#death mentions tw

[flowers-of-io]

#7

Things you said where the water was loud | Read on Ao3

Once Taox’s ships leave through the wormhole in desperate pursuit of Auryx’s frigate, there isn’t much left of the Osmium Court. A few fires still hold up, weak flames licking the walls of tall, hollowed-out buildings, but most have already been extinguished by rainfall, leaving behind only billows of smoke, rank and choking in the damp air. Hardly a soul can be seen sneaking through the streets—whoever remained stays tucked under the roof of their still-standing house or is camping in the palace's great hall, trembling shapes huddling close and looking up to the ceiling, as if they could see the moons despite the several layers of stone and metal.

The courtiers are mostly dead or gone, but there is still a small gathering in the ruined throne room, lingering between the tactical map and a column all smouldered and cracked from a blast of strange green fire. They, too, huddle close; the diplomatic distance bridged in the face of death, hands curl around hands and heads lean on trembling shoulders. Royal-blue robes, dirty and in tatters, flutter in the draught whistling through bullet holes peppering the walls.

The rumbling of the approaching wave can be heard from the harbour now.

“Do you think the Monoliths are still standing?” The High Admiral asks, his arm arched around the Minister of Seaware who shakes and sniffles.

The Court Deputy Engineer eyes the tactical map—a burnt piece of parchment, now, granite pawns all tipped and strewn across the floor. “Star-Surgery is first,” she says, “and their engines will combust should water get into them. I haven’t heard any explosions yet.”

“You expect to hear anything over this damned squall?” The Sejm’s Highmost Speaker sneers at her from under a half-tipped pillar. She is still holding her buława, squeezing it like a lifeline against her bandaged chest.

The Second Crown Judge wedges a claw between two halves of a clam he found washed in by the tide, takes a bite, and offers the rest to the Deputy Engineer.

“It’s not that far,” he reminds, leaving it unspoken that the troubled sea could have very well pushed the Star-Surgery hundreds of danas away.

“What difference does it make if we hear it or not?” the Highmost Speaker grumbles, “It’s not like we can do anything about it either way.”

“Well, I myself prefer to know what’s coming my way before it does.”

The Minister of Seaware breaks into another wave of ragged sobs.

“I don’t want to die!” Her voice echoes in the chamber, earning her a number glances of glances from those huddled under other walls, some frightened and some expressing only weary annoyance.

“Hush,” the Second Crown Judge fishes out another clam from the deep pockets of his robe and pushes it into her hands, “have a snack.”

“I don’t want a snack! I w-want to go home!”

“Great Leviathan in the deep, is the last thing I’ll ever hear really gonna be your wailing?” Someone from a distant corner calls. The Minister only starts crying louder.

“If the wind hasn’t picked up, we could approximate the distance,” the High Admiral says over her sobs, “after the explosion, I mean.”

“Suit yourself. It could’ve very well gone off hours ago and we didn’t hear it.” The Highmost Speaker huffs, and reaches to pry the clam from the Minister’s claws without much resistance. “Give me that, if you’re not eating it. I’m hungry.”

[districttenpeterxx]

a lion on a leash

two minutes. who knew two minutes were all it took to sap the life out of a person so completely. two minutes, one hundred and twenty seconds, barely a blink.

"PETER LOPEZ!"

his name had rung out across the square, sucking the breath out of his chest, forcing him to breathe harder as something in him jolted and forced him to jerk forward, out of the little cluster of people he was standing with. he'd felt his brother jerk beside him and was relieved with his best friend, davis, had grabbed that foolish boy and wrestled him back as subtly as possible. his body felt stiff and rigid as he'd walked up the long path toward the crude little stage. he didn't look at the members of his community, he barely offered a glance toward lila, already standing up there. he couldn't force himself to seek out marisol or abuela in the crowd. a blink and his live was over.

the little room they'd shoved him into, waiting for people to come and say goodbye, felt stuffy, and he was pacing a hole in the floor. the uneven floor. he could have leveled it out, if he wasn't going off to die. he'd done enough handy jobs around ten that fixing a floor would be no sweat. but he probably wouldn't ever be back to ten, wouldn't ever have a chance to even offer to fix the floor. the door jerked open so quickly peter jumped and twisted to face it, just in time to catch his sister in his arms where she threw herself at him. he could feel the tension in her shoulders, feel wetness on his shoulder where her tears fell without any shame. she sniffled and peter realized for the first time that he wanted to cry, too. his eyes stung, his heart thumped, and his stomach twisted in uncomfortable ways, but he didn't. not yet.

adair stood in the doorway, brooding and scowling at him. he was angry. peter wasn't stupid enough to think that he hadn't been jerking forward to volunteer for him. but peter couldn't let his baby brother disappear in the games. he had more to do here in ten. someone had to be here to take care of marisol and abuela, and adair was far better at hissing and spitting when someone was being a bother. might have served him well in the games, but peter would have knocked him out himself before he let him get dragged off to the games. he would be forever grateful to davis, until his last breath, for stopping adair from making that mistake.

"it's going to be okay." pete's fingers tangled in his sister's hair as he watched over her shoulder, watched adair move just the slightest bit to the left to allow abuela into the room. she looked less upset than he imagined. more... determined. he pulled away from his sister with a final kiss to her forehead and opened his arms to abuela. he'd been taller than her since he was 15, but there was nothing more comforting than her thin arms winding around his middle and those knobby hands patting his back, right between his shoulder blades. over the years, peter had learned those pats. different pressure, different meaning. this one felt like her comfort pat and her angry pat all at once.

her expression when she pulled back was something new, too. determined, maybe. though he could see those tale tell signs of her anger. the furrowed brows, the twist at the corner of her mouth. "you better win. i'm not putting you in the ground, that's your job for me." and though it was morbid, peter let out a choked, watery little laugh. "go, sweet boy, but come back home to me."

he nodded, though peter would be the first to admit that he had no idea if that was even something that would be possible. he didn't know if he could come back. "i have money stashed in my room, under the floorboard by the window. use it. get what you need. please." it was, after all, the least he could do. he approached adair, and was unsurprised when his younger brother shoved him, hard, before dragging him into a hug so tight he was sure the younger boy was trying to break one of his ribs. that hug was the longest, but felt the shortest as peacekeepers appeared to pull them out of the room. there was a little resistance from all three of his closest family members, but they left, the door closing behind them, that click so definitive that peter sank to sit on the floor until they came to collect him for his train ride.

[strawberry-barista]

⚅— @hopeful-hugz asked: —⚅ ⚅— DNA. -What was your muses home life like? —⚅

"Damn."

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

The answer to this questions varies drastically depending what life stage you're referring to.

⚀ During his childhood and throughout school, Hanekoma lived with his parents in their small apartment in the city. He was in a underprivileged neighborhood without much to his name, but his parents made the best of it and did what they could to provide him with a stable and happy existence. Despite not having a lot of money, he lived a very happy life with very supportive parents. And in the summer Hanekoma's family would often go into the country to visit his grandparents in their home.

⚀ When Hanekoma reached university age he attempted to move out of his parents' home and make his own life. However, he didn't go to any university and instead just worked a regular day job. He struggled in his own small apartment without visiting anyone due to the anxiety and fear he felt about disappointing his family. After this short stint was over he moved back into his parents' house to take care of his mother, and once she passed he could no longer bear to be in the place. For some months he spent all of his time and money visiting other countries and feeding his gambling addiction.

⚀ It was after this, as a young adult, that Hanekoma lost his house completely and struggled to live on the streets. He would often take shelter in alleyways and especially in abandoned buildings. Finding food and shelter was difficult and sometimes incredibly rare, and it was the hardest home life he had. He didn't come out of this until Abe brought him into his own café and gave him a job. From that point until the time of his opening Wildkat, Hanekoma lived a comfortable life in Abe's apartment, the most high-end living he had had in his entire life.

[seventhscorpio]

There’s quite a lot to be said about the death of a symbol and the inherent connection of the crown and the head that wears it, the ridiculousness of having an actual functioning monarchy in a 21st century state, the economical impact, yada yada. The world stops because a woman with a famous surname dies of old age. Once more unto the breach, dear meme’rs, once more, or flood the Tweets’land with our crabbing rave. 21:37 british edition, shadenfreude through the roof, let’s fucking ball.

And still y’all are sleeping through the best jokes. Through how the brit monarchy is essentially Keeping up with the Kardashians on steroids, through the soil oh so fertile for satire-as-commentary to flourish, through the hilariously over-the-top sentiment the society—for some incomprehensible reason—has for a bunch of celebrities playing dress-up for the enjoyment of the masses. This could have been an incredible opportunity to do what leftist tumblr loves the most, which is dismantling old power structures; such a perfect moment to stop and think why we’re all standing here and memeing about this in the first place. Why any of you even cares that someone’s grandma has died? But nah, we’re all just gonna rave the crabs because uhhh something something colonialism, and this discussion is not gonna move beyond that, nothing of the sort of Why is she a cultural symbol? What are the lengths of responsibility for your throne’s legacy? Where is the line between the crown and the person? Is there such a line? Whose death am I celebrating, the symbol’s or the person’s?

Y’all love toppling statues, and many a time rightfully so, and I fully stand by the notion that maybe it’s time we finally addressed this 24/7 period drama reality show for what it is and put the crown to the museum where it belongs. But I guess what I’m getting at is that if you’re truly, sincerely glad that a person has died, you’re being a dick.

[xkilljxy]

mungos; @moodythemad​

Cordy wasn’t supposed to be in here, she’d already had that argument with the healers three times over before saying fuck it and walking in anyway. “I thought I’d lost you, and if you think you’re going to do that stupid macho bullshit thing where you try to push me away in your greatest time of need, I’ve got terrible news for you, because I’m not letting you get away with it, Alastor. So go ahead and get your chest beating over with now so that I can sit by your bed and rub a cool cloth across your forehead and do all that other sappy bullshit that people who’re in love do for one another in times of great stress and devistation.” 

[showmethehotpods]

I know I post too much Mun Talking as it is, but I wanted to explain why I might be a little spotty or if it feels like I’m being selective on what I’m responding to as of late. Warnings of death mentions though under the cut.  

A client of mine that I’ve been supporting over the last few months, he’s now considered palliative care. My shifts have involved a lot of checking on him, making sure he’s comfortable - I’ve been sitting in this room for the last few hours, feeling so powerless. Eventually, either myself or whoever is on shift will have to make the hard phonecalls to say that he’s passed. 

I suppose it’s also why every new fandom drama that keeps cropping up.. obviously, I want everyone to be safe in this space, looked after - but there are bigger things happening for me right now. The opinions of people who might not like me aren’t nearly as important as making sure someone can spend the last moments of their life without pain. 

If I seem a little selective, if I only pop onto the dash a few minutes a day just to make some dumb post of Patrick being a flirtatious asshole, or whatever it might be - please allow me a little time and understanding. I will get back to getting around to everyone, a proper routine of replies and what have you.. but right now, my focus is on my work, and my own stability. You’re all very important to me. But Tumblr isn’t my primary focus, and I’ll do what I can.

[baby-dollinkz]

anyways im not living anymore if every place both in and outside of the usa wants to control both women and lgbt peoples lives to be the worst it can be. this isn't a fucking joke, if i look up where its safe to move to as someone a part of the lgbt and/or afab person and find out nowhere is safe im cutting out the lights.

[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.

[landrylovesmatcha]

she’s everything 💕

tw: death mention

[incorrectbatfam]

[at Jason's funeral]

Dick: *places his hand on the headstone and sobs*

Dick: How could you do this to me? We are so understaffed.

[flowers-of-io]

It's so strange when someone dear to you loses a loved one but you've never met that dead person so you don't even really grieve, just think of that harrowing pain they must now be going through and want to gnaw at walls

[strawberry-barista]

{some of those replies I did got me to thinking and y'all know what that means.}

{How about some notes about how Hanekoma perceives death, erasure, and tragedies in general?}

{Cut for length. Also, tw for death and whatnot.}

⚀ Hanekoma was introduced to the concept of death very early in his life with the death of a grandparent. His own parents had a passive and detached way of explaining it that made Hanekoma reach the conclusion that death was not a terrible thing as it was simply inevitable. That didn't stop him from feeling pain or sadness when someone he cared about died, but he took comfort in knowing that it was natural for life to end.

⚀ Hanekoma began to fear death for the first time when he fell on hard times. It wasn't until he found himself in a legitimately life-threatening situation that he realized he didn't actually want to die, and this revelation kind of hit him like a truck. He struggled with the way he viewed his life and death in general during this time, and he didn't really pull out of it until he started working on himself to be healthier.

⚀ By the time he actually did enter the UG, he had become welcoming of death as a natural and acceptable stage of life. He was much nearer his original viewpoint of death. He became even more passive towards it after becoming a reaper and understanding exactly how the Game worked.

⚀ Hanekoma questioned the point of the Reaper's Game and reincarnation briefly during his time as a reaper, but this was settled out quickly as he worked with his art and watched those who returned to their lives go on to change the city. He was still a little uncomfortable about noise and erasure, however.

⚀ It was once he became Producer and learned what it meant to be an angel that he really began to be comfortable with the way the Game worked in its entirety. He became more familiar with how noise affected the world around it and how those trials could go into shaping the city, how the Soul joined the world again. After understanding this, he simply wasn't bothered by death or erasure at all.

⚀ All this being said, he is still very familiar with the feeling of loss and mourning, and he does still feel awful when he sees someone lose someone close to them. He can overlook players in the Game that he doesn't know because he knows their soul is going to use in the natural order of things, but witnessing someone mourning firsthand always makes him hurt, even strangers. Viewing death itself does not bother him, it's the aftermath that is difficult.

[seventhscorpio]

Therapist: so how did come to terms with your loved one's death

Me: oh, I wrote about my experiences a lot. (singing) you're rolling in your grave, I'm rolling to these sick beats 🎶

[bamsara]

Part 2 to this comic

What happened in Darkwood in the meantime?? Dont worry about it

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Tumblr introduced a "postmortem" feature, where dead celebrities could blog from the afterlife. Only Terry Pratchett used it.

[intersectionalpraxis]

Source: [@/ Kandakat_alhaqq on X.] You can follow them here for more updates.

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