Hey! I’m uncomfortable because I’ve never done this before but I have a request. Could you maybe cross your fingers/send good thoughts/pray for my guinea pig Mia? She has been diagnosed with a tumor a few days ago. I’m going to the vet again tomorrow and I strongly assume that an operation is inevitable. I’m very scared for her because she is only 2 years old. She has always been sickly, though you would never guess by looking at her. She is very curious, loves to explore and has a very strong personality. And I want her to live a long and happy life!
I made this post in July 2019. The vet back then asked me if I wanted to go through with an operation or not. Since it would have been a very invasive surgery with small chances of success I decided not to. I chose to let her be put to sleep should her health deteriorate.
Today, December 25th 2020, this day has come. She suddenly became very listless and stopped eating so I took her to an emergency vet since most are closed because of the holiday. The (very kind) vet there then put her to sleep. We buried her in our garden.
She was my little fighter. Two vets back in summer 2019 told me that she wouldn’t outlive the following weeks. She lived another 1 ½ years. She had a very strong personality and I enjoyed every second with her. Her friend (my other guinea pig) Rita and I will miss her a lot.
I was hoping to have more information before I made this post, so apologies for that. The news is starting to seep onto the platform though, as people share tributes as a way to process their own grief, so I think it’s time.
@siriussly-serious (he/they), mostly known here as Jay but also as Blu, Royale (in drag) and Jaxon, has passed away. Little is known at this point, other than that he was missing since Monday (10th May), reported as missing to the police on Wednesday (12th May) and found yesterday (15th May). This isn’t the right place for speculation, so I will have more to say when I have more information.
Although he hasn’t been active on the platform for a long time, Jay was a much loved member of the HP RP community. He was particularly an inspiration for LGBTQ+ creators and POC, going out of his way to encourage and promote anyone who felt they weren’t good enough or didn’t belong. He had so much love, which he handed out freely and sincerely to anyone and everyone who needed it. He created Found, a ridiculously ambitious project which I was privileged enough to be a part of, and which he was unfortunately unable to see through the way he desperately wanted to.
Jay would want me to tell you he was 6ft7, everyone was welcome to the gun show and the cheaper and higher percentage your rose wine is, the better. He wouldn’t want me to gush about what an amazing singer, performer, drag artist, RPer, artist, writer, Muddy, creative and friend he was, but tough shit mate, come and stop me. He loved cheap rose, gin, rum, milkshakes, white chocolate, Beyonce, drag kings, queers being queer, people living their best life, Hamilton, cuddles, sandalwood incense and salt lamps (but not when he wasn’t allowed to lick them). So if you want to celebrate him in your own way, there’s some ideas for you. Just stay away from whisky and any other kind of chocolate. No thank you, ma’am.
I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time in person with Jay over the last 3 years, but to those who never met him, your grief is just as valid. Your friendship was real, your love and loss is real. He loved you, he was proud of you every day you went out into a world that tries to tell you you’re broken or not enough. You are enough, and Dad is watching over you.
Jay had a large online presence, particularly in the drag king community, so I’m sure there will be some online tributes and possibly events. I will reblog this post adding information as I get it, including any tributes and donation information for those who can and would like to.
Rest in Power, Jay. It won’t be the same without you.
People deal with grief in different ways. Loss, especially the loss of a loved one, is never an easy process to go through.
In the past, I know I’ve often told people to let me know if there is anything I can do to help. However, as someone who is… going through the stages of grief… I struggle with expressing my grief and my struggles.
I feel alone. But I know if I asked for company I’d have it.
I’m overwhelmed, but don’t know who to ask for help, or what to ask for help with.
I’m sad, but I’m burying the pain to help the rest of my family get by, one day at a time. It’s not healthy, or ideal, but it’s the only way I know to be.
So, if anyone has advice, I’d really appreciate it.
Request by @jesuswasnotawhiteman:Write the angsty Loki x reader fic you can. I want something that will tear my insides out and crush me. Make me sob like a baby. Break me. Thanks babe <3 ;)
N/A: Are you alright?
To better this experience, listen to Where’s My Love - SYML.
Warnings: depression, low self esteem, death, suicidal ideation, executive dysfunction, nightmares, dissociation, body dysmorphia, and, generally, all bad. And some implied sex.
Crawling out of bed, a tasteless breakfast awaits for him. Tasteless, because all he can taste now is that sour yet slightly bittersweet dream on the back of his throat; the nightmare. It comes to him daily, nightly, stopping his legs from saving him, stopping everything (yet to him, this is nothing. It used to be something, he thought, but he has lost his everything already. This is nothing. This is nothing anymore). He freezes in place and he knows better than to stay. Instead, he embraces his final breaths.
The sink has a leak, and the dripping resonates in his head as he spins around the empty sheets. No doubt they’re empty, it’s just him. The nightmare is still lingering there, the nightmare is still drilling his skull slowly, carefully, like a very premeditated torture plan, the nightmare calls him to never get up, ever again. But the drops of water fall louder.
This. Right here, this is the most amazing, insightful, accurate depiction of depression from the inside I have read. I’ve suffered all my life. I have bipolar that isn’t always well controlled. The abyss, the loss of reality, it’s all accurate. I’m in tears. Don’t worry, it isn’t a triggerry cry. It’s recognition. I don’t know you but you know something I know, something I know in the dark. Thank you for writing.
An exploration of Rey’s unseen grief over Ben’s death at the end of TROS.
(feat. Force Ghost Ben and a happy ending.)
preview:
The moment he is gone she forgets how to grieve.
The first and only thing she feels is pain, sharp and unyielding, like she has been run through by a lightsaber right in the soft spot at the base of her neck.
The pain fades quickly and is replaced instead by a hollowness that spreads from the centre of her chest outwards; an implacable coldness that consumes her quickly. She feels her face ease from its tormented grimace into something that might have almost been considered serene if it didn’t feel so much like a brumal death from within. She exhales softly, a light breath released from lips that have gone numb.
Her hands dazedly pat the soft material of his tunic, still warm from his body, as though she has somehow just missed him. As though she’ll still make contact with a solid form underneath and within.
Instead, all she encounters is the scrabbled ground beneath the fabric. There is no warm, breathing, living man within. It is now just an overlay for the hard unyielding rock below.
Had it truly been just moments before that she had held him in her arms, legs spread across his, their chests touching?
Was it really only seconds prior where their lips had met, held and captured, his mouth moving against her own? The feel of his fevered breath expelling from his nose and hitting her cheek as they desperately, awkwardly tasted each other for the first time? His arms hefting her, holding her, crushing her to him?
Had it even really happened?
For a moment she wonders if maybe she is dead again.
Maybe she is still dead.
Maybe she was always dead?
The feeling is the same, after all. The feeling of being trapped in that horrid liminal space where she had screamed and screamed in isolated terror, her voice singular amongst the endless stars; that inky blackness symbolizing a blank eternity.
Her throat feels raw, raw like she is still screaming although her face does not move aside from the slow descent of her eyelids, blink after painful blink.
Her breath comes out in short bursts as she scrambles up on shaky legs. At the last second she reaches down and grasps the shirt still on the ground, crumpling it up and sticking it under her arm. Her feet feel like leaden weights, knees wobbling, the coldness in her chest beginning to feel like an icy burn.
In order to cope with my depression/grief, I have created another blog where I will be posting poems that I’ve written, which are mainly about grief, depression and my mother’s death: https://poemsforsabrina.tumblr.com/
Perhaps they could help some of you, or maybe inspire you <3
I was hoping to have more information before I made this post, so apologies for that. The news is starting to seep onto the platform though, as people share tributes as a way to process their own grief, so I think it’s time.
@siriussly-serious (he/they), mostly known here as Jay but also as Blu, Royale (in drag) and Jaxon, has passed away. Little is known at this point, other than that he was missing since Monday (10th May), reported as missing to the police on Wednesday (12th May) and found yesterday (15th May). This isn’t the right place for speculation, so I will have more to say when I have more information.
Although he hasn’t been active on the platform for a long time, Jay was a much loved member of the HP RP community. He was particularly an inspiration for LGBTQ+ creators and POC, going out of his way to encourage and promote anyone who felt they weren’t good enough or didn’t belong. He had so much love, which he handed out freely and sincerely to anyone and everyone who needed it. He created Found, a ridiculously ambitious project which I was privileged enough to be a part of, and which he was unfortunately unable to see through the way he desperately wanted to.
Jay would want me to tell you he was 6ft7, everyone was welcome to the gun show and the cheaper and higher percentage your rose wine is, the better. He wouldn’t want me to gush about what an amazing singer, performer, drag artist, RPer, artist, writer, Muddy, creative and friend he was, but tough shit mate, come and stop me. He loved cheap rose, gin, rum, milkshakes, white chocolate, Beyonce, drag kings, queers being queer, people living their best life, Hamilton, cuddles, sandalwood incense and salt lamps (but not when he wasn’t allowed to lick them). So if you want to celebrate him in your own way, there’s some ideas for you. Just stay away from whisky and any other kind of chocolate. No thank you, ma’am.
I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time in person with Jay over the last 3 years, but to those who never met him, your grief is just as valid. Your friendship was real, your love and loss is real. He loved you, he was proud of you every day you went out into a world that tries to tell you you’re broken or not enough. You are enough, and Dad is watching over you.
Jay had a large online presence, particularly in the drag king community, so I’m sure there will be some online tributes and possibly events. I will reblog this post adding information as I get it, including any tributes and donation information for those who can and would like to.
Rest in Power, Jay. It won’t be the same without you.
Been a rough couple of weeks between being severely understaffed at work, being tired as hell because of it, and grief hitting me again. Finally decided to go down to dad’s shanty just to spend some time and to give my banana boat some overdue TLC (just because she’s not road legal right now doesn’t mean I should let her sit and get nasty). Had a few good bouts of crying that actually helped. Sis came and chilled with me for about an hour that day. We saw a cardinal, and mentioned wondering if it might be him, but didn’t really feel like it was. She said “I think he’d be a blue jay, and come shit on us.” I had seen a blue jay at our house a few days prior and actually wondered the same.
She and her bf finally got the camera mom bought to keep an eye on his property installed yesterday. Guess what keeps tripping it?
The cobwebs inside kinda broke my heart, but I took some cleaning supplies down and cleaned my dash, and put my stuff back in it. Found some of his cigarette ashes tucked into one of the crevices on the dash and thought about kicking his ass if he was still around Can’t give him too much shit, though, cuz he was doing everything in his power to get her back to where she needed to be. Hung the piston charm with dad’s ashes in it on the rear view too. Was a lot of emotions and a lot of tears, but it was needed.
My coworker Trish made a (half?) joke about me hanging his ashes; maybe he’ll haunt the dude who’s supposed to be doing your body work and get the ball rolling
Been a rough couple of weeks between being severely understaffed at work, being tired as hell because of it, and grief hitting me again. Finally decided to go down to dad’s shanty just to spend some time and to give my banana boat some overdue TLC (just because she’s not road legal right now doesn’t mean I should let her sit and get nasty). Had a few good bouts of crying that actually helped. Sis came and chilled with me for about an hour that day. We saw a cardinal, and mentioned wondering if it might be him, but didn’t really feel like it was. She said “I think he’d be a blue jay, and come shit on us.” I had seen a blue jay at our house a few days prior and actually wondered the same.
She and her bf finally got the camera mom bought to keep an eye on his property installed yesterday. Guess what keeps tripping it?
This is just an unpolished blergh of feelings post thatchapter. I haven’t edited it and it has next to no plot. I might rewrite it at some point. Also to make @among-the-twinkling-stars suffer. <3
Warning:This contains heavy spoilers for the 20th anniversary one-shot published by Tite Kubo.
TW: depression, alcohol, grief, guilt, death.
Shunsui Kyoraku
The grave has become his regular drinking spot over the last dozen years. It isn’t the same, of course, but he still gets to tell Nanao that he is going for a drink with Ukitake after work.
First off I don’t know how I missed this but strangely I dreamt that @sexintheseireitei had posted and when I woke up I found that they actually had! Omg!
Anyway…my i-just-woke-up rambling aside…this fic destroyed me. Such delicious angst. Reading your writing is like reading poetry the kind that breaks my heart in the best way!
Tw:mentions of character death, grief, very sad, mentions of Grey’s Anatomy and Taylor Swift, unsupportive parent, heartbreak, mentions of wedding and kids, Reader is a widow, pet names (babe) (If I forgot any warning please let me know!)
A/N:This is the first one-shot I post here :) It’s inspired by the 5 seconds of summer song “Ghost of you” so I recommend you hear it before reading this! Enjoy!
Here I am waking up
Still can’t sleep on your side
Y/N woke up, as tired as always and sat down on bed. Those two weeks without her husband had felt like a lifetime. Maybe it had been one, a new life, a life where Brian was gone. She had seen a thousand shows and movies where someone became a widow, and now she could hear that Grey’s Anatomy line on repeat in her head, about Derek’s mother not being able to sleep on her late husband’s side of the bed. As she looked over her shoulder, she realized his side of the bed remained untouched from that last morning, in which they had woken up, rearranged the bedsheets, pillows and blankets, had breakfast together, kissed goodbye and left for work. And never met again.
There’s your coffee cup
The lipstick stain fades with time
As she got to the kitchen, got the coffee maker working and opened the cabinet to grab her coffee cup, she saw his, with the Blackhawks logo on it, right next to hers, and the tears pooled once again in the eyes Otis had loved so much. Silently, she thanked him for doing the dishes instead of just leaving them on the sink for her to wash when she got back home as they usually did, since she wouldn’t have been able to wash his cup. Oh, how he loved that cup.
If I can dream long enough
You’d tell me I’d be just fine
I’ll be just fine
“If anything should happen to me, I’ll visit you in your dreams. I promise. But there’s no need to worry about that now, babe. We’re gonna have kids and grow old together, you know? Just like we said” he whispered to her, his hand resting in her lower belly lovingly, and Y/N got on her side, a beautiful smile on her lips as she got lost in his brown eyes “Yeah? How many?” “Two boys and a girl. I’m confident I’ll be just fine, but I wouldn’t like you to be alone if one day I don’t make it back home”
Except that two whole weeks had gone by and she never dreamt, of anything. Not even once. And she ended up alone. They had dated four years, only for him to die two weeks after their wedding.
She drank her coffee, glancing at the sugar pot that rested on the counter, close to the coffee maker. He always took his coffee with one spoonful of sugar, while she took it as bitter as possible. Otis always joked about how she was so sweet and nice while her coffee was so bitter. “It’s almost ironic, you know? You are one of the sweetest people on earth, and yet you have your coffee with no sugar and very little milk” he had grinned one day, the first morning they spent together.
After washing the cup and leaving it next to Otis’s, she went to their bedroom to grab her gun and badge and head to the 21st district for the first time since she got that damn call from chief Boden.
So I drown it out like I always do
Dancing through our house
With the ghost of you
And I chase it down
With a shot of truth
Dancing through our house
With the ghost of you
Voight and Platt both decided it would be best if she stayed on desk duty for a while, at least until she got completely cleared by a therapist that she was good to be back on the streets. She didn’t complain, not finding that much energy on herself. It was thankfullya quiet day, so her mind was allowed to be a bit all over the place.
She remembered, with her very first smile in weeks, how on their fifth date they had dinner at his place one night he could kick Cruz and Brett out, and after dinner, he connected his phone to the speaker to play Taylor Swift’s album Red, the one she had told him was her favorite. So they danced to All too well as if the world was ending, and his eyes had never shine so brightly as he looked at her, spinning around, laughing and giggling.
Ever since then, dancing became their thing. They’d dance whenever they had the chance. And after they moved in together, they’d dance every night he’d spend at home. They had a whole playlist for their dancing moments, though they would dance to any song, regardless of the rhythm.
Surprisingly, that last day of license she had, she found herself dancing on her own to All too well, the first time she had danced alone to that song in four years, and even though it broke her heart once again, she found a little peace and the feeling that he hadn’t left her for real. She ended up leaning onto the door frame, remembering how they’d dance to that song whenever they heard it, and almost seeing their ghosts laughing with their arms around each other.
Cleaning up today
Found that old Zepplin shirt
You wore when you ran away
And no one could feel your hurt
As she got to their apartment that terrible day, with Hailey and Kim supporting her, she had to find some kind of strength to get to their room, her room now, since it would no longer be shared with Otis. Whatever strength she had found, it left her as soon as she got to the door, his Zepplin shirt he used as a pajama resting on top of a pillow. He’d say it helped him forget anything terrible he had seen during his shift, and forget the terrible smells he had felt.
She had broken down in tears and fell to her knees, sobbing loudly. Her friends got to her and wrapped their arms around the now widow police officer. In her mind, she was still there, crying. She couldn’t remember getting up or stop crying, and wondered if her soul was still in that same position. It sure felt like that.
We’re too young, too dumb
To know things like love
But I know better now
(Better now)
A tiny smile showed up on her lips as she remembered her mom’s words when they told her they had gotten engaged. Mrs Y/LN had said it had nothing to do with Otis, and everything to do with Y/N’s stupidity. She was way too young to know what real love felt like, Otis was her second boyfriend after all, if we consider her high school three weeks relationship a boyfriend. No. There was no way she was engaged. She was dumb when it came to love, and she was so young.
They had proved her wrong.
So I drown it out like I always do
Dancing through our house
With the ghost of you
And I chase it down
With a shot of truth
Dancing through our house
With the ghost of you
As she got home that afternoon, she took a shower and dressed in his Zepplin shirt, with a sad smile. He had bought it reallycheap like a decade ago and failed to realize it said Zepplininstead of Zepellin. It became a silly and loving joke between the two of them. She connected her phone to his speaker and All too well started playing once again, tears pooling in her eyes as she heard the lyrics, since she too, remembered everything all too well.
Too young, too dumb
To know things like love
Too young, too dumb
So I drown it out like I always do
Dancing through our house
With the ghost of you
And I chase it down
With a shot of truth
That my feet don’t dance
Like they did with you
But this time, she tripped over the coffee table they had in the middle of the living room, and decided to stop dancing, turning off the speaker and closing the music app, realizing that maybe dancing in their living room was way too sacred to do it alone. She couldn’t dance like she did with him, so why bother? Otis was gone, and he had taken Y/N’s heart with him.
