Tw Grief - Blog Posts

This comic is dedicated to someone I hold very dear, even though we are apart! I hope you enjoyed this week's installment of 'Slices of Gremlin'! I am going to continue updating every Tuesday, and if you would like to support the comic and get early access, you can sign up to be a member of the 'Little Creature Club' on Ko-Fi!

Tonight might be my last night of therapy for grief and working through my miscarriage and I don't know how to feel about it. But I do know it's helped me through the pain so take that Nana, therapy does help.

I saw your color palette name and I’m not sure if you’ve lost someone, but I’m sorry if you did.

I did, and it's part of why I'm a bit less active on my socials than I was. I didn't want time to just leave him behind, so when I went outside and saw the sun for the first time in what felt like forever, and honestly was a long time as winter tends to be a very dark time of year, I made up my mind that I'd rather have something inspiring dedicated to him, and the palette was one of those things. I also have been slowly working on attempting to draw out some of the memories I have, which has put me behind on some of the art I'm supposed to be doing. He had done so much for me. I do appreciate those reaching out, though. That being said, I wasn't sure if I should respond to it all, so I opted to respond to one, to at least acknowledge those who did reach out between then and now, as it's a bit hard still, even though it's been over half a year now. I promise I'm not ignoring anyone.

it's atom's birthday should do a top 10 truck count down

And oh darling. I'm sending you so many hugs. The only things I'm sure about grieving is that it is never easy (and I think it's also complex). I truly hope you can grieve in peace and can find the right path for you. Everyone also deals with it differently, so there is no universal recipe for how to process these emotions. If you ever think you'd like to talk to about your experience or feelings, I would gladly offer a listening ear. Take care, Moss! - DCMK 2/2

I appreciate it. It's an incredibly rough time for me, but some days are better than others. I've been trying to get out of the apartment some days just to get out of bed and be somewhere else for a bit. Some days I couldn't leave bed if I tried. While I won't get into the details too much, I felt it good to make a page break and mention something if that's okay.

I think the weirdest part is before, during the few times prior I had experience loss, there was really mostly one person there by my side who had helped me navigate it. Someone I consider one of my best friends, and I know it was a mutual feeling. But this time, I have a lot of people around me, supporting me, and checking in, but it feel so wrong, since I'm used to having him around, but he's the one who's gone now.

And I try to remind myself that I shouldn't feel guilt, and I just feel so lost. I sort of feel like I'm just being pulled along by time, away, and drifting.

It’s been 17 years this year since my grandma passed away, 15 since my grandpa. I was 7 and 9 respectively when I lost them. The older I get the more like a punch it feels because I’ve lived a whole live without them, I’d already lost a chunk of my support network before I was even in double digits.

What hurts the most is I can’t remember them. I can’t remember their voices, or their laughs, or things we did together. I remember the year and a half between them passing flying by but I can’t remember their laughs. I feel like I’m missing a chunk of me and I’ll never be able to get it back. I wish I’d had the chance to get to know them as people, to talk to them as an adult. I’d give anything for just an hour, I just want to know if they’d be proud of me.

12 January. I am traumatized by life.

-Mark Twain

They were wrong, love is never enough to keep someone with you.

Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last: New Poems

Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness

— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke

And their are the cold nights where I miss you a little more, my inside crumbles and the heart cries.

-Yanyi, from Dream of the Divided Field: Poems; “The Friend”

But who I was before I met you?

IT'S SEPTEMBER already, how can i hold my own heart.

-Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay

-Charles Bukowski, "cancer," from Come On In!

In all the colours I expected love to be, it was not what I got . I thought love will be the dawn colours. The warmness of orange that at the end of the day being with your lover will ease the scars , the calmness of blue that doesn't matter how complicated the situation is we will get over it , the assurance of lavender that it will all heal, the sweetness of pink that no matter what love will make everything right and even the yellow that doesn't matter what at the end love will win, but for me love was the colour of silver. Too shinny and perfect from afar but from close it was the colour no one will choose. The colour of coldness, the colour which will left you numb. The colour which will leave you in the state of being non-committal.

as i watch (and rewatch and rewatch) s4 ep4, it's impossible not to reflect on how each of vecna's victims may hazily or not so hazily represent different stages of giving up on life as a young person. across the board, all four teens presented flickering signs of internal turmoil that could have been clocked under a more watchful eye. but it's still those small differences, those small choices, that make a world of difference when it comes to approaching a struggling friend.

chrissy didn't truly want to die, just to escape. she easily could have been pulled out of her state of desperation if someone had truly stepped in a little earlier. the one helpful person she managed to confide in, ms. kelley, despite ms. kelley's valuable efforts, didn't have the time or the bandwidth for her she might have liked. the next person didn't know chrissy well enough to properly step in and intervene, even though he tried and came the closest anyone had so far. but before that, none of her peers had invested in her in an actionable way despite her tries to find her way through the cracks of her own self-made image and call for help. everyone assumed everything was fine, until it wasn't. because it was chrissy.

fred was the bottler, who channeled and ignored his way through guilt and grief to build himself a normal life out of ruins. and it worked! it worked until a trigger appeared. enough of a trigger to bring him back down. it started small, but grew more debilitating over a short period and sent him down a dark, consuming spiral that he all of a sudden couldn't escape from. he'd unintentionally isolated himself, and no matter who might have wanted to step in for him in his time of need, they were too far away. fred didn't truly want to die either. but once his trigger became too close and suffocating, he lost his way.

patrick was the wilter, who incrementally became less and less of himself among his family and friends. the way his father treated him ground down his self esteem and warped the voice inside his head until it became nothing but his father's unkind words. unfortunately, the descent was so gradual that all his friends adapted until suddenly it was long past too late to pull patrick from the depths of his sunken self worth and tell him he deserved better.

then there's max. the avoidant. the stoic. she plugged along, trying to pull herself up and out by her own bootstraps. but the biggest difference here was the open investment her friends maintained in her life. they were willing to bend over backwards to remain by her side until she reached out a hand for help. they tried and tried and tried until it was almost too late, but by then, they'd done enough. max saw just how much she was watched over. she saw her friends' concern for what it was: love, not nagging complaints that she "wasn't who she used to be". they cared more for her well being than to where the old max had disappeared. they paid attention to what mattered to her and offered it when she was finally ready. at every turn after the graveyard, she worked to accept more help and they did the work to understand what kind of communication max needed so that she could continue trusting they had her best interest at heart.

td;lr - love your friends loudly. you never know who might need what.

brain barf vol. 1 by ki

a little stream of consciousness zine

YOU'RE  BIG.  LARGER  THAN  LIFE.  she’s  heard  that  before.  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like  rafaels,  but  wasn't his.  close—painfully  so—  but  not  quite  as  deep.  the  familiarity  is  bittersweet,  endearment  and  affliction  flickering  through  her  almost  as  quickly  as  the  lights  around  them.  kennedy  is  glad  his  back  is  to  hers  then,  grateful  for  the  bodies  he  has  to  navigate  through,  taking  advantage  of  those  extra  seconds  gained  to  compose  herself  before  they  reach  their  destination.  “used  to?”  an  eyebrow  quirks  at  that,  lips  parted  in  a  silent  scoff.  “don’t  give  up  on  me  yet!  i  still  have  time.”  that's  what  they  would  like  to  tell  themselves  anyways.  that  one’s  life  isn’t  over  if  they  don’t  achieve  all  their  goals  by  age thirty.  that  her  return  to  redcreek  didn’t  mean  she  failed.  it  was  only  temporary. 

now  settled  by  the  bar,  kennedy  is  suddenly  aware  of  how  much  they  have  had  to  drink.  the  room  was  still  swaying  even  though  they  no  longer  were.  they  blink,  slowly,  the  buzz  from  the  liquor  washing  over  them  like  a  blanket,  warm  and  heavy.  maybe  that’s  why  it’s  easy  to  make  promises  for  next  time.  to  get  caught  up  in  the  excitement  of  reconnecting  with  him.  as  if  she  hadn’t  spent  the  last  years  carefully  curating  a  distance  between  them.  “yeah?  are  you  saying  i  can  just  show  up  one  day  and  ask  for  that  dance?  i  know  where  you  work,  velazquez.”  she  flashes  him  a  pleased  grin  as  he  slides  the  drink  her  way,  quick  to  raise  the  glass  to  her  lips.  “it  suits  you,  by  the  way.  the  tattoo  shop.  you  always  were  the  creative  one.”

isn’t  that  right,  joaquin?

the  thought  arises,  a follow-up that feels as natural as breathing,  but  gets  lodged in  her  throat  when  she  turns  to  share  a  look  with…  NO  ONE.  picture  frames  of  tender  moments,  but  no  house  to  hold  them  anymore.  is  that  what  grief  is?  as  rafael  leans  into  her  initial  touch,  her  hand  flattens  against  his  skin,  the  pads  of  her  fingers  pressing  weakly,  as  if  to  check  if he’s  really  here.  she only catches the tail end of his question, gaze flickering to meet his once more.  “no.”  she  breathes  out,  a  subtle  rasp  in  her  voice,  that  knot  tightening  over  her  chords.  dark  hues  scan  his  face,  committing  every  feature  to  memory.  as  if  he  too  was  going  to  disappear  the  moment  she  let  go.  “you  look  beautiful.”   once  again  taking  his  lead,  dropping  by  her  guard  to  reveal  an  unexpected  moment  of  sincerity  in  the  least  ideal  setting.  only  this  time,  she  doesn’t  have  the  time  to  think twice before another slip—  “i  really  missed  you,  you  know  that?”  

at  that,  rafael  laughs  -  a  small  shake  of  his  head  all  that's  needed  for  a  few  stray  stands  to  fall  over  his  eyes.  eyelashes  blinking  through  them  to  watch  her,  "i'd  love  to  see  what  you'd  do  with  that  power,  kennedy  -  you're,  big.  larger  than  life."  it's  something  joaquin  would  say;  the  memories  barely  skim  the  surface  of  his  thoughts  -  he  strikes  a  rainboot  through  them,  sinks  them  further.  "used  to  think  you'd  -  conquer  the  whole  world."  it's  genuine,  too  genuine  for  the  club  -  for  the  crowd  around  them,  for  the  buzz  at  the  back  of  his  head,  warming  where  spine  meets  skull.  "yeah,"  he  agrees,  easily;  a  passing  laugh,  "but  it's  still  true,  either  way."

his  forearms  meet  the  edge  of  the  bar,  still  close  to  kennedy  -  still  allowing  space  between  them.  it's  the  most  they've  spoken  since  -  since  then.  for  once;  rafael  doesn't  want  to  think  about  it.  "you  know  where  to  find  me,  ken  -  door's  always  welcome  for  a  good  -  waltz."  beer  left  on  the  counter,  rafael's  turned  towards  them,  sliding  the  tequila  sunrise  her  way.  he's  always  one  to  lean  into  touch,  subconscious  as  their  finger  hooks  onto  him.  another  laugh  escapes  him,  so  easy.  "you're  the  first  one  to  get  it,  i  think  -  yeah,  the  tall  guy.  dunno...  felt  easy,  at  the  time.  now  i'm  feeling  a  bit  like  a  -  misplaced  film  bro.  do  the  wings  make  me  look  pretentious,  ken?  you  can  -  be  honest,  with  me.  can  handle  the  truth."

while micaela studies her wine, vikram keeps his gaze on her. solely on her. he doesn’t rush to fill the spaces she leaves open, doesn’t move to urge her to speak again. never one to push for someone to reveal more of themselves than what they were comfortable with. when her eyes finally lift to meet his, he offers a small, almost imperceptible smile—not cheerful, not trying to fix anything. just there. present. he holds her gaze, something he normally struggles with, but not in moments like this. not with her. he takes notice of how the candlelight further softens her features, adding warmth to her mournful eyes. it's beautiful. it's devastating.

vikram has seen grief in every form—raw, quiet, angry, numb—a tangled mix of it all. he’s seen how it hollows people out. how losing someone also meant burying fragments of yourself with them. mourning both the past and the future. memories lost and never gained. “grief doesn’t have a handbook,” he says, his voice quiet, steady. “not really. there are tips, things to try, stories from people who’ve been through it so you don’t feel so alone... but a guide?” he shakes his head slowly, “it’s too layered for that. it doesn’t follow rules, doesn’t care about time or logic. one moment, it lets you breathe, the other it just... knocks the wind out of you. that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.” he shifts forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on the table, his voice dipping lower, gentler. “it’s okay not to know what to do with it mic. really. sometimes, just feeling it—letting yourself feel it—is enough.” if there is anything he can offer micaela, it's the affirmation that she is doing her best and that he sees it. "—and if i can be someone to help you carry it, micaela. i would gladly do it." he hopes she knows that.

𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖢𝖤   :   lakeside   grill. 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧   :   vikram   shah,   @brntout.

               micaela   stared   into   her   glass,   watching   the   light   from   the   candle   flicker,   the   soft   glow   bouncing   off   the   red   wine.   she   let   her   fingers   trace   the   rim,   trying   to   focus   on   the   rhythm   of   the   motion,   anything   to   distract   her   from   the   heaviness   of   the   conversation,   the   burden   of   the   grief   she   carried   so   quietly.   she   hadn’t   expected   it   to   feel   like   this   ┈   so   easy   to   let   her   guard   down,   so   easy   to   be   honest.   with   everyone   else,   she   had   to   keep   the   walls   up.   she   had   to   keep   moving   forward,   smiling,   pretending   everything   was   fine.   but   with   vikram,   it   felt   like   the   air   was   different.   it   was   like   he   understood,   even   when   she   didn’t   say   a   word.   his   silence   wasn’t   uncomfortable,   it   was   ...   safe.   she   didn’t   have   to   fill   it   with   explanations   or   forced   words.   for   the   first   time   in   so   long,   she   didn’t   have   to   fake   anything.                her   eyes   flicked   up   at   him,   his   calm   presence   holding   her   steady.   “   i   still   can’t   believe   she’s   gone,   ”   she   said   quietly,   the   words   heavy   on   her   tongue.   she   felt   her   breath   catch,   but   there   was   a   strange   comfort   in   just   saying   it   out   loud.   “   some   days,   it   doesn’t   feel   real,   ”   she   continued,   her   voice   faltering,   a   lump   in   her   throat   she   couldn’t   swallow.   “   and   other   days,   it   feels   like   everything’s   too   much   to   bear.   ”   the   words   were   raw,   but   they   didn’t   feel   like   they   were   ripping   her   open   the   way   they   did   when   she   kept   them   locked   away.   she   thought   about   the   days   since   her   mom’s   death,   all   the   days   she’d   carried   it   alone,   trying   to   be   strong,   to   keep   it   together   for   everyone   else.   and   now,   with   vikram,   she   didn’t   have   to.   she   realized   she   hadn’t   allowed   herself   to   truly   feel   it,   not   until   now.   she   wasn’t   sure   if   it   was   his   quiet   understanding   or   the   fact   that   he   didn’t   expect   her   to   have   the   answers,   but   she   suddenly   felt   the   freedom   to   just   ...   be.   “   i   don’t   know   what   to   do   with   all   of   it,   ”   she   murmured,   her   voice   barely   above   a   whisper,   her   gaze   dropping   back   to   her   wine.   “   but   i   think   i’m   learning   that   it’s   okay   to   let   someone   else   carry   some   of   it,   even   if   just   for   a   little   while.   ”

Day 4- Mourning

When Evelyn and her son mourned the loss of their loved one…

❌Please don’t hate or copy my artworks!❌

Time for more bad memories from my life as Zuki. I have debated about posting this a few times but I think I need to, to get it off my chest or whatever you wanna say.

Tw/cw: (failed) suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, self harm, death of a family member, grief, and abuse. Let me know if I missed any tw/cw.

There were times right after I turned 14 years old as Zuki (my aunt, who I looked up to so much, died on my 14th birthday so yeah) that I ended up going to the top of my middle school building [I couldn't fly at the time] and was debating jumping from it, I never did.

But a few days after my 14th birthday, all the grief and anger and shit I felt from my aunt's death (she was a hero, and she died fighting some villains) had gotten to be too much for me to deal with and I went to a part of the middle school that pretty much no one went to and pretty much everyone wouldn't have cared about me anyways.

Anyway, I went to the secluded place of the school and I had a knife in my backpack, I always carried it with me, not only because of self-harm tendencies but also because it was a gift from my aunt who died. I thought I was alone, cause who in their right mind would be in this part of that school? (Neither of us there were in our right mind, so I guess that answers that, lol).

Anyway, I took the knife and cut pretty deep on my arms and legs. I had put down something, I think it was my jacket, to try and make less of a mess with the blood cause I didn't wanna cause too much more trouble, lol. But someone who I didn't really know well (I kinda wish it stayed that way, but whatever) came and helped me to the nurse's room. If that nurse could have let me just die, she would've, but she didn't wanna get in trouble with my older sibling, lol.

Anyways, that nurse just did the bare minium, so I wouldn't die. I talked a bit with the girl who saved me. She seemed nice (seemed is the key word there). After the school day ended, it was like only an hour or so cause I did this during my free period, which was my last 'class' of the day. After the bell rang, I walked to a little medical building that [mainly] was for those with no quirks, hated quirks, etc. So because of this, it didn't have a mandatory reporting thing, which was good for me, cause I didn't want anyone else to know that I tried to kill myself and failed. But yeah, the lady who helped me then was very nice and I would continue to go there when I needed medical stuff.

The girl who saved me, about a week or so later, came up to me and said she liked me romantically. While I am (was?) cupioromantic, I didn't know that at the time, so I thought I liked her romantically as well, so I told her that and we started dating.

It was great at first, but after about 2 weeks or so of dating, she started to hurt me, while I did technically know this wasn't good, I had believed it had to be different here and that she was still good and everything (she wasn't, the abusive asshole).

Eventually, when I was like 15 and ½ years old or something like that, I realized I didn't feel romantic attraction at all and told my 'girlfriend' and broke up with her. It didn't go well.

She ended up stabbing me a few times, shit happened. Afterwards, I went to that same medical building I mentioned before and they helped me not die.

Eventually, I realized that my ex was probably only with me cause she wanted someone easy to hurt and shit. Idk just probably wasn't love from her end.

- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/it) | I could go more into detail about probably all of this but I'm not gonna right now

[TW: Death and shit that comes with that, idk maybe more? If you find any more things that should be in this trigger warning pls tell me.]

Also, shit is happening in my life rn. I recently [on September 11th] lost my cousin, she died and we aren't sure how exactly yet. So, yeah. Death is fucking weird and I don't think I process it normally (AuDHD). So I may end up not posting for a while or might end up posting like every day.

Just sharing so ya'll know what's going on if I disappear for a while [even though I would likely do that even without this shit happening].

We aren't sure when the funeral thing is happening yet, I slightly hope it's soon so I can see my family, I don't live by that side of the family, sadly. Probably gonna end up missing like a day of college, but whatever, my family [my pack] is more important to me.

My cousin left behind a son. He is a kid. He's younger than I was when my mom in this life died. [I was like 16 when that happened, and I won't be sharing how old my 2nd cousin is]. So I really wanna see that side of my family, so I can try and be there for him. He's gonna need people there for him, and if I could without getting in trouble, I would drop out of college rn to be around him while he is going through this. (Protective wolf/dog instincts?)

There's just a lot of shit going on rn with my life, I wish it would stop for a bit.

- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/xe/ze) :((

[We is referring to my family, btw]

Fuck it’s 8 am and I am now devastated by Tony’s death all over again 😭

I love you but I kinda hate you at the same time 😭

3)When B was alive, A and B had casual rituals that they would follow without a fault; A would bring B coffee in the morning and leave it on their bedside table, B would make A a sandwich at lunchtime, A would drop a towel into B’s room at 6 because they know that B always showers at 6:30, and so on. After B dies, A can’t help but unconsciously keep doing the rituals.

With Loki or Tony....

Thank you so much! This one is for the one and only Tony Stark <3 sorry, Pepper - you don't exist in this fic.

Warnings: grief, crying, panic attack WC: 1.4k

|| Main Masterlist ||

Chronic insomnia, self diagnosed of course, left you the sole occupant of the avengers compound throughout the night. Sure, people came and went but you were the only one who roamed the empty halls looking for something to keep you mind occupied. Sleep had been elusive before Tony died but now it was slipperier Rocket in the armoury, there was no chance of catching it.

By 6am the sleep deprivation left you teetering on the edge of reality and imagination, the moment of bliss where you could forget everything you lost. As the sun began its torturous climb over the horizon you would make your way back to the top floor, taking the stairs so you wouldn’t have to make polite conversation with the agents already up for the day. Your calves burned from the climb but you made it to the penthouse and stopped to take in the breathtaking panorama of the place you had called home since meeting Tony.

You put the kettle on and let your eyes burn as they stared into the sun, waiting for the water to boil. Your fingers curled into the handles of two mugs on reflex and they fell smashing to the floor as you realised your mistake. The ceramic shattered against the tiled floor and you jumped as the sound broke through your sleepy haze.

“Is everything alright Miss Y/l/n?” Edith asked, the kitchen lights turning on with her programming.

“I’m fine, Edith.” You sighed, leaving the room in search of a broom to clean up your mess.

“Mr Stark said fine means freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Are you sure you are fine Miss Y/l/n.”

“I know what Tony said, don’t remind me what he said.” You all but growled. “I had years with him, I heard every word, every promise, every fucking lie!”

“Miss Y/l/n, your heart rate is becoming dangerously high.” Edith said, a holographic screen projecting your vital signs as the world began to tilt.

Your breathing was rapid and your head light as the spikes on the monitor reflected the panic attack that was physically manifesting all the pain you kept in your head. Your hands reached for the countertop as you could no longer hold yourself upright and Edith's voice faded as you slipped to the floor, sleep finally within your reach.

“Hey, you, yeah you sweetcheeks.” Tony whistled and you scrunched your nose up in distaste as you pointed to yourself.

“Pretty sure that’s a lawsuit, Mr Stark.” You said as you ignored your current task and strode over to him.

“Wouldn’t be my first.” He muttered under his breath. “What’s your name then darling?”

“I guess that’s an improvement.” You sighed. “It’s y/n.”

“Y/n.” He pursed his lips as he tested the sound on them, deciding if he liked it or not, probably already planning to pay you to change it if he didn’t. “Y/n…I like it, it suits you. Now, on your knees.”

“Mr Stark!” You gasped and raised your hand, fist closing and ready to wallop some manners into him when he burst out laughing.

“Please, call me Tony.” He chuckled and rolled out from under his hot rod he was working on. “I need a third hand to hold this part in place.”

Your lips fell open with a nervous laugh as you misread him, except you were sure he had known exactly how his words sounded. He was known to be the biggest flirt in California if not the US. Kneeling down beside him, you did as asked and held the part while he fixed it into place.

“Alright, now what?” You asked as you waited for him to give you another instruction.

“Lunch in New York, Dinner in New Orleans and the rest of our lives wherever you desire.”

You woke up alone in the oversized bed Tony had insisted on and you had to fight the immediate pain in your chest, even now you still expected to wake up and find Tony next to you. Even when Tony had been in it with you the majority of the bed went unused, Tony was always a little spoon, curling up at the edge of his side before reaching for your hand so he could pull you against his back and lace his fingers in yours. Few people would have ever known him the way you did or get to see the softer side that liked to snuggle under the sheets, it was something he only felt comfortable enough to do with you.

“Edith, how did I get here?” You asked as you sat up and kicked the blankets back, finding the sun almost reaching high noon.

“I, um, hope you don’t mind.” Peter said from the doorway, scratching his neck nervously. “Edith called me, I didn’t think you would want to go to the hospital.”

You sighed and ran a hand over your face, trying to chase away the memories that had tortured you in your sleep, leaving you even more exhausted. “Edith should have called an adult, you’ve got enough on your plate, you shouldn’t have to see that.”

“Sorry, Miss Y/l/n.” Edith apologised.

“I get it, I miss him too.” Peter visibly slumped as he looked at the portrait of you and Tony hanging on the wall.

“I still set the table for two.” You laughed but it was strangled and turned to a cry as you pulled your knees up to your chest. “Sorry, sorry.”

“If I do something I shouldn't, I expect to just see him standing there, looking down at me over his sunglasses.” Peter sniffed. “It was like losing my dad all over again.”

It wasn’t to say you thought your pain was the worst but you had forgotten that there were a whole lot of other people missing Tony in their own way. You were mourning your fiance, Peter was mourning his father figure, Rhodey was mourning his best friend. No pain was worse than the other, it was all just pain and you finally realised what Tony would have wanted for you.

For the first time since his death, getting out of the bed did feel like a mountain to climb. You crossed the room and let Peter break down in your arms, he was a boy who was forced to carry more weight than any teenager should. When his tears slowed, you led him to the kitchen and found the mess cleaned up before you sat him at the island and filled a pot with milk. You curled your fingers into two handles and placed them on the bench, brewing hot chocolate like you had always imagined doing with the children you had dreamt of one day having with Tony.

The clock struck noon and you realised you hadn’t even thought about looking at the door, the expectation of Tony walking in from his lab to have lunch with you. You were in charge of drinks and he would make the sandwiches, just another thing you hadn’t had since he passed. You missed lunch more often than not, lost in the daydream and waiting for him to make them, something that would never happen again. It was time to start making new habits.

Placing one mug in front of Peter, you opened the fridge and looked at the contents. “You hungry, kid?”

His eyes seemed to mist the nickname you unconsciously picked up from Tony and he shook his head. “I’m fine, y/n.”

You chuckled as you saw through his lie and offered a smile as you grabbed the ingredients for a decent sandwich. “You know what Tony said that means right?”

Peter shook his head again and you began to tell him the story, one of many memories you could impart on the kid. This was what Tony would have wanted, his family to remember his life not his death.