#Ashes Caskets

[crocodiledeathspin]

Holy Blade // Holy Blade

Closed Casket Activities // 2024

[oncamelliastreet]

i am actually genuinly struggling to come up with a watercolor idea that won’t make my art teacher send me to the counselor because he’s concerned that that’s where my mind is going

[vyborg]

In my head Russia's funeral starts like a normal closed casket funeral but at some point the casket is opened (Belarus) and there’s just a random man of Russia’s height and weight crammed into the casket so the funeral turns into a treasure hunt (the treasure is Russia's corpse) and no one can figure it out. because decades before kicking the bucket he arranged for his corpse to be cremated and had his ashes put in the confetti tubes America was planning to burst at his funeral but no one let him do that because it’s generally improper to burst confetti tubes at funerals.

[4thegadiesandlentlemen]

I want Ray Cist to box his Grandma. Throw him in the ring, 0 prep time. Cameron Geller, make it happen this instant. I want to see this racist man throw hands with his black Grandma.

[bumpscosity]

when i die there better not be a funeral. if you have to do something do a chuck e cheese pizza party or something. if it had to be all traditional in a church or whatever don't do eulogies make it a roast instead. ppl don't even have to be roasting me roast everyone in the room i want a fight to break out at my funeral

[mutxnts]

HUH????

[star4daisy]

18/02 - husband - 1272 words - @rosekillermicrofic

“Where is he?” Barty asked desperately as soon as he entered the hospital. “Where the fuck is he?”

No one answered him. The place was a convoluted mess, with people running around, crying kids and wounded people in the waiting line. Barty barely avoided colliding with them as he ran to the front office.

The line was so big he considered stabbing himself to get admitted, that’s when he saw his salvation in the form of one Pandora Rosier. Barty skipped the line to where she was way ahead, ignoring all the protests around him. If anyone tried to stop him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting physical.

“Do you know how he is?” he didn’t bother saying hi to her, he couldn’t make himself talk about anything other than Evan.

Pandora didn’t look nearly as distraught as Barty felt, but she had always been better at keeping her emotions in. It must run in the blood.

“Haven’t gotten any information yet, they said I needed to check here first.”

“Motherfuckers.” Barty cursed, ignoring the old lady in front of them who was sending him dirty looks.

It felt like an eternity before they were called, but Pandora only had two people in front of her in line. Barty let her do the talking, he wasn’t in the right headspace to be polite to anyone right now. Not when Evan was injured and Barty didn’t know how he was doing. Didn’t even know if he was alive. No. Barty couldn’t let himself go there or he’d lose his mind. Turn the entire hospital into ashes in his wake. Hell, he might let himself burn too so that he could meet Evan again.

“What’s your name, sir?” The lady finally turned to him after Pandora had already given all her information and Evan's.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior.” Barty had no patience to entertain her.

“Document, please.”

Barty gave it to her as quickly as he could, almost dropping it in the process, he didn’t know why his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Okay, Mister Rosier just got out of surgery, he’s still at the ICU, so only family members and partners can go up.”

“Okay, I’m his partner.” Barty didn’t even blink, there was a time when it would’ve cost him everything to admit it, but now it came as easy as breathing.

“I meant legally,” she clarified with an apologetic look. “His sister can go in, but I’m afraid you're not on the allowed list.”

“Excuse me?” Barty’s voice went up without even meaning to. “I’ve been with him for years, we’ve known each other since we were eleven and you’re telling me I can’t fucking see him because we don’t have a stupid piece of paper saying we’re partners?”

“I’m sorry sir, but only spouses and family members are allowed, you’ll have to wait until he’s out of the ICU.”

“Wait my ass, I’m going in to see him.” Barty hit his fist on the glass separating them.

“I’m gonna need you to calm down, sir. Or you’ll be asked to leave.”

Barty’s laughter was brittle. “The only way I’m leaving here is if you're all on a casket if you don’t let me in.”

“Barty,” Pandora interrupted his tirade. “Evan is fine, he’s in the room now. He wouldn’t want you to end up in jail or worse when he’s okay.”

“Fuck off, easy for you to say when you can go in. I need to see he’s okay with my own eyes. I don’t believe this cunt or any of these useless motherfuckers.”

“Barty,” her tone was full of warning.

“I need to see him.”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“Yes, there is,” and then Barty turned around and started running.

He had no idea where he was going, barely avoiding hitting running nurses, he heard footsteps behind him but gave it no thought, he had a one-track mind when he was determined and nothing made him as focused as Evan.

Barty saw a sign with ICU written indicating that it was located on the seventh floor and ran to the elevators. He pressed the button five times before he saw security coming in his direction.

“Shit,” Barty checked around him for anywhere else he could go when he saw the sign for the stairs, without thinking twice he threw it open.

Barty was out of breath before he hit the third floor. He wanted to kill himself. Fuck him for never accepting Potter’s invitation to do cardio with him. They reached him before he got to the fifth floor. Barty was never smoking again, he was so out of breath he thought they might have to call a doctor for him too.

Maybe they would have if Barty hadn’t punched the first security guard to reach him, or if he hadn’t kicked the second one making him almost fall off the stairs. Unlucky for him he wasn’t in his prime anymore after all the running, Barty should've dealt with them before running, maybe he would've had a shot but as it was now he was taken kicking and screaming bloody murder.

Barty spat blood at the security guards' feet as soon as they threw him out through the emergency exit, he hadn't even felt it when they hit him. “I’m gonna kill all you motherfuckers.”

“You’re lucky we aren’t calling the cops on you,” They warned him.

Barty paid them no mind, even though one security remained outside to watch if he was gonna try to make a run for it again. Barty had never been so pissed in his entire life. How dare they not let him in just because he didn’t have a stupid piece of paper saying Evan was his forever?

It wasn’t like they hadn’t already been committed to each other for years, Barty had simply never believed in the concept of marriage. Not when all the examples he had were bloody awful. But now, after this, he was making Evan his husband as soon as he got out of the hospital.

Barty was pacing in front of the hospital when he had his most brilliant idea, he wasn't sure what gave him the idea, but he knew it was the only way he was being admitted to the hospital again after the stunt he had pulled. 

Barty turned to the guard with a shit-eating grin on his face — he couldn’t stop himself — he was a bloody genius. Barty took out the pocket knife he carried everywhere he went. He was getting in there even if he had to draw more blood.

“Don’t even try it,” the man warned him, his eyes widening as soon as he saw the knife in Barty’s hand. “Stay back,” he said as he reached for his walkie-talkie and called for reinforcement.

There was no need, Barty just needed him to see what was happening. As soon as the others stepped back outside, complaining that he was still there Barty turned the knife and stabbed himself on his side.

“Oh, shit.”

"Crazy motherfucker."

“Oh my fucking god, hold him.”

Barty was still smiling when they stopped him from hitting the floor and carried him inside the hospital. He laughed when they admitted him to the ICU and said he needed immediate surgery. 

“Barty?” Pandora asked with worry when she saw him passing in a litter. He didn’t even see when they put him there. “What the fuck did you do?”

Barty got one glimpse of Evan sitting down on his bed with a frown on his face before he passed out.

Evan was alive.

It was worth it.

[alliseaisfandom]

this will probably be disproven across episodes but I have the Gwen brainrot so indulge me.

I know a lot of people hope that Elias is out walking around happy and high, but see the Magnus institute burned down in 1999. Jonah took Elias in 1996.

So don't imagine Gwendolyn coming 'home' after a few years studying on daddy's money, daddy's name and daddy's contempt that his youngest daughter seems perfectly fine with ignoring what is expected from a Bouchard.

Don't imagine Gwen running into her brother one night after he himself hasn't been in their family house for weeks. And realising the thing in front of her isn't Elias.

The stone cold sober, easy smiling man with impeccable posture is not the man who taught her how to play their parents to secure a peaceful life and a place in the will at the same time.

The eyes looking back at her never winked at her from across the dinner table, never shed tears of rage at the golden chains around both of them, never looked at her at her lowest and told her everything would be okay one day. Because those eyes do not belong to Elias.

'A promotion' it tells her, with the same pride Elias used to talk about a student strike that would absolutely wreck their name if it were printed on papers, but this thing wouldn't do that because this thing is. Not. Her. Brother. But she's almost as good at acting as it is, so she plays along. 'Head of the Magnus Institute'.

And Gwen knows very little of the Magnus institute. But she knows enough about Elias Bouchard. She knows about Allan and the eyeless thing that got to him, tale whispered in a panic on the night she first saw her brother as a child instead of a role model. She knows about the letter that arrived unprompted. She knows the stories of what goes on inside the too old building.

And she knows how easy it is to get her hands on gasoline for the bits of it that aren't already flammable.

When she's called in as his emergency contact, she feigns shock at the fire, throws the bone that 'the idiot couldn't even keep his fucking lighter straight' between tears.

She throws the ashes off a foggy cliff onto the sea and attends the empty casket funeral with the same expression she learns to carry from that day on. And after years of clipped conversation, she does what she promised Elias to never do.

'Get me in.' She tells her father. And his smile of relief at 'still having a worthy heir' on the day of his son's funeral sickens her. But she keeps the same expression.

Because she may have killed the thing that took Elias. But the OIAR is the place that can tell her what she killed exactly.

And she won't make her brother's mistakes.

[fallintomidnight]

Regulus, very drunk : "Remus... would you like to be cremated or buried when you die?"

Remus, equally drunk : "I would like to be buried in a simple wooden casket..."

Regulus, casually: " OK then I would cremated your body and seperate your ashes into 4 parts and scatter them across the 4 oceans IF you ever hurt my brother..."

Remus 🤝: "deal"

Sirius:

Sirius : "I don't know if I should "aww" or "WTF " right now.."

[authorsofghosts]

You're Not Him | Horseman!Gambit x Reader | Pt. 1

Author's Note: I do not enjoy the design of black gambit in the comics so i decided to go with another design(that i made the fuck up), my apologies horseman gambit fans.... anyways enjoy the first fic we're posting here !!! thank you @genderqueerbarbie777 for beta reading :3

Summery: Remy was dead. Or so you thought. There was a man that sounded like him, had his powers, but... why did he look like that? Who was this? This wasn't your Remy.

Themes: Angst, Hurt w/ No Comfort, Previous Relationship, Betrayal, Crying, Cursing, Kidnapping, R's a mutant/x-man (no powers written), Violence.

Word Count: 1.6k

next pt

Apocalypse had chosen the perfect moment to strike, the X-Men still mourning Gambit's death. You were still shaken up about it, though it had happened months ago. You loved him, you really loved him. Even if you never let anyone but him know. You stood up from the blast, dusting yourself off till you're frozen, hearing a voice behind you.

"Cher...?" You heard, a raspy of remnant of something from your past. It wasn't him. It couldn't be. You turned to look for Remy, but you were met with something... ghoulish.

"Y-... you're not him." You say, voice strained as you look at the creature that stood there, stolen Remy's voice to fool you. The silvery skinned man smirked. He wore Remy's jacket, his fucking jacket, he had his voice, a dark deck of cards in one hand and a baton in the other. This had to be some kind of trick, an illusion, anything but real.

"Oh, but Gambit is him, petit..." The ash covered man walked towards you, his white hair covering his blackened eyes. Even his walk, his mannerisms, they were Remy's. But he was dead, Remy Lebeau was dead. You watched his casket get put in the ground, there was no way this was your lost love.

You backed away as he stood in front of you, looking down with pink glowing eyes as he put the deck of cards in the inner pocket of his jacket. He went to place his bone-y, gaunt hand on your cheek, being met with a quick swat as you took another step back.

"N-no, you're not! Wh-what are you?!" You yelled out, tears swelling in your eyes as you yelled at the thing in front of you, mocking you, mimicking the man you loved, the man you watched die.

This Remy chuckles, a sound that would normally make your heart swell with love, but this... this was dark, something evil behind it. You know if this was really Remy, he'd never hurt you, but you couldn't help the chills that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He grabs your wrist, pulling you close.

"Gambit's 'Death', baby..." He starts, another low chuckle coming from his lips, "But he remembers you, cher. You're mine, remember?" These words, they brought a memory that shook you to your core.

"Cher, what are you doing?" Remy spoke softly, watching you walk into his room at the mansion. He laughed at the sight of you, your face flushed as you took off your jacket. "Ya gonna answer ol' Remy or nah?"

"I'm tired. I want... to be held." You murmur, laying on the bed next to him, quick to get his attention away from whatever he was doing before. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling the covers over you and placing you between his arm, flush against his bare chest.

You both laid there in silence, breathing synced up as he caged you in his arms, head nuzzling your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. "You're okay, mon amour... You're here, you're... mine."

You tried pulling back, the walking corpse in front of you growling lowly. "Don't ya dare fight my hold on you." His voice hissed, strong hand gripping your wrist so hard it made you gasp in pain, the tears finally falling from your eyes.

There's a shocked look on his face, grip loosening ever so slightly as he watches you closely. You notice something slight, something that reminded you of the Remy before. "P-please..." you cry out softly, "Lemme go, Rem."

This upset him, but it also made him smile as you finally acknowledge he's really who he says he is. "I don't think I will, cher..." He turns you around, placing an arm across your middle to hold you against him, other hand still tight on your wrist. "I ain't gonna leave you again. And yer not leavin' me, ya hear?"

The gaunt hand holding your wrist lets go, traveling up your arm, up your neck before finally resting on your chin, holding it softly, thumb caressing your cheek. You can't help but shiver. This causes Remy to laugh again, nuzzling into your skin. "Why are ya afraid of lil ol' me, petit? I ain't gonna hurtcha..."

"Y-you're not?" You ask, voice hoarse and breathy. You smile nervously, leaning your head back against his chest to try and show him you want to trust him. You swallow hard as he sits up, setting his chin on the top of your head.

"Of course not, cher. Why would Gambit do that to ya?" He says softly, eyes looking around at the make shift battlefield that used to be the X Mansion, pointing his baton at your teammates as they fight in the distance. "Looks like they've forgotten you, amour."

Your eyes widen as you realize what he means. It wasn't just that they'd forgotten you, you knew this wasn't true, but that they were fighting without you. They hadn't even bothered to look for you. "No, they... they need me-" You go to walk forwards but his arm around your middle brings you back flush against him.

"No they don't. I do." He growls out, his hand on your chin turning your gaze up to him. "I said it already. We ain't leavin' each other again, yer coming with me." His eyes glow, staring down at you as his grip around you tightens even more.

Your eyes widen "With you? What are you-" You're cut off by his hand on your chin covering you mouth, Remy shushing you softly. Before you can protest, you feel his baton snap to your neck, hitting a pressure point and causing you to pass out.

"Cher? Cher, wake up, please..." You heard, the cold sting of the metal table in the medical bay pressed against your back.

"Remy?" you said weakly, feeling his hands move from your own to your face, pulling you flush against his chest, a tear falling from his eyes. "What's wrong? W-what happened?" You ask, unable to remember the fight from before.

"You got hurt, bad, petit... Gambit though he was gonna lose ya fo' a moment..." He says softly, nuzzling into your skin, his warm touch against your cold skin sending chills up and down your body. It was nice, being in his arms, but in this situation? It felt live a saving grace.

You woke up, your vision blurred and and the sounds around you muffled under a sharp ringing in your ears. You can't move, the small amount you can making your realize you're tied down, laid against the corner of two walls. You try to focus on the voices, eyes closing.

"You brought an X-Man here?! Are you fucking stupid?!" An unfamiliar voice says, angry.

"It's not just any X-Man, it's... my cher..." Remy says, voice breaking slightly. After a second you hear him scream out in pain, causing you to wake up fully, your eyes wide as you look in the direction.

"Weak... he shouldn't even be able to remember his life before becoming Death!" You see the tall, menacing Apocalypse, his arm turning from some kind of taser to his normal hand. He looks over at you, eyes widening as he sees your awake. "What a surprise, though..." He takes a step towards you.

"N-no, don't!" You say, backing yourself against the corner as the towering monster stands a few feet in front of you. You scream out as he grabs you, taking you across the room and throwing you down once again. You hear a click as something snaps around your neck. Your binds are taken off just to be replaced with the same metal that adorns your neck, pressing you flat against whatever surface you're on.

Your eyes look back at Remy as he stands up, face full of defeat as he looks at Apocalypse. "Sir, I'm sorry-" He starts, cutting himself off as the man looks at him. He backs away, lowering his head. You still can't believe it, Remy's alive, but... not himself, working for Apocalypse.

"Well, now that we have an X-Man... why don't we celebrate? This means we won the fight." The tall, broad creature known as Apocalypse says, voice dark with intent. He looks down at you, a grim smile on his face as he speaks again, "Don't try to do anything, mutant. Your powers are useless with the bindings you're in. If you do, however, there will be punishment."

You don't want to test his words, nodding quickly. Your fear and submission causes the man to laugh, clearly entertained that you're so quick to listen. "It seems Gambit has picked the perfect hostage." Apocalypse chuckles, turning his back to you as he addresses the others in the room. "That does not mean I am not disappointed, though, feeble mutant."

He walks up to Remy, who sits up, eyes shaking as he looks up at the taller man. In a swift movement, Apocalypse grabs him by the throat, causing you to yell out. He brings Remy to eye level before speaking, "If you were not needed for the unstoppable force of the Apocalypse, you'd be dead by my hand. Do you understand, mutant?"

Remy nods, closing his eyes as the other man drops him. You stare at him as he lands on his knees, not fighting back. It was strange to see him so... weak, submitting to the orders of terrible force. It was frightening, even. Remy opened his eyes and looked up at Apocalypse, "Yes, sir."

His voice was just as weak as he looked next to Apocalypse. You could tell by the ways his eyes shifted that he was biting back an insult or some smart alack response. That was until they met yours again, all of the pain in them leaving and being replaced with something much more positive. A love that you'd seen many times before, making you sure that this was in fact your Remy.

[astra-ravana]

🜏Astra's Grimoire; Masterlist🜏

Working with Spirits

Abaddon

Angrboda

Arachne

Aradia

Astaroth

Asmoday

Azazel

Buer

Bune

Cernunnos

Dantalion

Decarabia

Eris

Gaap

Leviathan

Lilith

Loki

Lucifer

Marbas

Medusa

Melinoe

Morrigan

Murmur

Nyx

Paimon

Ptah

Raum

Ronove

Samael

Seere

Stolas

Uphir

Valac

Zagan

Invocation Ritual

Spells/Recipes

Commanding Oil

Crow Sleep Spell

Create a Dark Talisman

Clavum Et Spinam

Casket Boxes

Materialization Potion

Invocation for Integration of Multidimensional Gifts

Fire And Water

Attract the Fae Using a Faerie Ring

Black Opal Charm

Phoenix Ash

Hunter's Curse Enchantment

Hex Bag of Illness

To Give The Evil Eye

Folk Chaos Recipe: Influence Powder

Jar Candle Road Opener

Black Arts Oil

Other/Various Topics

List of Baneful Components

The Dark Moon

Notes On Crossroads

Magickal Herb Sets

Serpent Symbolism

Obscure Spell Components

Sigils Part 1

Sigils Part 2

Necromancer's Tool Kit

Courtesies Of Sect Law

The Powers That Be

A Dive Into The Dark Feminine

Interacting With The Fae

Eleven Powers of Witches

Essential Herb Collection

A Selection of Weather Magick

Bypassing Wards and Protections

A Collection of Symbols

My Personal Correspondences

Wand Woods

Key Magick

The Magick of Spiders

Celtic Astrology

Creating Servitors

Basic Incense and Their Uses

Hedge-Riding

Candle Divination

The Satanic Statutes

Basic Numerology

Liminal Spaces in Witchcraft

Cursed And Bonded Objects

Bug Correspondences

Magickal Uses For Bindweed

The Basic Principles Of Spellcasting

Egyptian Zodiac

Cursing By The Moon

Cartomancy

The Power of Hair

Tarot Tips

Blood In Magick

Soul Connections

Spiritual Downloads

The Four Powers Of The Magus

Types Of Witchcraft

Crystals By Use: Quick Reference

Witch's Runes

The Faerie Star

[blintzestein]

if i die you have to find my open casket funeral and stand over my body like no joan does this all the time actually you just have to kinda smack her around a bit. and then keep upping the bit until you are beating the shit out of me on the floor. then burn my body to ashes on a stake and throw those ashes into the kansas wind

[shikaizer]

DIRTY PLEASURE 009

SERIES DETAILS

Two Weeks Later

the rain was gentle, barely more than mist, but it clung to your coat and hair like a presence, like someone refusing to let go.

the cemetery was quiet, just family, a few classmates, and a priest droning through verses no one seemed to truly hear, you stood in the back row, between caitlin and paige, both dressed in deep, respectful black, both silent, both close, too close.

caitlins gloved hand never left the small of your back, paiges fingers, barely noticeable, curled around yours, from the outside, you looked like supportive partners, but inside, you were dizzy.

aliyah’s casket sat above the grave, covered in lilies, her picture rested on a small easel nearby, her smile frozen in time, you didnt dare look at it for long, it made your stomach twist, not from guilt, not exactly, but from something else, something harder to name.

paige leaned toward you, lips close to your ear “your okay,” she whispered “your with us.” you nodded, not because you believed it, but because it was easier now, you’d spent days wrapped in their care, warm baths, soft voices, sleepless nights with paige curled into your side and caitlin running her fingers through your hair until you couldnt remember what fear felt like.

they had become everything, and somehow that felt safe, as the casket was lowered into the earth, caitlins hand slid around your waist and held you tighter, you didnt pull away.

“rest easy, aliyah” the priest murmured, your jaw clenched, she loved you, they took her away,

but they stayed, when no one else did.

the funeral ended, people dispersing in hushed tones and umbrellas, you stood there a moment longer, eyes locked on the fresh dirt covering the coffin, aliyah was really gone.

you turned to caitlin and paige, gave a weak, convincing smile “i just need a minute, bathroom.” they nodded, caitlin brushing your cheek gently “we’ll be by the car.”

you walked briskly toward the church building, heart pounding, not from grief anymore, but from the adrenaline pulsing like wildfire through your limbs, you found the bathroom, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

you locked the stall, climbed onto the toilet seat… and waited, minutes ticked by, then you heard the door open again, footsteps, paiges voice, soft and cautious “babe?”

you held your breath, the footsteps passed by your stall, then silence, when the door finally creaked shut again, you waited five more agonizing seconds before moving, you slipped off the seat, unlocked the stall, and bolted.

out the back door, around the side of the church, across the parking lot, into the trees beyond, you didn’t stop running, you didn’t look back.

hours passed before you found a bus stop on the outskirts of town, you sat on the bench, trembling, soaked, and breathless, the sky had started to clear, sunlight bleeding through the clouds.

your phone was still in your pocket, you stared at it, one call, one call, and it would all be over, but your fingers never moved, because somewhere deep in your gut, a cold truth settled like ash

you didnt know who you were without them, you had escaped their arms, but not their hold.

[crossnamara]

when curt eventually dies on a mission or from his alcoholism or whatever kills the poor bastard, his mother is told they dont have a body to recover. she buries an empty casket, but there was a body. hes cremated, and as one last act of friendship, tatiana scatters his ashes near where she knew curt had buried owen

[ddollys]

“NIGHTS LIKE THIS…”

────୨ৎ────

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💭ɞ˚‧｡⋆

:: IN WHICH :: you’ve been killed during the shibuya incident. and yuji, who had feelings for you—both platonically and romantically, misses you. so, now, he finds himself in a dream with you.

:: angst, fluff, comfort :: — afab reader, bottled up feelings, angst with a happy ending, yuji itadori missing you, reader has dimples, etc. not proofread.

i really hope this is good , reblog if you enjoyed. 🤍

—

yuji itadori loved you—but in fear of rejection, he bottled up his feelings in a space that was somewhere in the back of his mind. he refused to acknowledge the bittersweet love he felt for you, pushing it away. he didn’t want it to get in the way of your tight friendship. he didn’t want you to avoid him because you felt uncomfortable being with a man who liked you.

“hold my hand until we turn to ashes.”

he didn’t get any time to genuinely confess the truth about how he truly felt about you… because, now…

you’re laying right in front of him. dead.

he stared in disbelief—he should’ve… he should’ve protected you! he promised, he made a deal in his mind that he swore to protect you; to reserve your place in life.

he didn’t move. he didn’t breathe. his lungs begged for air yet when they received oxygen, they denied it and closed up. his throat was shutting down, burning and pleading for water.

but, he stood still. same stance, same form, same face. he was splattered with your blood, and he begged god for it to be his instead of yours.

your bodily fluid on him felt like an unforgivable sin. yuji itadori… didn’t know in the afterlife, when his time came… that you would forgive him.

that you would accept his bittersweet love for you, the true love he felt for you.

“love me til’ they put me in my casket.”

weeks later, he was still restless. he kept reliving the same moment in his dream. it kept repeating, each time he thought that he was finally letting go of the memory; the dream would crash down and morphed into that same, horrifying reality.

it felt like his brain was taunting him, letting him experience the haunting guilt that gnawed in his guts. each time he felt an ounce of guilt—he was rushing to the bathroom to puke out all his sorrow.

“i got all these feelings that i’m maskin’.”

his dream tonight was a stark contrast to his prior experiences… it was oddly peaceful. it wasn’t anything special; just a plain white room.

but there was just a gentle presence that soothed his nerves, that helped shake off the feeling that it was going to turn into a nightmare.

“…yuji.” you called out, behind him. your voice was devoid of ill intentions, just pure. “…i’m glad you’re holding up.” you spoke, a soft smile on your face. yuji whipped his whole body around.

it wasn’t a fake smile—yuji knew that you had small dimples when you actually put a genuine smile. “…i—i missed you.” yuji shakily whispered, his knees bucking down and he was on the floor. tears bubbled up in his eyes as he looked up at you. “…it’s… it’s really you.” he murmured, his pretty light brown eyes still locked on yours.

“hey… no, get up.” you coo, bending down to grab his hands and lift him up. “…yuji,” you say, “…you’re strong. please, don’t give up just because of me.” you console, your hands still clasped with his. you were glowing, just how he first met you.

“…i—i can’t-” yuji whispered, but got cut off by you.

“…oh yes you can.” you replied. “…i love you, yuji.” you smiled, the dimples that he always took notice to appeared.

“…i love you too, love…” yuji replied. you gave yuji a gentle kiss on the lips. “…everything wasn’t your fault, please, don’t stress about it.” you say. you faced your back against him and walked away; your body fading.

for once, he finally found solace in a dream.

“can i lay it on you? that’s what i’m asking.”

nights like this - the kid laroi.

[lieslab]

Can't you come back home?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: You finally accept the grief you've been outrunning.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.4k

Trigger warning: Death, loss, fear of afterlife, and descriptions of prepping a body for a funeral.

Grief resources

_ _ _

The entire world collapsed beneath your feet. For so long, you ached with an empty hollowness. For months, you walked around with a hole in your heart. No matter what, it wouldn’t go away. After your loved one died, you went to great lengths, trying to heal the gaping wounds in your heart. 

You flooded yourself with work. You hid in books, not daring to pull your head out until hours later. You lost yourselves in the dramas and comforted yourself in escapism because escapism meant forgetting. You avoided the harrowing realization time and time again. 

It stared at you in the distance; an empty void in the outline of them. The way their hair sat just like they did when they were alive. A tar black void waved, trying to catch your attention; your brain trying to process their death, but you refused. 

You tried to busy yourself with everything else. Anything else. Every time the thoughts grew darker, you turned them off. You cranked up the music and placed headphones over your ears. In the kitchen, you hummed to yourself, too busy measuring stuff to cook with, you narrowly avoided the harrowing realization. 

You avoided and avoided and avoided. Across the way, the outline grew darker. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, at some point, the body would finally realize they weren’t coming back. 

And for you, it hit in the middle of the kitchen on a bright sunny day. The kitchen window sat open. The content chirps of birds brushed against your ears. The warmth of sunlight hit just right and nothing else mattered. 

Your heart, a fragile egg and it dropped; hitting the ground with a wet thud and oozing out in every direction all at once. You blinked rapidly, trying to push the feelings down, but today, your thoughts won. Grief rushed in and wrapped around your neck. It choked you like a winter scarf. 

You never wanted to talk about it. You brushed off condolences at the funeral. You tried so hard not to stare at the body in the casket because it didn’t feel like them. The makeup was wrong. Too much blush to bring back the rosy color of life. It was all wrong. 

The sweet scent of limes clung to your hands. You were cutting one to get the juice. It rammed into your heart; all of it, that final stage of grief. 

Acceptance always hurt the most because no matter what, they weren’t coming back. Scream at the sky if you must. Frantically text their old number. Hit the call button and wait for the familiar sound of the voice on the voicemail, if it’s still there. 

No more conversations. No more soaking up the warmth of the sun. Not another shared laugh and finishing each other’s sentences. You would never see them again. Trapped in photographs and memories, a victim to time; forever in memoriam. 

If not here, where do they go? What happens to them? Their body stays here and where does the soul go? Does it twinkle in the bright lights of heaven? Do the pearly gates grow faint as they plummet straight to hell? 

Perhaps it’s something else entirely. Screaming at the top of their lungs, seeing the light, and coming out as another species on the other side. Are they trapped between the barrier of life and death? Roaming around their house, unable to leave the walls slathered with memories? 

Trying so hard to conjure up the energy to move things and speak with the living, proving they’re still there. Where do people go after death? What happens next? 

Do they feel the licks of flame when cremated? Are they aware that they can never call their bodies home again? One day, you’re smiling with your friends and a week later, you’re the fine grains of ash in a picked out urn. Can they see the mortician as they work in silence? 

Flushing out the blood that pulsed from their body. Peeling back the eyes and inserting a piece of plastic to keep the eyelids shut during a viewing. Cotton in the nose. Gauze down the throat. Stitches to keep their mouths quiet forever. 

Your hands found the table as a wave of dizziness brushed over you. You desperately grabbed the edge of the ceramic counter, trying to keep your balance. You didn’t know where they went. Where did they go? What happened next? Were they alone? Is it cold? Does it hurt? 

Can they feel the loneliness, just as you can? Does their heart feel a bit too empty? Are they aware of just how much their absent presence has affected you? 

In the living room, Han stayed unaware of your thoughts and feelings. Curled up into the leather on the couch, his eyes drooped. A new anime unfolded on the screen. Some cut scenes that seemed to hold no deeper meaning to the full story. 

The sound of a sob jerked him straight upright. The blanket flew off of him and he dashed into the kitchen like a light. You sat with everything on the counter spread out. All the spices, the ground meat, the half-cut lime. You had been so excited to make a Mexican dish you found, but it all came crashing down. 

You gripped onto that countertop for dear life. Hands gripping. Teary eyes. More sobs fell from your lips. Han rushed over, grabbing your hands, trying to inspect them for blood, but none fell. They were cold from cutting up lime slices, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with them specifically. 

“Honey, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” 

“They’re gone,” you croaked. Your voice quivered and died. “They’re d-dead and I-I can’t-” 

A knife rammed through his fragile heart. He tugged you towards him, desperate to stop the hurt from flowing through you. More tears welled up in your eyes. “I-I didn’t get to say b-bye. I-I didn’t get to tell them that I still loved them.” 

“I know, honey, I know. It’s not fair, but I promise you, they know. They know you love and miss them. They’re waiting for you on the other side, I have to believe it.” 

Your head shook. Tears fell down your cheeks. Another sob escaped your throat. The more you cried, the more Han panicked. His hand gently rubbed your spine. 

You cried and cried and cried. He didn’t move, not daring to let you experience this hurt by yourself. Your sinuses clogged and you struggled to breathe through the grief coating your lungs. 

Minutes ticked by and he didn’t let go. He didn’t try to move you, or tell you to stop crying. He didn’t shush you and tell you to get over it. He didn’t try to say this was part of life. 

“You don’t know if they’re waiting,” you whispered after a while. “You can’t promise that.” 

“I can’t, but I know what kind of person they were. They were the kind of person that loved you with their whole heart. They wouldn’t abandon you. I have to believe that the people we love, they’re just on the other side and waiting.” 

“I like to think the grass is green. Maybe there’s a park where they all gather and hang out. It’s always a nice temperature, not too hot, or too cold. Everything they want, they can get it at the snap of their fingers.” 

“They still have all the memories and maybe, just maybe when you think of them here randomly, maybe that’s them on the other side thinking about you, too. I don’t think our family members and friends would abandon us.” 

“They’re in the wings and watching. They’re the gut feelings that keep us safe. They’re in our dreams, constantly popping in and trying to check on us. They’re everywhere, you just have to find them.” 

“It hurts so bad.” 

“I know and I’m sorry I can’t take away that pain. I’d get rid of it and throw it far away, if I could, but I can’t. Just know that I love you and I’ll always be here to help you through that hurt.” 

“Please don’t die. I can’t handle it if you die.” 

“Die?” Han’s eyes widened and his head shook. “Oh, no. The grim reaper can’t take me. I’m not going down without a fight. I have a long healthy life ahead of me. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” 

“Promise?” You gripped his arms tighter. 

“Of course, I promise; always.” 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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