#day of mourning 2024

[bad-time-blues-art]

We stole their land and celebrate yearly, rubbing it in their faces. Openly parading around in joy about a time when mass genocide was committed, all while white washing the real history. Appalling.

[wangxianficrecs]

An Apple a Day by dandelion_san

An Apple a Day

by dandelion_san (@dandelion-san)

G, 2k, Wangxian

Summary: In which Wei Wuxian deals with a suddenly loveable Lil' Apple, and the realization of inevitability. For what is time to an animal compared to that of a cultivator? (The loss of a pet is never easy). Spanish translation (Agus_B26). Kay's comments: This story made me extremely emotional. Beware, it features animal death, but it's a quiet death, surrounded by love. The story felt incredibly true to Wei Wuxian's voice and his characterization and I really loved how it portrayed Wei Wuxian's and Lil' Apples relationship. Excerpt: Now then. He turned his attention back to the quiet donkey in front of him and patted his flank lightly. “Lil’ Apple, I have never seen you so likeable before. What has gotten into you?” Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian was not able to speak donkey and so couldn’t translate the loud hurmph that Lil’ Apple made. But he made sure to pay special attention to his coat and combed lightly through the mane, resuming his soft humming. Slowly, Lil’ Apple’s eyes closed, keeping extra still for the gentle hands on him. A beam of sunlight illuminated the grey fur. Something glittered in that dark and coarse mane. Wei Wuxian paused and stared. A new feeling came over him. A realization. Inevitability.

pov wei wuxian, post-canon, established relationship, married lan wangji/wei wuxian, character death, animal death, hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, families of choice, supportive lan qiren, teacher wei wuxian

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[my-cages-were-mental]

tbh i'm never not going to be pissed about the loss of bi spencer and lesbian emily because imagine what could have been.

[critterfloozy]

A Reflection or Molding

for @critter-genfic-events critter gen week day four - grief/mourning

Caduceus experiences a loss. Essek does his best to comfort him.

(1427 words, happens a few hundred years after campaign 2 so everyone you would expect to be dead is so, plus another character death)

Caduceus should clean up Caleb’s grave  - Veth’s sunflowers were encroaching again.

Not all of the Nein had been buried in the grove. In the end, Caleb had chosen to be buried near his parents in Blumenthal, where he’d spent his years after retirement. But they all had their own shrines. The corpses were the least important part of a grave, after a while. Caduceus would be shocked if there were more than a few stray bones left of Veth over a century later.

Even if there was no Caleb underneath, it still represented Caleb. Essek was coming, and would be the first non-Clay to see the newest grave. It was important that Caleb’s grave should be nicely tended.

If that meant he had less time to deal with the new grave, well. That’s just how it happened. It didn’t have to mean anything. 

Caduceus had finished up tidying up Caleb and was contemplating getting up off of his knees again (an act that he found required a lot more contemplation these days) when he heard Essek’s approach. Essek still looked maddeningly young to Caduceus’s eyes, though he knew even the drow must have some signs of age. The stylish clothes helped him look young, maybe. He adventured less, taught more these days, but was still a few centuries away from retirement.

The thought of having a few centuries more made Caduceus feel tired.

Essek approached the familiar graves and gave them respect, while Caduceus finally made his way onto his feet.

“You’ve done a great job tending to them,” Essek said as a way of greeting.

“Yeah,” Caduceus said in response. “Good to see you again, but sorry about the circumstances.”

Essek nodded and hovered closer, looking like he’s not sure whether or not he should touch Caduceus. Caduceus didn’t want to make it easier for Essek at this moment. 

Eventually, Essek decided upon retreat and cleared his throat. “Where’s Clarabelle?” 

Well, it was going to happen sooner or later. It was the reason Essek was here, after all.

Caduceus led them to a spot in the back of the cottage, next to the wall surrounding the graveyard. It was a freshly dug grave, even with the mushrooms that the Wildmother encouraged to grow there. No marker yet - Calliope was still working on it.

Caduceus gestured to the grave, not wanting to say it out loud.

He found that he didn’t have that much energy to do things he didn’t want to do these days. Nobody could really make him do them anymore, either.

Essek knelt at the grave, and said a few words in Zemnian. Caduceus wondered if Kryn high society didn’t really do rituals, so Essek adopted what he learned from Caleb, Or maybe he just preferred Zemnian mourning.

A question for another time.

“How did it happen?” Essek asked after he’d finished. He was looking up at Caduceus. A wide brimmed hat and sunglasses protected his eyes, but the horribly sympathetic tone of his voice came through loud and clear.

Caduceus cleared his throat and shifted more of his weight onto his staff. “Had something to do with growing up in the Savilirwood, near the rot. Got in her, and didn’t want to get out.”

They’d tried. A whole family of devotees, and Caduceus had been the Wildmother’s favored son, once upon a time. Or he felt like he’d been. Nothing they did helped, and no Divine Intervention arrived.

Caduceus spied a glint in Essek’s sunglasses. He’d narrowed his eyes, and his lips twitched like he’d figured out a puzzle and was trying to figure out now whether or not to voice the solution. “You’re not afflicted with the same rot, are you?”

Ah. Yeah. The rest of the Clays had wondered the same thing. He was the next closest in age to Clarabelle, after all.

“Nope. Just lucky.” He tried for a shrug, but it was hard when leaning on a staff.

Essek got to his feet, then resumed hovering. Caduceus looked on with a little envy at how fluid that motion was - maybe all those centuries of floating was easier on his knees. His lips twisted in thought for a second. “Or perhaps.. I wonder - have you ever been resurrected?”

“Veth blew me up one time.”

“Well, it is possible that when you came back, the resurrection took away the rot.”

“Hmm, maybe.” He didn’t really want to think about it, either way. Having a reason wouldn’t make anything feel more fair.

“Is this your first time dealing with something like this?” Essek asked.

“First funeral?” Caduceus gestured widely at the rest of the graveyard. If there was anything he knew, it was graves.

Essek looked at Caduceus from over the rim of his sunglasses. unimpressed. “You know what I meant. Is this your first death of someone that you were close to - First family member.”

“The Nein were family.” And he’d buried most of them. All except for himself and Essek, and some of their children,too.

Essek huffed in exasperation. “First person you’ve lost where you couldn’t sink into taking care of the other people grieving, because they’re too busy trying to take care of you.”

Caduceus didn’t respond. Calliope and Colton and Corus and Cait would all probably let them try to comfort them, but it didn’t feel right. Like they were just humoring him. They all needed to keep busy, too.

“You told me something when Caleb died. Do you remember what it was?”

Caduceus thought back. How long ago - two hundred years? Before Cait had been born. It had been an autumn day. “I told you that it would hurt, and that it might continue to hurt from time to time, but less often as time went on. I think I used the metaphor about a box and a ball and a target.”

Essek nodded. “I promised to tell you the same when the time came. Would you like me to?”

A wave of anger took Caduceus by surprise. “No,” he said, and then controlled himself. He knew it would be better, eventually. It didn’t help with the now.

He was so tired.

Oh. Huh. This might have explained some of the responses he’s gotten in the past.

Essek nodded and smirked briefly, his fangs poking out of his mouth. Then he stood next to Caduceus, looking at the grave.  One of Clarabelle’s old murals was painted on the wall - one with a mix of different flowers and swirls of color. One of the last things she had done was touch up some of the colors.

“Do you know a lot about those orchids?” Essek gestured to some of the purple flowers near the center, some strange yellow center around some complicated looking petals.  

“Seems like they’d be a challenge to grow.” In truth, Caduceus hadn’t known that the flowers Clarabelle had painted were orchids.

“They were made to be pollinated by - ah, I forget. Some insect that died when the gods fought in the schism. The name is not the important part.  It resembled that pistil in the center there. Long after the last of those insects died - the age of Arcanum and two Calamities have happened since - and we still know what they look like because of this flower.”

“Hmm.” Caduceus was sure Essek was going to get to a point eventually - he had his lecturing stance - but he kind of wished that Essek would get there sooner rather than later.

“There are people out there who will never know Clarabelle, but would still see the reflection she’d have on the world - through you, through Calliope and Cait and Corus, through all of those other people she’d touched through the years. They may not know her name, but they’ll know her shape.”

Essek searched Caduceus’s face again, and touched his elbow. It was a rather restrained touch, all things considered - but for Essek to initiate it, it was the equivalent of a full bodied hug.

“Someone told me something similar, back when Jester died. It helped me then. It may help you, and if not - I hope that the simple circumstance - that you still have a friend that cares and sympathizes - may bring you some solace.”

It did, in a way. Caduceus tried his best to hold onto that feeling.

“You should come inside. The rest of the family is here, and there is more food than we can ever hope to eat,” Caduceus said in response. It was the closest he could get to thank you in that moment.

Essek seemed to understand anyway.

[bobbinfire]

Sorry I didn't post any art this last weekend. So instead have a short story I wrote during that time

(Totally wasn't originally supposed to be a comic. Totally haven't been sitting on this idea for a month. Totally is not a 13,000 word one shot I wrote in-between homework in a little over a week for my first ever fanfic)

Anyways thought this would be fun to post on Dias De Los Muertos

Summary:

What do you think happens when a spark breaks? What happens to the bot that houses it? Do they cease to exist? Or do they continue on, shedding whatever emotions go with the parts of the spark that falls away.

Perhaps the broken halves fight for dominance in the frame. The winner shutting the other out. The host left unaware.

But this story isn’t about the winning half of the spark. The one that won the war. No.

This is about the half that lost.

[admiralgiggles]

The image search brings back a mourning dove. So with a little research and the white edging around its wing feathers, I think this is a juvenile mourning dove. Which is cool because it’s the same but different as it hasn't yet reached its full fancy pigeon potential.

[claudia-kishi]

life is short and time is weird. ever since i've moved here, the guy who rented the garage under my apt would be there almost every night working on his motorcycle, which annoyed the fuck out of me. i told my friends about it if they ever came over. even complained about it yesterday night when having dinner with some friends.

came back home to see heavy police presence. i had no news or any info after googling and everything, so i figured i'd find out later. woke up this morning to find out the motorcycle dude hit a bump and lost control, and his injuries were so bad that he died at the hospital. and the time shows that it was before i had dinner with friends. which made me feel well awful.

like i don't even know this guy but i saw him almost every day, and he helped me move my couch to my apartment, and he was kind enough to move his truck around so i could get to my own garage. and now my apt is quiet when normally i would have my nightly routine of shaking my fists in the air wondering when the sound would stop.

anyways i just needed to type this out somewhere so i could remember how i am feeling today because death is something i don't really know how to process and it happening was very much and it's making me think very cliche thoughts like life is short and live your life to the fullest. but also. they're cliche for a reason.

[zimshan]

do not fear the winter blowing in the hearts of men i’ve seen american flowers they will bloom again

[awkwardlyoutsidely-doodles]

Day 10 Veiltober: Rook ( Corvus Ingellvar 🐦‍⬛)

[quietwingsinthesky]

Drabble 193/366 - Doctor Who

She does understand.

She’s lived too long not to. She’s felt Graham’s grief despite her lost wedding ring. She remembers playflirting the way Ryan does when she was a man.

She knows what the look in Yaz’s eyes means when it falls on her.

Too early, too late. She feels like the awkward rut in the road. Trapping Yaz, herself ground down. To escape she’d have to tell the truth, break Yaz’s hope, and offer comfort for her unrepentant hearts’ regeneration: for the love she can’t feel and the friendship she can.

If with anyone. But not her. Not her.

[inthecityofgoodabode]

November 2024: National Day Of Mourning & Surrounding Days

My queen harvested some of our ginger this week:

Prepping the butternut squash for my dish:

The blossoms on the Scarlet basil were gorgeous. I'm glad I took this photo Thursday because the frost in the small hours Friday morning damaged them pretty bad:

Thursday dinner - turkey, dressing, corn on the cob, asparagus, cranberry sauce & roasted butternut squash with Za'atar & pomegranate molasses (I found the recipe here):

My queen & I don't make desserts but this year she made a sweet potato pie that was delicious. That is homemade whipped cream on top:

[artisofthandy]

It’s THANKSGIVING 2024 EVERYONE! A day where every last Thursday of November where families, friends and loved ones come together and celebrate, be thankful and grateful for each other and have a massive feast! Particularly a thanksgiving dinner with a turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie and much more in terms of history; it’s quite dark, complex and complicated and for that due to how it involves removing the census of millions of Native Americans or something else or maybe how there’s been several reports of conflict between the European puritan colonists and the indigenous population. Many also see Thanksgiving as a Day of Mourning 2024 to commemorate and pay respects and tribute to many Native Americans who passed away from such attacks. But I’d say let us make peace, tranquility and equality, no more conflicts, harm or needless suffering and deaths, just camaraderie, friendship and reconciliation as well as neutrality with a meal to boot.

Regardless have a great Thanksgiving 2024! And may the many people rest well in peace… enjoy some dinner. :)

[wangxianficrecs]

to remember names of plants by detention_notes

to remember names of plants

by detention_notes

T, Series, 8k, Wangxian

Summary: two accounts of moving forward: one from yiling laozu, and one from lan wangji. Kay's comments: Two stories that broke my heart in the softest way possible. The first one is a look at Wei Wuxian's diary during the Burial Mounds Settlement days and the second one is a look at Lan Wangji's unsent letters to Wei Wuxian during the time of his death. Set in The Untamed canon. Loved the lesbian Wen Qing content and Lan Wangji's quiet anger. Excerpt: I’ve laced your memory with my own want. The want is wholesome and you would laugh at me. I have no energy to imagine beyond your voice in my doorway, or your arms carrying A-Yuan when I ache. (It feels a little better. I don’t wince at clothes anymore, but a section of my left shoulderblade still hurts when I lie down.) I do let myself revisit you, with minor adjustments. When you find me in the street A-Yuan isn’t crying; instead, he’s wrapped around my leg and laughing, and you smile that we get along so well. You ask me to lunch and I omit hesitation before nodding. I allow you to pull me by the wrist. I extend the moments of you watching me, with A-Yuan in my lap, and I allow myself to watch you back. I add another smile. I tell you to slow down, enjoy the meal. I get more for you. I help you carry it up the mountain and give to your family. I stay for dinner. You don’t drink as much. Maybe I drink a little. I help clean up. I sit with you in the evening, and tell you what you want to know. You ask me to gossip. I indulge. You ask me to stay. I go home.

pov wei wuxian, pov lan wangji, the untamed compliant, burial mounds settlement days, diary/journal, pistolary, character study, temporary character death, canonical character death wei wuxian, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, thirteen years of wei wuxian's death, lesbian wen qing, families of choice, burial mounds ensemble as family, parenthood, grief/mourning, single parent wei wuxian

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[thewickedmerman]

I ADORE Wicked, so I made a video to talk about it. Please like, share, comment, and subscribe. What do you guys think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments below. You can also follow me on these social media accounts.

Instagram

DeviantArt

Youtube

Credit for my character stills goes to my good friend, @gem-among-gems. If you would like some stills for yourself, she can make some for you and can do it in any style.

[draconifay]

My parents are getting older. But especially my dad.

It's his birthday today, actually.

He used to be a Republican, but with Trump's bullshit, he's changed and mellowed out.

I wonder what he must be thinking seeing Trump potentially win, with six daughters.

He would tell me how the world is going to shit. And I hoped he wouldn't be right.

It pains me so bad to think that, in my parents' later years, they'll see their daughters' world get so much crueler.

I'm sorry this is the way things went.

[canisvesperus]

It’s a good day to pay reparations. Natives may reblog with your own payment links.

https://www.herringpondtribe.org/

https://www.wampanoagnationsingersanddancers.com/