#Disrespect the Dead

[personal-blog243]

You are under no obligation to mourn this man

[justafrogandherumbrella]

Welcome to Nowhere: Disrespect the Dead

The sky is clear of any clouds, yet it is gloomy and gray. As far as you can tell, the sun remains hidden. Ash drifts down from the sky, littering the black soil on which you stand. The landscape on which hundreds upon hundreds of graves sit is completely flat and seemingly infinite. 

“Whoah,” Emerson says behind you. 

“Creepy looking, huh?” Gaia asks, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Creepy looking indeed. Not only has the landscape been seemingly scorched, but there isn’t a single sign of life here. There are no trees, bushes, or plants of any kind. Not even grass. There are no insects or birds, and it is far too silent for your liking. Even if this is a resting place for the dead, there should still be some kind of life. Furthermore…

“Where’s the monster?” you ask, turning to look at Gaia.

Gaia only shrugs in response, looking to Bea instead. 

Bea, who is panting now, stubbornly sits down. 

Gaia groans. “Really?” they say, throwing their hands in the air. “Now? Couldn’t you have done this after finding the monster?”

Bea, of course, does not respond. She tilts her head at Gaia quizzically, continuing to pant. She lays down, resting her head on her front two paws. Her body is long enough to curl around multiple gravestones, and you find yourself slightly disturbed. You’re not sure why. 

“What?” Emerson asks. “What is it?”

“She’s tired,” Gaia explains, pinching something on the surface of their planet. “She does this occasionally when she wants to lay around for a while. Can’t blame her… we’ve been in those tunnels for a long while without any rest. She’s very stubborn—heh, just like me—so we’re not likely to get her to resume her tracking.”

She is panting a lot… maybe she’s thirsty. It’s been a while since she drank anything. Wait… it has, hasn’t it? Have you ever seen her drink? You know she must have drank something somewhat recently. Maybe you should give her some water. Do you have any water? When was the last time you—

“Well, the monster’s around here somewhere,” Gaia says. “It must be hiding somewhere, but we can find it easily enough. It doesn’t look like there’s too many places to hide around here.” They lift their hand up to their head and survey the flat landscape that seems to stretch on for eternity. “Let’s try searching the graves first.”

“Uhm—when you say ‘searching the graves,’ you don’t mean… digging them up, do you?” Emerson asks, a slight tremor to his voice. You don’t think he likes being here. “I don’t really want to disrespect the dead.”

Dead. Something about that word seems wrong to you. Incorrect. But how could it be? You are standing in a graveyard, after all. Who else would be here except for the dead?

Gaia shrugs. “Not yet. For now let’s just have a look around.”

“Not… yet?” Emerson echoes as Gaia marches forward toward the nearest grave.

Sensing their discomfort, you take their slime-coated hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

He shakes his head, causing his antennae to wobble slightly. “We shouldn’t be here. This place isn't for us…” They stop trying to find a way to articulate their thoughts. “It’s… never mind.”

Gaia wanders off on their own, and Emerson stays relatively close to you as you walk past the rows of graves. Given how flat the landscape is, you would think the monster would be found easily. There’s nowhere to hide. You can’t see the horizon, so it could be too far off in the distance for you to see. That, or the monster is small and able to hide behind the graves. Or maybe it’s disguised?

As you walk, you feel your gaze being pulled toward not just the headstones, but what’s written on them. Most are illegible, covered in black mold and ooze. However, there’s something about the ones you can read that intrigue you. 

“Rosalind Alberry,” “João Borges,” “Piper Moore.”

As you read the names on each headstone, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of dread. You’re looking for a specific name, aren’t you? You’re worried you might find someone familiar. You can feel their name, their face, and their voice somewhere behind the wall in your mind, trying to get through. 

There’s something else about the graves too. Something is missing, you think. You pause, looking at the grave of someone named “Clara Lunn.” You strain your mind, trying to think of what it might be. Your only response is silence. Nothing. Are you imagining it? No, there’s something, you’re sure of it. There’s too much space left empty on the gravestones. There should be more than just names.

Dates. 

They’re missing dates. The year they were born and the year that they died should be there. 

“Emerson!” you shout, feeling excited by your realization. “Look! Did you notice it?”

They turn to look at you, confused. “Notice what?”

“The graves are missing dates! See?” You point to Clara’s headstone. “It only has her name engraved here. Not when she was born or when she died.”

A few wrinkles form on his face. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Before you can explain further, you hear Gaia’s voice calls from the distance. “Hey guys! You might wanna come take a look at this!”

You run toward the sound of Gaia’s voice, stomping over the graves.  Did they find the monster? No, if they did, they would want you to stay back. Did they find a clue to where the monster had gone? Did they notice the missing dates too?

You come to a stop when you find yourself standing at the edge of a large pit carved from the dirt—an open grave. Gaia stands still, peering down below. 

“What is it?” Emerson walks up slowly behind you, taking extra care to step around the graves. 

In response, Gaia points into the grave below. Inside is a coffin with its lid ajar. Bea, who must have finally chosen to resume the search, is eagerly sniffing at its sides. 

“Should we look inside?” you ask quietly. 

Gaia nods solemnly, but Emerson squirms at the suggestion. “I don’t think we should,” he says. “There could be someone inside. We don’t want to disturb their rest.”

“Yes, but there could also be a monster.” Gaia’s voice sounds almost hungry. “Let’s just have a look.”

You and Gaia climb down into the open grave while Emerson stays above, refusing to go any further. 

You look to Gaia, then back up to Emerson who slowly shakes their head at you. 

Sorry, you think before slowly lifting the lid of the coffin and placing it on the ground. Strange. You could have sworn it would have been heavier. 

Inside the coffin lies a corpse. She clutches a bouquet of dead flowers between her two hands. She’s dressed in a long, lacy, yellow sundress with sandals to match. Red dreadlocks have been twisted into two buns, one on each side of her head. Her most peculiar feature—or peculiar  to you, anyway—is her face. While her right side seems human, the left side of her face is entirely coated in wilted succulents, the largest of which takes the place of an eye. They spiral down from her face and continue down her neck and her left shoulder, growing against her dark skin. They twist down her arm and to her hand, curling around, ending with one final succulent on her palm. 

Gaia sighs in disappointment. “Not a monster then.”

“So… now what?” you ask. 

“I think we should bury her,” Emerson says from above. “That way she can properly rest.”

Gaia nods in silent agreement. “There’s a shovel just over there,” they say, nodding to the space behind the coffin. “There’s just one, but we can make it work.” They sigh, reaching for the shovel. “Well, let’s go. We can’t exactly fill the grave while we’re still inside it.”

“Just a second. We have to put the lid back on,” you say, lifting the lid back off of the ground. Just as you’re about to place it back over the coffin, a voice cries out:

“Wait! Wait!”

You pause. You don’t recognize that voice.

“I’m not dead!”

The corpse springs up from her coffin.

[amikoroyaiart]

Some 22 and 09 angst doodles

[fiasco95]

(Jegulus, Rosekiller, Wolfstar!) MODERN AU where the 3Bs heard someone disrespect Regulus and the outcome of it is well..

Regulus, putting his jacket on:

Dorcas: Oh, where are you off to?

Regulus: To bail out the 3Bs.

Pandora: 3Bs?

Regulus: Brother. Bestfriends. Boyfriend.

Dorcas & Pandora, sighing and getting ready to go out as well: Fuck’s sake.

Bonus…

Regulus: I’m not mad that you did what you did. I’m mad that you got caught.

Sirius, James, Remus, Barty & Evan: Sorry.

Dorcas: Can’t believe you didn’t invite me.

Pandora: Exactly. Then you guys wouldn’t have been caught if we were there to help.

[talesfromthecrypts]

The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue (1974) dir. Jorge Grau

[technically-human]

It's funnier in Spanish

[emicat1159]

There was no murder, he clearly drowned

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

🖕🖕🖕

[userirvingb]

Rick and Michonne talking about Jadis/Anne like she's not there

[foldingfittedsheets]

Vegan leather is a plague.

[deswhomst]

Guys I’m begging someone please write a Sirius Black who is slightly shorter than Regulus!! I have never in my life seen an oldest sibling who wasn’t also the shortest, and Sirius would be so dramatic about it.

[pollyna]

au in which Tom wins a bet against Sarah and gets to choose the second name for their second child, but promises to tell her just after the baby is born because he has a couple of idea but wants to see their face before.

Then the baby is between his arms, barley two hours old, and Tom smiles when he announces the second name is going to be Mitchell to a crowd of two: Sarah and Slider.

Jacob Mitchell Kazansky smiles at his mom while his uncle looks at his father like he completely lost it. And maybe he has.

(Somewhere in the Balkans, Pete Mitchell smiles even if he doesn't know why.)

(It takes Sarah and Maverick, a funeral and an absence of a person nobody will ever fill, to realise the weight of that name. Of a kid that now goes around as Mitchell Kazansky because he's a teenager and hates his first name.

He makes people call him Mitch, has his mother's hair, and his father's eyes. And, more than once, when Pete gets to pick him up from school, people ask him if he's the father.)

(Sometimes, that makes it impossible for Pete to look at his nephew.)

[shotmrmiller]

a lot of yall got enough bite to make a regular man not risk petting you twice but that's what attracts your LT and that's not good because he likes to make things submit. you're gonna look at yourself in the mirror while trying to conceal those marks on your neck and swear up, down and sideways that he's not fucking you again but alas, he's gravity and you're but a poor apple.

(one sharp look and you always find yourself in his office not out of fear, but of a vicious want that throbs deep in your core.)

hands made to make things give unbuckle your belt, claim a fistful of hair, smother your pleas (for more, harder, please-) and pat you on your sweat-slick cheek after he's left you in pliant little pieces.

"maybe next time you'll listen without question."

he'll never admit he sees you as his to take care of.

(one snap of your teeth at work and he's snarling that he'll bend you over the lunch table and show all these nameless blokes what it's like to extinguish a spitfire like you, leaving behind nothing, not even ash. "test me, love. i'm always itchin' for a good fight.")

[mister-nibbs]

oh!! oh also

IF CONSIDERING THE BUDGET/WARDROBE CHOICES OF MR CHONNATHAN JASHINGTON, uhhh I think maybe the Jayden Wark Power Hour could maybe look like this in MVs maybe. still dunno if he has a vest. or that he would put lil heart details on his face, he doesn't normally do that so eeeeeeeh but yeah. feel like we're missing a bit though, gonna try to push it a bit further with what he's worn in the past as reference

figuring out other things in the meantime as well!! i mostly doodle in my sketchbook at my outpatient program where we're not allowed to use our phones (for obvious reasons) so I may not have all the info I need. shit I should do this at home too dhhxjc explodes BUT I'M BUSY WITH. The other thing GAHHHH

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Found out today that I’m goin to LA soon?? It’s for a funeral so I shouldn’t be excited but lowkey I am anyway- LA and me don’t always get along, but I’m so hyped to be by the ocean

[trexalicious]

No REAL VETERAN wants to hear from this delusional drug addled loser...