Femme Celebrity Imagines featuring masc! presenting/tomboy readers (will more than likely be described as black but you can def imagine any race yk, im just black + i have a hard time finding myself in imagines so yea)
includes celebs such as: aria...
prompt: “Grief is natural they say. So is death. I don’t want either.”
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tw/ mentions of heartbreak, death and grief
[third person]
for seven days, y/n has been living out a nightmare she just can't quite make sense of.
it had taken exactly of her less than thirty seconds for the sun to fall out of the sky. thirty seconds for the water in the oceans, the seas, and the rivers and the ponds and lakes to dry out. thirty seconds for flowers to wilt and trees to die. thirty seconds for the colors and beauty of the world to disappear. thirty seconds for the sounds nature and music to desist. thirty seconds for her heart to be violently ripped from her body and all of her vital organs to follow suit and shut down.
except, not really.
the sun was still shining, bright and high, the waves of the ocean were still crashing against their shores, the lakes and ponds still housed many a fish. the flowers still blossomed. the trees continued to sway in the breeze. she could still see color, vibrant colors, dull colors at every turn she made. the birds still chirped. bees buzzed. the wind whistled from day-to-day. and, she hadn't keeled over and died, her organs were just fine. that was what made things so hard. life continued for everything and everyone else, herself included. her soul was just... gone.
it made her angry beyond what could be articulated. it made her feel stupid because she couldn't understand. it made her feel selfish because it wasn't right for her to expect the world to end just because her brother's did.
but, fuck it.
that's how she felt. she was angry because she had a right to be. because why does a fourteen year old boy die in an horrific freak accident when literal rapists and murders get to breathe freely? it didn't feel right how you could talk to someone for hours on end only to hang up, get a call back two hours later and they just not be here anymore. it made no fucking sense. and, it was so unfair. why did everyone and everything else get to go on as if everything was just fine when a child was dead and she felt dead on the inside.
she wanted to scream, at nothing, at anything, at everything.
the funeral was today, and she had full intentions of going.
she decided to dress herself in the suit that her brother picked out a few years before, when he was helping her dress for prom. she stood in the mirror; she fixed her tie blood pumping full of lead and everything inside her felt hot and heavy, remembering all the times she had to teach her because she methods just didn't seem to stick, only to find out, he just pretended to not get it because he liked her to teach him. she punched the mirror and broke it because that was yet another memory she would never get back.
after which, she got herself together and drove towards the cemetery. because he had to be laid to rest, and she had to be there because he couldn't be alone. but, when she got there, something changed, and she couldn't stay. her brother wasn't alone; he was surrounded by not only family and devoted friends, but teachers — old and new — and sports coaches and neighbors and classmates. because that's the kind of kid her brother was, the kind who touched spirits and left a massive impact; her brother was a force. one she wasn't ready to part with, not officially, not like that.
