#cw: descriptions of death
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shadedheart138 · 5 months ago
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The Blood We Shed, It Never Dries
His hand cradled the back of his brother's head, gentle and firm and there. He whispered a curse, a prayer, a promise of love. His voice wavered, broke. He began to cry, soft at first and then louder, louder, until he was crying and sobbing and holding his brother like the most precious of treasures, the most holy of all holy things. Cradling him as of he were a child, something sacred, something to be cherished. Should be be cherished? Did he deserve it, after all this time?
His brother certainly seemed to think so, whispering how he was so sorry, he was so, so scared, and how much relief he had felt to see him alive. Alive, alive, alive.
He didn't feel alive. He felt hollow, he felt small. He was small, in his brother's arms. Something fell out of his limp hands as his brother sank to the dusty, bloody ground with him in his grasp. He didn't look at it, it didn't seem to matter. Was he alive? Did he deserve to be?
He blinked slowly, hearing his brother's sobbing through water. His head hurt. He was thirsty. He wanted to cry, but he was too tired. He wanted to wrap his arms around his brother, this man, this simple, loving, amazing man who was larger than life, who was his rock, his shelter, his home. But his arms were too small, made of lead. He couldn't even lift his head.
Was his breath getting shorter? Or was he just tired? Was it evening into sleep, or was he dying? He couldn't tell, and that made him panic. His breath sped. Good, not dying.
But once it sped, it didn't slow. His brother gave him a worried look, then a soft call of his name. A firmer hug. His breath continued to speed, gasping like a fish out of water. Maybe he was dying. Maybe this was it. Why when he realized it, was there such a profound fear? Did his friends feel this fear when they died? His eyesight was blurry- ah, there were the tears he'd been too tired to cry.
" ... 'M dyin'." He slurred quietly, chest shuddering- was it with final breaths, or sobs?
"Oh, honey. You're not dying." His brother said, with a teary laugh. "Not dying at all. You had me convinced you were going to, but you didn't. You're safe and sound right here."
He looked to the side, and could catch a glimpse of blood and a limb and someone's face, a bandanna, a boomerang, an eye - before his face was gently directed away and back to his brother's chest, holding him there, caging protecting him.
"Who-?" He croaked, bringing hands up to grasp at his brother, his rock, his lifeline. His parent.
"No one you know. Not one of us. Not Tune, not me. Not Tune, not anyone you need to worry yourself with." Names. Oh, those existed. Kokiri didn't bother with names, they only had them when Link was there.
He wasn't Kokiri anymore. And he wasn't Link.
"... T'ne's 's safe?" Mask slurred, blinking slowly, grasping a little less tight at the Captain's shirt. One hand lost its grip and fell, before Mask sluggishly tried to get it back up and latched onto the Captain again.
"He's safe." His brother easy lied, keeping this child, his child, his brother, his son, in the sweet and blissful dark. Mask didn't need to see the Sailor yet. No one did. No one would see this field but Mask and Captain Link, Mask made sure of that.
"Good." Mask whispered, eyes fluttering. He was so, so sleepy. For once, he didn't snap at the Captain for holding him so dearly. He was tired. It felt nice. Tune was safe. Where was he?
"T'ne?? Tune?" Mask whispered, mouth full of cotton, as he tried calling for his brother. Wars gave him a sad look, with both joy and grief in his eyes. Who was the joy for, and more importantly, who was the grief for? "Shhhh, dear. He won't answer right now."
Mask shuddered. There was something the Captain wasn't telling him, wasn't there. He knew that look, that crinkle in his brow. He could see early gray hairs at his right temple, and he reached to touch. His hand was covered in blood. Was it his own???
Mask startled and pulled his hand back, leaving a very small, bloody handprint on the Captain's face. He was about to whisper an apology, but Captain Link cut him off. "Shhh, shh. Shh. It's not yours, it's not mine. I've got you. How about you take a nap, hmm? I'll get you all washed up and you can sleep?"
Sleep sounded phenomenal. But there was a part of the Captain missing, it was clear. Maybe multiple parts. At least a single visible one.
"... Sc'rf?" Mask fingered the edge of Captain Link's collar, leaving blood there. "You wouldn't want to see it now. All dirty. I'll get it cleaned."
"Mom?" Mask whispered, sniffling. "Wh'r's T'ne?" He wanted his brother. Tune's hands were warm and his hair smelled like salt and his eyes were sea green. Captain's were cold, too big, gripping tight, as if afraid Mask would disappear. Tune would know what to say.
"Don't worry, honey. Just sleep, okay? Just take a nap. We can worry about it later." Treating it as if it were another bloody spot on his tunic. Mask wanted to ask more, wanted to cry, to call out for Tune again... but his eyes closed. "L've you Mom." He whispered quietly, not noticing the way The Captain looked over the destruction before him. "I love you too, Mask. Get some sleep."
The Captain laid his son, his brother, his kid down on the dusty ground and moved to his other one. The one that wasn't moving, and wouldn't. Only sixteen. A giant scarf draped over him, like a burial shroud. Warriors held a limp hand, the only part of his other kid he could bear to look at.
"I'm so, so sorry, Tune. So sorry. I love you. Mask loves you, and he's sorry. He won't know how you died. Only I will. And I'm sorry for that. But he doesn't need to kill himself to attempt to make it right. I can't lose both of you. Losing you is hell enough. I love you." And he kissed the place where Tune's forehead was supposed to be, covered by bloody cloth.
Link went back to his currently sleeping child, hands curled up, only nine, unaware of the grief and destruction around him. Link stepped on the cursed, bloody, wooden mask as he went by, cracking it clean in two and then picking up his child. It wasn't Mask's fault. It was his namesake's.
He didn't hear the god scream in pain from it's vessel being broken. Mask curled up tighter in Link's arms and started to whine, covering his ears. He could hear. Link helped cover them.
Then he carried him home.
fin.
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vive-le-roi-au · 2 months ago
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Prologue
(This post contains both images and text.)
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(You’d been looping back to just the third floor for… you don’t know how many loops. Hundreds?)
(Maybe that was the problem. You didn’t do it all in one go. You just have to do it all, from start to finish, and kill the King.)
(From the top.)
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(…Again.)
(You went back. Again.)
(Maybe you took too long. Just need to go faster.)
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(…No. Still not enough.)
(It feels good though. Killing the one who killed you, thousands of times. It’s cathartic.)
(You’re even strong enough that you don’t need the Housemaid—MIRABELLE. HER NAME IS MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE, MIRABELLE!!!)
(…You don’t need Mirabelle’s help anymore.)
(…)
(You wouldn’t mind doing this a few more times.)
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(…)
(Back to the stage, Siffrin.)
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(…)
(…)
(…)
(It’s just another part of the loops now.)
(Go through the House. Kill the King. Talk to the Head Housemaiden. Something’s broken, failing, rotting. Loop back to Dormont.)
(The worst part?)
(Murdering the King has stopped bringing you joy.)
(It used to make you smile, seeing him crumble, blood spilling from his mouth, pooling on the ground.)
(Sometimes, you reduce his body to dust, cutting it up more and more and more until there’s nothing left. You’ve killed him slowly, draining him of his strength and bleeding him from a million places all over, watching the light slowly leave his eyes.)
(And you can’t even enjoy it anymore.)
(…)
(So why are you still here?)
(Whose fault is it that you’re trapped here?)
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tomato-bird-art · 1 month ago
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“What shall we hang? The holly or each other?”
Made a last minute print inspired by my favorite Toxic Christmas Movie, The Lion in Winter (1968). I always love doing a detailed piece like this! I’ll be selling prints at EBABZ tomorrow, but feel free to pick up a copy on my storenvy as well <3
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incendavery · 7 months ago
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disclaimer: i have not harmed myself in any way, and i dont plan to.
these comics are a safe place for me to explore and externalize the intense feelings ive been dealing with. i am also taking practical steps, such as talking to my therapist and getting my medications adjusted.
if you are having urges to harm yourself or take your own life, please reach out to someone you trust to seek help.
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ehghtyseven · 1 year ago
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devastating news about adam johnson [x] [x]
[ap article about the incident]
[taylor’s article about the incident - contains some graphic description]
[taylor’s article about adam ahead of his penguins debut in 2019]
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fortunelowtier · 2 years ago
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Honestly the wildest thing abt the entire oceangate submarine disappearance is people saying they need to find the bodies so they can give the families closure
Need i remind you that Mythbusters tested almost this exact myth more than a decade ago, rapidly depressurizing a pressurized suit and seeing what happens (WARNING FAKE GORE BUT STILL GORY) and this test was done at 300ft (the sub likely imploded at around 7x this depth)
And so to the prospect of trying to find the bodies of these people, i raise a question: What bodies?
At the depth they were, an implosion means their bodies weren't just ripped apart, they all simultaneously exploded with the force of a grenade, turned into paste so fast that the human brain wouldnt even be able to process what was happening. One second they have a mild pain in their ears, something akin to a mild ear infection, and the next theyre a cloud of red mist at the bottom of the sea. the absolute most you'd find of what's left of their bodies is a mangled pile of a handful of bone shards, and even those would've likely been picked away by the local fauna by now
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3-2-whump · 3 months ago
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The Morgue
<prev
Dear Readers,
Yep. This is it. Eternal's last chapter (at least for now). Thank you for sticking around for so long, I appreciated each and every one of you for reading this story and interacting with it! And thank you beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for reading draft after freaking draft of this story for months now; I look forward to collaborating with you in the future.
The ending is kind of open ended, and I acknowledge this may frustrate some people, but I promise I'm not gonna pull a Netflix and drop this series on a cliffhanger (looks passive-aggressively at Netflix). Whatever happens next is for tomorrow; today, without further ado, here is the conclusion to Eternal!
TW/CW: death of a major character, aftermath of death of a major character, gore /graphic descriptions of a corpse, blood, emotional angst (I think?), nonconsensual nudity, slave whump /transfer of ownership, defiant whumpee, creepy whumper
Khaled was more than a little concerned when he woke up the next morning and his master’s bedroom was still empty. He was downright worried that he had not heard even a word from him by midday. This is so unlike him, Khaled thought as he checked the spare phone for any text messages he might’ve missed in the night. No new messages. Where is he?
He went to his room and retrieved his hidden cellphone from the place he had hidden it. There was one new message from Julio, but Khaled quickly swiped past it to text the one other contact he had on this illicit device.
To: Nic-Nac Have you seen the Boss today? He didn’t come home last night.
The subtle click of the door unlocking made his heart jump into his throat. Khaled quickly hid the phone away, bolted into the living room, chucked off the blanket, and assumed a perfect kneeling positon by the entrance, back straight, chest out, palms down on thighs, just as he’d been trained. His heart sank as the door opened and a man who was definitely not his master entered the apartment.
“Throw a coat on and-” Underboss Luca dropped his gaze down at Khaled once he realized he was not at eye-level. “Oh, right,” he groaned, punctuating his comment with a dismissive eye roll. “Should’ve known you’d be on your knees.” Khaled’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Get up and put some clothes on, we need to go to the morgue and identify a body!”
The last part of that command jolted Khaled out of his conditioning as abruptly as a kick in the teeth. “Wait, what?!” he asked, straightening up from his kneeling position.
“Just get dressed and come with me!” Luca said. He fumbled around his pockets until he found a small key. “You know where the safe is; get your clothes, and let’s go,” he instructed, tossing it to Khaled.
The young man caught it and dashed to the safe in the master bedroom, unlocking it and sprinting with the pile of clothes in his arms to change in his own bedroom. As he quickly dressed, he had an unshakeable feeling of dread. Thomas not coming home at all last night, no communication this morning, Luca coming over, and now this trip to the morgue –it was all adding up. If his master was truly dead, then he had no idea if or when he would be back at the apartment.
Khaled saw the designated hiding space for his cash jar out of the corner of his eye. He yanked it out and emptied it onto the bed, quickly folding and stuffing the dollar bills into every pocket, fold, and crevice of his outfit he could manage. Lastly, he grabbed his forbidden cellphone from its hiding place and jammed it into his pants pocket as he sprinted out to meet his foreboding feeling head-on.
Luca filled him in on the details as they drove to the morgue. A little after six in the morning, a bloodied and mangled body had been found hanging upside down from a crane at the dockyard. The ID in the dead man’s coat pocket had identified him as Thomas J Costa, but his face was barely recognizable beneath the blood and gore. The forensic pathologist would need a positive ID on the dead man’s corpse before they could tell the coroner to issue the death certificate for Don Costa, hence the need for Luca and Khaled to come down to the morgue.
“You know, if it is Tommy-boy on that slab, all of his assets will immediately be transferred to my control,” Luca reminded him, snaking an arm around the young man in a feigned gesture of comfort as they walked to the entrance of the morgue. “All of them,” he whispered. Khaled bristled under the other man’s touch as Luca moved his hand downwards. He did not miss the hidden meaning of those words. He jumped a little as Luca experimentally groped his ass on the way through the entrance.
The forensic pathologist met the men, their androgynous face set into a grim expression. “Next of kin for Mr. Thomas J Costa?” they asked. Both men nodded. The pathologist waved at them to follow them. “I gotta warn you though, he’s not a pretty picture. I cleaned him up as best I could, but just be prepared.”
No forewarning could’ve prepared Khaled for what he saw when the sheet was lifted from the corpse on that autopsy table. He recognized the cold gray eyes that now stared unseeingly up at him, the telltale scar at the man’s left temple, and what remained of the skull and snake tattoo on the man’s left pec, but that was about it. The rest of his master’s body looked as if wild animals had gotten to it. His usual dirty-blond hair was stained a coppery red, matted in places with clotted blood. There were cuts, bruises, and even burns scattered around his face, disfiguring it into something near unrecognizable. A long, jagged cut ran from his jugular down to his sternum, deep crimson with coagulated blood that had long since stopped bubbling from its schism. Deep gashes of a knife punctured his upper body and torso. His privates were…gone… and his legs from upper thighs to ankles were littered in cuts and bruises. The soles of his feet looked as if they had been burned away. Merely looking at his feet made Khaled feel faint, so he let his eyes travel back to Thomas’ face. The man’s dull gray eyes stared up at him.
“Well, is this him?”
“Yes,” Luca answered solemnly. He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes and took a breath to compose himself before turning to Khaled.
No matter how much he wanted to, he could not tear his gaze from the man’s dead eyes. He gave a small nod, at a complete loss for words otherwise. The pathologist merely answered a quiet “okay” before draping the sheet back onto Don Costa’s mutilated body, shielding Khaled from those steel gray eyes forever.
It’s finally happened, he thought. Master is dead… Instead of hope, or sorrow, or anger, or even a sick sense of satisfaction from witnessing this karmic justice, Khaled searched within himself and found nothing. He felt nothing, and then he questioned what kind of person he was, to feel nothing.
“Khaled, hey, Khaled…” a faint voice called out to him through the fog of his mind. Khaled stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he stared down at the veiled corpse.
“Khaled, sweetie, it’s time to go.”
He’s dead now, which means…which means what? The feeling of Luca roughly pulling him away from the autopsy table and dragging him back the way they came answered his own question for him. All the while, Khaled took shelter in his thoughts, not even fighting back as he tried to process what he just saw and what it meant for him. The man who had fed me, clothed me, given me everything is dead, and now, what am I?
“Well, it looks like you’re mine now,” Luca announced, pulling on his leather gloves as they exited the morgue and stepped into the parking lot.
That snapped Khaled out of his mind quick. The man who had once openly said he would’ve taken him while he was still a minor flashed him a small, sad smile. “Of all the ways I could’ve gotten you, this is the last one I wanted,” he admitted. He raised a gloved hand to Khaled’s face, gently caressing his cheek with leather-clad fingers. “But maybe, together, we can help each other process our loss.”
No. Khaled shook his head. Luca’s soft caresses quickly hardened into a crushing grip on his face. He drew him in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You’re mine now, Khaled,” he growled, glaring into the young man’s eyes. “I never approved of the erratic, unpredictable way Tommy treated you, and I promised myself that when it was my turn, I would be better.” Khaled’s hands scratched at Luca’s arm, which only served to tighten the hand around his jaw. “But not if you’re going to fight me the entire time!” He drew Khaled in closer, too close for comfort, as he maintained that crushing grip on his face. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be a good boy for Master, or are you gonna make me hurt you?”
Letting go of Khaled’s face to allow him to answer was the greatest mistake Luca would make. With a fierce desperation to die rather than be owned by someone far worse than Thomas, Khaled drew his head back and collided their skulls with a crushing force. Both men withdrew from each other, each groaning in pain as they held their heads, but Khaled recovered from the head-butt first, and used the ten-second head start to make a run for it out the parking lot.
“You bitch! Get back here, you stupid little slut!” and various threats of bodily harm were shouted at him as he ran. He kept running, even when he rounded the corner and an exposed piece of chain-link fence grazed his thigh, nipping the skin enough to draw blood. He kept running, even when he wasn’t sure which streets he was running down as he single-mindedly sprinted ahead, most definitely lost. He kept running, even as the tears blurred his vision and the cold air stung his throat and lungs, and every time he tried to blink back his tears all he saw were those cold, dead eyes staring up lifelessly back at him. He kept running.
Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire
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podcast-hemocytoblast · 1 year ago
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I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.
It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.
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kudossi · 7 months ago
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a fallen star will be thy fate
The walk to the Moonpool is strange and otherworldly, as if he’d fallen into the past and the seers around him were nothing more than ghosts, specters of light and shadow with no secrets weighing heavily on their brows. Kestrelflight, barely older than Jayfeather, tries to strike up a facsimile of a conversation, but Jayfeather isn’t in the mood for petty platitudes or idle chit-chat. He keeps his head down and moves, slots his paws into the ancient footholds made by cats so old they were nothing but echoes.
Ahead of him, someone gasps.
It isn’t the gasp of a newly-named apprentice glimpsing the Moonpool for the first time.
It isn’t the gasp of a particularly spectacular night, where he's told that the stars are clear enough in the pool to lap up with delicate strokes of the tongue.
It isn’t the gasp of someone falling, of someone losing their footing, of someone bumping into someone else.
No, it’s a gasp of terror, and it roots Jayfeather to the ground.
“Ashfur,” Leafpool breathes, and Jayfeather knows her well enough to feel as fear spikes up her frozen legs, wrapping around her heart. The scent of blood in the air becomes heavy and cloying as the seers stir the still air, as they wreath around the pool like frightened ants, courses interrupted to the point of spiraling.
Someone is screeching. He thinks that it’s Flamepaw. The seers are talking over each other now, their words and emotions pounding into Jayfeather’s brain in a senseless cacophony.
Willowshine, curiously, is still, any emotion she might have been experiencing tamped-down and quiet. “He’s floating in the pool,” she comments. “It’s full of blood.”
Ashfur has been dead for a quarter-moon, and now he’s floating in the Clans’ most sacred place?
“He’s been missing for sun-cycles,” Jayfeather manages.
“He looks it,” Willowshine says blithely. “He’s bloated on the side facing the air. The flesh on his underside is all but gone. There’s bits of tissue at the sides of the pool. His eye looks like it’ll come out of the socket soon enough.”
“How are you so calm?”
Willowshine scoffs. It isn’t much like her. “How are you?” she asks.
“I can’t see him,” Jayfeather retorts. “I’m blind.”
His companion laughs as if he’d told a particularly funny joke. “When has that ever stopped you?”
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dreamlandcreations · 3 months ago
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Imagine Fëanor capturing the light of the stars to save you...
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• previous part •
Imagine Fëanor capturing the light of the stars to save you before he dies...
You have just met again after Sauron released you from Morgoth's captivity. The torment the Dark Lord inflicted upon you may have failed in turning you into a Moriondor but it has left its mark nonetheless, even your twin has barely recognized you as you struggled to get to him on the battlefield.
When he last saw you the resemblance between you was undeniable, now the light of your very soul flickered, your dark hair turned white, and even your once warmly-lit ember eyes look paler, almost silver in the night.
Your twin reached out to you as his sons pulled him to safety, and you ended up lying on the cold ground, silently holding his hand and admiring the stars as you waited for the end.
It was Fëanor's last defiant act to refuse to let you give up. With his last breath he called upon the enchantment you created together to bind the light to an object, he peeled away a clear gemstone from the hilt of his sword and collected the light from all the stars before placing the gem above your heart and somehow transferred the light into you. Then he departed without a word as his spirit of flames destroyed his body, leaving you more alone than you have ever felt in your entire existence so far...
• next part •
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ask-dippers-second-family · 5 months ago
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Character profile? Sure, why not!
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This is 32-year-old CASSANDRA CIPHER (29 during canon), the oldest daughter of BILL CIPHER and STANFORD PINES.
She’s what one would consider a mad scientist, usually holed up in her personal lab working on whatever latest invention she’s come up with, though she rarely finishes them. Her favorite inventions are a gun that shoots spontaneously combusting bullets and a computer system that can transmit data across time, allowing her to listen to music and look at memes from the future.
She also definitely does NOT have personal issues tied to her self-worth and does NOT blame herself one bit for Bill’s “death”. Nope. Not one bit.
She does, however, carry on the family tradition of getting blackout drunk at Mexican restaurants and karaoke bars.
Other pastimes include hunting monsters and making crafts out of animal bones and glitter glue. She doesn’t trust easily, but if she comes to like you, do not accept a friendship bracelet from her. It will be made out of rat intestines and deer teeth.
She also has a pet pig! His name is Kris P. Bacon and she stole him from the Mystery Fair. She also cast a spell on him that turned him telepathic, because she can, so now she has a telepathic pig. Mabel loves him and arranges playdates between him and Waddles all the time.
Favorite song lyric:
If CRAZY equals GENIUS
Then I’m a FUCKING ARSONIST
I’m a ROCKET SCIENTIST
- CASSANDRA 🔥
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fave-trigun-mangacaps · 3 months ago
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If all my life was wasted
I don't mind, I'll watch it go
It's better to die numb than feel it all
Trimax Vol 10 Ch 7 - Growing Sideways by Noah Kahan
a trigun maximum manga music video set to Growing Sideways by Noah Kahan
Lyrics: If all my life was wasted
Panels: Wolfwood pulls a liquor bottle off a shelf and tucks it into his jacket. He looks morose at Vash, holds out the coins denoting him as a member of the Gung Ho Guns.
Lyrics: I don't mind, I watch it go
Panels: Vash and Wolfwood walk outside, drink in hand, and make their way over to the couch.
Lyrics: It's better to die numb than feel it all
Panels: They pour themselves some shots, clink their glasses. Wolfwood looks content, takes a swig. Vash looks onward, blank-faced, drink in hand.
Lyrics: If all my time was wasted
Panels: A piece of confetti falls down in front of Wolfwood's face. He looks up to see what's going on.
Lyrics: I don't mind, I watch it go
Panels: The kids throw confetti from the ship, disappearing off into the sky.
Lyrics: It's better to die numb than feel it all
Panels: Wolfwood's expression breaks, and starts crying, screaming. Vash looks up, grieving, before crumpling over into his own lap.
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echoingkarma · 11 months ago
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Questions
Reblogs are appreciated!
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incendavery · 1 year ago
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heartbreak; betrayal; rejection
(image description in alt text)
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axel-tiredstudent · 7 months ago
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OC MASTERPOST WOOHOO ⭐
Although there's still a lot to plan and do before this story is anywhere near done and I don't even have a first draft yet, I really wanted to talk about it and share who my OCs are (since i keep talking about them in here).
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This story (called Ewordis) is one of necromancy, otherness and isolation, but it's also about love, saving and connection!
The main character is Absalom García Medina (much to his own dismay). He is 22 years old and studies fine art in university. He's also a drummer in a band with his two closest friends. Absalom comes from a long line of necromancers! He doesn't really understand or control his powers, but he's set on his goal of finding his mother's spirit, which he has never been able to do!
Almudena is Absalom's grandmother, who raised him when Alma (her daughter), passed away. They are both also necromancers. Almudena taught Absalom how to use his powers until she died when Absalom was 12. She's still with him as a spirit.
Alma died in labor. Not only was she a necromancer, but she also had prophetic visions, something not common in their family. Neither Absalom nor Almudena have ever found her soul.
Angel is Absalom's best friend since they were in higschool. They take care and support each other through everything. Angel has a beautiful voice and she can play many instruments. She's the singer, songwriter and guitarist of their band.
Naomi met Angel and Absalom when they were looking for a bassist for their band. They became close soon and shortly after he started dating Angel!
Percy is Absalom's ex boyfriend. Their relationship was rocky and difficult, which really affected Absalom. They still see each other sometimes, but Percy doesn't seem to be willing to change for the better as a person, which is why Angel dislikes him and wants him to stay away from her best friend.
Ozzie is a non human creature that Absalom meets in the realm between life and death. Ozzie doesn't remember anything of his life before appearing there and he can't go to the living realm, so he and Absalom decide to find out what he is.
Victor also comes from a line of necromancers. He meets Absalom in a graveyard, after many spirits warn Absalom of a creature eating their corpses there. That would be Victor! Victor was brought back to life by his necromancer abusive father and now he's forced to feed on human flesh to not become a mindless "monster".
The Knight of Death is one of the Horrors. No one really knows of their existence, but necromancy powers are related to the Horror of Death. How is it related to the Medina Family? What will Absalom do when faced to this Knight?
LONGER EXPLANATION BELOW THE CUT
As I said before, Absalom comes from a long line of necromancers, this gift/curse always passes down to one person in the family. He got it from his mother, Alma, and she got it from hers, Almudena. Alma died in labor so Absalom was raised in a small close-minded village by his grandmother. Since it was little, Absalom has been able to see and communicate with the dead. Almudena taught him how to use his powers and insisted that this is a gift that makes them special. Nevertheless, she also taught him to hide it to avoid rejection from people outside their family. Even with their powers, there was something neither Absalom nor his grandmother were ever able to do: find Alma's soul.
When Absalom is 12, Almudena dies and Absalom, unable to find her either and suspecting her dead is related to the necromancy, blames their power for it. And so he starts seeing this power as a curse instead of a gift. Something that he doesn't truly control nor understand, something that scares him and isolates him. Absalom goes to live in a bigger city with his uncle. It spends a few rough years feeling alone and othered until, at 15, he meets Angel! They bond over their mutual love for music, being rejects in their school and their queerness. During their teenage years they both join a few bands and, finally, at 19-20, they decide to create their own music band, with Angel as the songer-guitarist and Absalom as the drummer. They are on the look out for a bassits when they meet Naomi. They quickly click and Naomi becomes the third member of TTT (Tres Tristes Trigres). A few months later, Naomi and Angel start dating! Playing with them is one of Absalom's favorite things in the world, and he trusts them more than anyone else. Nevertheless, he never tells them about his necromancy but they do notice weird, worrying things about him.
At 19-20, Absalom meets Percy after bumping into him a few times in campus and in local concerts. They hit it off immediately and start dating shortly after that. They're both interested in music and art. At first, their relationship seems perfect. Absalom (who's in the aro spectrum) falls in love for the first time and he feels really happy and loved, something he has truly struggled with for all his life. As time goes by, their relationship starts to get rocky, they fight and argue a lot, but they always go back to each other. Their relationship ends up beng really toxic on both sides. Percy is manipulative and cheats on him and Absalom is jealous and desperate for this idyllic love and comfort they had at first. But, thanks to Angel and Naomi's support, Absalom breaks up with him after dating for a year and half. During the time they were dating, Percy started noticing a few odd things that surround Absalom, like weird aggresive energies around them after they fought. No matter how many times Angel warns Absalom against it, sometimes, when it feels lonely, it goes back to Percy, looking for momentary comfort.
Regarding the necromancy gift/curse. Its origins are uncertain to the family but what does it exactlty allow them to do? The Medina family (or at least those that inherit it) can see spirits in their daily life and communicate with them (spirits may appear everywhere and they mostly can tell when someone is able to see them so they may follow necromancers around, there's more spirits in places like graveyards tho; they don't really have that much consciousness, except for the spirits of necromancers, like Almudena, who Absalom will be able to find at some point). Thanks to this power they can also search for (and most of the time) find the spirit of a specific person (but still, Absalom is never able to find Alma, which tortures him). Another thing that they can do is enter Ewordis.
Ewordis is the realm between life and death (but closer to death, as no living creatures can enter it, except for some necromancers). Ewordis is a inmense white space full of mostly nothingness and some spirits where time doesn't really exist. Absalom hides there when he gets too overwhelmed by real life, thinking that avoiding reality helps him. When he enters Ewordis, his real body is frozen in time, so he can stay there for days or weeks without truly noticing. But time itself doesn't stop. This has lead to his friends worrying after not hearing of him for days in more than one occasion. Isolating himself in Ewordis like this is something that Absalom does to cope when he is really really bad and he tells no one about it. He doesn't really understand what this realm truly is, nor where does it lead. What are the secrets that hide beyond this seemingly vast white empty unreal territory?
One day, after Absalom's mental health worsens and he goes back to hiding in Ewordis, he meets, for the first time, a demon-looking huge guy! Absalom is shocked, because he did not know of the existence of creatures like him. This "demon" tells him he remembers nothing of before being in Ewordis and that he himself doesn't know what he is. They keep bumping into each other when Absalom enter Ewordis, and it notices that this demon must be lonely. They talk a lot and become friends, and Absalom tells him about his life in the living realm. He ends up naming the demon Ozzie, after one of his favorite movies: "The Wizard of Oz". They decide to try and find out what Ozzie is.
After many spirits start following Absalom around and telling him about a monster eating their corpses in a graveyard, Absalom decides to investigate and get rid of all of them. Not really because he wants to help them, but because he wants to be left alone. He goes to the graveyard at night and he founds a thin young man crying next to an open grave. When he sees Absalom, he runs away. This young man is Victor. Victor also comes from one of the few necromancers families left. Their powers are different to those of the Medina family tho, since they are more related to the pyshical body and flesh than to the spirit. He was alive many years ago and he lived with his two siblings and his abusive father. Victor killed himself to escape his father but he brought him back, mixing his body and soul with those of other corpses. Now Victor is forced to feed on human corpses to keep their conscience. Victor loathes his father, who keeps him locked in their old mansion and forces him to keep himself alive. Thanks to his powers, his father has kept himself and his children alive for many many years.
Necromancy powers are directly related to the Horror of Death. There are many Horrors related to different aspects of existence. The Horrors are cosmic entities beyond human comprehension. More ancient that everything. They are neutral entities, not bad nor good. They just exist and keep balance. They have no human morality or feelings. Or at least, that's how it should be. So why can't Absalom die? Who protects him and why? Where is Alma's soul? Who are the other Horrors and how do their existence affect the characters lives?
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vague-humanoid · 3 months ago
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We're The Fucking Terrorists - by Caitlin Johnstone
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