#cradling a deceased

[squiddieteam]

Watching the tender moment Tatar congratulates Yamamoto on repeat - SEA @ DAL, 4/13/24 (x)

[danhjngs]

( x )

y'all remember that blurb about dan feng holding onto a deceased yingxing? yeah, me too, i am unwell... oh the parallels and when they are my FAVORITE shows/characters/ships.

[drfagpire]

thought about him delicately cradling your head while draining you and almost blacked out

[yandere-writer-momo]

Why write the usual when I can make everybody sad? This is a different take on the Yandere trope with the reality of being involved with someone who is obsessed with you (worse case scenario).

Yandere Short Stories: The Consequences

Yandere Ex Husband x Deceased Fem Reader

“(Your name)?” Alec stepped back in disbelief, his hands rubbed his eyes to make sure that the figure in front of him was really real. “(Your name)! Oh my god!”

Alec ran towards the young woman and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. His whole body trembled as his hazel eyes began to spill salty tears. He couldn’t believe it… he couldn’t believe this was real.

Her hair still smelled like (scent)… this couldn’t be a dream! This had to be reality! Yes… she came back to see him again.

They were together so many years ago and then she vanished into thin air. To see her again was like a dream come true! To know she was still on this earth and she had returned to his side was all the relief he needed.

Alec pressed a kiss to her head before he pulled away so his hands could hold her face. His thumbs traced over her pink lips as a sad smile crawled on his lips.

“You… you don’t look a day over twenty six…” Alec’s brow furrowed. How did she still look so young when it’s been over a decade since they last saw each other? How was that even possible?

(Your name) softly smiled at him, her hands rose up to gently hold the backs of his palms. Her hands were like ice… no. Her hands were as cold as death.

“This isn’t real, none of this is.” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I died, silly. Don’t you remember?”

“No… you’re not dead.” Alec’s lip quivered and his eyes became crazed. “You can’t be dead, we just had an argument was all.”

“Yes… and you killed me. Don’t you remember?” (Your name)’s form slowly began to melt away into that of a rotted corpse. “You stabbed me to death and buried me in the garden.”

“No! No, I didn’t…” Alec began to sob and shake his head. There was no way… he didn’t. He wouldn’t have… he loved her!

“It’s too late, Alec. What’s done is done.” (Your name) the crumbled onto the floor in a pile of bones.

Alec fell to the floor in a panic. Her tried to piece back together her bones back together but it was futile. “No! Please stay with me!”

Hot tears flowed down his cheeks, another sob racked through his chest. He pulled her skull toward his chest to cradle it. “I’m sorry… I just didn’t want you to leave me! We were so happy and… I wanted you to be happy forever.”

Alec continued to sob on the floor that slowly melted away into that of a white padded cell. Reality slowly began to slip in.

(Your name) would be happy forever in death while he would rot forever in this padded cell. This was the reality of his kind of love. This was the consequence of his actions.

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

[megalobsterface]

No One Else Is Saying It So I'm Going To: Elden Ring DLC Is Transphobic As Fuck

The entire character of Count Ymir feels like Fromsoft was upset people weren't as disgusted by Gwyndolin as they were supposed to be, so they turned the transmisogyny up to 11 and made it absolutely unmissable how much hatred they have towards trans people. And most people on the internet are still fucking missing it somehow, so let's break it down, I guess.

Count Ymir is an NPC in the Elden Ring DLC, Shadow of the Erdtree, and is the main character of his own questline in the DLC. He's an old man who sits on a throne and is only ever referred to with he/him pronouns, and he wears a 'priest's outfit' that involves a habit-like crown and a long, purple robe.

One of the first things you learn about Count Ymir is that he's somehow attached to a deceased child named Yuri, to the point where he starts calling tiny fingercreepers by his name. You can find Ymir at night sobbing over the gravestone, while during the day he cradles a tiny, dead hand and calls it Yuri. While giving him an obsession with an underaged boy who may or may not have even been his son is definitely sus, it's literally the least weird part of this quest. It's mostly there to set up unease and distrust with Ymir, because they player doesn't know how Yuri died, and suddenly this old man is treating creepy monsters as children and calling them by this dead child's name. Again, nothing incriminating on its own, but that's just the set-up.

Ymir gives you a "bell," which is a long, cylindrical object with a bunch of holes in it, one of those holes on the elongated tip, that the player takes to places called 'Finger Ruins' to unlock treasure. Finger ruins are large, grey deserts with giant stone fingers jutting out of the sand. These ruins are inhabited by fingercreepers, enemies from the base game that are spider-like severed hands, and these new enemies that are long, lamprey-like finger men that can grab the player and suck on their face. To use the bell Ymir gave you, you go up to a giant version of the bell and blow into it, the hole on the tip the size of the player's entire face.

As you go on these treasure hunts, you meet Jolan, Ymir's bodyguard, a woman who is protective of the old man for some reason. Ymir mentions that Jolan has a sister named Anna, and both of them are purehearted. Here's the thing, though. During the 2nd treasure hunt, you can find a secret room in a tower nearby Ymir's church, and in that room is Anna's corpse, turned into a puppet somehow. Puppet summons in the base game are heavily, heavily implied to be victims of sexual violence, as the man who makes them, Seluvis, exclusively makes puppets out of women and naked men, keeping some of them in his bedroom behind a magic door, and getting very personal with you the instant you find out about this. These are dead bodies that are meant to be read as the objects of sexual gratification to the one who made them that way.

Anna's puppet is in a secret room near Ymir's church. It is explicitly stated later that Anna is Ymir's "doll," further cementing the implications from the base game. Before even getting to the end of the questline, we have confirmation Ymir is a sexual predator who has murdered at least one adult woman, which puts his obsession with a deceased young boy further into question.

After the 2nd treasure hunt, you return to find Ymir crying at Yuri's grave. He tells you that Marika, the queen of the lands between, final boss of the main game, and mother of DLC antagonist Miquella, is a failure because she is a bad mother, and that Miquella is doomed because of a "rotten root." This brings up his other obsession, that of motherhood, and how Yuri would still be alive if he'd had a better mother. You can probably see where this is going.

Ymir gives you a third map, which tells you the church is already in a finger ruin desert, which is obviously untrue, as you can see it's not. So you look around and find a secret tunnel underneath Ymir's throne while he's at Yuri's grave. Underneath the church is a hidden finger ruin, with fingers jutting out of the sky and one more giant bell at the end.

Anna invades you here, though it's clear from before that she's been long dead and this is her reanimated corpse being used for Ymir's bidding. After defeating Anna, you get to the last bell, and instead of treasure, you're teleported to a sea of fingers and fight Metyr, Mother of Fingers. This is a fromsoft game, so you can use your imagination on what a boss who is themed around maternity and has a body made up solely of long, plump fingers looks like. Hint: phallic and unpleasant.

After beating Metyr, Jolan tries to kill you for ruining Ymir's plan, somehow? You just followed his maps and did what he asked, and this ruined his plan. He told you where to go, gave you the key item you needed to use, and asked you to do it for him. He drew you a MAP. But this ruined his plans? None of this quest was thought through beyond the cruelty it applies to real world groups, the writing makes literally no sense. Hate crime aside, the writing is just bad.

After fighting Jolan is when the other shoe drops and Ymir is summoned as the final boss of this sidequest. His title is Count Ymir, Mother of Fingers, and his purple priestess robe is now bursting at the seems with wriggling fingers. He says he will be "A true mother. The only mother." He fights by literally giving birth to fingercreepers, spewing them out of his robes as a projectile. Let me remind you of the phallic nature of this enemy, and of Gwyndolin, the other transfem-coded hate crime character Fromsoft made, who had snakes wriggling out from under her dress. This is a repeated theme in these games, of transfem-coded characters having dangerous, cylindrical objects under their clothes.

To be blunt, because I know not everyone is seeing this, having Ymir call himself a mother and then immediately be shown to be covered in penis-like fingers that were hidden under his robe this whole time, is an anti-tranny joke the devs are making. They made it with Gwyndolin, who we actually liked, so they went more explicit and made it again with an old man who kills women and children, sexually assaults them, and then tries to take sole ownership of the word "mother" because of his hatred towards women. The key item he gives you is designed to make the player feel violated. The entire quest is choked in phallic imagery, with Fromsoft practically screaming at the top of their lungs "PENIS ITS PENISES, HE HAS PENISES HE CAN'T BE A MOM BECAUSE OF THE PENIS!!! ISN'T HE GROSS, ISN'T HE SCARY??? PENIS!!!!"

It's fucking disgusting. It's detestable that they went through all of this trouble to show us how un-fucking-welcome we are in this game's community. This is some of the worst transphobia I've seen from a mainstream title in decades. This is Silence of the Lambs, Sleepaway Camp type shit. I would not be surprised if JK Rowling had a writing credit for this DLC. This isn't even getting into all the poorly thought-out incest they added into the main questline, either.

Fuck Fromsoft. I hope all the people who wrote this quest choke on air. It's fucking pathetic, I'm mad as hell, and any trans person who plays Elden Ring, or any other Fromsoft game, should be mad as hell, too.

[wishful-seeker]

Ancestor work can include pets btw

I never knew a lot of my deceased family, and the ones I did know I didn't know well. I loved my great grandmother, but in reality I didn't know her well, I still honor her and my grandpa who died when I was 3, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't closer to my cats.

My cats were with me my whole life, and theirs, they're my children. I soothe them to sleep by cradling them when they're scared, I sing to them and they sing back, I sleep with them every night. They are my whole world, and I'd do anything for them.

So of course they're honored after death like a blood family member, of course I leave them offerings and speak to them beyond the grave, of course there is space for them on my altars.

Don't let anyone tell you pets deserve less honor than humans in your practice.

[pmamtraveller]

THE LAMENT FOR ICARUS /1898/ by HERBERT JAMES DRAPER

The painting depicts a scene from Greek mythology involving Icarus, the son of the skilled craftsman Daedalus. At the time, King Minos of Crete had imprisoned Icarus and his father on the island. Daedalus created wings of feathers and wax to escape. Icarus flew too close to the sun, disregarding his father's warning, causing the wax to melt. He tragically fell to his death in the sea, giving rise to the idiom "don't fly too close to the sun."

Draper's painting shows the aftermath of Icarus' fall. He is surrounded by mournful nymphs. One cradles him while another holds a lyre, beginning the lamentation. Icarus' tanned body starkly contrasts with the nymphs' alabaster skin, revealing his recent flight near the sun. Draper portrays the wings as still intact, contradicting the myth where the wax melted.

During this painting's creation, Draper gained recognition for his mythological themes, and he excelled in elegantly depicting human figures. This period marked the height of his career and popularity, even winning him the Royal Academy Gold Medal, where he exhibited frequently.

The painting serves as a tribute to his deceased father, who passed away in 1898, the year the painting was finished. It conveys profound emotions of loss, mortality, and life's fragility, reflecting Draper's personal grief.

[harrowharkwife]

thinking thoughts about how nona was so obsessed with crown, and crown specifically- not coronabeth. crown, with her boots and her cargo pants and her guns and her hair tied back, with all her charm and strength, all her rage and determination.

was that really just nona? or, walk with me here- is there a chance that that was actually alecto, too, bleeding through and rising to the surface?

alecto, seeing a kind of kinship in crown- in this big, tall, strong blonde with a sword strapped to her back, hot and lovely and kind and awful and powerful and perfect. this woman who refuses to give up- on her sister, on saving jody, on BOE's resistance. who's unafraid to throw one hell of a tantrum, if it means being listened to, for once. crown, who everyone thinks of as dumb, who everyone underestimates, who no one ever takes as seriously as they should, even though she's clearly capable of plenty of atrocities in her own right. this woman who's been described over and over again as someone who positively radiates life, and energy, and vitality, and strength. this woman who wanted nothing more than the chance to be herself, to be free, to serve as cavalier and guardian and protector, but was instead sentenced at birth to a life of being a princess and wearing dresses and looking pretty and loving less and staying out of the way and keeping her mouth shut and playing second fiddle to a necromancer obsessed with power and glory. familiar, no? this woman who was betrayed, left behind, left alone, and left utterly in the dark by the one person who's supposed to love her the most- only to then be told that being abandoned was in her best interest, really, for her own safety.

thinking about all the times we've seen ianthe insult crown's intelligence and praise her beauty in the same breath. you big dumb bimbo, what can you do? of all the times we've seen ianthe fussing over crown's appearance. thinking of the sister-lyctor makeover-montage ahead of dios apate minor, and how harrow hated every second of it, and how ianthe treated it like nostalgic second nature. thinking about the third house: fucked-up planet gossip-girl with all its betrayal and espionage and flesh magic and debauchery, three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile. thinking about the pressure that must have come with keeping up the double-necromancer ruse, about ianthe having successfully played the part of two necromancers from the age of six. exactly how much practice must that have taken? thinking about the casual, automatic, possessive, offhanded, violating nature of ianthe playing god and giving harrow a full head of fast-growing hair without asking, without even telling her, just to make harrow prettier, just to piss her off, just because she could. how she did it so easily, and without hesitation, almost as though she's maybe done that sort of thing before.

thinking about preservation. about a perfect body frozen in ice for a myriad, about ianthe spending all her downtime on the mithraeum figuring out how long she can keep an apple core in perfect stasis before the rot sets in.

thinking about corpse puppeting: a deceased world leader here, a trusted cavalier and friend you've known from the cradle there. about i picked you to change, and this is how you repay me? about she took babs. and who even cares about babs? babs! she could have taken me!

thinking about alecto, and hollywood hair barbie, and you have made me a hideousness.

thinking about crown, who's by her own admission boobs and hair and talk and a hell of a swordhand.

thinking about something as simple as stud earrings, and about how much grief ianthe gave her for daring to wear them.

nona loved crown.

something tells me that alecto might, too.

[little-etho-everywhere]

Almost three years ago, my dad managed to sponsor me for entry into the Gaza Strip, he told me:

"When I was your age, your grandfather left me the family home under my name in his will. The home that was built by his great-grandfather, and its walls stood strong, keeping the mothers, the fathers, the children, the cousins, the nieces, and nephews, all of the uncles and the aunts; all of the grandparents and every aspect of life- from the olive and loquat trees to the canary birds and cats they raised, people were born and people died inside these walls. And once I meet my time, you will uphold this home under your care, and you will step foot into Ghaza for the first time, know that a home lived and loved by generations before you, awaits for you; doors that creak your name will welcome you as if you have left for a day and a night."

He never showed me a picture, told me that I must wait, I must be patient for the closest thing I would have had to connect to my heritage and deceased family. This year I turned 18 and the only thing I could think about with fond memories of a place that I'd never been to. Today, a missile hit the house opposite the street. Tomorrow, at 8 am, my remaining family members from my father's side who live in the Gaza Strip need to abandon the home and evacuate with their arms and white banners raised. Along a road of thousands and thousands of Palestinians, the old, the sick, and the hungry. The mortar of their homes calls out, pleading for its loving family to come back home, to cradle the broken stones and the scorched doors. To take it with them, to not leave them behind.

Today, I live in the diaspora, I have never seen my home or my homeland, and I fear I never will.

How much do we have to bleed for you to realize we are alive like you?

DEMAND CEASEFIRE TODAY

[vindoesanything]

𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 “𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛”…

Word count: 723 Warning: Angst, Mentions of death Arlecchino x Y/N

Y/N: Isn't the moon beautiful...?

[A soft, weak voice leaves their cold lips as they address the question to the one they thought would reciprocate their feelings. Their arms slowly wrap around her body in a warm and gentle embrace, holding them close before their demise.]

Y/N: The moon shines bright, even when the darkest of voids encapsulates its entire being...

Arlecchino: ...

Y/N: That's why I love the thought of calling you my "Moon" one day...

[After their unexpected confession, Arlecchino feels their tender hold begin to loosen, reminding her of the inevitable. Their body slowly turns limp as they lean their whole weight further into her body, desperately trying to feel her warmth against their weak frame.]

Y/N: It's getting rather chilly... Don't you think?

Arlecchino: I-...

Y/N: It's okay... You don't have to answer that... I understand...

[Their hands slowly move up to cup her cheeks, using every fiber of their being to show how much they adore her. Arlecchino's eyes gaze down upon the pathetic sight, seeing how pale and weak they are under her cold, apathetic gaze. Despite it all, she blatantly stares at Y/N's soft lips, watching them curl into a reassuring smile, hoping to calm whatever turmoil is in her mind.]

Y/N: I know you have to cut ties with me... I know you have to reach your goals no matter the obstacles that stand before you... But I want one thing from you before I leave your side...

[Arlecchino watches the light in their eyes slowly diminish with every word they speak. In spite of it, she gave them a firm nod, wanting to accomplish one last request before they leave her.]

Y/N: Please... Stay with me... Stay with me until my time ends...

[Regardless of their untimely demise, their smile still shines through as they lean their head on her shoulder.]

Y/N: You are so warm... I want to stay here for the rest of my life...

[As time passes, their grip around her completely loosens as their hands drop to their side, finally ending their time altogether. Now only thing left here is a pale corpse leaning against a cold and emotionless woman.]

Arlecchino: ...

[Soon after their death, her arms unexpectedly begin to wrap around Y/N's body, lowering herself down to her knees with them cradled close to her heart, feeling the need to keep them close despite the things she has done.]

Arlecchino: Why... Why does this hurt so much...

[It takes some time for her to process everything that has happened, and once it dawns on her that the one she had cared for is deceased in her arms, her tears begin to trickle down her cheek, another emotion she had never thought she could display out front.]

Arlecchino: This was never meant to happen... If you would have listened to me you wouldn't have been-...

[She doesn't want to finish her own statement once she gazes down upon the peaceful expression that rests on your face. It was heartbreaking to see them in this state, and the realization that they have thought she never reciprocated their feelings back shatters her heart into a million pieces.]

Arlecchino: Y/N... My sweet Y/N... How I would have loved to call you my shining "Star"...

[Her hands begin to slide up to their cheeks, feeling the need to have them face her, even if it hurts to see them so... lifeless.]

Arlecchino: My... My shining "Star"... Oh why did I have to kill you...

[Those words of regret slowly fill her mind, and this all could have been avoided if YOU hadn’t come out of your hiding place. But who can she blame for all this? They were afraid, it is normal to be… And not only they were afraid for their own lives, but they were afraid for Hers too…]

Arlecchino: Why… Why must it hurt so much… Why?!

[The tears in her eyes begin to trickle down upon Y/N’s cold but soft face, letting every droplet caress their features with a gentle brush of regretful longing. Soon, she begins to caress their cheek with a tender thumb, slowly grazing along their soft features, as every stroke she makes becomes a reminder of who she ultimately killed.]

Arlecchino: My… only… star…

(a/n: Speaking of stars, our galaxy has countless of them! The only reason we can’t see it is because of the light pollution most city has… So go out and find a place where there’s not a single light source that can be seen and enjoy your night! This is Vin, signing out. ;) )

[konigsblog]

mmf' , i just want eldritch/cthulh!könig to take care of me. headcannons for him because he rots my mine, day and night ... :(

cthulhu!könig who finds himself crawling towards you with his lengthy cock hanging heavy, smelling your period blood from a mile away. he eats fish and dead men, sunken boats that dare to cross his path, along with deceased sea animals. he can't help himself from wrapping his long, murky tentacles around your thighs, keeping your cunt against his mouth as he drags his tongue up and down between your wet, sloppy slit.

“please, sonne, just relax against me. taste so good, so good for me..”

cthulhu!könig and his jealousy issue. he can't stand seeing other sea gods flirt with you in an attempt to swoon over you. but god, he loves making you ride his tentacles after declining them, easing down onto his thick limp, suckers grazing against your gummy walls.

cthulhu!könig who orders you to chant his name while he fucks you. usually, his sex is slow and sensual, with one tentacle stuffed inside youe sweet, precious pussy and another silencing your whiney sounds. but, he adores your stuttered sounds as you chant his name like a prayer to an ancient god.

cthulhu!könig and his breeding kink. he's so fascinated with the idea of breeding you, to see you with a human/octopus hybrid, cradled in your arms. but, due to his issues with jealousy and your attention, he prefers it just being you two. though, he does mention getting you pregnant while you cockwarm a tentacle, his suckers leaking out their substances into your womb, making you sob out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“gott, ich möchte dich geschwollen mit meinen babys sehen, einen kleinen oktopus, der in diesem bauch wächst ... meine süße meerjungfrau, du bist so naiv, du weißt nicht, was du mit mir machst, keine ahnung, oder?”

cthulhu!könig being overprotective and possessive of you. you're his most prized possession, a mortal, a human soon to be turned to immortal once he impregnates you with his offspring. he hates whenever other sea gods have their eyes on you, glaring at the before snarling, brushing the wet hair stick to your forehead as he eases your head into the water, washing your hair.

cthulhu!könig who always buys you proper pearl necklaces, as well as other shells. the faint sounds of the ocean in the distance, the sun just rising above the horizon, breathless from könig's tentacles wrapped tightly and securely around your waist. he definitely scolds you whenever you complain, hissing at you and being strict, keeping you from ever leaving.

“don't, meine schatz ... still still, sonnenschein.”

he has a fear of someone taking you, so he usually stays with you. he'd kill for you, other sea gods, do anything to keep you from going back to society.

cthulhu!könig and how he coos at you for being so grumpy and pissy about being away from your friends and family. why do you need anyone else? let the 10ft muscular giant with a gut keep you safe!! your life isn't in jeopardy or danger, just spread your legs and let him treat you right.

⭒ if you want to correct any german, please do so! im not educated on the german language so i have to use a translator for it, but i don't mind constructive criticism to help with it :)

[gildedkrone]

A TREAT 🔞 (CW:BLOOD)

The last of the enemy crashes to the floor in an undignified heap as König finishes them off with a bullet through the cranium. Before he can react, tableware goes smash into the floor when the behemoth of an Austrian is slammed back first into the oakwood table in the room.

He tastes you on his mouth when you yank his mask up to tongue him in a room of deceased hostiles and he backhands you to get you off.

“’S fucking hurt, Kö.” His eyes narrow into slits when you roll the words off your tongue and cradle your cheek.

“Not here! Are you stupid?” He hisses and you lean into his space with a head tilt.

“Really? Don’t fucking lie.” He fidgets under your glare—the colonel unnerved by a lowly sergeant and your grin is sardonic of a man having slaughtered the enemy forces with your commanding officer. It’s quick work with the streaks of red souvenirs of war.

“Get off your stupid moral high horse.” His eyes move, displeased; you press your pelvis together and yank his chest forward using his vest off the table.

“I want to fuck you right here, sir.”

He sneers and pulls you flush with him with a finger on your throat mic. Careful! You berate him; they just always seem to break for no good reason.

“Filthy dog, you want this so badly?” His native accent always came through when he’s snarling or sneering and by god, it turns you on and your fingers loop through his belt.

Then get it, mutt. And you practically rip his trousers off with your boss on his back on a table ass naked and surrounded by corpses deep in enemy territory. You slick your hands with spit before fingering König to prep him. No lube, no problem.

A pained groan triggers your instincts and your gun finds an injured enemy soldier on the ground. He barely puts up a fight when you grab him by the nape and drop him unceremoniously on the same table. He groans when you manhandle him to disarm him.

“Seems like we have a witness, Kö.”

“You can kill him when you are done here, bärchen. Beeil dich, bastard.”

Satisfied the enemy is too wounded to go anywhere, you sigh in relief when your dick springs free from its cotton prison and already semi hard from the firefight earlier. Thoroughly coated in spit, you push past König’s rim into tight, velvety heat encapsulating your prick in a warm cocoon made just for you as König let out a short grunt when you fully bottom out in him. You’re not small by any means, but he’s big.

Bloodlust melds into nothing more than physical lust when you give a few experimental thrusts as the behemoth grunted and groaned when his rim catches on the bulbous head. He curses a storm in his native tongue when you heave his trunk like thighs up to rest against your chest and shoulders. The new angle allows you to thrust even deeper and the warm channel greedily sucks you in each time you pull back with its walls clamping down hard to draw several moans from your lips.

Two men in heavy combat gear with less sense than one fucking each other in the warzone and you can’t lie—the perverse part of your brain loves it. Victory sex amongst the acts of you and König is a momentous occasion indeed and his hand cups your balls and fondles them when you taunt him again when the friction slows your thrusts.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He refuses to answer until you swipe a hand through the blood oozing from a knife wound in your left arm, all coagulated, to dirty his pristine, soft hips with patches of red.

“Du verdammter Bastard! Ich werde dich bestrafen, wenn wir zurückkommen!”

“I don’t understand you, Kö. How about this?” He swears up a storm when your hands, dripping with your blood, gives your dick several languid strokes. You make sure to wet yourself with more liquid red when you remember just how roughly his ass pulls at you.

“You like it, you fucking pervert. Admit it, you love feeling even more of me in you.”

“Schweig! You foul mutt!”

“Your foul mutt, Kö.” You grin and thrust easily into him—the sight of the 6’10 Austrian clawing at the table with fire in his eyes and blood stained skin—it all pushes your further towards your peak building in deep thrums in your abdomen.

König isn’t faring any better, with how whiny he rasps as his dick drooled messily onto his vest with his ass clenching and itching for more. The fury in his eyes belies the need to feel you seed his ass with hot cum and he gasps when a commotion from the side halts your thrusts.

The injured foe has decided to make a run for it and with your dick still in König, you free the gun on his thigh holster and fired. The enemy topples forward in a spray of red mist and as you turn back to your superior, he moans unabashedly and spasms hard around you. You watch as he emptied his balls in strong spurts as his ass becomes even more greedy than before and your grip on his hips leaves prints for days.

When he is all down from his high, you smirk and he snarls at the knowing look.

“You came from seeing me kill another man? You truly are most pathetic, sir.”

He swats your hand and you breath hitches at how soft his ass is after his orgasm. A radio transmission from Horangi interrupts all the fun and you pull yourself free from König. With you and him in a more presentable state and all traces of the coupling gone, Horangi appears in the doorway and beckons for the Austrian to join him.

Just before he leaves, you yank his hood down. My room, later and shivers run up his body when dirty streaks of blood and cum disappear behind your tongue and once again, König struggles to not cum when your fingers reappear all clean and wet.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

[terman]

1. The atypical and incomprehensible style to many villagers, has enough meaning for illagers. Illagers are closely connected with the Dark Forest - a creepy place where the bravest would be afraid to go. A place that has been the subject of many legends . For illagers, the Dark Forest is their cradle and at the same time their parent, who for many years watched how they grew and developed. For this reason, their banner symbolizes the view from the thickets of the Dark Forest - always watching for illagers and at the same time exploring the new world

2. According to villager's folklore, creepers are the souls of deceased ancestors, who are protected by Nature itself. Such thoughts began to appear since ancient times, when villagers began to come across creepers more often and see "faces" on their bark. Creepers can be completely different, depending on the climate and biome, but they all appear from dead trees and shrubs. If you do not disturb their peace, they do not show any danger. Otherwise , they explode with magic. This fact may indicate that it's magic that gives them new life, but it is not known how still living trees absorb it

3. The religion of the villagers may differ from biome to biome, but the basis is always unity and balance in the natural world, the interconnectedness of everything that exists. Nothing in the world happens without reason. Many villagers believe in reincarnation, the cyclicity of life and everyday life. The symbols often contain a triskelion, simply modified under the influence of the culture of a particular people

4. A hundred warriors and sorcerers who once volunteered to join the Wither. In the Nether, they did not remain without the attention of their ruler, therefore they became the strongest undead among the subject forces of the dark magician. When they get out of the Nether, they will lead the armies, inspiring them with their power and greatness. Their armor and weapons are enchanted by ancient spells, and their withered faces are hidden by a mask expressing a lack of compassion for the enemy and everything that is dear to them

[bashfullove]

❦Reactions To You Wanting To Draw Them❦

❦Summary: Their beautiful/handsome S/O wants to capture their beauty in pencil

❦Includes: Arthur, Sadie, Javier, Kieran

❦Warnings: none ❦Notes:I know it's very few characters but I tried to write as much as I could. If you want other characters feel free to request it

❦Arthur Morgan❦

"Wait seriously?" It's almost like he doesn't believe you when you ask for the consent to capture his pure bliss and beauty while he fishes. The boat you both sat in rocking very lightly like a mother rocking her newborn's cradle, the fishing rod is in his steady calloused hands while you pinch the pencil between your fingers, etching the features of his jawline on the paper. If Arthur had been so kind before to draw you, why couldn't you return the favour? Plus you never really cared for fishing all that much, you just liked being in the same space as Arthur, breathing the same air, and sharing the perfect silence with a unstressed breeze between you two. And maybe you treated this as an excuse to look at Arthur a little closer than you usually would, admire the finer details of his roughened face. The small scar on his cheek that you never truly figured out the origins of, the small strand of hair that without fault would always end up against his forehead, the bags on his eyes that if they were on anyone else that you wouldn't find too appealing but just because it's on Arthur, your Arthur, its one of those imperfections that turns perfect. His jaw is practically on the floor once you reveal the drawing to him, the details that you've captured in his face that he had only seen as flaws. He wasn't used to this, he was used to capturing the beauty around him, hiding the ugliness away from his drawings, the ugliness which he labelled as himself. Even with a beauty like you beside him he could never find himself all that appealing to look at, let alone put in the work in drawing. He felt flattered thought hat you would take the time to draw him, he knows he's returned the favour more than enough times. Enjoying to draw you when you're grooming your horse, singing at the campfire with Javier, looking so peaceful sleeping beside him, any chance he would take to capture your beauty. And Arthur wouldn't ever admit it, maybe he was too proud or didn't want to look too soft to the others but he would take the drawing you made of him everywhere. That little reminder that even when he thought he was the worst man alive that there was someone back at camp who saw him as perfect

❦Sadie Adler❦

"Draw me? Well if it makes you happy I guess?" She'll pretend that she doesn't care, that it means nothing when you approach her all shy, your leather back journal and pencil in your hands while she's dragging her gun oil soaked rag over her pistol's barrel. Her eyes glancing at you as if its some kind of joke but when she sees your serious, she just shrugs it off and keeps working. She comments that she isn't gonna just sit still for an hour while you draw, she's a busy woman who has work to get done and you understand that. Hoping to get her drawing done quick but with the details you keep getting glimpses of when you pull your vision from the paper to her face make you realise how much more work you'll have to do to get it perfect. But inside, what you don't see, is that Sadie really does care at the idea of her drawing, especially from you. She's always been a secret fan of your little hobby, it was nice to have something that brought you such comfort and calm, she really wished she had something like that before she met you but now she had you, even if she tried to look all tough, she was truly as lovesick as she used to be with her now deceased husband that she is with you. When your eyes aren't on her, she's fixing her hair or clothes, just making sure that you get the best details of her. She doesn't want to look like an outlaw, she wants to look like a normal woman even if she is far from that now. She wants to look normal for you, the contrast between you two was so obvious to her. She could shoot twelve men and not even miss a wink of sleep while you couldn't even shoot a squirrel when you went out hunting with her. She enjoyed your kind heart though, it made her not feel so monsterous for what she's done and all the people she's hurt. She's very patient truly when you need more time to finish, even if before she told you that she wasn't gonna sit still. She knows how much you took pride and patience in your work, she wanted to make sure that your needs were met. And it paid off because when she finally does see the drawing, her heart has swelled holding the leather back journal as she admires your work. She had truly forgotten what she had looked like when she wasn't covered in dirt and blood, the inner beauty of her that you captured physically on the drawing, she just loved you a little more.

❦Javier Escuella❦

"Are you interested in a more intimate portrait?" Don't get me wrong, he is very flattered that you want to sketch him but he has to tease, giving you that sly smirk on his lips while he leans against the tree, his guitar in his lap and you sitting across from him. He sits confidently, trying to get a peak at your work every now and again, making comments at you that almost distract you from your drawing with how much they make your heart flutter. He gives you ideas for the drawing, like how he could look good on his horse, or fighting Micah, anything that makes him look like your personal hero that you already know he is. When you sometimes look up at him, he sends you a quick wink, chuckled at your flustered cheeks and quick change of focus back onto your paper. As much as Javier is teasing and trying to distract you from the work, he has full intentions of sitting right under the tree in the scorching heat until your work would be done to perfection. If you were more than happy to sit with him while he lazily strummed on his guitar, he could be considerate enough to enjoy his time with you while you work on your own hobby. He isn't exactly patient so eventually he leaves his spot, scooting over to you as he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at your work. His eyes are glued to your fingers which pinch your pencil and move in little scritch scratches on the finer details of his mustache. Careful to keep the strings of his guitar as straight as possible even if there's a little wonky bit every here and now. He thinks it's adorable how focused you are, your eyes glued to the sheet and your tongue sticking out of your mouth every now and again as you concentrate on the proper shading, rubbing your thumb against the paper to smudge the ink

❦Kieran Duffy❦

"I'm nothing special" It makes you frown to hear him say such a thing, turning his back to you when he continues on his chores, not wanting to be a burden to you. Not that he ever was, Kieran was the perfect medium between fantasy and realism. He was perfect to you, since the day you met him in Colter. Sneaking him food when everyone was asleep, on the coldest days when the wind blew harder with every second that burned your exposed skin but it had been worth it to see the small smile on his face when he knew at least there was someone who cared for him. Not many people had ever cared for him, his ma died young and his pa not long after her. He had been alone, every time he met one they would disappear or die around him. Possibly that's why it took so long for him to warm up to you, his fear that the next good thing in his life was gonna disappear. But you refused to take his no or fear for an answer, proving him time and time again that you didn't plan to go anywhere. Even if he would push and push you away, you held on like a tick on a dog, of course a bit more benefitial than a tick for a dog. And maybe it takes a little bit of forcing to get him to just sit down, relax and let you show him that he is a lot more perfect than he thinks so. He's stiff, constantly trying to find an excuse to escape your eyes on him as you concentrate on capturing his finer details. He's fixing his hat to hide his face until you rip the hat away from him, practically begging him to just let you do this and show him in your own eyes, your vision of how perfect the squirmy shy and anxious boy sitting under the tree with you truly is. Once you're finished he's so happy that he has something made by someone only for him, something that he is able to cherish. Even if he will still have his self esteem issues, he will always have his physical representation of the love from his little artist.

❦Thank You For Reading❦

❦Taglist:

❦Bashfullove❦

[then-be-a-warrior]

I know I keep mentioning it but

Wukong crying and cradling Mk was the best thing that happened in the whole series.

Argue with your mom. I'm right.

THE Immortal, the Legend, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven has a weakness in his little brother. His baby brother, man.

Lord save me because this is killing me. I'm dead. Deceased. Expired. Embalmed.