#Poetic Death

[crocodilianmatingcalls]

Guns are dumb. We should get rid of them.

Like, murders were so creative before guns became mainstream. Assasinations aren't what they used to be these days. What happened to teaming up with your buddies to stab your other buddy 23 times? What happened to cynanide poisoning?

And ya know, in places where guns aren't widely available, we still get badass assasinations. People are stabbed in the neck! Their murders are personal! It's intimate! If you want someone gone, you really have to mean it. You have to be prepared to look them in the eye and watch as their life slowly drains out. Murder actually MEANS something to these people.

So yeah, I think guns are the bane of poetic human existence and we should go back to personally killing people with our own bare hands.

[katherinewrites83]

A Siren's Lover, A watery Grave

TW: Mentions of death (very minor)

----

Waves lapped at the heels of the great, sheer cliffs, salt clinging to the rocks and far into the grooves. Rain beat down on the earth, rings flowing in the rushing water, foam sloshing at the rocks in tandem. The wind picked up, whirling the rain about the area. The story of the Siren and her human lover was a retold tale in the parts of the underwater worlds. The woman with hair as fine as gold had fled into the night, jumping from the cliffs in grief to the arms of her awaiting lover. There they sank underneath the turning waves, locked in an embrace. Arms intertwined around the other, lips embracing as the air left the lungs of the land woman. There in those salty waves do the forlorn lovers lay, locked in a comforting embrace, lovingly gazing at the other for a stand still eternity.

-----

[everyoneseverything444]

and the bees sting the man

[zaffiri-saffici]

Nicky was always meant to be stillborn. He was never supposed to live after birth, but Rio gave Agatha more time with him, and in turn he got more time with Agatha.

Whether it was implied or not, he was always the son of Death. He was always supposed to go home to his other mother. When Death finally beckoned him home that night, Rio wouldn’t allow him to join her until he kissed Agatha’s cheek. And he knew, instantaneously, to kiss Agatha not once, but twice.

Once from him, and once from Rio.

Though he was always meant to join Death at her side, Rio gave Agatha the chance to be his mother, too, and now I am a mess about it and will be thinking about this for a long time.

—

11/4 edit: Wow, y'all have completely overwhelmed me with your love for this little meta, so as thanks, I turned it into a bit of fic we can all cry together about.

Read "Once (Twice) from Nicky" on AO3.

[brilliantstupidity]

Is there an aesthetic like deathcore or smth.. Im into dark academia and gothicism and whatevevr but I need one where I proper feel like a corpse and dress like it and I hve unfinisned business

[votava-records]

Organized Threat - For The Moment (Gavlyn, Poetic Death, Yarah Bravo, Rikki Stricker & Soulcat E5)

Organized Threat - For The Moment (Gavlyn, Poetic Death, Yarah Bravo, Rikki Stricker & Soulcat E5 Cuts by Mike Steez prod. by Figub Brazlevič)

https://linktr.ee/krekpekrecords

[rhysuje]

Frame redraw! Salim saving Jason from the spear.

(only one of many times these two save each other)

https://ko-fi.com/rhysuje

[redrum-alice]

I got inspired...

[kiwiaok]

I love andrew. I love every andrew. gimmie big arms andrew. and big titties andrew. sleeper build andrew with tummy. and emo andrew. and skinny sickly victorian child andrew with eyebags that take up half of his face and skin that has never seen sun. and andrew that smiles with all of his teeth. andrew with cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man. and andrew with a gun. I really want andrew with a gun.

[saltpepperbeard]

“Our Blackbeard is a legend, a lover, a fighter, a tactical genius, a poetic soul, and quite possibly insane.”

[katherinewrites83]

Of Winter Ghosts and Prancing Deer

The snow crunched under the weight of a young girl, feet bare, just as pale as the snow they walked on. She was followed faithfully by her companion, an equally young faun delicately pranced after his friend. The duo continued on their trek - human child leading - showing no signs of being effected by the bitter cold that crawled and bit at her skin. She'd been out here a long time, skin fully gone pale as the dusty snow she happily danced through.

The faun she named Sirius followed his chosen companion closely. Eilonwy smiled warmly over at Sirius, gently patting his head as they stopped by the shadowed edge of the treeline. Sirius walked past Eilonwy, stepping up behind a tree, hidden from the residents of the small village. There he stood watch over his female companion, watching as she danced around for a few minutes before she darted off. The call of an aged voice, thick with worry spun in the air as she dashed - her mother.

Sirius bobbed his head, soothed to see her back home and safe. He began walking back into the the woods, prancing deeper as the sun dipped on the horizon. There, back at the treelined village, his friends mother fussed about, picking Eilonwy up and running up onto the porch and straight through the open back door.

When the girl had not exited through that very same door in the following few days, the young deer began to grow worried for his companion. Sirius, relentless, began to pace back and forth between the trees, carving a worried path. Eventually, knowing his friend would not show, he bowed his head with great sadness and ventured back into the snow covered trails.

The snow grew thicker as time wore on, heavy snowfalls pledged the village and forest alike. A storm had come, mother nature ran her furry down onto the earth. During this time, Sirius stood guard over the abnormally silent house, anxiously waiting the return of her dear friend. Sirius had grown into a young buck since the last time he witnessed his friends joyous prancing - spots gone and the points of antlers gracing his majestic head. Even as the others bedded down for the storm, he stood watch over the house.

An excited yip sounded from next to him, startling him. A lone fox ran back and forth, jumping about. Snow crunched ahead of them, static footfalls that slid every few steps. Eilonwy - crying she was - still as small as she was when she left. Sirius ran over to his saddened lane human and nudged her cheek in attempted comfort. A small hum echoed from his throat, a silent question - 'what happened?'.

Eilonwy did not answer for many minutes, instead choosing to throw her arms around her brown fured companion. Beated silence pasted, only quiet sniffling remained. Eilonwy pulled away from Sirius, rubbing her swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks. There she revealed that her parents have been fighting - crying so loud they ignored their only daughter. Every question she asked floated by their heads, dismissed and forgotten in the icy air. When they left the house without her, that was the final straw for the frail girl, she ran from the house and to the only comfort she knew - Sirius. Late into the night Sirius comforted his friend, bedding down in a sheltered grove, curling around the girl. Neither noticed that her skin was still as pale as the snow, but no shivering persisted the prolonged visit to the snow forest.

A couple, late the next day came home, tears staining each of their faces. As they entered their dark house, they collapsed again in anguish, there in the corner of the room laid a small casket - one only fit for the smallest of children - there only child.

-----

[beaulesbian]

The Terror 1.10 + captain

[khaire-traveler]

There is something so beautiful and sweet to me about the fact that Thanatos is the god of peaceful death.

When I die, I want Death to greet me as an old, childhood friend - unknown yet so familiar, intimidating yet so comforting. I want Death to take me gently by the hand, whisper in my ear, "It'll be alright," and help me stand to my feet as I walk towards a new life - a different kind of life - in a place I may have seen in a dream once.

I hope Thanatos greets me, in my final moments, with the softness and sweetness of an old friend. To me, that is peaceful. And it's so beautiful that he is so willing to provide such comforts to humans in their official transition from one plane of existence to the next. How kind, how compassionate, how admirable.

Death is a friend, in the end, and he smiles softly as he takes your hand.

[lostmf]

“Parents aren’t supposed to bury their kids “

I tell myself

But then parents aren’t supposed to do a lot of things to their children

So I guess it won’t matter if they did this one more thing

[c-hrona]

Pietà

[kawareo]

... i have spent way too much time on this, i'm sorry

shoutout to @animentality for putting this stupid thought in my head