#coping with loss

[seeminglydark]

Sneak peek of Sully’s friends talking about him in past tense and doing their best to cheer up a sad little Angel.

Hopefully a brand spankin’ new episode with never before seen scenes of my webcomic Mil-liminal, coming soon, in which we will continue flashbacking from after he was gone and Caro’s coping skills. 💔 in the meantime, catch up on Webtoon or Tapas!

[heart-songs]

WHILE I WAIT FOR SPRING… I make peace with the sun. unpack stolen hours. practice breathing with one lung. While I wait for spring… I take my body outside her comfort zone. lie. on a riverbed. openly lust after his wet mouth. While I wait for spring… I have one-sided conversations with the sky. I ask her about the light I once saw in your eyes. the clouds reply. with a cry. some secrets it seems were never mine to keep. While I wait for spring… I learn the color of my own heart’s failing. uncap a jar of blue thoughts. eat them slowly. lick the spoon. While I wait… silence thickens my tongue. tells me. this is the closest I will ever come to a taste of infinity.

- Cora Finch

[whitedahlia13]

Some things you just can't speak about

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles + Lydia

Words: 6407

Summary: Aftermath of 3x07. Lydia wants Stiles to know everything, but the words never leave her mouth.

Some things you just can't speak about.

Lydia thinks maybe five minutes have passed. Ten at most. Ten minutes standing in the doorway of Derek Hale’s loft, him kneeling with his head in his hands while his sister’s sobs echoed in the cavernous space, the two inches of water flooding the floor not just amplifying the sound but making it a tangible thing—intermittent ripples spreading outward in every direction.

Now, there’s a hand at her back and a soft voice against her ear. “I’ll take you home.”

Her fingernails dig into the doorframe as another wave of grief hits. Cora’s mixed with her own and everyone else’s.

They were too late. Again.

Their plan failed. Again.

And now…

Boyd is dead.

“Come on, Lydia,” Stiles nudges. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

We didn’t do anything, she thinks, but she lets him lead her towards the stairs.

Read More: ao3 & ffnet

[phoenix-downer]

With the Dawn

~1155 words. Tidus/Yuna. Post-FFX. Yuna POV. Grief/Mourning, Angst, Romance, Coping with Loss.

Summary: Yuna reflects on how Tidus has impacted her life. Though she misses him terribly, her memories of him give her the strength to move forward one day, one hour, one moment at a time.

Yuna can’t go anywhere that doesn’t remind her of him. They went everywhere around Spira together. Kilika, Luca, the Mi’ihen Highroad, Djose, Moonflow, Guadosalam, the Thunder Plains, the Macalania Woods, Bevelle. The Calm Lands, Mt. Gagazet, Zanarkand, they saw it all together. Places that once brought her comfort and happy memories now reopen the wounds of grief. Not even her beloved Besaid is safe. His face and voice are everywhere and yet nowhere. He’s gone from this world, and his absence hangs over everything like a giant canopy cloaking the sun.

Fittingly for a day like today, the sky is overcast as she walks along, casting a pall on this beautiful tropical paradise like his loss casts a shadow over her life. She knew him for only a small portion of it, and yet, he had such an impact on her that his influence is undeniable. The two of them spent their short time together better than most people spend decades together. That was just how Tidus was. Always making the most of every moment. Always living life to the fullest. He showed her there was another way to live, another way to love. That if she was going to sacrifice herself, it had better be for something she believed in with all her heart. 

She can no longer believe in Yu Yevon anymore. That is perhaps Tidus’s greatest gift to her: truth and freedom from an oppressive belief system that held her and so many other people captive. Being called a heretic and an apostate is oddly freeing once you’ve found the truth. Like a badge she wears proudly because she cared enough to keep searching for answers.

If only she could search for him. But how do you search for someone who is not dead because he was never really alive? Tidus only existed because of the Dream of the Fayth. His life was never like hers. And yet he was the realest person she’s ever met.

She stares at Besaid Falls, the churning white water ever crashing against the rock. This place has been here since she first set foot on Besaid, and it’s tempting to think it always will be. And yet she knows that even this is temporary, that someday these falls will be no more. That is the only guarantee in this life, that someday everything will end. Best to appreciate the good things while they last.

She wanted to have so much more time with him. Imagine what they could’ve done with even a few more days, a few more hours, a few more minutes. But she recognizes some people are meant to be in her life for only a season. The spray from the falls mixes with the tears on her face as she thinks about what a wonderful season it was. Tidus taught her so much. And she knows he would say the same about her—that she helped him appreciate the value of love and sacrifice. Of having a purpose you believe in with all your heart. She’s glad he was able to reconcile with his father too. Sir Jecht certainly had his flaws, but he truly loved his son.

She wipes her eyes and turns away from the falls. Life is far too short and far too precious to hold grudges. It’s best spent loving the people you hold dear and letting them know how much they mean to you while you still can. Making treasured memories that will last until your own time runs out. Death always comes in the end, sometimes when you least expect it. All the Sendings she’s performed, all too often for those far too young, are proof enough of that.

Her mother, her father, and now Tidus. Her life is a series of one loss after the other. But for the sake of the people who remain, she must carry on. To honor the memory of the people she loves and has lost, she must live the rest of her life to the fullest. Must make the most of the remaining time she has and help Spira rebuild.

She walks along the well-worn path. Some moments she desperately wishes she could be reunited with her parents and Tidus again now, even if it means the end of her own life. But then she thinks about how they all want her to live. It would not honor them to end her own life prematurely, especially when her living loved ones need her. She still has work to do in this life. Then, when her time comes and she is reunited with her deceased loved ones in the Farplane at long last, she can do so with the knowledge she has made them proud and has lived her life well. She wants to leave a legacy as impactful as their legacies.

She is on the beach now where Tidus initially appeared, where he first erupted into her life and left a wave of bliss in his wake. The water laps at the hem of her dress and the wet sand rubs against her feet as the sunset streaks the sky with a symphony of colors. She is alive, and every sense celebrates this fact. Out of habit she performs his whistle, flooding the air with the familiar sound. Not so much to try to summon him as to let him know she’s thinking of him. That she remembers him. A promise that he is on her heart and mind until the day she dies.

That’s all anyone really wants, isn’t it? To be remembered even after they’re gone. For their loved ones to treasure the memories of their precious time together in their hearts. That matters far more than fame and riches. 

Yuna clasps her hands and clears her throat, then recounts one of her favorite memories of Tidus, the moment he smiled at her after their first kiss. It’s a little moment in a sea of big ones, but it means so much to her. The tears come and she doesn’t try to restrain them this time. They’re precious reminders of her love for him and soon join the swell of the ocean to carry her grief far away. She’s honest about how much she misses him and how much she wants to see him again. All the specific ways his loss is felt in her heart and her life.

Her only answer is the steady tide lapping against the shore. No one can hear her, no one visible anyway, and yet she feels calmer afterwards. At peace.

She sighs deeply. The sun has set and a cool evening breeze has picked up. The moon casts its gentle warm glow on the sea, and the stars are twinkling in the heavens above. She’s made it through another day without him. Night has come, and this too shall pass.

This will all pass in the end, and hope will come with the dawn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: FFX holds a very dear place in my heart, as it was the first Final Fantasy game I ever played. I have fond memories from enjoying it with one of my closest friends, and then later sharing it with a family member. During difficult times in my life, it's been a comfort to return to, so it was very cathartic to write this story and explore Yuna's thoughts and feelings post-FFX.

Thank you for reading!

[forgottenbones]

Why Is TALK TO ME So Disturbing?

[inanotherworld98]

🪐🤍

[dreamyshift]

There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who say "It's just a cat," and people who have even a shred of basic human decency.

Don't.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

I feel like I should apologize in advance.

CJ coping with the death of one (or both) of her siblings?

(See? I'm sorry. Apparently I like imagining characters suffering.)

...You totally should apologise. Writing this nearly made me cry on several occasions. Which is, of course, why so much of the text is crossed out and a lot of it is not-really-sane purple prose. (In my defence, CJ).

Anyway, proceed with caution. CJ is coping with the death of both of her siblings; set between D2 and D3 (meaning Core 4, CJ, Freddie and Uma are in Auradon).

CJ is having a nightmare.

She must be, surely. Because none of the things that just happened can possibly be real.

None of it.

Smee twins bursting to tears when she asked them how Harry and Harriet are.

Celia falling dead silent and calling for Freddie, for Freddie to play the messenger of the dooming news.

Freddie’s impossibly soft voice when she says the words.

„Your siblings are dead, CJ. I’m so sorry.“

Why is she sorry? She didn’t kill them.

The sentence echoes in CJ’s head over and over.

„Your siblings are dead, CJ. Your siblings are dead. Dead, dead, dead.“

See? This is why it must be only a nightmare; why it simply cannot be real. Her siblings cannot be dead. The world would stop spinning if they were.

…CJ’s head is spinning, caught in a whirlwind, in a tornado. Being pulled under the water surface by a horrible whirlpool, by the Charibdis herself. Freddie’s hand with claw-like nails on her shoulder is the only thing anchoring her to the reality, but then again, if the reality is like this? Maybe she doesn’t want to be a part of it.

She shakes off Freddie’s hand.

„How?“ she asks, and it means so many things. How did they die? Who got them? Did they go fighting, did they suffer? How did anyone dare–

How does she avenge them.

CJ barely registers the answer, beyond „They went together,“ because of course they did, and because she should have been there with them–, because her own mind got the best of her, already answering the last question in a million different ways.

Explosions flicker in front of her eyes, her vision turns red, and her ears still ring with the single word „dead,“ but there is one more question to ask:

„The fuckers who did this?“

CJ hopes they are not dead yet, so she can make them suffer  and scream and beg for mercy that won’t be coming.

„I believe that Sammy, Anthony and Gil took care of that already. Also Ginny,“ says Freddie, speaking for Celia and the twins again, and CJ lets out a chain of curses so horrible that it would make Harriet ground her for a month.

CJ sets off then, not bothering to tell them where she is going or to say goodbye, because what else is left to say? What else is left to lose?

CJ doesn’t want to yell at Freddie and Celia and the little Smee twins – those are not the ones that have earned her wrath.

And yet, the voice in her head won’t stop screaming, calling for blood.

She doesn’t know she is screaming out loud, nor does she notice the hot tears flowing down her cheeks, ugly pathways of broken dams. Only destruction in their wake.

„So… Are you gonna stop her?“ asks Celia, hiding behind her older sister as the pirate pushes past them.

„Nah,“ answers Freddie, and if CJ were able to comprehend it, she’d have cracked a wrecked smirk to her.

Alas, no.

The world has dissolved for CJ Hook.

There is no meaning for it now, no but one: The world must pay. And, oh by the forgotten gods of the dark, will CJ make it.

It only takes one visit to her room for her to get all she needs, her hands doing their tasks completely on autopilot. Unsteered.

Take the dagger, CJ, tuck it to your belt. Then the other one. And another. Don’t forget your sabres. The boxers, for when you feel like you want to punch something – you do want punch something, don’t you? Someone? Their bones cracking under your knuckles, their hot blood splattering all over you?

You do know that a few cracked faces won’t miraculously heal broken reality, don‘t you?

…Yes, that goes for skulls and spines too.

CJ’s own skull throbs violently, she wants to go to Harriet and make her tell her that everything will be okay, even if it’s a lie.

Somehow, explosives find a way to her bag.

Oh, who is she kidding? She knows full well how they got there, and she knows how she wants to use them, too. Her fingers just itch to zap the lighter and throw the gotten-on-black grenades with all her might.

Watch the world burn.

But not yet.

She knows who has to pay first. Who else should it be than the king that condemned her siblings to death for the mere crime of being born? 

The atrocities afterwards do not count.

Old king or new king, CJ doesn‘t care anyway.

The old king and his family, the woman who set up the shimmering Barrier of CJ’s childhood prison and her siblings’s mausoleum, all the people who turned a blind eye to the Isle for the last two decades.

The entire royal council, yeah, sure, why not.

Go big or go home.

CJ laughs hysterically as she walks through the front gate of Auradon Prep, straight to the Castle Beast. 

No one stops her.

No one stops her when she passes to the royal gardens.

The tears don‘t stop either. Or the laughter – why is she laughing anyway? Her mind is screaming.

She stalks through the halls of Castle Beast and slashes her dagger through any portrait she sees, just because she fucking can.

Through their neck, giving them a second smile – maybe that is how her siblings went? It would be only fitting, wouldn‘t it?

CJ flungs one of her daggers at a particularly bothersome vitrage and watches glass crack and fall down in shimmering rain with satisfaction. She hits the window with the hilt of her sabre, too, just to speed up the process a bit. It is a complete accident that she hit the vitrage-prince-Beast in the balls, of course.

Another hysterical laugh escapes her lips. It’s not sob, she’s not sobbing, she’s not crying–

She continues down the hall, looking for the Beast to slay, pouring gasoline in her steps. The fluffy rugs drink it up greedily, like Death claiming yet another life she should not have had.

It takes the sorry excuse of royal guards approximately four to nine minor explosions and one actively burning gallery to catch up to her. 

„What are you doing here, little miss?“ they ask her, as if she wasn’t actively committing arson and on the warpath to kill a few of their beloved monarchs.

„None of your fucking bussiness,“ CJ snarls. She doesn’t have time for underlings. Incompetent ones, at that.

„Get out of my way.“

„I’m afraid we must take you to the cells, or maybe the medic’s first, to calm down a bit.“

„Fucking catch me then.“ 

It is a dare, a challenge, a prayer to the universe to stop this freefall she found herself in.

That said, yeah, CJ doesn’t remember the next few minutes.

She doesn’t know if she killed any of those guards.

She isn’t sure if she cares.

She does care, however, when she finds Belle’s beloved library.More accurately, she cares for destroying it. Burning it, blowing it up…

The flames lick the painted ceiling and sing in a beautiful inferno, drawing out the voices in CJ’s head a little bit.

In the rapidly thickening smoke, she feels like she can breathe for the first time in forever.

Maybe this could be it… Castle Beast going down in flames. Maybe this could be enough… But no.

Auradon could never pay back for her siblings' lives. Not even if she coloured all it‘s rivers red with blood.

But damn it, it would be bloody satisfying at least.

She punches through a glass vitrine to pull out a surprisingly decent-looking tiara and carefully sets it on her head, only to take it off again and flung it against the wall. Only because she fucking can.

She sprints down the halls, her lungs burning like hell itself, and she laughs because what else is there left to do?

…Yeah, fine. Find the Beast and his family, some other people. Hostages. Feed them to sharks, like Harry almost did when he captured the boy-king for Uma.

It really seems to be Ben’s destiny, to be fed to the sharks, doesn’t it?

But maybe CJ will leave the young king live. Only him, though. He has the fancy thing that takes down the Barrier, after all.

Dagger to the neck, a bit of a rope and gentle encouragement, CJ finds herself with two unwilling royal hostages. They move a bit easier when she tells them that now she will go to find Ben, and if they don’t cooperate, he might find himself dead, like her siblings, or gravely injured.

Ben ain’t at the palace, though, no, he is at school. Of course he is. It’s a dumb fucking idea to make a highschooler a king, that what it is.

Shame CJ didn’t remember to pick him up before… Now she has to go back to school.

It isn‘t hard to find him, though.

Auradon could really do with better security.

On her way back, though, she meets Freddie, who is just having a rather unfortunate run-in with Mal, who is also on the verge of tears for some reason. Weird.

„She blew up the Castle!“ Mal screams.

„’s fine by me,“ answers Freddie, „She isn’t dumb enough to stay in a bulding that is going down.“

„She might be trying to harm the king and queen!“

„And?“ Freddie yawns, „Oh, hi, CJ.“

CJ just waves at her with her dagger, as she keeps her other hand on Ben‘s mouth. She also returns the blade back at his hip immediately after.

„SHE IS HOLDING MY BOYFRIEND AT A KNIFEPOINT RIGHT NOW!“ Mal screams, and honestly, Ben should be used to that by now. 

„Aren’t you gonna stop her?!“

Freddie gestures for CJ to get on her way, which CJ happily obliges, as she has, you know, hostages waiting, revenge to carry on.

She hears Freddie’s answer, even if she wishes she did not.

„You don’t have any siblings, do you, Mal,“ Freddie says, and it feels like CJ’s heart is being broken all over again: It must be nothing but dust, iron sawdust, coursing through her veins and tearing her apart with every beat of her heart.

Why is it still beating?

She tries not to think about that, or anything, really, as she drags her hostages to the beach. Only the three of them so far, but it’s fine, she can be back for more. She just needs to visit someone first.

She is knee-deep in the water when she cries out Uma’s name, again and again until the sea witch appears.

„Uma,“ she says, „Harry is dead. Harriet is, too. I don’t know who else.“

Because her siblings… they wouldn’t have gone without a fight. And after their death– eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Life for a life.

CJ doesn’t want to think about that.

Thinking hurts.

Everything hurts.

„Harry is what?!“ Uma asks, voice like the sea just before it shatters into deadly waves.

„Dead,“ answers CJ. It still feels like a nightmare, but the tears on her cheeks are real; so are the cuts on her hands and the bruise rapidly forming at her ribs – where did she even get this one?

It takes Uma only one look to realise that CJ isn’t lying; it takes a confirmation from the Facilier sisters to break her out of her horrified paralysis.

And that night, Auradon falls in storm and fire and subtle bouts of Shadow magic.

In CJ’s opinion, it’s still not enough.

[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour: Top 5 Reasons to Read DON’T ASK IF I’M OKAY by Jessica Kara!

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the TBR and Beyond Tours blog tour for Don’t Ask if I’m Okay by Jessica Kara! I’ve got all the details on this gorgeous contemporary book below, along with my top 5 reasons to read this one, so let’s go!

About the Book

title: Don’t Ask if I’m Okay author: Jessica Kara publisher: Page Street Kids release date: 16 May 2023

Heartfelt and bittersweet, this coming-of age story explores the tender space of healing where grief meets love

A year ago, Gage survived a car accident that killed his best friend, Hunter. Without the person who always brought out the best in him, Gage doesn’t know who he is. He likes working as a fry cook and loves his small-town friends and family, but they weren’t in the wreck and he can’t tell them how much he’s still hurting. He just wants to forget all his pain and move on.

So when his stepdad shows him a dream job opening in one of his idol’s restaurants, Gage knows this is his chance to convince everyone and himself that he’s fine. To try to push past his grief once and for all, Gage applies for the job, asks out a crush, and volunteers to host a memorial for Hunter.

But the more Gage tries to ignore his grief, the more volatile it becomes.

When his temper finally turns on the people he loves, Gage must decide what real strength is—holding in his grief until it destroys him, or asking for help and revealing his broken heart for all to see.

Content Warning: Loss of friend, PTSD, toxic masculinity

Add to Goodreads: Don’t Ask if I’m Okay Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Jessica Kara is a professional author and artist. With a BFA in technical theatre, she worked as a stage manager for eight years in regional theatres and on several national tours. Eventually she left the business to focus on writing, which has always called. She has served as President of her local writing organization, Authors of the Flathead, and is a member of the Society for Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators. She frequently speaks at local conferences, schools, and college classes, striving to inspire a new generation of writers to pursue their passions.

Jess has indie-published a young adult fantasy series featuring gryfon characters, and is excited to now dive into the pool of contemporary young adult fiction. She currently resides in northwest Montana with her husband, spends her time staring at the mountains, drinking a lot of coffee, dreaming up things and people, and chirping back at birds.

Her stories, whether fantastic or contemporary, are “noblebright” at their core, woven with a spirit of determined hope, belief in the power of kindness, and the faith that good will overcome.

Connect with Jessica: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Facebook

Top 5 Reasons to Read

Every once in a while a book comes along that you didn’t realize you needed in your life, and had no idea how much it would affect you, until you read it. In 2021, that book for me was What Beauty There Is by Cory Anderson, and this year it is absolutely THIS BOOK. Here are my top 5 reasons to read Don’t Ask if I’m Okay:

1. It’s the most honest, unflinching, tender exploration of grief I’ve read in a long time. 

2. It’s also an honest and unflinching look at toxic masculinity, how it can mess up our young boys, and how hard they must fight to escape it.

3. It has quite possibly the single best portrayal of a father figure (stepdad) that I’ve read in any YA novel, ever. Seriously, Jack -- I adore you with my whole heart.

4. It’s such a beautiful portrayal of teen friendship, especially between teen boys, and a recognition of how hard it can be for them to lean on each other, even when friends are there to catch them (which holds true for adults, as well!).

5. It’s a book that will rip your heart out, leaving you sobbing and snotty at midnight, and then patch it back together, leaving you smiling through your tears at 1:00 a.m. (this may or may not reflect my actual experience, lol).

I don’t want to say much more so as to avoid spoilers, but I will say this: I lost my sister to domestic violence 15 years ago this past January, and I STLL struggle with grief. Jessica Kara’s portrayal of grief as a circular progression from dark to light and back to dark again (ad infinitum) is so incredibly accurate that I was vigorously nodding along as I read. When Gage says that death isn’t a one-time loss but rather a new loss every time you wake up in the morning, every time something good happens and you want to run and tell the person who’s no longer with you, only to remember they’re gone...ugh. I was pregnant with my first and only child when my sister was killed, and I distinctly remember the day I walked in the house after work and he kicked for the first time and my first thought was, “oh my god, I have to call Krissy!” -- only to remember that wasn’t possible and that she would never know her nephew. 

I say all this to say, this book GETS IT. Ms. Kara GETS GRIEF. If you have a family member or friend struggling with grief and you don’t know what that’s like, read this book. If you are struggling with grief and you want some help healing or some validation that your own feelings are normal, READ THIS BOOK. I cannot recommend this highly enough, I’m honored to have read it, and it will go down as The Special Book of 2023 for me. I hope you’ll pick this one up, and please do let me know your thoughts. And if you ever want to talk about grief, or depression, or pain, or whatever, please know my DMs are open. “Lone wolves die alone.”

RATING: 5 stars! (I know this is not technically a review, but I couldn’t leave this off!)

**Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for purposes of this blog tour.

Check out the Bookstagram tour too! You can find my post here, and the full schedule is here.

[disabledopossum]

Happy Father's Day, Old Man Coyote.

You were, and are still an amazing inspiration. Thank you for the time we had, for the memories, and for all the warmth in my life.

I wish you could be here. But I know you're watching from somewhere around a fire, smoking your pipe. While telling me; "Stop crying over me. Celebrate my life and yours, Kiddo."

I love you, Dad.

[asdpawprint]

There are so many sources of good in the world. There are so many sources of bad in the world. No one person's loss can eliminate either of those completely. It's hard to feel the good that's left when you've just lost part of it. But with time, these wounds will heal. And for some of us, they will leave a scar, but scars are so much less painful than the wounds they come from. We will be able to feel the other sources of good again. And we will find new sources of good. And we will keep the memories of the good we experienced long after their source has left. It'll be okay.

[mytearsarethestars5]

Today I sat with my grief

When I felt it.

I recognized it as an old friend,

Instead of an intruder.

I welcomed it with open arms,

And held it close to me.

I comforted it,

Until there was nothing but calm,

And though it did not dissipate,

And will undoubtedly come again,

I will welcome it once more,

Instead of turning it away at the door.

I will see it when no one else has,

Recognize it no matter the pain,

And comfort it until it no longer aches,

And finds its place in what I call

My new normal.

Greeting Grief

- S.S.B

[delicateavenuereview]

Monster

They said ‘we are here for you,’ 

‘anything at all that you need,’

Their eyes, too, showing their grief

But how do you explain

Every ounce of pain

This monster brings-

How do you explain

The absence of pain

Like I’m a puppet on his strings

And how do you explain

The flames burning ablaze

Taking everything in their way

Then he puts the fire out

And I’m left in doubt

Removed and distant

In a near instant

Because this monster, he thrives on the rise and fall,

The emotions of it all,

He loves to watch you drown

If only to help you, reach for you, and save you

The next time he comes around

So how do you explain

That you feel detained

Held hostage against your will

And how do you explain

That you feel insane

A captive to his thrill

He swallows the flames one at a time

Ignoring his most recent crime,

He leaves you drowning 

In guilt, shame, and all of the blame 

Wondering, questioning, doubting

And how do you explain

The lack of control of my brain-

I’m at mercy to this monster

And how do you explain

The violent terrain

He’s created in his wake

And how do you explain

I don’t know ‘what I need’ for my brain

And everything feels like a mistake

Because I can’t explain

Every ounce of pain

Surging through my veins

I can’t explain

The absence of pain

And it makes me insane

So please explain

How to sustain

This monster I never wanted to meet

Please, help me, and explain

How to contain

This monster we’ve named grief

That is, in fact, what I need

A

[kickdrumheart68]

My wee little Christmas decorations display. It's been so difficult since my mom passed in August; I miss her madly. BUT I'm trying to not just call in sick daily and stay in my pajamas; it's not easy but I refuse to wallow.

[andrewfindsawesomethings]

In the four years since I used this platform I learned to crochet.

[empress-of-hugs]

All That Could Have Been - DoMAYstic day 16

Criminal Minds

JJ Jareau

Also available on AO3

JJ curled her fingers around the warm mug and pulled her legs a little closer to her body. She was curled into the window nook, her legs pulled up under the knitted blanket. Her back comfortably rested against soft pillows. The rain hit the window with soft, infrequent thuds. It obscured the view of the back garden and muted what sunlight there was. It left a gloomy feel, with shadows overtaking most of the room. 

In the distance, a child laughed. A high-pitched, cheerful sound. JJ sighed and wiped at her wet cheek. She pulled the blanket up a little higher. There could have been two children’s voices there. Two happy faces at the breakfast table. Two little bundles of joy to kiss goodnight. But that wasn’t how things had turned out. Her free hand traveled to her stomach, feeling the emptiness of her loss settle right there.   

A girl. She had been certain of it. Even if she hadn’t told a soul, JJ was sure. With each passing day, she had felt closer to Roslyn and she knew her sister was with her in spirit. She had been carrying a girl. JJ wondered what it would have been like to be able to tell Will about her. She imagined going shopping for little pink booties and rompers. Her mother would be knitting a blanket by now, just like she’d done for Henry. They would be talking about names. Would Will have been okay with naming their daughter after both Roslyn and Emily? She sighed. She was never going to know.   

The rain fell against the window, leaving long trails in its wake. JJ wiped at her own tear-stained cheeks. It wouldn’t be much longer until Will was done putting Henry to bed. She had to get herself together before he came back downstairs. There was no reason to hurt him the way she was hurting. He didn’t have to know. 

JJ took a sip of her cinnamon rooibos tea and curled her fingers tighter around the cooling mug. She leaned against the window and wiped the tears off her cheeks. Upstairs, her son laughed again and she allowed herself to feel some of his happiness. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she let it soften her features. Soon, her alone time would be up and she would have to set aside her grief once again. She looked once more at the rain, whispering without a sound, “Take good care of her, Roslyn. Please take care of my little girl.” 

Fin.