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#dealing with grief
bl00dfroma-fairy · 2 days
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Precious Secrets
Wanda Maximoff X Reader
past!Natasha Romanoff X Reader
Summary: Time is ticking down towards your wedding day and it only feels right to look back on the good (and bad) choices that got you where you are today.
Warnings: Natty is dead in this one and yes it’s a bit angsty, but this one’s more focusing on the healing process R goes through after putting off the grieving process for over ten years. Use of alcohol, some swearing. Not much else tbh. This is not a graphic fic whatsoever.
Gif not mine
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“Was I right or was I right?” Sam sat next to you on the porch steps with ease. As if this was just another night.
“You really know how to pull a party together, man…” The green from the half-peeled sticker on your drink would remain under the nail on your thumb until tomorrow. “Thanks, Sam,”
“Look at us, huh,” He said, that infamous smile curling up as he bumped his shoulder into yours. You rolled your eyes with a laugh, lifting your drink and taking another swig. “Remember that time we let Steve drive us to that rich kid party?” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the worn wooden planks.
“First of all, Peggy is British, not rich. Also, Steve was the only one still sober,” you point out, and Sam chortles.
“He was so nervous about her that any one of us would’ve been a better driver. Dude could not keep his anxiety in check,” you both chuckled at the memory.
“Don’t even get me started on the dancing,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Can’t believe he went right into tap,” Sam stood up, imitating the flourishes and moves in the sloppiest manner known to man.
“I swear I saw her throw up a little in her mouth,” You finish, letting out a deep breath. A quiet calm took over. The sun was up now and everyone else had tapped out from the festivities. It felt foreign with how the sun warmed your skin. You hadn’t been back home in over a decade, but your fiancé was adamant that the venue should be personal… and to be fair Wanda’s home was no longer an existing country, let alone a region where they would allow you two to be married.
“I’m surprised you saw anything. I recall you getting pretty cozy with a certain someone,” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully and your jaw clenched. It was only for a split second and luckily Sam was too busy squinting away the light from his eyes to notice. When he does turn to you all you offer is a shrug.
“It’s not like you weren’t ‘occupied’ either, my friend,” you joke, setting the empty bottle at your feet. “Do you ever miss it?” you ask.
“Getting in trouble?” he asks and you can’t help but smile to yourself.
“Yeah. That,”
“Not as much as I used to,” He admits. This time he regards you more carefully, eyes trying to read something that isn’t there. “I know you’re only in town for this week, but have you visited them yet?” He asks. With no need for elaboration, you shake your head.
“I’ve put it off this long… What’s a little longer?” You end with a shrug, standing up before hoisting Sam up with you. “How about we start the cleanup and then sleep for the next three days?” You joke and he lets you. It’d always been a touchy subject whenever you’d caught up on the phone. As long as it was at your pace and you felt ready.
- - -
“How was it?” Wanda asked with a loving smile, her arms open and beckoning you for a hug.
“All these old people are cramping my style,” you joke and Sam punches your shoulder playfully.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” He raises a brow at you and you laugh. It doesn’t take long to say goodbye and scold him for the DJ incident which Wanda is all too eager to hear about.
“I’m glad you had a really good night. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends,” Wanda closes the door gently like she always does and you pull her in for a kiss.
“5 more days and they’ll all be sick of me,” you joke and your fiancé pinches your arm.
“Don’t be a meanie,” She jokes and you can’t help but feel lighter. That is at least until you notice the thoughtful look on her face. You furrow your brows-ready to ask when she cuts in. “Someone came by yesterday asking if you were still in town,” Wanda’s eyes are focused on her hands, which are playing with the buttons on your coat.
“Oh?” You ask, stomach twisting, knowing where this leads.
“She said her name was Yelena and that you used to be friends with her sister…” You could hear the underlying question in her tone. The one she most desperately wanted to ask, but would inevitably refuse to.
It’s something you admire about Wanda. As much as you wish she never had the traumatic childhood she had, it gave her the awareness of tact. The ability to sense that things were uneasy before anyone else could and adapt. Despite how adamant she was about being at a loss for how people work, she always knew when to be sharp and when to be gentle. When to push a conversation along and when to let it flow freely.
You admire her heart. You also love that it gives you just enough of an out with your wording on this particular topic.
“Yeah, I knew her sister back in high school. Yelena was always cool, but we never really hung out,” You try to wave off the concern with an easygoing smile and Wanda gets the hint.
Don’t push.
“Well, she wanted me to give you this. Said that it would mean the world to the family if we could make it,” Wanda said, handing you a small and neat invitation. Melina’s work.
“I don’t know-“ You started.
“What’s got you on the fence, love?” She asks casually, eyes studying your expressions for the smallest sign of your walls coming down.
“It’s nothing, really,” you lie.
“You can go alone if that’s more comfortable,” Wanda offers and that’s when you realize that she’d gotten more than your intended message. Don’t push because it hurts.
Just the kind of message that Wanda usually had for you at the beginning of your relationship. It took over a year for her to tell you more than just the facts of it. To change “it happened” to “it made me feel”. Just like you did with her, she wasn’t going to let this go.
“I’m not getting out of this,” and she pursed her lips, shaking her head.
“Not if my gut’s right about this,” She states.
“About what?”
“That whatever this situation is… It’s the reason you don’t come back here, isn’t it?”
- - -
Wanda drove. It’s a task that is not normally given to her as her driving is more than a bit scary at times. However, in the two days since your talk, you haven’t been able to stop remembering. Luckily, your most sacred places had either been shut down or abandoned, so those memories could still be pushed down.
There were others though. When you and Wanda went on a stroll through the nearby park, you saw the tree with your old nicknames carved into it. A name lost to nostalgia as you stood under the tree and watched Wanda point out with a small chuckle, “Who would write tiny dancer and stinkbug?” she laughed and a part of you felt pained. Angry. Defensive.
“No one important,” you shrugged, shaking off the small chip on your shoulder and sending Wanda a more believable smile. “Clearly they’re insane. Best friends forever spelled with an actual 4 and ending in ‘eva’? Ridiculous,” You poke fun at it and for a moment it helps to pretend you hadn’t carved it just to see Natasha smile.
Then there was the old bakery. It was right next to Joann’s fabrics and Wanda wanted to pop in before going to find more yarn to crochet with. The walls still had a floral pattern and that old people smell that lingers around in most government buildings. The light on the display case flickered more than you ever remember, but even worse, when you got to the register to pay the owner almost recognized you.
“You sure you’ve never been here before? I never forget a face,” He asked.
“Nope, I’ve never bought anything from here before. I just have one of those faces,” You say. Once again, you’re careful of the wording. You’d been there countless times to bug Natasha during her shifts, even when James was the one to pick her up afterward. Then, when they started dating you stopped coming by. It was embarrassing being the third wheel during her lunch breaks, but you’d also realized your feelings for her.
When you left the bakery, Wanda’s hand slipped from yours and instead of putting the bag in the car and continuing to the fabric store, Wanda sat in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut with a frown on her face. After a few minutes of her refusing to look at you through the windshield, you climbed inside the car with her.
“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask.
“You’re just acting really weird,” Wanda huffs, still not looking at you.
“What do you mean?” it couldn’t have been that noticeable.
“I don’t know… It’s just the way you’re acting. I know you’re just being you, but it doesn’t feel like it…” Wanda admits and you purse your lips.
“What can I do?” You ask, eyes looking over her features.
“Nothing. It’s just weird that since we’ve been here you’ve been feeling more and more like a stranger. Like I did something and it’s all weird now and I don’t even know what I did,” Wanda began rambling. This was the double-edged sword of someone so aware.
You had been acting strange, but it wasn’t because of her. It was never because of Wanda.
“Baby, you haven’t done anything, trust me,” You cut her off and her eyes finally meet yours as she quiets down. “I just… I haven’t been back here in so long and it’s been a bit much,” you offer a half-truth, not wanting to dig into the real problems you’re trying to run away from. Wanda’s instantaneous breath of relief is enough for the weight to come off your chest, just enough to take a deep breath together.
“I’m sorry for being so anxious and in my head about it. I didn’t mean to “
“Hey, it’s okay, love…” you say, reaching over the console to rub soothing circles on her back. After a few minutes, you speak again. “Ready to get more yarn now?”
After that, it was all smiles and sunshine.
Now? Now you’re parked on the side of the road in front of Natasha’s home. The last time you’d been there was a miserable affair and your best friend wasn’t there anymore to get you through it. Yelena made it through the first ten minutes before running to the backyard and shutting herself in the treehouse. Alexei had built it when she and Natasha were still only as tall as his waistline.
Melina was stoic as ever, shouldering the emotional burden internally and she was good at it. So good it scared you until you saw her slip into a quiet hallway, drinking and flinching from the burn of alcohol in a sizable flask. Later that night when everyone else had gone and you’d finished helping Alexei coerce Liho from meowing at Natasha’s bedroom door, you saw Melina sitting on the couch.
The flask was nowhere to be seen, but you had no doubt it was close by. Melina was flipping through pages of a large book, a photo album. You didn’t have the energy or the heart to talk to her as it was a shock to all of you. The sweet, vibrant, elusive Natasha Romanoff had gotten into the car with a drunk James Buchanan Barnes. The accident was a head-on collision with a semi-truck that left him paralyzed from the neck down.
- - -
“I’m surprised you’re being so traditional, getting married in the same church your parents did,” Melina comments.
“Well, you can’t beat tried and true,” you joke, pressing a kiss to Wanda’s forehead, your arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulder.
“I remember you promising to make me the flower girl,” Yelena accused jokingly and you both snorted with laughter.
“I’m sure we can find you a dress. Even if it is last minute,” Wanda adds, and even Alexei chuckles at that one.
“I remember when we got married,” Alexei says, turning to Melina and the older woman nods with a smirk.
“We didn’t have much money so we had to book a venue in the off-season,” Melina explained.
“Turns out that the off-season was also storm season,”
“And a tornado just barely went away by the time we were supposed to drive to the church,” Melina’s tone is unimpressed.
“It was destiny,” Alexei says, romanticizing the memory.
“It was luck,” Melina balances out his wistful personality with a splash of realism. “We’d already had Natasha at that point so she was our little flower girl,” Melina gushed and your expression took a turn. It had been an hour and you’d all avoided direct mention of her.
“That’s so cute! How old was she?” Wanda asks. The conversation continues with a casual quality that you are starting to hate. Have they really healed? Is it not supposed to feel like the world is imploding at the mere mention of her?
“She was three and Yelena was already on the way,” Melina mused and Yelena groaned, rolling her eyes. “Y/n’s mom officiated the wedding, actually,” the older woman added and you masked your true feelings, nodding along instead before getting up to refill everyone’s drinks. You make it to the kitchen without realizing Yelena followed you. Laughter fills the house and just as the walls begin to swell up you feel a hand on your shoulder.
“Y/n?” Yelena asks.
“Hey, yeah what’s up?” You do your best to act normal. Yelena isn’t one to mince words and as much as she remained a fly on the wall during her childhood, she did notice things about people. That included you since you’d been Natasha’s best friend for as long as the younger woman could remember.
“Still hurts?” She asks and you nod. “She wouldn’t want that for you,” she says the words you hate the most. No one else knew the truth. No one ever caught the two of you so why would they?
“She was my best friend, Yel… We did everything together,” You say and Yelena listens. Really listens. Her hand goes back to her side and she leans against the counter, watching you. “I just want to be happy. I want to make Wanda happy… I want to act like none of this… this… I’m trying not to think about it,” you finally admit.
“I get that,” She says simply and you scoff.
“I don’t think you do,” you say without thinking and her face turns to something you’ve never seen before. It’s a mix of confusion and anger.
“Fuck you,” Yelena’s voice is dry and bitter. “She was my sister,”
“She was my-“You shut your mouth before you can say the words. Yelena laughs at this, looking at you like you’re some pathetic parasite.
“Just because you had some stupid crush on my sister it doesn’t mean you get to say that,” Yelena pushes and you’re taken aback. “Oh, did you think I didn’t notice? I have eyes you know?” Yelena says and you finally snap out of it.
“You used to be likable,” you quip.
“Yeah, well, I grew up. What’s your excuse?” Yelena shoots back and you swallow your words.
“This was a bad idea-“You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. After a moment of tense quiet you begin fixing everyone’s drinks. “I’m sorry,”
“Me too,” Yelena says, moving closer to help you. “Truce,” she says and you nod.
- - -
By the time Alexei retires for the night, Melina is only halfway through the first scrapbook of memories. Being best friends with someone since birth means they have just as many pictures with you in them. You remember when you moved away and begged your mom to get rid of any photos she had with you and Natasha together. It just hurt too much.
“Oh my god, you two were so cute!” Wanda gushes alongside Melina. Yelena catches sight of an embarrassing picture with her in it and she scowls. “And I love these, did you make them yourself?” Wanda asks Melina. She always loved crafts…
“Of course I did! I could teach you and give you the supplies. I don’t make these anymore,” Melina says and you furrow your eyebrows. That’s new. “I haven’t really since-“
“Mama,” Yelena gives the older woman a soft look and they quickly move on.
“The best picture is on the next page,” Melina says and Yelena shoots you a smirk that confuses you. When she turns it over you can’t breathe.
It’s of you and Natasha. She’s beaming, her cheeks bright red like her homecoming dress. You stood behind, holding her waist in the picture mid-laugh.
“Natasha’s date got grounded the day before the dance,” Melina said, looking up and making eye contact with you. Swallowing down the nerves you let out an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, it was way too last minute to get anything that fit right so I just went with the cheapest suit I could find and we rode there on my bike,” you continued the story. Your eyes locked with Wanda’s and she was waiting patiently, ready to devour more of these secret memories you hadn’t shared before. It was comforting to have her look at you so lovingly, so warmly, that you almost forgot.
Natasha’s date didn’t get grounded, he ditched her for some senior and didn’t have the guts to tell her. So, when you showed up to the dance and he was there, Natasha bolted. Even in heels, you swore she ran faster than any Olympic athlete. It didn’t take too long to find her crying in the bathroom, but it did take quite a bit of convincing to get her to go back to the dance and focus on just having a good night.
That night, Natasha swore, was the best night of her life. Dancing till your feet were sore, twirling and jumping around until you got dizzy, laughing like there was nothing that could be funnier… and then…
During the quiet bike ride to drop Natasha off at home, she had you stop at the park where you’d carved your nicknames a few weeks prior. She said she wanted to walk. To make the night last a little longer even if Melina and Alexei would scold her tomorrow for it. You remember the fireflies hovering throughout the park, the green mixing with the pale light from the moon.
Natasha climbed the tree and you followed. She spoke about her favorite poem and how it reminded her of you. She confessed that she’d been having dreams and couldn’t stop thinking about you during class. She came clean about all the times she scared girls away from you because she was worried they were prettier than her. She admitted that she didn’t realize what that meant until you dropped everything, you even quit your after-school job, just to make it to the dance that night. For her.
Then you kissed. A first for you as well as her. The beginnings of love. The start of a secret. You excused yourself once more. The patio out back so you could get some fresh air, leaving Wanda with the only people Natasha had confided in about you.
When you came back something seemed off. It was quiet. Too quiet. You sat next to Wanda, noting that the scrapbooks were all put away. There were four shot glasses filled to the brim with a clear liquid. “I figured now that we’re all adults,” Yelena stood up and went to work passing out the shots. To your surprise, Wanda is the first to down her shot. Soon, Yelena follows as does Melina, leaving you dead last as you lift your glass.
- - -
You’re in the car. This time it’s parked outside your own childhood home. Wanda’s killed the engine by now but hasn’t made the move to go inside. A sign that it’s time to talk. Talk or she’ll push.
“They liked you,” you comment and she sucks her teeth, trying to find a way to approach the topic.
“They missed you,” she said. “Melina made it sound like you hate them now,” she tests the waters.
“I don’t hate them. I love them!” You laugh at the absurdity of the statement, but it quickly dies down when Wanda’s eyes snap to yours.
“You’ve been acting weird again,” she states.
“How could I not? I left because my best friend died,” you breathe out and she shakes her head, sighing.
“It’s not just that though, is it?” Wanda asks without judgment. You watch your fiancé closely and see the worn expression in her eyes. You swore you’d never tell a soul.
“It’s nothing,” you try again and Wanda won’t buy it.
“What happened?”
- - -
Steve finally parked the car outside of Peggy’s and you cringed seeing a familiar head of red hair in James Barnes’ truck.
“See Steve? That’s how you get the ladies,” Same joked and Steve scoffed.
“They’re already dating, Sam,” he reminded the man and you faked a laugh, exiting the car as fast as you could.
“And you could be too if you just-“ You shut your door and your ability to hear the rest of Sam’s quip, taking quick steps towards the Carter household. You walk in to smoke, blaring music, and a gross amount of horny teenagers. Weaving through the crowd you find the alcohol, taking a red solo cup and filling it to the brim with the jungle juice on the counter. You’d made your rounds with the dance floor, the group of stoners in the backyard, and Peggy’s group of friends before you saw Natasha and James walk in. His shirt was sloppy and the collar was stretched out from someone gripping it too tight or pulling it down. You cringed not wanting to think of either. When they joined your group, James began talking to Steve and Natasha through her arm around your shoulders.
“Having fun?” she leaned close to your ear, making sure you could understand her over the music. A quick shrug and a tight-lipped smile were enough to dodge her and make your rounds again. This time, she interrupted you when you were smoking with the stoners.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you at all,” she remarked and you let out a convincing laugh.
“It’s a crazy party with a lot of fun people. Not sure why you’d miss little old me,” you joke and she rolls her eyes.
“How can I not miss my favorite person?” she laughs lightheartedly. Only a few minutes pass until she’s pulling you away from the group and over towards the side of the house. You almost fall for it again until you see a dark hickey just under her collarbone. You try to pull away, but Natasha’s grip is strong enough to keep you in place.
“Stop. I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say and she frowns.
“What? It’s not like I like him,” Natasha says. You roll your eyes.
“From the looks of it I think you like him just fine,” you say bitterly and she’s taken aback.
“Where is this coming from?” She asks softly, letting go of you. You knew she wanted to keep it a secret until she was ready to come out. She never mentioned that her plan included having a fake boyfriend. Worse was that James was head over heels for her. Just like you.
“You know what? Let’s dance,” She takes your hand quickly, pulling you along. “Can’t give me a nickname like tiny dancer and expect me to ignore a dance floor,” Natasha batted her eyelashes playfully and you began to crack. A half smile at her insistence and the bitterness of knowing it was a distraction. A bandaid rather than an actual fix for the problem.
“Tasha…” you say weakly and she ignores it, shutting the sliding door behind you and walking towards the center of the dancing sea of bodies. It’s crowded, uncoordinated, and entirely uncouth, but you join in regardless. It reminded you of last year when you went to the dance and she confessed her love for you. Hanging on to broken threads you began to dance with her. With Natasha.
- - -
“What happened after that?” Wanda asked.
“We made a mistake… and then everything fell apart.”
- - -
James found you. Of all the people that could’ve walked in it had to be James. Natasha may have been taking the lead, but it was you he was yelling at. Of course, it would be you. He confided in you about his feelings for Natasha years before he asked her out. More than that, you knew his last relationship ended because he got cheated on.
For as much as he could be open about his past platonically, he could not do so with his romantic interests.
Almost everyone had left, but the screaming summoned Peggy from the depths of nowhere which, in turn, had Steve hot on her heels. There it was… Natasha’s precious secret was out in the open. She was still covering your naked body with her own when James stormed out, cursing left and right as he pulled his car keys from his pocket. Natasha pulled her hoodie and shorts on. Then, she followed James, knowing just how drunk he was.
You were still reeling and clutching the sheet to your chest. Peggy asked Steve to go wait in the hall and closed the door. Tears were streaming down your face and you were sobbing as Peggy approached you. She had the same careful steps as someone who had found a wild animal in their house. You both heard the truck roar to life and drive off. You flinched at the squeak of the tires, but let out a breath of relief as you heard Steve’s heavy steps rushing down the stairs.
That was the last time you saw Natasha Romanoff alive.
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oblakdark · 24 hours
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𝕺𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗
"𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚍��𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍."
© OBLAK
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motivationisdead · 5 months
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So we all like the “if you die then I’ll burn down the world” trope but there’s something so powerful and beautiful about living on with their memory instead. It’s not “because you’re dead the world has nothing worth saving in it” but “everyday something in this world reminds me of you and I’m glad for it even if it hurts”.
It’s “I’ll bring your kindness with me wherever I go and someone will remember it even if they’ll never know I borrowed it from you.”
It’s “This is what you would do.”
It’s “I’ll remember you for you and not for what the people hail you as.”
And it’s so painfully beautiful.
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traumaxprincess · 4 months
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dactylicreveries · 7 months
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dalliancekay · 9 days
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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE
Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.
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Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.
Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.
WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.
But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.
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And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?
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How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?
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Why else would he be so worried about working on the Arrangement? Was he worried just for himself? Do we really think that?
Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale, yes, we saw that, but do they ever talk about what happened to the angel then? Do we?
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That he got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps? Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, there's no pomp around it, he thinks this and then does it. No hesitation.
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Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was gone. That he very likely left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?
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Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. His trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, with his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. That's HUGE. He's trying. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.
Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * A note on grief (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment
It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).
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stevesbipanic · 2 months
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@steddiemicrofic prompt: edge, WC: 509, rating: T
Eddie arrived home to a quiet house, which wasn't completely unusual for the Harrington home to be quiet but usually Eddie found his boyfriend moving around the kitchen making dinner, softly singing along to the radio.
"Steve?" He called out but was met with more silence. Strange, but Steve could be up in bed, maybe he had a migraine. Eddie checked quickly upstairs but found their bed cold and empty too. He'd seen Steve's car in the driveway so he hadn't left, and Robin didn't have her licence yet so she couldn't have picked him up, plus he'd have left a note.
Eddie went back downstairs checking the loving room hoping maybe Steve had just fallen asleep on the couch. Still, he was nowhere to be found. He went back to the kitchen ready to start calling around hoping maybe Steve was just visiting someone and forgot to leave a note. He was halfway through dialling the Hendersons when a shadow in the backyard caught his eye.
"Oh sweetheart," he mumbled to himself as he hung up the phone. Eddie grabbed a blanket off the couch and opened to sliding door to the back deck. Steve didn't flinch at the sound, eyes staying ahead. Sighing, Eddie wrapped the blanket around Steve's shoulders and joined him sitting at the edge of the pool.
The two boys sat silent for a few moments, Eddie knew better to just wait for Steve to talk, he'd made his presence known and that's what Steve needed right now. He wouldn't always talk, sometimes choosing to simply sit before they went back inside and curled up in bed. Sometimes Steve wanted touch, sometimes he'd just want to know Eddie was there.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Steve spoke. "It's been five years and I can't look at this pool and not see her." Eddie knew who they were talking about, after all only one girl had drowned in this pool. "She should be at college with, Nance, she should get to have a grave with a body in it, she should be here instead of," Steve choked out a sob instead of finishing that thought. Even though it ripped Eddie's heart to shreds, and wanted nothing more than to tell Steve he's loved and that it's not his fault, he knew Steve didn't want that, he'd said those words a million times before, Steve knew so Eddie waited.
Steve tilted his body until he lent against Eddie's side and Eddie let out a breathe as he was finally allowed to comfort his boy, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. He sat there with Steve crying softly in his arms until they slowed to a stop, it was time for bed.
Eddie took his hand leading him back into the house and upstairs, curling him into his chest and reminding him he was there, that he'd always be there.
"I think it's time to move, Steve."
"Do you think she'd forgive me?"
"I know she already has," and that was enough.
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darkpoetrynprose · 3 months
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“There is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it.”
― Ranata Suzuki
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longreads · 4 months
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’Tis the Season to Kill the Dead-Mom Holiday Movie Trope
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"Look, I get it: I’d also be relieved to find out my new bonk buddy wasn’t a philanderer. I’m not mad at Cameron; I’m mad that the dead wife-mom is a plot device in more Christmas movies than I can stuff in a stocking."
Before you curl up with a holiday movie, check out Cat Modlin-Jackson's new Longreads feature. It might just make you think differently about those festive frolics.
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missnarcissistsworld · 10 months
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Is there another life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.
- John Keats
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imfullofworms · 10 months
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There exists an original of this poem that I might share some day <3 but for now it seemed meaningless against the above
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ladykailitha · 6 months
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Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 1
Hello! Sorry it's been nothing but one-shots lately, but as I said in this post here I haven't abandoned anything, my life has just got a little crazy lately.
This was conceived because my sister's former mother-in-law passed away due to massive heart failure a week ago and I chose to write this story as a way with dealing it. I didn't know her well, but I did know her and that's enough I think to feel some grief at her passing. She was a year younger than my dad.
Summary: Eddie and Wayne have to go back to Kentucky when Eddie's grandmother (and Wayne and Al's mother) passes. Steve comes along when Eddie suggests that he would feel better if he came. Along the way they learn about each other's pasts and find out that they are each other's future.
***
Eddie walked into the Family Video and had to stop and gaze fondly at the sight before him. Steve was draped over the counter reading a magazine and steadfastly ignoring the bell above the door that announced his arrival.
He got up to the desk and greeted affectionately, “Hey, Stevie.”
Steve bolted straight up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh hi, Eds. I didn’t realize that it was you.”
Eddie smiled for the first time in days.
Steve grinned back. “You know, a boy could start to think you were avoiding him. You know, since I haven’t seen you around in days.”
Eddie winced, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Sorry, man. I had family stuff.”
Steve’s teasing grin slid off his face. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was a dick move.”
Eddie waved his hands. “No, no. There was no way for you to know. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t think that I’m avoiding you. Because I wouldn’t. You see Wayne and I have to go back to Ashland for a funeral.”
Steve’s already contrite expression softened further. “Oh, Eds. That’s awful. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
Eddie’s eyes welled up and before the first tear could fall, Steve was over that counter and wrapping him up in his arms.
“I’ve got you, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m here now.”
Eddie sobbed and sobbed as Steve just gently rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to talk.
“It’s Uncle Wayne’s mom, my grandma,” he explained, clutching Steve’s shirt like a life line. “She was just the sweetest old lady and now she’s gone. I’m going to miss her.”
“Oh, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry. That must just be awful for you. If there is anything I can do, just let me know.”
Eddie chuckled into Steve’s work vest. “Too bad you can’t come with. I think I’d feel braver about seeing all Dad’s family again if you were there.”
Steve grabbed his biceps and pushed him back gently. “Done.”
Eddie stuttered and sputtered. “Stevie, no...”
Steve picked up the phone on the counter and dialed a number. “Stevie yes.”
And Eddie watched in awe horror as Steve’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears and he rubbed his nose.
“Keith?” Steve said, his voice rough as if he had been doing the crying. “Yeah, I just got a call from my mom. My grandmother has died and I have to go to Kentucky for the funeral.”
Eddie’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know that Steve knew where Ashland was.
“Yeah, my mom is from Lexington,” Steve said with a wink at him. “A real southern belle. I’ve seen pictures of her debutante ball and everything.”
Eddie snorted, because of course she was.
“I would need at least a week,” Steve was saying. “With the reading of the will and all.”
Eddie scoffed. If there was a will, he very much doubted there would be anything as formal as a reading of the damn thing.
“Oh thank you so much,” Steve sniffled. “I’ll even call Robin and let her know about her needing to pick up a few shifts.”
And like that Steve had gotten the week off.
“And the award for best crocodile tears to get out of working goes to Steve Harrington!” Eddie said, waving his hands back and forth. “Holy shit, man, how did you do that?”
Steve snorted. “As any good actor will tell you in order to cry on command, you just need to think about something that makes you cry.”
Eddie frowned. “What did you think of?”
Steve just shrugged. “What time are you guys leaving?”
“Tomorrow, early,” he said. “But serious, dude, even after that stellar performance, you don’t really have to come. Take the week off. Enjoy life for a change.”
Steve shook his head. “I would just be at home worried about you. Don’t make me stay. Please. Not when you said you would feel better with me there.”
Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he gave in. “Of course I want you there, but I would be selfish to take you away from your family for so long. Robin, Dustin...the rest of the them all need you too.”
Steve sighed heavily. “You’re part of that family, Eds. And I’m not dumb enough to think that they aren’t going to make a run for it the second they’re able to. As they should. I have to live my own life and not be afraid to go places.”
Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I hate when you make sense.”
Steve grinned. “Now the only remaining question is which vehicle we’re taking, Wayne’s truck, your van, or my car?”
Eddie laughed. “God, Stevie. I am so glad you’re coming with me. I needed that. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Steve’s grin turned soft and fond. “Let’s hope you never have to find you.”
“Damn straight.”
*
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Robin groused when Steve called her after Eddie left.
“What was I supposed to do when he asked?” Steve questioned, twirling the phone cord around his fingers. He leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the door.
The last thing he needed was Keith finding out he fucked around after giving him the week off.
Robin scoffed. “Not go?” she questioned. “He obviously wasn’t serious about you coming with.”
"You know I would do the same for you," he said with a sigh. "For any of you. Plus his life has already been turned upside down enough, don't you think?"
Robin sighed. "I'm not really mad," she said. "It's just that this will be the longest we've been apart since the Russians under the mall."
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just think of it as a trial run for when you go to college."
"Yeah okay," she said resigned. "Just call me before you leave and again when you get there, okay?"
"Aye, aye, captain!" Steve said with a grin.
Robin giggled. "Shut up!" She paused for a moment. "I'll miss your stupid face, dingus."
“I’ll miss yours, too,” Steve said with a sigh. “I’ll call as often as I can okay?”
“You better.”
They talked a little bit longer until a customer came in and he had to hang up.
*
When he got home he started calling all the kids and packing for a week long trip. He wasn’t sure what he should bring in terms of clothes and ended up calling Eddie.
Eddie who laughed when he asked. “Just bring what you would normally wear this time of year.”
Steve chewed on his lip. “So I won’t get mercilessly teased about my preppy clothes?”
“Oh no, you will,” Eddie confirmed. “It’s just you don’t have to change yourself to fit in with a bunch of assholes who would make fun of you. Okay?”
Steve let out a slow breath and his anxiety went with it. He could handle that. Those assholes had never met a bitch like Steve Harrington before.
“Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment. “You and Wayne decide which vehicle we’re taking?”
“Yeah, he suggested we take his truck and your car,” Eddie said. “He knows he’s going to be taking a lot back and thinks your car will make it better than my van.”
“Sounds good,” Steve murmured, a little disappointed. “So who will you be riding with for the trip down?”
He could almost feel the grin from here. “With you, of course, darlin’.”
Steve laughed. “Yeah okay. What time do you need me at your house?”
There was a beat and then two before Eddie said, “I was thinking that you should spend the night so we could leave first thing in the morning.”
Steve’s heart sped up as his breath caught in his chest. “Yeah. Sure. That’s a good idea. I’ll show up at eight tonight, give myself a little bit more time to pack.”
“Sounds good,” Eddie replied. “Wayne suggested it because it’s a six hour drive and we want to leave as early as we can so it’s not too late when we get there.”
Steve felt a jumble of emotions at that statement. It was a relief that it was a practical reason, but at the same time it was a disappointment that it wasn’t Eddie’s idea.
He took a deep breath. “I hear that. I remember the trips to Lexington when I was kid before we started flying. They were a bitch.”
“It really surprises me that you have family in Kentucky. I don’t know why, a lot of people in Indiana do, it’s just...”
“Harringtons are so entrenched in Hawkins it’s weird to think we have connections outside of it?” Steve supplied.
Eddie laughed. “Yeah, that.”
“My parents met in college and I didn’t move to Hawkins until I was eight,” Steve said.
“Wait,” Eddie said. “No way. You aren’t a Hawkins native?”
Steve chuckled. “Nope. I’m more like you and Dustin then the Wheelers and the Byers. And the Sinclairs.”
“Huh,” Eddie said after a moment. “You certainly have hidden depths, my friend.”
“You have no idea,” Steve teased.
“Then I’ll just have to use this trip to dive deeper,” Eddie teased back.
“I have to pack, you dork,” Steve said fondly. “I’ll be over at eight.”
“See you then, Stevie.”
***
Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9|Part 10|Part 11|Part 12
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elizabeeeeeth · 9 months
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i'm still grieving from losing you, i just don't talk about it anymore i miss you so much
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ssssshunyaa · 4 months
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incognito-melancholia · 3 months
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"I wonder whose arms would I run and fall into if I were drunk in a room with everyone I have ever loved."
- this becomes almost deeper when you think of non-romantic loves too
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