#tw grieving

[imembarressedsohere]

Glinda x Elphaba || maybe this time x the winner takes it all x never enough

also on instagram

and tiktok (pt 2)

[ichimakesart]

House of the Dead

Blue Lady's and Geppeto's first meeting.

Characters from my work in progres Pinocchio project - ⸙͎ Living Wood ⸙͎

Special thanks to @whispering-jabberwocky for hexing it with your forbidden knowledge.

⟡If you like what I do, please consider looking at some of my other projects ⟡

𐀔 Glimmerized 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

🔵 The Attic 🔵

𓆝 ⋆. Your Shape 𓆝 ⋆.

[necromosss]

⚠️tw grief

i miss headcanoning for my little Rookery fam, but. They make me miss my own dad. idk what to do with this feeling lol

[justdrawlynn11]

TsbsTober Day 5: Mourning…

She misses her little man…

[tomchom]

Crying over an empty coffin.

[adhdevankinard]

I want to defend Buck’s use of the ouija board beyond simply Buck being naïve.

Yes, the ouija board is silly. But Buck is someone who has shown belief in the supernatural. And he’s drowning in grief and he just wants something to cling onto, something to hope for, which is what the ouija board gave him. It’s also a state of denial on Buck’s part — thinking that he really can talk to Bobby again, that he might actually be there in the house.

IMO, the episode wasn’t saying Buck was dumb for wanting to try a ouija board — because this episode was all about grief rituals and how humans need ways to connect, religious or not, with their loved ones who have passed.

The ouija board. The funeral. Praying after Abuela died. Athena keeping Bobby’s turnouts safe. Buck keeping a photo of Bobby and making Bobby’s recipes. And of course, Día de los Muertos.

These things aren’t going to bring someone back, they’re not going to automatically fix grief, but they help us connect to their memory. Even if it might seem pointless, humans need tactile things to help us through the grief.

These things give us something to do with the grief, a place for the grief to go. Like Chris said, it makes us feel like they’re still here.

By the end of the episode, IMO, Buck has shifted his grieving from a state of denial to something more positive: helping Dwayne and setting him up at an AA meeting. In the end, it wasn’t a ouija board he needed to connect with Bobby, it was kindness, which Buck is great at 🥹

(Also, this is a half-formed thought, but i think there’s an interesting comparison to be made with Bobby’s turnouts, Harry, and Athena: how to Harry, the turnouts are just that — turnouts. To him, the turnouts aren’t Bobby, they’re not his spirit, his personality, his body. But to Athena, they are. We give inanimate objects meaning, we talk to them when we’re alone but that doesn’t make us dumb.)

[sunflowers-58-68]

September 3, 2009: Lisa Marie Presley is the last person standing over Michael Jackson’s casket. She stood there for hours until it was time to entomb him on his crypt.

O: Have you now made peace with [Michael’s] death? I know that you watched the funeral that we all saw on television and you went to a private ceremony, what was that like standing in the room with his casket?

LMP: That was really… another six months of whatever I recovered from, I think. I think I was the last one standing with him. That was… […] Well, most people had left and I was the last one standing over him. I didn’t want to leave him. […] I wasn’t able to make peace then. I more wanted to apologize. […] [For] Not being around.

O: Do you think you could have saved him?

LMP: God, that’s such a hard question. Naively I want to say… I know that it’s naive to think that I could have. But I wanted to. Could I have? Had I made a call, had I stopped being so shut off from him, had I said, “How are you?” Had I tried to make a phonecall, you know, I really regret that I didn’t.

— Lisa Marie Presley Oprah Interview (October 21, 2010)

“Jackson’s death in 2009 “was really confusing and really, really painful. […] Some of the things that we went through could never be fixed or resolved. It was devastating.” […] She spent time alone with his body after the private funeral: “Not an easy thing.” Now she has found “some peace, it can quiet but never go away.”

— Lisa Marie Presley The Times Interview (October 13, 2012)

“Grief does not stop or go away in any sense, a year, or years after the loss. Grief is something you will have to carry with you for the rest of your life, in spite of what certain people or our culture wants us to believe. You do not "get over it," you do not "move on," period.”

— Lisa Marie Presley National Grief Awareness Day essay: PEOPLE (Aug. 30, 2022)

“At Michael's funeral, my mother sat with his coffin for hours after everyone left, just like she had with her father.”

— Lisa Marie Presley and Riley Keough, from “From Here to the Great Unknown” (2024)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Wildfire Widow

"My condolences."

A nice thought. Yet here I stood, as cold and empty as the rain. I was a widow, now, and yet I could not... my mind would not... It did not seem real. Not yet. How could it possibly be? So soon? When it seemed only just the other day, I was nervously getting married. A modest but beautiful dress, made together with my in-laws to be. A humble church. Simple celebrations.

Our whole lives ahead of us.

Andrew was... was no one significant. But he was mine, and I was his. And though he couldn't give me a life of dreams and roses? He loved me earnestly. Picked road side flowers to bring me bits of beauty. Sang silly little songs, to wake me each day. Ate every bite of my, frankly, mediocre cooking, as though it were the greatest meal he'd ever had.

I loved him. I... I truely, actually, l-loved him. H..How can he be gone?

Where is my silly little man? My songbird? My best friend? H-how... WHY-‽ I don't understand. For days now. Since that final, terrible, wheezing breathe. I don't... I can't... Nothing feels real. I don't want it to be real. Please.

Please, Andrew. Darling. D-Don't do this.

The grave does not respond. It can not. Because... he is not there. I know he is not. Nothing but meat and soil remains. Empty shells and emptier houses. Like a punishment from God, for not following along politely. Bowing my head sweetly, and accepting my Fate.

It's my fault. Isn't it? Andrew would still be alive. Happy and in love. Married to some other woman, perhaps. Making her the luckiest wife in the world. Chatting over breakfast and giggling together as they joke their wake to work. She would get to admire his beautiful eyes and riot of freckles. He would write her terrible poetry.

They would be in love.

Alive... and in love.

But I ruined it. B-because I'm selfish. Right? That has to be it. Surely. It must be! B-because what else could it BE? He was healthy! It happened so fast! And now... now he is... is...

Sobs rip their way out of me, uncaring of the witnesses. My legs buckling under the weight of my grief. Who cares? Who CARES? So what if I kneel in the mud? He's gone! My best friend is gone! And it's all my fault! I deserve this! It should be ME!

I already lived once before. This was always borrowed time anyway. If it had to be one of us? It should have been me!

Someone kneels behind me, a shawl draped over my shoulders. An umbrella brought forward to shelter me from the rain. As though I don't wish to drown. Almost everyone else has left, now. But I can't. I just... I just can't. Leave me. Leave me to my grief!

This world was a Story to me. I escaped it. Selfishly thought there would never be a price for that. That quitely bowing out of my antagonists role to live quitely, humbly, with a good man, would never... would never...!

"Shhhhh....shhhhh.... It's okay. It's over now."

Over? Ha ha. How can it BE OVER‽ He's GONE! Another sobs wrenchs free. They seem unending. But oh, that voice. That cool, smooth, aristocratic voice. How is he even HERE‽ When I fled, I all but cut ties with my past. Traveled nearly two countries away. I am no longer the wretched, trouble-making daughter of a well to due man. The infamous leech, clinging to the grand-dukes unfavored first born son.

I am a bookstore owner's widow. Nothing more, nothing less. No royal dramas. No court intrigues. No otome game paths or thousand characters to remember. Why would he even look for me? How could he possibly have the time? With his brother the favorite to inherit and his father a cold hearted bastard. I was little more then arm candy. Vicious and childish arm candy at that.

Remebering, the person I was, before I remembered? I was a terrible, lonely child. And I took it out on everyone around me. I coveted the stars, because everything inside me felt empty. Because my family was cruel. Because the coin brought treachery and gilded chains.

Because I was terribly broken and hateful about it. Greedy for what I could not have.

I was indulged. Enabled. By this man, most of all. It only made me worse.

Of course I left. It was the only way to heal. To grow. And in the end? It made all the difference. Yet... he is here. How? Why‽ What part of that terrible brat of a child did he come for? That horribly broken thing? Our shared history is a shame to me. And it's not as though we were lovers. For all that the world certainly assumed as much. Did he actually consider us frien-?

"I always promised, I would marry you. When I became Grand Duke. Now we finally can."

The words seem to hang in the air like nooses. Full of unseen bodies that swing and creak, like silent horrors in the day's mild wind. Around us, the world was filled with a terrible hush. Rain muffling everything to distant, dull grey. And for a long moment... everything was cool, quite, and far away.

All at once, the world crashed back in. Like a wave crashing back in, after the tide receding before disaster. A tsunami of tiny things.

We were the last two here, I noticed. My in-laws, the neighbors, our... my social circle. All had left to give me privacy to grieve. The rain was cold. So much colder then it had seemed. I hadn't noticed. The wind whistling eerily through the near silent grave yard. As we kneeled at the foot of my husband's grave, the dark earth muddy. He... was he wearing cologne?

Kneeling in a wide open field... I suddenly felt cornered.

That expression. That... that was not the expression of a man who's feeling sorrow for an old friend. Not distant memories and what could have been's. That... that was hunger. A predator's patience. Was...? No. No, it could not have always been there. Right? I would have...

"You shouldn't kneel in the dirt, love. Not for him. He wasn't worth it." He murmured, soft and sweet as a lover. Eyes almost kind. "I'm here now. Here to make everything better, all right? No more worries. No more struggles. All the riches your heart desired. I got them for you. Isn't that nice? Let's go get you warm, hmm?"

I.. God, I wasn't an idiot.

What Did You DO?

You bastard. What did you do to my HUSBAND?! Ignoring the hand, softly held out, as though he had any fucking right, I grabbed the bastard by the front of his jacket. To shake him? Slam him down to punch until my fists break and bleed? I couldn't tell which impulse was stronger. It was like all my howling grief had turned to RAGE. As though my blood had filled with fire. My bones ropes made of live wires.

He has the audacity to smile. Fondly. Even as my white knuckled grip drags roughly at the fine fabric of his clothes, threatening to tear stitches. As I bear my teeth, unhinged like a mad dog. Wild around the eyes. I drag him closer. The bouquet, now made cruel mockery, that he brought, goes tumbling into the mud. Filth that he is, he sucks in a shuddering breath. Leans towards me.

"Ah, my love, you were always so magnificent in anger. You wear it like a queen."

Whispered towards me. Each word made obscene by the waver in his voice. The way he dares to roll it off his tounge! Another man's wife. You sick bastard, I was ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE! But you couldn't have that, could you‽ The shriek that howls free of me would put hawks to shame. I lunge. Hands clawing as I try to claw his fucking eyes out.

Shameless, he dares to have a laugh that is charming. How utterly practiced it must be! Effortlessly, he keeps my hands from his face, as I curse him. Holding my wrists as I struggle to maim. To avenge. Killer. MONSTER! I struggle to rip my hands free, so I can wrap them around his fucking throat!

The world spins. No longer am I pinning my husband's killer. The grey sky distant witness as I thrash like an animal. I have nothing left. NOTHING! He took everything from me! Andrew. My songbird. My everything! I won't let him get away with it. I WON'T. If it's the LAST THING I FUCKING DO. Screaming, thrashing, I try to get him off me. Clawing at the mud I can feel seeping into my back.

"Look at you... so broken." He said softly, like a confession. With an unholy reverence. "We always were so beautifully matched, weren't we? Two perfect little monsters."

His grip tighten. Painful at last. Bones grinding and bruises starting to bloom.

"But then you tried to run away, darling. Why would you do that? Were you scared? Afraid of loving me too much?" Furious at his audacity, I bucked and writhed. Get off. Get OFF! I'LL KILL YOU! "Shhh shhh shhh, it's okay, it's okay. I forgive you. I forgive you. My wildfire. My bride."

In the distance, the day's storm, long building, finally arrived. Thunder rolled as the rain picked up. The air biting.

"I'll take responsibility, of course. Who else could handle you? Knows you as I do?"

"Dont worry darling, my wildfire, my monster~ Ours is a lovestory~♡"