demon overrun, we had to burn the bodies.” Dante clenched his jaw. “No grave’s to visit.”
“Damn. I get it. It was the same with my father.” Lady turned around. She had the sorrow all over her face.
“Your father had it coming. None of these people deserved this. Jessica didn’t deserve that.”
“She’s dead? How’s Grue holding up?”
Dante shook his head, “he’s gone too.”
Lady’s face softened into pity. “The other girls?”
“They have a planned guardian. I couldn’t do it so someone else that Grue trusted. I have a target on my back right now.” Dante sat back, the amulet he now wore religiously around his neck shifted, somehow perfectly fine despite the point-blank buckshot it took. “It was stupid letting Nell and G-”
“Bullshit.” Lady sat on Dante’s desk, grabbing his face and locking eyes with him.
“Goldstein wasn’t happy unless she was building guns that were killing demons. Your all-mighty father was scared of her. She died the way she wanted to die, and Grue saw you rip through gun after gun, demon after demon and you think he didn’t know what was up. You are a 25-year-old man with snow-white hair and eyes that glow green. He knew what he was signing up for, and he loved you.” She spoke evenly. “And I know this hurts, but only because you loved him too.”
Dante didn’t say anything. He could only look away, closing his eyes. Lady let go of his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hate someone as much as you hate yourself.”
There was a knock on the door. It was nearing midnight and he wasn’t expecting anyone.
Lady took a deep breath and walked towards the door, her footsteps echoing in the room, becoming thunderous. The lock clicked and the door opened with a creak. Tiki cautiously stepped under Lady’s arm half running to Dante’s side. Morrison walked in after the child. Tiki pulled Dante down into a hug. The pressure hurt, but the relief that she was alright overrode the pain, something He wasn’t even aware he was worried about. Morrison stepped up and place a hand on the child’s shoulder. She pulled away and reached into a pocket handing her a letter.
“She wanted to give this to you personally,” Morrison said. “I couldn’t say no.”
Dante nodded and patted Tiki’s head gently. Dante looked over the letter the envelope was old, stained, with ‘Tony’ written in Grue’s choppy, yet smooth handwriting. He ran his fingers over the handwriting. Grue must have been chain-smoking when he wrote it, Dante could still smell the smoke.
“Thank you. Now head home, you need some rest.” Dante smiled sadly. She nodded and Morrison picked her up.
“You should follow that advice, too.” Morrison nodded. “It’s been a rough day.”
“Bye, Tony” Tiki waved as Morrison carried her out of the room. Dante waved back. The door slammed shut as they left.
Dante took a deep breath. “Where are you staying?” he asked, turning to face Lady.
“It wouldn’t be right to leave you alone tonight. You do have a guest room.” She shrugged.
“Make yourself at home,” Dante said flatly. His eyes were locked on the letter on his desk.
He heard the steps up the stairs before opening the envelope. His hands were shaking. The tears were long dry, yet his eyes still feel like they want to cry.
He took a calming breath and opened the envelope.
Tony, or whatever you call yourself. I won’t ask, I know the broken look your eyes get in the right light. I get it, sometimes you just have to run. I cannot imagine what horror would make someone like you run, but don’t let it make you run forever. You have such a big heart, and it’s better to live with others. This will be given to you If I die before you, which let’s face it will be likely. You’re not just human, but I never saw you as a monster, despite the green your eyes flash or when you move faster than light. Tony, you are the best partner I could have wished for. Don’t ever think otherwise, no matter what happens that leads you to this letter.
-Grue.
Dante took a deep breath, running his fingers over the long-dried ink. Even in death, Grue is thinking of Dante, accepting Dante. Maybe Eva will love him.
“I’ll make this right,” Dante promised the written note.
