#/ tw ; death.

[10yrsyart]

later April, i visited a cemetery that we’ve driven passed for many years, because i was curious to see what it was like. it turned out to be much bigger than my mom and i were expecting, and incredibly beautiful in the sun and spring growth. the feeling of solemnness was there, but i also felt peace and even hope as we walked through the many varieties of gravestones. 

death is a terrible thing and not something to be treated lightly. yet, walking through those graves is a different experience as a Christian. though there is great sadness in this life, we have the hope of eternal life with the Lord. death is only the doorway we step into to reach our real hope in Heaven. i could sense that hope as the light filtered through the trees and the wind blew softly. spring is a time of renewal and new life, and that is the state of Heaven. no more sadness or suffering or pain, instead joy and laughter and love forever. 

I left, thinking about the event that is fast approaching. the graves of those who trusted in the Lord will crack open and we will rise to be with Jesus. that is certainly something to hold onto in dark times like these. 

“For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.” (1 Thessalonians 4:16-18)

(photography by me)

[digenerate-trash]

Yan Morgan should get a “head cannon” on April first (don’t answer this ask just keep it as a reminder or something idk)

Head cannons for Morgan!!!

Dead.

[heartofaspen]

grian this posted btw, felt like it was important to share it here

[mellohirust]

So long, nerd, and thank you. [Donate to the Sarcoma Foundation for America in Techno’s honor here.]

[ghosttlul]

Petalsbrough is long abandoned. The footprints that Tommy and Ranboo leave behind are the first to grace the sandy shore in months. 

Ghostbo’s boots, on the other hand, leave no mark in the sand. 

He stands in a familiar place, on a dune just on the cusp of the dewy flower forest ahead. When he squints at the grains of coarse sand round his shoes, he swears he can see rusty-colored speckles of old dried blood. Of course, the discoloring could be from the current splashes of blood dripping down his neck, translucent and slightly ectoplasmic.

Tommy and Ranboo stand behind him, a little further down the beach, and Ghostbo turns to face them. Next to the pair, Tommy’s carved a little two-block hole filled with bubbling, popping lava. He stares into it as Ranboo nervously flicks through the copy of the revival book for the fifth time, eyes scanning and re-scanning the cream pages for any possible jeopardizing error. Ghostbo wonders, absently, if she’s wondering for or against any such mistake. 

“Well,” Ghostbo hums, his undead voice reverberating through the still air. “Here we are.” 

“Here we are,” Ranboo agrees, with an uneasy smile- and he winces, clutches his side momentarily. Healing potions do wonders, but it isn’t easy to instantly heal a near-fatal amount of blood loss and a nasty stab to the abdomen. ‘I guess it’s- I guess we’d better…” 

Ghostbo shrugs. “I guess we’d better. Do your stuff, magic man.” 

As Ranboo nervously complies, scrawling the final piece of writing into the book- Tubbo’s name, presumably. Tommy is quiet. He watches with narrow eyes as Ranboo shuts the book and tosses it into the lava with trembling hands. But Tommy makes no move to stop the process as the book bursts into flames and disintegrates. 

Tss. 

The air is tangibly silent. Ghostbo squirms under Ranboo’s gaze, which is practically nailed into her, and Tommy watches the lava silently. 

They all saw Ghostbur’s death message way back when Wilbur rose from the grave. They know what’s meant to happen. 

Yet no one will reach for their sword. 

‘’I’ve changed my mind,” Tommy breaks the silence abruptly, in a near-panic. “I can’t. We shouldn’t–” he turns to Ranboo with curled fists. “This is wrong. We can’t just– Ranboo. You know we can’t.” 

Ranboo gestures helplessly. “I don’t want to either, Tommy, but- but what choice do we have? Ghostbur–” 

“Ghostbur was different! Dream murdered him! It could just be a- a coincidence! Maybe Ghostbo and Tubbo can exist, and we’ll- we’ll have two Tubbos and everything will be twice as fucking great!”

The soft hiss of steam permeates the air as Ranboo turns his face away.

"I'm sorry, bossman," Ghostbo murmurs quietly, and Tommy turns to him. "This is how it's gotta be."

"But it doesn't!" Tommy surges forward, setting his hands to rest on Ghostbo's shoulders, but his fingers only pass right through. "I can't kill you, and Ranboo can't, either. I won't let it happen."

Ghostbo thinks of the flame bow tucked into her hotbar, and sighs quietly. "I'm not asking you to. I know I have to do it."

Tommy's face all but crumples. "Don't fucking say that. This bullshit- it isn't fucking fair. I'll find a way to make it right."

"Tommy," Ghostbo says. "You know as well as I do I'm only an echo of Tubbo. I can't be there for you like he can, and I can't protect you in this state."

"I don't need protecting!"

"Yeah." Ghostbo reaches for Tommy's hand. They both know they can't make contact while like this, but they are drawn to each other nonetheless. Touch is easy as breathing. "We've grown up a lot. Which is why you've gotta let go, big man."

"But I can't." Tommy looks like she might cry. "I want you here."

"I will be here." Ghostbo smiles and jokes, "You couldn't get rid of me that easily. We're called clingy for a reason, y'know."

Tommy's river-blue eyes soften around the edges. "Yeah. We're fuckin clingy," he mumbles. He lets out a heavy, shuddering breath and looks away. "Okay, Ghostbo."

Ghostbo removes his bow and arrow from his hotbar. His health is already low, thankfully. It should be quick.

"Ranboo," Ghostbo says, and his husband looks up with wet eyes.

"Um- yeah...?"

He offers a wry smile. "Thanks for letting me hang around."

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

the sun will eat us and I’m not mad. the sun will swallow us whole and I’m not mad at her. one day she’ll die too and when she goes she will take us with her. and when she takes us with her we’ll be reborn in a new celestial body and that body will die one day and take us with her and be reborn again. nothing really dies 

[spamton]

i accidentally napped and had a dream (nightmare?) where a new update for stardew valley released where everything was the same except on a random day in year 3 Evelyn would just straight up die. There was a whole cutscene that started in her house where she collapsed, and then transitioned over to the hospital where Harvey gave George and Alex the worst news of their lives. However, they got to speak to her where she said something along the lines of "Yoba will protect me, and I am sure he will let me watch over you."

Alex and George would not talk to the player for more than a few words for a full season after this event. George would spend most of his time in the bedroom, so if you had less than 2 hearts with him, you could barely ever speak to him.

And Alex... oh my god, poor Alex. If you were married to him during this event, he just stayed in bed all day. Otherwise, if single, he would just stand on the beach most of the time, staring off into the ocean. If you tried to interact with him, it would just say "Alex is grieving... Better leave him be."

There was also other NPC dialogue like mayor Lewis saying "I haven't seen the community in this state of mourning since your grandfather passed..."

there was also a glitch where you could make Evelyn live forever and there were entire guides for the "immortal Evelyn glitch" that got patched out in the next update. If you tried to perform the glitch after the patch, mr. Qi would tell you that "hey, it happens to all of us. We can't prevent it, and neither can you, no matter how hard you try."

[bamsara]

Finor, the first follower.

[elizabro]

aaron bushnell knew exactly what he was doing. he states his intentions with total lucidity and sense of purpose. he knows what he's about to do is extreme--he says so. he speaks calmly, but he's clearly terrified. he takes a deep breath after pouring the accelerant over himself. he has to psyche himself up to light the flame. he struggles with the lighter. he says "free palestine" normally once before he starts to scream it. even through his agony he manages to say it one last time before he stops being able to speak at all. this is a man with total conviction. he wanted to help people, in any way possible. this action was a moral one, and any news outlet painting this as simply a mental health issue is a disservice to his memory. he knew what he was doing when he burned himself in uniform. he knew that there was a chance that sacrificing his own life could go on to save many others. this was the ultimate act of selflessness, and it should be treated as such. may he rest in peace.

[1alchemistart]

doing my duty of drawing skeleton falin

[heartofaspen]

15 & 16: rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning and thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

from most to least awful: drowning, burning, freezing

i like mint choc chip! good combp

[podcastwizard]

ideal ways for me to die

1. old age, peacefully in my sleep

2. after a long and illustrious career i am at a rooftop gala hosted in my honor. i am wearing a beautiful gown, holding a glass of red wine, standing by the railing. a scorned lover approaches and, after a passionate spat, they push me over the edge of the building. the wine glass goes flying, splattering their outfit in red as a visual metaphor for the blood on their hands. as i descend my gown flies around me like two beautiful wings, a bird in flight. a photographer on the street manages to take a photo before i hit the ground and that photo wins the pulitzer. a new york times think piece is released regarding whether or not it's moral to profit off a photo of someone's death. the think piece also wins a pulitzer.

3. sex accident.

[staffs-secret-blog]

NEW TUMBLR UPDATE:

You can only like 4 posts a day and if you even think of reblogging we're going to blow your brains out

[ghosttlul]

[Tubbo_ was burnt to a crisp whilst fighting Tubbo_]

[ashoss]

patrol is fun :DD