#going through every stage of grief simultaneously

[superbellsubways]

[gummy-wormies-blog]

traumatic divorce experience aside, we got SO MUCH STUFF LIKE. i saw someone saying that it's like a fanfic fusion and im doubling on it because it really felt like a crazy amalgamation of everything at once for me (in a good way)

so many bits and pieces to feast upon, i can't even imagine what people will create inspired by all of this!!

[peterman-spideyparker]

Halo (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy, folks! In my slow sift through and re-editing process of fics on my laptop and in my notebooks, I've re-come across this fic. It's probably been written for, what, a year and a half? Two years? and I've waffled on it because I didn't know if I should post it. It's a continuation of Angel, but if you've read it and want to stay sitting in the angst, you can. It's still angst, but, it might make you feel better? Idk. I cried writing it and then every time I've re-read it, and I think id I tried to write more, I'd be a vicious cycle of tears. Not my best editing, but. Enjoy!

Summary: Matt is grieving your loss hard even months after your death. It's like a non-stop film reel in his mind. He's wracked with despair, and ready to submit when his angel comes to his rescue.

Warnings: ANGST (dead dove, do not eat), talk of death, wounds (stab wound, gunshot wound, blood--canon typical violence), a lot of crying, hurt comfort?, Matt has a lot of self hatred in this from guilt

Other Characters: Father Lantom, Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 1,635

Everything is too loud and too quiet at once. It’s been like that for the last couple of months since you died. His surroundings have been simultaneously amplified and dampened. He doesn’t know how to function. He hasn’t been able to figure out what life means without you. He doesn't feel as if he's living anymore.

Matt can feel when Father Lantom sits down next to him. He's been coming to church more often, as if his desperate prayers will change the past and bring you back to him. He can feel every last bit of the polyblend fibers in Father Lantom's black clothes, but it just feels like static to him. An indistinct haze. But even for as hazy as it is, for as much sensation as it is, it just makes Matt feel more numb. He tunes out Father Lantom’s words, and only when he feels his hand on his back does Matt actually pay attention to what his priest is saying.

“I was playing pool with a man once—a unique fellow with an insightful mind,” the priest starts with a breath. “He imparted words to me that were so incredibly wise it made a priest speechless. It was a simple question: ‘What is grief, if not love preserving?' As I let that sink in, he continued. He said that all those feelings—the anger, the sadness, even the hollowness, everything that brings a person to tears—that is all the unspoken love that you still have for someone. It’s a good thing, Matthew. Love . . . Love isn’t something you switch on and off like a lamp. It’s shouldn’t be—if it is, it isn’t love.”

Matt sits in the pew, his heart heavy, hurting, and crumbling.

“I keep thinking I’m going to find her at home,” Matt finally sniffles, his voice trembling. “I keep hoping that this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and we’ll be in bed and she’ll hold me the way she does after I have a bad dream. That she’ll make every bad thing I’m feeling go away.”

Father Lantom puts a careful hand in Matt’s back, and it’s enough to have him break down. 

“I miss her so much,” Matt weeps in the empty church. “I-I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Matthew . . .”

“She died in my arms,” he sobs. “I couldn’t—I should’ve—I need her. I’m lost without her.”

Father Lantom knows there’s nothing more to say as Matt lets his grief take center stage, feeling the pain course over him in violent wave after violent wave rather than pushing it down. 

This is it, he thinks. This is where he dies, on some random rooftop.

And you know what? He couldn’t care less. Being a lawyer, fighting this fight, day and night, it’s pointless. How can he try helping others when he couldn’t help the person he cared about most? When she, dying in his arms, was comforting him? This is what he deserves—it’s better than what he deserves, he thinks. This is a relatively clean death—a little bullet hole in his flesh. You were all but sliced in two. He deserves to be torn to bits for what he let happen to you . . . He deserves so much worse. But, as he lays there, bleeding out, all he can thing about is how he never deserved you. How you would have been so much better off without him.

How you’d be alive had the two of you never met.

“Matty?” he hears a gentle voice say. “Matty, I’m gonna help you sit up.”

No . . . This isn’t happening. The voice, he knows it. He thought he’d never hear it again. 

(Y/N). 

“God, you’re heavy,” you grunt as you help him sit upright, a careful, warm hand over where he was shot as the other is firm on his back. 

“Wha—Huh?” he starts to groan, panic quickly starting to bubble. 

“Matt, calm down, it’s okay,” you urge. “I’m here, angel, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

He sputters your name in disbelief. “Is that really you?”

He feels how your fingers run through his hair and down to a loving grip on his forearm. 

“Hey, Matty.”

“Sweetheart, wha—?”

“Matt, I know it’s a lot. I know. But it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“H-How?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “How?”

He listens to you let out a sigh, how your brows furrow, trying to find the best answer to his question. “Divine intervention?”

“Y-You died, (Y/N).” He smells the salt of your tears in the air. “You died in my arms. Why didn’t you hold on?” 

“I tried,” you tell him. “I wanted to. You were so scared Matt. God, I—.” You sniffle and bite your lip, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I would give anything to forget the pain on your face, Matty. But then I wouldn’t have been able to see my favorite person.” You wipe the tears away from his cheeks. “Matty, I’m not gone. I’m with you always, you know that, right?”

“I couldn’t save you.”

“You saved the city and the world from a frightening reality. You’ve done it so many times, angel.”

“That doesn’t change what I failed to do.”

“Forever the Catholic—full of guilt.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Matty, look at me. You are the best thing in the world that ever happened to me, you understand that? You made me feel so loved, so cherished, so safe, and so valued. I never felt more myself than being with you. Everything that you made me feel . . . Matt, that’s love. That’s what love is, what it does, and what it feels like. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer to have you realize that and feel the same.”

“I did, sweetheart, I felt it.” 

“Then you need to remember that feeling and let it guide you. I want you to be happy, Matt. I don’t want you to be sad forever. I can’t have that.”

“I miss you so much. I don’t think that’s ever going to stop.”

“It’s only a beautiful thing. It’s all the unexpressed love. We never get enough time with each other, Matt. But the best part of it is, Matt? We’re going to see each other again. It’s gonna be a while, but when we do?” Matt can taste the salt in your tears. “Be there as much as possible for one another, Matt. Okay? Don’t shut people out, don’t push them away because you want to protect them or because you don’t feel like you deserve happiness, because you will mourn that time you lost. Open up your heart again. It’s one of the most beautiful things you can share.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he cries as he holds onto you. “I don’t want to go back.”

“You know you don’t mean that.”

“I can’t . . . I miss waking up next to you. It keeps getting harder. It’s all crushing in on me.” He sniffles. “The apartment is loosing your smell.”

Tears roll down your cheeks at his distress. “Matt . . .”  you soothe. “I miss you more than I can say. There are absolutely no words in any language to tell you how much my heart hurts that I’m not physically with you every day.”

“Then let me stay. Don’t make me go back. Please let me stay here with you.”

“I can’t make that decision. If . . . Matty, I know you know that you’re not finished on Earth.”

“Angel . . .”

“Matty?” you say softly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Tears stream down his face as he looks at you, his pupils locking onto yours for the first time. His hand carefully cups your cheek, afraid to touch you—like you’ll disappear. He gently touches your hair next, tucking it behind your ear before his thumb traces over your nose and cheek, finally brushing against your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he croaks.

“Hi, Matty.”

Holding your face in his hands, he leans in for the kiss of a lifetime, pouring every ounce of love he has into in.

“H-How . . .? I don't . . . You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” he sniffles as he moves to rest his forehead against mine. “God . . . You’re just . . . You’re here. You’re perfect.”

“Those are some super senses, huh?” you joke with a wet chuckle as you rest your foreheads on one another.

“I love you so much, (Y/N). I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“Pull through for me, Matt,” you plea. “You’re not done yet, my angel. I know you’re not.”

“You’re gonna be with me, huh?”

“Forever and always, every step of the way. And hey—I better not see you again until it’s your time. Actually your time.”

“Promise,” he says with a soft smile, holding your face in his hands as he looks at you with tears in his eyes, desperately trying to memorize every last detail in your face.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you more.”

He feels the burning, piercing pain in his ribs before anything else. Then, it’s the dried blood on his skin. Foggy’s muttering to himself in the kitchen about how he needs to find better friends that don’t dress up and prance around at night in ways that bring them two steps away from death.

When Matt’s eyes flutter open into a darkness he’s become accustomed to, tears begin to sting at his eyes as a fresh, strong whiff of your scent hits his nose in his apartment as if you’re walking by him like you’d done so many times before.

Forever and always.

While it hurts, Matt knows from that point on things will start to get a little easier. You're here with him, after all.

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[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.25

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat doesn’t respond to any of your texts, she doesn’t explain why she was sorry, nor does she show up on Friday. You waited at the cafe for 3 hours before you finally accepted that she wasn’t coming. You had been too anxious to order coffee so you ordered a tea but it had long gotten cold. The barista would glance at you every so often with pity and embarrassment burned your cheeks. 

You threw the cold tea in the trash and left the cafe vowing to avoid this part of town for a while. You were hurt and angry but more than anything you were confused. She had seemed thrilled to meet you and it was her idea in the end so why was she bailing on you? The thought that she wasn’t who she claimed to be quietly crept up on you throughout the day but you’d heard her voice, at the very least she wasn’t a 60-year-old man. At least she didn’t sound like one.

You’re looping through the five stages of grief throughout the week and by the end of it, you're a sobbing mess in your friend's arms. There’s copious amounts of ice cream in your freezer and a bottle of wine has already been emptied as the two of you find yourself back on your couch but this time the circumstances are less enjoyable.

“I don't understand what I did wrong” Your friend gently caresses your hair as you stain her shirt with salty tears. She’d known the second she saw you that something was wrong and you’d nearly broken down on your lunch break in front of her when she asked if you were alright. 

Even your mother seemed to notice something was off just by the sound of your voice. She’d threatened to come down and maim the person that hurt you and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that neither of you would know where to find her.

“Maybe she’s just scared?” Your friend tried to reason. You don’t know how long she’s been comforting you but it’s the only thing keeping you from texting Nat again. You’ve ranged from screaming at her through texts to sending her sob-ridden voicemails and you hoped to keep at least a small part of your dignity intact.

“But it was her idea!” You argue “and she knows I wouldn’t be mad if she wasn’t ready. I just don’t understand why she won’t respond” A fresh wave of anger washes over you as you get up from the couch, your hands waving wildly as you make your way to the fridge “And what was with that cryptic text?! Why couldn’t she just say why she was sorry? What’s an apology without an explanation?”

You angrily grab a carton of ice cream and two spoons, huffing as you plop down on the couch and handing the spare spoon to your companion. You instinctively reach out for your phone, checking to see if Nat’s at least read your messages. She hasn’t.

You go to text her again, fueled by frustration despite your thread of unanswered messages. They stare tauntingly at you as the blue light assaults your tired teary eyes.

        Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦: 

Are you okay? We don’t have to meet but I’m getting worried about you

Y/n🍦:

Nat? I’m going to call.

Y/n🍦:

I never realized you don’t have a voicemail tone

I was hoping I’d get to hear your voice one last time

Y/n🍦:

You know what? Screw you, I don't deserve this!

Y/n🍦:

I didn’t mean it. I miss you.

I’m calling again.

You make a move to text her again but your friend slips the phone from your hands before you get the chance. She deletes whatever jumbled mess you had started typing and sets your phone behind her so you can’t reach it. You simultaneously want to scream at her and thank her. 

“Maybe we should give her some time?” You pick up on what she’s saying immediately. Realizing she might not be talking about Nat. You only manage a small nod as you slump further into the couch and start eating your ice cream.

“Can we put something on?” Your friend nods and turns the TV on and you’re grateful for the temporary distraction but you know the second she leaves you’ll probably send Nat another voicemail.

The silence allows you ample time to give in to your anxiety, realizing you don’t know as much as you probably should about Nat. You don’t know her last name, if she has any siblings, what she does for a living. For all you know, she could be a contract assassin, it would make sense why she disappeared all the time. 

 You had no idea who you’d been talking to and now that you’d grown an attachment to her she ghosted you. Had that been her plan the whole time? Was this some kind of game to her? Did she even really care about you? Your thoughts swirl and grow into a ball of anxiety and paranoia and you stare blankly at the TV as the cold of the metal spoon presses into your tongue.

~~

Nat lays on the cold pullout couch of her trailer and stares at the ceiling for what feels like days. It’s all she can bring herself to do when she’s not busying herself with other distractions. When she doesn’t distract herself her mind wanders to you. 

She promised she’d never make you cry. Her heart squeezes at the thoughts that must be running through your head. She’d had to leave her phone behind at the tower but she’d gotten a glimpse of your worried messages while she was packing. She felt horrible to leave you without an explanation but how would you believe her if she told you over text? 

She planned to tell you everything when you met but now she wouldn’t get the chance. And all because of the stupid government treaty Stark wanted them to sign. It made her impossibly angry just thinking about Thursday evening.

*The Avengers had all gathered in the meeting room, except Peter who was taking tests at school that he didn’t want to miss. The room was tense as Tony flipped through pictures and videos of the destruction their fights often led to, only stopping when Steve told him to. Nat could understand where Tony was coming from, she understood that the wreck that became the city was distressing but if it meant lives were saved wasn’t it worth it? 

She refused to be under anyone’s control ever again now that she had her freedom. She wasn’t going to be put on a leash. They already complied with all of the publicity stunts and interviews the government made them do but now they wanted to control their lives? What were they going to do next tell her how to breathe? 

Not to mention she didn’t want them getting involved in her relationships. She couldn’t have them knowing about you- controlling you. She wouldn’t let them take you from her. She smiled at the thought of you, glancing at her phone to see your good luck message.

“Well you can tell them your opinions face to face” Natasha’s head snaps up at Tony’s words and Bucky fixes him with a suspicious glare

“You better not be saying what I think you are Stark” He seeths out and Tony just shrugs, checking his watch

“They’ll be here in a few hours, I already agreed to sign it” The room erupts in a flurry of outrage. Wanda is the first to leave, scoffing as she pushes out of her chair and makes her way to the meeting room door. Vision follows after her, worry evident on his features.

Steve is still arguing with Tony trying to reason with him but it seems like it’s falling on deaf ears and Nat watches as her family begins crumbling in front of her eyes. She stays stoically silent, unsure of what to say to stop the fighting that's only getting worse. Bucky looks half ready to sock Tony in the face and she wouldn’t fault him for it but she doesn’t want violence to break out nonetheless.

“They backed me into a corner! We don’t have any other options! We don’t know what they’ll do to us if we don’t agree!” She can hear the desperation in Stark’s voice; the fear. A man who was always trying to prevent what could happen so much that he became oblivious to what was happening.

“We don’t know what they’ll do to us if we do!” It’s the last thing Bucky says before he storms out of the room, Steve following not soon after. Tony looks to Bruce but he only solemnly shakes his head, sitting quietly in his chair as he tries to think of another solution. 

Stark tries to reason with Nat but she just sighs. She doesn’t know how to solve this yet but she’ll figure out a solution. For now, she needs to do what she assumes the rest of her family is doing: Pack and find a place to hide out for a while. She’d seen what the government does to powerful people they don’t trust- she’d been part of some of those missions. She knows it’s in their best interest not to stick around unless they want to be thrown onto The Raft until they agree to sign their lives away.*

That’s how she ended up here, in the middle of nowhere, cold and alone. She’d had to leave her phone behind so that she couldn’t be tracked and that meant she couldn’t text you. She briefly considered texting you from a burner phone, she had your number memorized but she didn’t want to freak you out and she was worried about how you’d react. 

She didn’t want to have to tell you the truth over the phone, and what were the chances of you believing it was her? Most of all she was terrified that you’d be angry, that you’d tell her you never wanted to hear from her again. You would be justified in that response but she wasn’t ready to face that just yet. So she busied herself with concocting any possible ways to get her family safe and back together again. 

Pt.26

A/n: Sorry for the late chapters I've been rewriting them until they feel good enough to put out. (Also yes this is based on Civil War but it doesn't follow the same outcome)~ Starry

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[kiwioala]

never forget what team bolas had to go through to win, i watched this group of six adults go through all 5 stages of grief, become batshit crazy and hit rock bottom before they hit rock bottom so hard they bounced back and won.

they had to:

hit rock bottom

desperately call their teammates bc if 1 of them has to suffer, all of them do

start a fucking cult

sink so low they all say fuck it and agree to become cannibals if it comes down to it

go through, at the very least, 5 mental breakdowns,

call philza and beg for help and tutorials

spend all of that time simultaneously gathering resources for 4 hours straight

stg having carre pop in once every 30 minutes just yelling some random vulgar phrase helped them a lot

raid another teams base and steal their goddamn NPC to prevent them from turning in quests

gaslight the hell out of quackity (god bless tina for helping them)

lose the NPC and have slime roleplay as a crazed masked man to steal it back underneath quackitys nose

Craft 1042 Rails. Craft 32 MineCarts.

survive the horrors from that damned roulette thing

and die like another 75 times

[corioheinous]

Can I just say how much I love love love it when a character or a group of characters are haunted by the absence of a person who was once integral to their lives. Especially when the entire narrative is structured around that particular loss like hands down my favorite television shows right now are Fleabag and The Bear which are both Masterful fucking examples of this (Fleabag’s dead best friend, though you could probably make a case for her mother too, and Carmy’s dead brother respectively).

And it’s like. The loss of these loved ones is so inextricable from the characters that survived them to the point where everything they do and say every choice they make whether good or bad is ultimately influenced by their grief. I’m catching up with the current Blue Period arc right now and really enjoying it, mostly bc of the complicated friendship dynamic between Momoyo, Murai, and Hachiro—and the lone piece missing from their friend group—Sanada. Murai’s experience with grief in particular is so fascinating to me because unlike Momoyo and Hachiro, he hasn’t been able to “move on” or cope with his grief in a healthy way. It’s sort of become this unsurmountable weight on his shoulder, this ghost-like presence that looms over his character constantly. When Yatora reflects on his loss in ch. 62, there’s an interesting emphasis placed on Murai’s expression—

—which made me realize just how emotional of a character Murai is through his facial expressions alone. Not necessarily in this chapter, because he’s very much putting on a brave face, but in chapter 64, you practically witness him going through every stage of grief at once. It’s honestly a massive transformation given that he’d been stuck in the “denial” stage for so long.

I think it’s interesting to think of Murai as both a character who is avoidant, repressive, in denial about his own feelings and the reality of the world around him (it’s mentioned also in ch. 64 that Murai didn’t even attend Sanada’s funeral, which is exactly the kind of immature behavior/inability to cope that you would expect from a character like him) WHILE simultaneously being someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. I reckon he forces himself to feel nothing at all out of fear that he’ll feel too much at once, and thus end up causing a scene like he did at Sanada’s posthumous exhibition.

Besides the cool back tat and funky earring, I wasn’t all that compelled by Murai’s character until I read through this chapter and experienced this entire emotional upheaval alongside him. I kind of just had to sit down for a bit after reading the last scene, after Yotasuke’s Murai-san, it’s okay to live your life holding onto that grief forever, isn’t it? comment which is such a bonkers thing to say (/pos) and God. Not to quote The Bear FX here but it really is satisfying to watch a character that you know needs to let it rip just let it rip. That laidback attitude and nonchalant expression of his were never truly the whole of it. I’m really satisfied with the way grief & loss has been framed through Murai, and I’m excited to see what his character becomes as he continues to both carry these feelings inside him and live to grow around them.

[serial-designation-dz]

If N and or Uzi die in episodes 6/7 I will go through every stage of grief simultaneously with the exception of acceptance.

[tiggyloo]

The wave of pure AGONY that washed over me just now when I saw this is unimaginable. This is the best price I've ever seen for an in box crystal clear Starcast. I could technically barely afford it right now, which means I can't afford it right now. I'm currently going through every stage of grief simultaneously except acceptance.

[lilacs-stash]

Going through every stage of grief simultaneously

[mwebber]

oscar in the new grill the grid looking at the biosphere in montreal and realizing "there's even a canadian flag on it" and visibly going through every stage of grief simultaneously like okay maybe he's endearing himself to me . perhaps

[chiveburger]

so my mom comes back tonight from hong kong, which simultaneously marks the end of my time of living alone and I have to say... I am so fucking relieved. although! a lot of good came out of me being alone for the last 2 months and I have to take some time to reflect on that. first of all, it’s not like I’ve never lived alone but this is the first time I did it while working full time and relied on my car everyday. that in itself enabled me to get more comfortable with driving, meet up with people and preserved that privacy that I often wouldn’t get if I needed to picked up and dropped off, and just... feel more grown up lmao. for example the other day I drove out an hour to richmond to meet my friends for camping and I remember driving down this exact same road maybe a year ago and pissing myself crossing a “tight” bridge. granted I was with my backseat driving mom, but it felt pleasant this time and having that vivid comparison was kind of nice. while I am by no means a good driver now I’m in general more cognizant of things that go on and I know (sometimes) what’s right and what’s wrong. so, that was one thing that living alone pushed me to do and it helped a lot because now I’m able to get to places without going through the 7 stages of grief every time I step foot in my car. while I don’t think living alone made me become a health guru who make a new chicken fajita recipe every night, and I’m gaining weight RAPIDLY because I eat out so much, it did make me realize how difficult it is to try to balance your life while needing to work full time and cook and clean and do everything to keep yourself sane. I don’t want to live alone right now, but it’s nice to do it for a short period of time. If anything, this time alone has given me time to do a lot (and buy a lot) of things I often wouldn’t if my family was here, and while the novelty wears off fast it’s a good period of learning and self reflecting. I’m 27 but I do not see myself needing to forcefully move out to become more “independent” or to fit into the niche of adults who think it’s necessary to do that but eventually I might. I’m really happy my mom is coming back, but the distance allowed me to 1) become a better driver, 2) redecorate my room, 3) buy expensive strawberry hagan daaz ice cream and 4) sleep with my cat in the bed. out of all the times I’ve lived alone, this one was definitely the most fruitful 

[dnangelic]

i dont have anybody to talk to about the way that the volume 3/white day drama cd portions are great additions to the manga in their own way so i just have to start yelling and throwing clips around. the dialogue gets extended and onosaka does so good, since the overall premise is that dark essentially took control of daisuke's form+body and started doing whatever he wanted (which was mostly flirting around with every girl in sight) while daisuke was going through an internalized crisis and running away from facing a number of his actual feelings. this was really early volume so dark and daisuke's relationship wasn't as synced up as it gets later on (baku arc, also the thematic of being able to hear and transmit one's feelings + voice/'sound,') and dark and daisuke argue a little with dark trying to get daisuke to face and accept his feelings of shifting love as he simultaneously ignores/'rejects' daisuke to do as he likes, until daisuke flat out falls into a complete 'who am i?' identity crisis and retreats so deeply into himself that he practically disappears.

the extended dialogue in the drama cd has dark standing around in the aftermath of everything practically going thru all 7 stages of grief trying to get daisuke to talk to him after daisuke retreats. onosaka's delivery makes dark sound deeply anxious and scared, if not increasingly sad.

there's nothing but the sound of the outside wind around him. he doesn't stop calling daisuke's name with increasing concern. he tries to joke and tease a reaction out of daisuke and gets nothing. then he practically begs daisuke for a reaction and gets nothing. cut immediately to risa begging dark not to go away, followed by dark's admission that he can't hear daisuke anymore.

cut to the next track where dark has a solo monologue, complete with Extremely Ominous music over how dark everything is, and how there's nothing in his heart + how silent, empty, cold, and unfeeling it is compared to when daisuke is with him. in the manga this monologue doesn't exist. instead it's only comprised of the latter portion, beginning with kosuke (daisuke's father's) dialogue, but the ending is essentially the same.

dark feelings things through daisuke is a constant. volumes later even in post hiatus circumstances when riku unintentionally stumbles across daisuke he runs and hides again, and dark's expression in the moment really says it all.

this is literally the saddest he's ever looked in 20 whole ass volumes, because the same way that 'dark's feelings reside within daisuke's heart,' so does daisuke's sorrow. by the end of everything daisuke actually becomes capable of braving these feelings that initially gave him so much trouble, and his pace matches dark's - more specifically, in the early volumes, daisuke constantly refers to dark as 'someone/something that isn't him; someone that's completely 'different' from himself,' even though dark had been trying to convince him the entire time - dark is him; can only live and exist and feel through daisuke, not only as a [supernatural] individual, but even, quite literally, a work of art. by the time baku arc rolls around daisuke's in a place where he can readily accept that they're each other without any spite or bitterness towards dark. it's the opposite, even: dark had changed from a 'condition' that he couldn't stop wanting to cure to a calming, comforting presence that brought him strength and inspired him. anyways point is dark is a pathetic wet cat without daisuke and nobody should ever separate them.

[tinnitusdiaries]

12/3/2023

When I got tinnitus, I went through all five stages of grief. I have cycled through every stage daily, simultaneously, and slowly over time. Sometimes they go in order, sometimes they don't.

I believe anger was the strongest. I don't know yet if it lasted the longest.

I was angry at myself, my parents, researchers, doctors, my music professors. Everyone. Find a person on the street and I could probably find a reason to be angry at them because my tinnitus.

I was angry at music mostly. Like, the art of sound. I was angry at that. I know it sounds ridiculous.

My entire life has revolved around music. My family is comprised of musicians. I spent every weekend in crusty bars and smokey basements listening to DIY bands that my friends put together. Each day for 4 years I drove to and from Chicago to earn my music education degree. Every job I have had since I was 18 related to music.

How could the foundation of my life have failed me like this? I don't know if I ever figured that out, or ever will. I was so angry I stopped playing music. No Spotify, no guitar, and no concerts.

Recently, though, I think I hit my acceptance phase.

Last night I was at a stuffy DIY show in someone's trippy studio that could only be accessed through an alley in Chicago. I stayed all three hours wearing two types of hearing protection and smiled throughout the noise, exhaustion, and overstimulation.

It's okay that I have tinnitus, it's okay that it could get worse, it's okay that music may have caused this. I can't live life too carefully or change who I am at my core because some harmless ringing in my ear.

[stellamancer]

Niku…….

aleks, i am currently going through every stage of grief simultaneously.

tHINGS ARE NOT DAIJOUBU!!!!!

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

If you think jungkook knows about ship wars and the hate jimin gets as a result, how do you not hate him?

Because I basically have to tell myself that he likely doesn’t really know, because if I think he knows and he still lets it happen/encourages it and hurts jimin, I can’t help but fking hate him for it. And while I don’t care for him at all, I don’t want to HATE him. But yeah knowing he’s hurting jimin and dgaf makes me hate him. But it doesn’t seem like you hate him? How?

I don't think I have it in me to feel hate, like I really think I've never felt anything like hate.

It's also been a really long road... I've been through every stage of grief and rude awakenings in regards to Jungkook lmao. It wasn't hate but there was a moment in time I resented him a lot. It wasn't constant either, it was a feeling of resentment that came and went a couple of times throughout the years. I think 2021 was the moment it really got bad and I decided to just step away, because it was toxic for me only. Jungkook was okay, he was happier than ever. Jimin seemed okay too, for the most part. It was only me who was feeling that toxicity.

I've never believed Jimin to be stupid. And he loves himself and I believe that in relationships/friendships he won't settle for less than what he deserves. He's probably learned that the hard way, too; if we go by things he's shared. So even if there were things about jikook/Jungkook that were weird or "bad" and that constantly brought hate to Jimin, I still always tried to keep in mind that Jimin is an adult and if he keeps insisting in something/someone then he must've been getting something good out of it, even if what I saw wasn't always nice.

I realized that I expected more of Jungkook because I thought there was something between him and Jimin, so naturally I expected him to care more and act better for Jimin than a friend probably would. Once I stopped seeing them as "more", Jungkook's actions and words started to matter less and less, because I wasn't expecting anything special from him anymore. The way he is with Jimin is just okay for a friend. So I stopped getting disappointed and resenting him whenever he was dismissive of Jimin.

It also helped that Jimin stepped away from him. It used to be really sad for me to see Jimin going for a hug and being rejected or pushed away by Jungkook, or receiving a blank stare, all those things you probably know. I really used to feel like my heart broke everytime lmao. So it helped that Jimin kinda stopped being so affectionate with him because he didn't get rejected so often.

Both things happened almost simultaneously, Jimin putting some distance and me realizing that whatever Jungkook did or said didn't bother me if I just thought of him as a friend to Jimin. End of 2021 was also the starting point for me to stop seeing jikook as particularly special or close to each other so it all kinda fell into place. I stopped resenting Jungkook and expecting or hoping he would say something against the hate from taekookers because I realized maybe he has no reason to say anything at all, since he's not actually Jimin's partner so it's not his business.

[isntthatwrite]

went to the intersection of hard work and suffering and they told me it wasn't actually an intersection at all

yeah i'm watching the olympics

astrology blurb: i am thinking simultaneously about 2 things - the influence of saturn in my chart and the astrological breakdown of the signs most likely to medal in the olympics

(Source)

Capricorn

Aquarius

Sagittarius

Pisces

Aries

Virgo

Gemini

Cancer

Libra

Taurus

Scorpio

Leo

i notice how the most likely signs here are all of the "oldest" signs chronologically. leo and scorpio being the lowest is personally devastating but ultimately makes a lot of sense. profound difficulties with ego/pride and letting yourself be bad at something as part of your growth journey.

as for the other topic i will add on - my saturn sits in my 8th house and sextiles or trines a lot of my major/personal chart placements. the planet of restrictions and consequences in the house of death/rebirth sex and taxes - crazy that those are connected! i'll get into the 8th house of it all in a different post, but for now, i want to toss in this little blurb pointing out the influence of saturn on my chart and how i see it has made me appreciate hard work and how it often requires these ego death-like situations

-----

i do not believe this is unique of me whatsoever. but every time the olympics rolls around, every time i tune in, i am in tears. while it's true that they often weave tearjerking tales about familial loss, injury, triumph, almost giving up, and so on, sometimes all that it takes to make me cry is just seeing someone be so incredibly good at something for the whole world to see. everyone is just in a league of their own! you don't even need a training montage to know. everyone who's there is there for a reason. you can work and everyone knows it. i always fancied myself a bit more of a jack of all trades than something like the olympics could allow, mildly good at a wider variety of things, but never particularly outstanding. for most of my younger life, i was the most 85% student in the world. i showed up to school, i did enough of the reading, i highlighted enough and sat quietly in class. i was kind of the most forgettable type of student. never doing all that badly, but certainly not top of the class. i think people assume you're smart when you're quiet and wear glasses, and i think they never notice you're pretty disconnected from the class material when you're not failing. after a few years of coasting, i finally failed.

technically, a D-, on my first ever chemistry exam in my junior year of high school. i still remember holding it in my hands and sitting in my seat in shock. i studied in the same way i always do! why did it go so profoundly wrong this time? and why do you get so little credit for getting more than 50% of the questions right? i went through the stages of grief in that chair. i failed in a way that got me noticed. i had failed tests before, but somehow always in situations where the rest of the class had also done really poorly too, so it never felt like My Fault in this same way. i realized all of my prior experiences of getting an 85% on a test were me just being really good at bullshitting my way through. i was failing in much smaller ways this whole time! i was not learning the material or engaging with it in really any class, but most other classes before this point could be problem solved in a way easily accessible to me. but only at about 85% accuracy. chemistry started me on the tumultuous path of developing a relationship with failure.

once i came to terms with reality and the fact that there was nothing that could change what had already happened, i got to work on my plan for improving my situation. i couldn't undo that first test, but i could really focus on learning the material and practicing with it. i became close with my teacher and went all out. i was really fortunate that i had a teacher who was able to see beyond my initial failure and help invest in my success. i could not be bashful about needing help. i no longer had the ability to skate because i would not get through the class! junior year of high school, the threat of college was loudly looming, and failure was just not an option. after years of being a perfectly average student, i could tell that how i handled chemistry class would decide which college options would be available to me and thus, The Path The Rest Of My Life Would Take. passing vs failing chemistry would inform the friends i'd make in college, the programs available to me, the cities i could move to, the internships/future jobs i could have. laid out in front of me like this, it suddenly was very serious.

i think the craziest thing to me about that moment of panic was how calm i was the rest of the time. once the initial shock wore off, i felt purposeful. i was honestly happy! i had a fear of failing again and what that would mean, but i really left it up to the universe at a certain point. if i gave it my all, what more could i really have done? and if i really learned everything i could, how could i fail? i had no reputation to maintain, as i had been every type of student in the past. i've gotten every possible grade they can give you. i defied categorization in that way. i knew my core self wasn't really too concerned with the grades themselves, but rather about how i engaged with the material. can i power through hardship? can i learn something and deeply understand it to its core?

i felt all the noise quiet down at a certain point and i just focused on what i could control - developing thorough mastery of the material, as it was presented to me. i began to learn everything forward, backward, sideways, upside down. i was asking my teacher impossible hypothetical questions, just in case that ever happened for any reasons. i imagine if she ever felt particularly sadistic toward a class in the future, she would use my hypothetical questions as gag questions on exams in the future. i loved the gag questions in exams. the question put there to confuse you and make you want to quit. i learned in this journey that i love a challenge. i need a challenge. i cannot be bothered if it's simple. i need that shit that is so needlessly complicated that it pisses you off at first glance. one of my earlier failures, my 8th grade algebra exam (which the entire class failed too), i sat back in disbelief as the teacher went through solving the gag question and i did it flawlessly. one of my only unaffected test questions. i had college professors tell me i was infuriating to grade because i so clearly understood the most complicated thing, but did the tier 1 concepts so badly. i remembered the time in my elementary years when my summer camp's Newton's cradle got so tangled in transit that everyone was preparing to throw it away and i spent the next several hours meticulously untangling it. i love that shit that breaks you.

as one could imagine, i got an A in the class. i got myself together soooo profoundly. i was borderline performing at the end. i knew the material so well i could not help myself. i noticed how much i felt a creative energy in the chemistry classroom, even though everyone went on about how science was so rigid and Had Rules and was for Serious People and so on. i was doing shit the teachers had never even thought of. i felt like i was born for theoretical science. that cutting edge of what is or what might be. it pisses me off that you have to be good at the linear shit first before they take you seriously anywhere else. i understand why...... but i hate it still. some of us just know.

after this classroom experience, i went on to do almost this exact thing again a few more times. unexpectedly failing a class with my mediocre approach until i realized i had to get serious and i ended the class correcting the professors. i did this outside of the classroom too! getting into such a dire situation that you genuinely cannot save yourself without bossing up. the risk of collapse is what creates you anew. rebirth at the hands of doom. sometimes we need to die before we can be born! the old version of you is sometimes no longer supported and that bitch must go!

i'm sure you see where i'm headed here. when you allow yourself to invest in becoming Really Really Good at something (even if it's natural talent!), you will experience every high and low imaginable. and let's face it! a lot of people do not really want you to succeed! a lot of people are not yet ready to see themselves as successful and will not be able to handle your success. putting work in and becoming better/smarter/faster/etc makes people realize they just need to be doing that too to become good at something. rather than lamenting how they're the most 85% student in the world, they are forced to realize that change and doing better is entirely in their hands and not something naturally awarded. you will have to see yourself fail if you want to see yourself really winning.

the unglamorous part of being Really Really Good at something is how many times you had to be awful at it first. and how many days it feels like that may kill you. i'm the kind of guy who cannot bear to repeat myself more than once. if i'm filling out an online form and it deletes my response, i have to take a walk and come back to it. i do not like the feeling of when it seems as though my attempts don't matter. every olympic training montage i am in tears. i vividly remember the music video back in 2012 for that song "The Fighter" featuring 2012 olympic gymnast John Orozco and crying every time i saw it or heard the song. frankly, as soon as anyone calls themselves a "fighter", i fall to pieces. are you able to watch yourself fall 20 times in a row and not call yourself a failure? you can fail every single day for a year and you never have to identify with it. you never have to call yourself anything negative at all! not even once! encouraging yourself to learn more and work harder does not ever have to be "because you were bad".

i think my potentially hot take here is that, as the title of this post suggests, hard work and suffering are not at all the same thing. i'm thinking a lot here about the expression "if you love what you do, you never work a day in your life". it implies that doing something you love will not require "work"..... as though it will just come easily....... and you'll just be doing it???? to me, it's not that the work is easy, it's that you want to do it. you get so much satisfaction out of doing it that you couldn't imagine doing anything else. pursuing knowledge that excites and interests you is still hard work. it's just worthwhile! flexing my chemistry knowledge junior year was fun for me, but boy was i up at all hours. i think i slept maybe 4-5 hours most nights in high school. i knew the nick at nite lineup so well. i was dragging my corpse along, but even through the fatigue, i had contacted my inner genius (relatively speaking). i was a fighter! i had more and more to learn and i was not afraid of my past failures. i think chemistry was my highest final grade that year. once the initial shocks of failure had worn off, i just got right to work and i ended up absolutely loving it! learning all the complex hypotheticals was genuinely enjoyable to me and i did not at all retain this feeling of failure i started the journey with. i loved chemistry so much that i took an advanced elective chemistry only available to certain higher performing chemistry students my senior year.

my high school gave awards to high performing students in the various categories of academics/arts/etc and i won one of the science awards my senior year. i remember going up to accept the award and wondering why i was getting it. then, i imagined the science teachers all getting together and discussing my class and arriving to my name. i imagined them thinking about the other high performing science-forward students, in all the highest levels of the STEM classes and thinking - no, there is a more interesting story to tell. one of a girlie who failed so badly in the beginning that she became one of the highest performing and creative thinking science minds in the graduating class. it was not easy whatsoever, it obviously did not come to me naturally, but i was there to behold! people do also really love a comeback story, and i think that won me some points as well.

i had a choice in my failures. i could marinate in them and identify with them and let them destroy me. i could suffer because hadn't i earned the right to suffer? you never have to embody suffering and self pity and all those other fun things in order to be successful. in fact, kind of the only way you become successful is by not letting those things stick to you. people can call you anything they want, but it doesn't necessarily mean those things are true. you know who you are and what you're capable of! and you find your joy when you allow yourself to look for it and feel it. an underrated part of self love is simply showing up for yourself. every day, even when you feel so crappy, when you're tired, when you feel like quitting, when you wonder if it's worth it, continuing to show up because you're passionate about what you're doing and you see yourself as a winner! allowing yourself to be surrounded by winners and people who uplift themselves is a huge step in that direction. yet another reason why i love watching the olympics - you know everyone in that room has shown up for themselves repeatedly for years and sees themselves as incredibly gifted at their skill. showing up and claiming your successes is such a triumph! it's so beautiful to get to witness the continued strength and hard work each time around.