#cw grief and loss

[midnight-moth]

I’m sorry for what I said in the tags of the ocean post. I’ll throw myself in the garbage. You can dm me your therapy bills.

But come on. That song.

Won't you fall for me, from reality? To the rhythm of eternity. But then the I am yours to the end, so won't you fall for me?

But then! The oh god I wish you were here. It’s like his timeline is all messed up and he’s thinking of the before and the during and the after all at once.

#cw grief and loss #sometimes I am personally attacked by my own thoughts #but imagine elderly Dew and Rain #quietly existing side by side #Rain reading another true crime novel while Dew noodles away on the guitar #but he can’t for too long because his joints are swollen and arthritic #Rain hears his breath change and knows he’s in pain #gently pries the guitar from him and then rubs the soreness away with his cool fingers #fingers that are now spindly the backs of his hands are like translucent paper with pretty blue age spots #and Dew still thinks they’re the must beautiful thing he’s ever seen #almost as beautiful as his face #and he tells him so and he smiles and all the lines in his face that come from laughter grief joy frustration all crease at ones #the both fall asleep watching some terrible tv show hand in hand on the hideous reclining sofa that Dew insisted they buy #because it’s comfortable and rain thinks it’s so tacky but he secretly agrees that the lumbar support is heavenly #Dew walks faster now that Rain but Rain would never know because Dew will always match his pace and never leave him behind #until he really does have to leave him behind one last time #fuck my entire life

[bunnywifegames]

Starting Spiritfarer today on stream!! I absolutely adore this game and can’t wait to experience it with y’all 🥰 please head content warnings provided !!

#bunny musings #twitch promo #twitch streamer #png streamer #cw grief and loss

[bearlyfunctioning]

Comic #339: Just around the corner - Website links: Here!

Another extremely difficult to make memorial comic… I may not believe in an afterlife: heaven/rainbow bridge etc. but I would hope if there is any spark of Rio left, that he would linger to wait for Niko. Since they loved each other so much & left only 4 months apart💔

#bearcomic #the bear minimum #thebearminimum #cw: pet death #cw: pet loss #tw pet death #tw pet loss #grief #death #pet cat

[keii4ii]

"Someone's last words" - minicomic, post-RoP

#my art #lies of p #lies of p spoilers #cw loss of a child/ parental grief

[pillowspace]

Hi, it's like almost 4 in the morning, but I suddenly had an angsty Time Loop AU realization that was like semi-horrifying and I kept thinking about it, so.

It could be easy to write off Sun and Moon as not really having to face much trauma during the time loops, while just Y/N does. But when you take into account that Y/N's the only one who knows they'll be okay in the end, the loops in which Y/N dies are devestating on Sun and Moon. Because they're not constantly in virus mode. Moon has moments. A lot of moments, but they pass. The virus eases up. And the loops aren't dependant on Y/N, they're dependant on the day of the fire, meaning that they're just kind of in sleep mode until time's up to bring them back. So Sun and Moon just have to deal with the burden of what's happened to Y/N until time resets, and they're not waiting for that reset to happen, because they don't know it's coming. Sometimes it all went wrong early on, and those times were easier. Sometimes it all went wrong much too late when they already loved you, and those times broke them.

Maybe just the faintest phantom memory of what that loss felt like slips through on Y/N's next "first day" of the job (if we're sticking to Eclipse having the memories, then it'd be a fun thought to consider the tiniest of memories slipping through sometimes), and Sun and Moon are both confused by the sudden wave of relief-desperation-anguish-love-guilt-guilt-guilt they randomly feel upon Sun meeting you. The feeling's easy to discard, but they don't understand why it happened. They suspect it to be a bug. Just a quick second of confusion in the programming that runs what emotions they feel.

After the loops, Sun and Moon remember every single day they spent genuinely believing Y/N was gone forever, and that hurts. And honestly, I'm caught between saying "they never let go of Y/N afterwards" and "they're too scared to hold Y/N anymore." Perhaps it's both. Perhaps they want to hold onto Y/N, and Y/N is the one who has to help them learn that's okay. I did put post-loops Y/N down as "very cuddly," after all.

Mm. Anyway. I should sleep

#cw death mention #nothing graphic. its more about loss i suppose. the after #time loop au #cw grief #GOODNIGHT GAMERS... UHHHH. APOLOGIES FOR WHAT THIS AU HAS GOT ME SAYING

[cerealbishh]

"Live..."

#ffvii rebirth spoilers #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #ffv7r #cloud strife #zack fair #yuffie kisaragi #sonon kusakabe #barret wallace #dyne #yeah.... #sorry for not doing these scene justice... i'm still learning color correcting #cw: blood #tw: death #tw: grief #maybe if it would've hit harder if i kept it to just yuffie/sonon and cloud/zack? but i just wanted some contrast i guess #definitely would've hit harder if i kept zack saying ''live'' while pushing cloud's face to his chest #this HURTS #first ffvii gifset!! #man the fact that yuffie couldn't even stay by sonon's side and then she just saw the sector 7 plate collapse #tw: loss #john eric bentley #suzie yeung #cody christian #caleb price #aleks le #dave b. mitchell #ffvii crisis core #ffvii intermission #ffviiedit

[chaotic-goodsir]

Thinking about Spankoffski-Cross family headcanons again, the implications of Wilbur being 10 years younger than Annie and only 9 years older than Ted, and the story behind the 'Uncle Wiley' character...

(It's gonna be sad I'm sorry)

*

In 1992, 17-year-old Wilbur Cross graduates high school early with a place on a college physics course. It doesn't start until September, but he seizes the opportunity to escape his parents as soon as possible.

That summer, Wilbur moves in with his sister Annie and her family in Hatchetfield, and agrees to help out by babysitting his 8-year-old nephew Teddy. He even brings a bunch of his old superhero comics in the hope of winning the kid's approval.

Teddy knows he has an uncle - his mom sometimes mentions her brother (she always calls him Wiley), but he's never met or spoken to him before. His grandparents down in Georgia, who he's also never met, made sure of that. He's always assumed his uncle must be a grown-up like his parents, so he's surprised when 'Uncle Wiley' turns out to be a teenager.

Naturally, the first thing Teddy asks Wilbur when he meets him is: 'Why aren't you old?'

Wilbur is slightly terrified by the prospect of looking after an 8-year-old. But after a few months helping Teddy learn how to ride a bike and listening to his nephew ramble about random kid nonsense (he ends up learning a lot about Transformers that summer) he decides it isn't so bad.

Getting to spend time with his sister and her husband isn't too bad either. Annie teaches him how to make chilli so he won't starve at college, and Ed tries to convince him to cut his hair (he doesn't).

As the summer goes on, the 'why aren't you old?' thing turns into an in-joke between Wilbur and Teddy - each adding more to the Uncle Wiley character until he becomes a pipe-smoking sailor with a beard and a silly voice (since Teddy loves doing impressions so much). Before Wilbur leaves, Teddy draws him a picture of Uncle Wiley. It's far from a work of art, but it ends up on the wall in Wilbur's room at college - much to the amusement of his roommate.

*

Thirteen years later, Ted Spankoffski is halfway through his own college course, depressed and disillusioned after losing Jenny to Andy Kilgore. He's hungover (or maybe still half-drunk) on a Saturday morning when his mom calls, almost in tears, to tell him his uncle has been declared missing in action.

That sobers him up pretty quickly.

The last time he saw his uncle alive was at Pete's christening. Wilbur asked how his first year of college was going, and seemed genuinely interested, though he was surprised Teddy chose to study IT and not theatre. They joked about the old sailor character and the impressions Teddy used to do.

(Ted never learned exactly what Wilbur did for a living, something to do with science and the military, but he was always vague about the details.)

The drawing - paper now yellowed and crumpled at the edges - returns to the Spankoffskis (along with a box of old science fiction novels and a few other things of Wilbur's that John felt ought to be sent back to his family). Ted keeps it. Sometimes, when he's not sure how to be a good big brother to Pete, he takes it out and thinks about that summer in 1992, and the teenage uncle who helped him finally learn how to ride a bike.

*

In 2019, the homeless man who currently sleeps outside Hatchetfield Mall starts to notice posters going up for some new children's toy. At first it's not the toy that interests him, but the mascot character holding it - and the toy company's name.

It's strange. He's sure he had an Uncle Wiley once - his uncle might even have been a sailor, like the one on the posters, with a pipe and a beard and a funny voice...

The homeless man decides he's going to buy one of the Wiggly dolls. It will make Petey happy. It will prove he's a good big brother, despite the mess his life and mind have become. And if it really is his Uncle Wiley selling the toys, then he should support a family business, shouldn't he? His dad always used to say the Spankoffskis were entrepreneurs.

He might even get a discount. That would be nice.

With a determined smile, the homeless man counts up all the money he has to his name, tucks it into his pocket, and joins the queue outside Toyzone on Black Friday.

#cw grief #cw family loss #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #starkid #ted spankoffski #uncle wiley #wilbur cross #hatchetfield headcanons #black friday starkid

[brbabcs]

often times in the brba and bcs universe, we see grief and loss through the individual that remains in the aftermath of the actual death. but something that compels me about nacho’s trajectory is that we see his grief before he dies. we see this last phone call with his father, mourning not even just himself but the fact that this will be it. that the loss is not something he can avoid or navigate around, but instead something he just has to choose the best option from. he’s looking around at these future-dead men, hearing his father through the phone, knowing that there are only so many endings available to him — and more than that, that he is at the end of the line. he’s in these desolate landscapes, filled with disconnected individuals (who, only one truly is rooting for him in any capacity,) and knowing that the air he breathes, and the people he loves, and the world he’s surrounded by, will be something that, soon, he will no longer be able to see or hear or touch or love. grief is devastating when there’s this phantom image of a person in the aftermath that can never actually be there, of course it is. but grief before the actual loss has occurred is gutwrenching. we see grief for his father, grief for his life, grief for young nacho varga who, only a few years prior, was seemingly on top of the world and only climbing upward — and inevitably, now falling quite a long ways down. and all he can hope is that, afterwards, the impact he takes will be enough to stop the damage from shattering outward. that it can be his last act of love

#nacho varga #bcs #better call saul #not really analysis more of a ramble of me being sad over tragedyboys again #something something you did not want to be christlike #whatever. fuck my life #need to go watch him making fun of pryce’s stupid car again to heal myself #grief cw #loss cw #mine

[whyeverr]

just a lil update to say I’m continuing my semi-hiatus, and not just because we’re still buried under 3 ft of snow (we are) …

I had to say goodbye to my senior cat last week and I’ve been a fuuuuuucking trainwreck 🥲

obviously with her advanced age I knew it was a long time coming but that hasn’t made it any less painful. and as much as the sims is a comfort to me, it’s something I haven’t had the creative energy to really throw myself into just yet.

I’m still around, and I’ll be back to posting my bacc in time. just not rushing back in to anything.

please do yourself a favor and squeeze your pets with alllllll the love they can handle. we never know how long we get, but however long it’s never enough. 💗

#cw: pet loss #cw: grief #if you need me I’ll be rewatching d20 starstruck odyssey #in between junior year episode drops #and favorite episodes of new girl #hyperfixation escapism for the win

[honeyhotteoks]

+

grief is genuinely so strange and so exacting. i was reading tonight and a character is dealing with the death of their parent and heard their voice again in a recording. i realized i don’t remember the sound of my dad’s voice anymore and im not sure if i have videos or recordings to reference and help me remember. i’m starting to forget things about him and i have these stark moments realizing it’s been weeks since i thought of him.

this time of year is so hard now i can’t even articulate it right. november is my mom’s birthday, and then thanksgiving, and then my birthday, and then christmas, and then january is his birthday, in february he died. every year these four months feel so heavy in a way i just do not have the words for.

you would think after years it wouldn’t be this hard but it is. grief in this weird period of after someone’s death but not *right* after someone’s death is funny because everyone expects you to be over it unless they’ve experienced it themselves. it’s hard to explain to people that haven’t dealt with death that one moment you’ll be fine, years later, but the next moment you’ll be realizing you forgot their birthday and that realization might level you for days.

i don’t have his texts saved anymore, his contact doesn’t exist in my phone anymore, i can’t find any old voicemails. i don’t know what else to say i’m just rambling a little at this point and i’ll probably delete this but if you did read this call someone you love tomorrow.

#not about writing at all #personal post to be deleted #cw grief loss feelings of big sad #i’m fine im just having a moment amidst a heck of a month and i can’t really sad post on twt lmao

[etincelleart]

CW : Loss, grieving

There's this weird feeling when you lose someone important, when you have to deal with grief and loss, it feels like the world keeps moving and doing it's own thing while you're suddenly stuck and can't really do anything until you feel like you can continue again. I haven't been able to work on anything this week, honestly uni can wait. I see people talking about their studies and just about daily things and I'm like, this could stop so suddenly and that's scary. For a moment it feels like you just don't want to take any risk but living inside your bubble just doesn't help either. I mean, you need it when you're chocked and you have to take the time to get on your feet again. But you also need to be careful to not stay too much in there or you'll end up scared of everything too. I just don't want to waste my time struggling and hurting when everything is moving so fast. And at the same time I'm not moving at all. It's so weird. I'm so conflicted and when it happens, it's like you're suddenly pulled out of your little acquired routine and you ask yourself "what the hell am I doing right now"

#cw #tw #cw loss #cw grief #eti rambles

[midnight-moth]

Cw hurt/comfort(not that much comfort), mentions of grief and loss, 800ish words of Dew angst.

Nothing to do with element transitions. Ima Dew hybrid truther. More so just that nothing ever pauses for him to catch up.

The breeze grazes his cheeks, cool and gentle like Rain’s fingertips. The sun warms his skin through his dark clothes, and it’s like being pressed to Ifrit’s chest in a tight hug.

Buds form on branches and daffodils shoot through the soil, and the air smells like freshly tilled soil and pine needles, warmed by the afternoon sun, like Pebble.

And Dew wants to tear his hair out. The way that all these feelings and emotions are sloshing around in his brain, threatening to spill over. Every time someone looks at him, speaks to him, it’s like they’re shaking him, violently.

Why does the rejuvenation thrumming through the ministry seem to skirt around him?

When he feels the weather turn, feels it in his bones, like Rain and Mountain, it makes his stomach heave and sway, same as his thoughts and it gives him a headache.

“What’s got you all dark and twisty?” A voice that sounds like sandpaper on tree bark, that he can hear in his head but not his ears.

Dew grunts. He remembers that the library is sanctuary to all of the Ministry’s misfits and malcontents. And that you don’t go there to be alone. Because you never really are. But maybe that’s why he came.

He feels Bell picking at the threads that have him sewn up so tight. He’s afraid of what might come spilling out but he doesn’t try to stop it, doesn’t try to leave. Relinquishing control, abandoning the need to define and categorize. To just let someone else sift through his thoughts and tell him which ones he needs to heed and which to ignore.

Sometimes he wishes everyone were a little like Bell or Phantom. Because saying things out loud, naming them, it somehow brings them to life and makes them feel real. And all the more difficult to dismiss.

Bell sighs, knowing and empathetic. How does he do that, with just a sound?

“It’s just - why does it have to change, all the time?” The defeat in Dew’s voice signals that he already knows the answer.

“There is no why, it just is.”

Dew wants to snap at him, snarl and spit. Tell him he doesn’t need his cryptic bullshit right now. But it isn’t cryptic, and it is true. It just is. Everything changes. Time marches forward, and he better keep up because only the dead get to remain in the past.

“I’m so tired.” Tired of saying goodbye. Tired of grieving. Tired of trying to grow and adapt and be bigger when he just wants to shrink so small that maybe he doesn’t exist.

Beaneth all this renewal, is the stench of decay. It burns his nostrils and he doesn’t understand why no one else can smell it.

Something has to die for something new to grow. Aether and Sunshine, for Phantom and Aurora. Aether for Omega, Terzo for Copia. Ifrit for himself.

He wants to purge his space of the dust and clutter accumulated in the winter months, he wants to open the windows and let the air in.

But there is solace in pretending with the curtains drawn tight that somehow, the world has stopped spinning. That the arms wrapped around him will never let go.

He cannot bear the uncertainty that they might. That the world will keep on turning. The seasons will keep changing. He will keep having to say goodbye, keep grieving, nothing will ever stay the same. He won’t stay the same.

Ostara is supposed to be a celebration. Not a memento mori.

Why can’t he get it right? Why does he prefer everything to be frozen, still. It feels as though there is some permanence in the frozen soil, the snow, the sky and the clouds a wash of gray.

But it doesn’t feel reckless, like Spring does. Overbearing, like the Summer. It doesn’t disintegrate, like the Fall. It feels like denial, but he’s not sure he can face the truth 365 days a year.

Bell, he often finds the right words. But not for this. Not when he asks all the same questions and receives no answers. Not after what, who, he’s loved, and then lost. All he can do is brace himself for the flood as he wraps his arms around Dew’s shoulders, holding him until he’s taken it all away.

At least for a little while. Because nothing ever lasts forever.

#I posted this #and then deleted it #it do be one of those days #but I’m posting it again cause I need to feel like I am capable of writing #even if it’s shit #so yeah #the nod to respite at the end was not intentional but there it is #cw hurt comfort #cw grief and loss #dewdrop ghoul #cowbell ghoul #midnight moth writes #I’m probably going to delete this again #it satisfies the itch to delete my blog

[ripeteeth]

I'm so glad that, in the entirety of the universe, I got to share the same time and space with you.

#cw: pet loss #pet death #animal loss #pet loss #grief

[catgirl-kaiju]

experiencing grief at the loss of a beloved family pet today, and i wanted to express something about the loss of pets.

i'm tired of this societal attitude that the death of animal companions is somehow a lesser tragedy than the death of a human person. it is true that they are not the same, but i fervently disagree with the notion that makes animal death not as big a deal.

pets are part of your family. sometimes, they are the only family you have. that means something. the most intense grief i've experienced in my life is when i've lost pets. i lost my first cat that i've owned as an adult about a year and a half ago, and i still feel pain and sadness at his loss. it hurts less now, but occasionally, i still get hit with a wave of grief.

animals' lives are meaningful, and the relationships we have with those that are our companions are something worth grieving when they're gone.

#scout's life #cw animal death #pets #animal companions #grief #loss

[themummersfolly]

Nonverbal Art

alt. title: Art Nerd's Origin Story

Anyone else ever wonder why Thrawn's interest in art focuses so heavily on sussing out the backstory of the artist? Yeah.

I have no idea how pediatric therapy works in real life.

-----

Vurawn doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s different.

There’s the whole talking thing, for example. Vurawn doesn’t remember learning to talk, even though he remembers Vurika and Mom says he didn’t start talking until after that. A lot of people still think he can’t talk, apparently, because he doesn’t do it very often. He’s not sure what the point is. He understands just fine, and besides, half the time when he does talk people get mad or start acting funny.

A lot of grownups think that not talking means he doesn’t hear either; even Mom and Dad forget sometimes. He overhears them talking about him. For a long time Mom thought he was stupid. It seemed to make her happy, for some reason. He doesn’t feel stupid; but then, he’s not sure if stupid and smart are things you can feel like. Vurika was smart, and they took her away and Mom was sad. Maybe if he’s stupid, he’ll get to stay and make Mom happy.

The army man said he was smart, when he gave everybody that test-thingy at school. But then he got into a fight with Teni the next day and afterward everybody said he was stupid. At least until the teacher made them stop.

No, he doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s weird, but here he is anyway.

He kicks his feet back and forth under the chair while he waits and thinks about the marker set Dad said he’ll get if he’s good for the doctor. He hopes there’s lots of orange markers. Orange is his favorite color right now. At school, there are fourteen different kinds of orange marker in the marker bin; he knows because he counted. First he lined them all up in order, then he put them in groups of markers from the same set and lined those up in order. Or he tried to, before the teacher yelled at him for hogging the orange markers.

He hopes he can be good enough to get the markers. Even when he tries to be good, he always does something wrong without meaning to.

“Kivu’raw’nuru?”

That’s his name. He hops out of his seat and follows Mom into the back office.

He likes going to this doctor, honestly. She never gives him shots or gets mad when he does the thing with his hands to feel better. There are toys, and neat pictures to look at, and lots and lots of markers.

He wanders around the room, looking at the toys while Mom talks to the doctor.

“-test scores are high, but the teacher says he’s behind in his social development. He rarely talks, he never looks me in the eyes-”

Dad thinks Mom wants there to be something wrong with him, at least he said so last night. Vurawn doesn’t know why everyone wants him to look at their eyes; it makes him as uncomfortable as when he has to not fidget.

The grownups finish talking and the doctor comes over to where he is.

“Good morning, Vurawn.”

It takes him a moment, but he remembers there’s something he’s supposed to do when people greet him.

“Hi.”

The doctor asks him questions; he’s supposed to answer with his big kid words, and he does. The doctor is happy, he’s doing it right. Maybe he will get that marker set.

“Vurawn, I’d like you to draw your family for me. Will you do that now, please?”

He’s not sure why she needs him to do that, but then he’s not sure why she asked all those questions, either. He does like to color, though.

It doesn’t take him long to draw everyone who’s important to him. When he’s done, the doctor sits down next to him.

“Tell me about your picture. Who’s that?” She points at the picture that is pretty obviously Mom. One by one, she points to each figure he drew and asks about it. Mom. Dad. Himself. The neighbor’s tooka. Vurika. He doesn’t know why she wants him to talk about them; most of the time when he talks about things he likes, people act like he’s doing something wrong and he doesn't know why. But the doctor lets him talk, so he does. It feels good to talk about things he likes.

When he’s told her all about his drawing, she picks it up and takes it over to Mom. He listens to them talk, and with no one to tell him not to, dumps out the markers and begins sorting them.

“-normal cognitive development for a child his age. But I think part of the issue is he misses his sister.”

That gets Vurawn’s attention. He’s not supposed to talk about Vurika; whenever he does, Mom gets sad and all the other grownups tell him he should be happy she gets to serve the Ascendancy. The doctor keeps talking.

“You see how much detail he put into her portrait; he clearly still remembers her, and remembers her well. Even as young as he was, her removal had a profound effect on him. That might be why he’s having difficulty adjusting socially.”

She can tell all that from his drawing?

“And here- this is your neighbor’s pet. She turns up in a number of drawings he’s done for me, so she’s clearly an important figure in his life. He may benefit from a therapy animal. If you can’t have one where you live, there are programs you can sign him up for-”

Every time he talks about Flower the Tooka, people look at him like he’s crazy! But the doctor had looked at his picture and understood immediately. Is that the secret? Can he really get people to understand him by drawing pictures for them?

And if it works that way, maybe it works the other way around, too. Maybe if he looks at pictures other people draw, they’ll seem less weird. Maybe the world makes sense if you draw it.

It’s like he’s spent his whole life in a dark, scary hallway, and suddenly, someone in a room nearby turns on a light. He decides to move toward it.

“Mom, I’d like you to draw a picture for me. Will you do that for me now, please?”

He’s been good all day, not just at the doctor. When Dad comes home, he has the marker set in hand, and the first thing Vurawn does is take it over to Mom.

She looks surprised, and he’s not sure she’ll go along with it. But then she takes the markers and flimsi and starts drawing. To keep himself busy, Vurawn picks up the pieces of the gadget she was working on and starts arranging them in order. They’re all very different, and it’s hard to figure out what order they should go in. Vurawn likes puzzles like this.

He’s just figured out where the big shiny piece should go when Mom slaps a marker down hard, puts her face into her hands, and starts shaking. Vurawn jumps. At first he thinks she’s mad at him for playing with her project. Then he sees that she’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Vurawn- it’s ok. I just can’t. You’re ok.” She doesn’t look up from her hands. Vurawn stands on his chair to look across the table at what she’s drawn.

It’s a grownup kind of drawing, much more complicated than his sensible stick figures. The face that stares out from the page is that of a little girl, about his age. It’s unfinished; Mom put the marker down before she colored it in.

“I’m sorry I got upset, Vurawn, I don’t know why I did that.” Mom wipes her eyes. Vurawn is still looking at the picture.

“It’s cause you miss Vurika.”

Mom freezes. He’s not sure if that means she understands, so he tries again.

“You’re sad cause Vurika had to go away. You’re scared that I might have to go away, too. But if I’m stupid, I get to stay with you, cause stupid people don’t have to serve the Ascen’a’cy.” He frowns at the tabletop, choosing his next words. “I can be stupid for you, Mom.”

He expects her to be happy at the offer, but instead she starts crying even harder. Vurawn feels the panic start to well up in his chest. He’s done something wrong again. Mom is upset, and Dad will be mad, and he doesn’t know how to fix it because he doesn’t even know what he did wrong-

Mom leans over and scoops him up in a hug.

“You’re not stupid, you’re a brilliant, brilliant little boy. I love you so much!” Her tears are getting his shirt wet, and now they’re both crying. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re stupid! I just- I just want what’s best for you, even if you have to go away. My brilliant little boy!” She takes his face in her hands and makes him look at her. “If they chose you- I need you to remember. I love you so much, I’m so proud of you, and I don’t want you to ever look back.”

Vurawn doesn’t understand, but he nods his head because Mom needs him to. Then he leans into her shoulder and cries.

#i was trying to write something cute and then That Happened #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #grand admiral thrawn #kivu'raw'nuru #vurawn #thrawn/art #cw: child loss #grief #child character #thrawn is autistic coded

[khaotunqs]

thinking a lot about my mom--she would have been 70 today.

we didn't have the best relationship towards the end of her life, but she was my mama, she was my foundation, and i loved her so much.

i still love her. i still miss her. and i know, in spite of her demons, that she loved me too.

happy birthday, mom. ❤

#mona.txt #loss cw #grief cw #death cw