#death cw -

[incognitopolls]

"Painfully/in distress but not violently" could include death as a result of an accident, illness, etc.

–

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[fictionkinfessions]

Sometimes you have to sit back and remind yourself that you already died for the things you've done and you don't need to consider doing so again and that everything is okay and no one blames you

Reminder for any fictional villain kins who may need it

[innocentcurse]

Dorothy sat in silence as Copper spoke, his words sinking deep into her chest. The way he so openly shared his own struggles, his own feelings, made her feel both understood and less alone. She hadn’t expected him to know exactly what she meant about Avalon and the odd, unsettling feeling that had settled over the town, but somehow, it seemed like they were on the same page. It was always hard for Dorothy to speak about certain aspects in her life, such as loss, but Copper made her feel like she was in the right place to do so. Naturally, Dorothy still wouldn't be sharing it all with him, but no matter how much she did decide to share, she sat in stunned appreciation over it. "There's no need to apologise," Dorothy smiled a small smile. "I appreciate you sharing that with me."

At the revelation that they had both experienced the same chilling change to the newspaper, Dorothy's face fell pale and horrified. Her stomach twisted itself into uncomfortable knots, and the fear that had been quietly lurking in the pit of her stomach began to radiate throughout her entirety. "We know what you're hiding," she repeated, the words coming out in a low whisper, as though speaking them too loud would make them even more real. "It said the exact same thing when I was reading it - it was completely normal to begin with, and changed back instantly after I saw it but... it said the same thing... I thought they might have..." Deep in thought, Dorothy trailed off. She had completely believed that somebody had been after her truth, that they knew what she was hiding; why else would they have targeted her right under the article about Avalon? But if Copper had seen the same thing, then that didn't entirely make sense.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white as she tried to steady herself. "The night of the storm," strangely enough, Dorothy's eyes prickled with tears; her emotions had well and truly caught up with her, and the addition of connecting her own experiences with Copper's was only overwhelming her more. "I had the most terrible nightmare, too," her words felt heavy, like they contained a tangible weight of the most frightening truth behind them. "God..."

Copper hoped that he hadn’t overstepped with Dorothy. After all, he barely knew her, and here he was asking her about her private feelings. But it went against Copper’s nature to ignore someone who was upset, and that was especially true when it was someone he knew, no matter how minimally that may be. Luckily it didn’t seem as though Dorothy was offended. On the contrary, Copper felt like maybe she wanted to talk about it. Nodding, he agreed, “Yeah, and then when those days just keep coming, then everything starts to bleed together; everyday starts to feel the same, and soon you’re not just having a string of bad days. That’s just your life.” For a moment after saying this, Copper just sat there lost in thought; he knew very well what that was like. But then he snapped out of it, saying, “Wow, sorry, I made that really dark, didn’t I?” Copper wasn’t sure how much Dorothy knew about what he’d gone through, but he wasn’t about to bring it up now.

Copper understood what Dorothy met. “Once when I was in college, this guy I sort of knew died. He was gay too, and even though we didn’t know each other that well, when he died, it kind of hit me hard. I think it’s because it already feels like our community - whether it be the gay community, the witch community, or anything else like that - already feels so small, and then it just gets a little smaller when things like this happen.” So yeah, Copper understood exactly what Dorothy meant. 

He hadn’t been sure if Dorothy would know what he was getting at, but at her question, he exclaimed, “Yes!” and smacked his hand against the table. A few people around them looked over in surprise, and Copper mumbled a quick apology to them before turning his attention back to Dorothy, speaking at a normal volume now. "It changed for me too," Copper said quietly. "One minute it was the article about Avalon, and then next..." He trailed off; the memory alone was enough to cause his heart rate to increase, vision suddenly a little blurry as he remembered how he had felt. "Sorry," Copper apologized a moment later once he had himself back under control. "Anyway, the next minute it turned to a picture of me, but like...this grotesque version of me. And the article title became 'we know what you're hiding.' I...didn't handle that well." Copper remembered how he had had to call Aris just to calm down; he didn't know what he'd do without his brother. "Is that what happened to you too?" Copper asked Dorothy.

Dorothy's words felt heavy, ominous even, and Copper shuddered because he agreed. "Yes," he answered simply, his voice quiet, like saying it too loudly would make it too real. "I've thought that ever since that weird storm," he went on. "I had a horrific nightmare that night, and I...I haven't felt right since. Since then, I feel like something is getting closer. It's like I can see it at a distance, and it's becoming clearer with each step in our direction. And though I can't tell what it is, I just know that it's not good."

[sadclowncentral]

when i got my medical certificate i very confidently answered the question "what do you do if a person becomes unconscious?" with "remove from the room immediately" only to be met with puzzled silence by the instructor and that's when i learned that the deeply ingrained nautical fear and grim reality of seamen and their rescuers asphyxiating in enclosed spaces due to build up of toxic gas or especially lack of oxygen does not translate to land.

[dajo42]

oh we thought we killed a god and left it to rot but yeah. turns out that was basically just some guy or a vessel or whatever and the actual god was the rot itself. yeah im like super into decaying now. yeah the eternal rot. thats why im decomposing. get this though. the corpse of the god we killed? fresh as a patch of flowers

[lizardsfromspace]

Was there ever a news event in our lifetimes that the media fumbled more aggressively than Columbine. They genuinely got every single detail wrong

From reporting that they killed someone for saying she believed in God (a different girl who said she did survived) to not reporting that they sought out students of color while yelling racial slurs - on Hitler's birthday & a day after the anniversary of OKC and Waco - while promoting the idea that you have to watch out for loner bullied nerds. Even though later research shows that the shooters were, in fact, bullies themselves, who had a wide social circle, and they were, you know, Nazis motivated by racism and not the video game Doom (1993).

It's a generational fuck-up, the GOAT of bad reporting bc it's still with us. The narrative of persecution after "she said yes" is a huge reason the evangelical right is like how it is today (they made a biopic that uncritically repeated it just a couple years ago!) & they still push the idea that it's primarily victims who do that sort of thing and not aggressors & people still shared that stupid video of Marilyn Manson saying he'd "listen" until a couple years ago (though the shooters being abusive Nazi creeps would uh, not diminish Marilyn Manson's desire to befriend them, I feel)

[westerosiladies]

[wolfertinger666]

I'm a black trans man that's gnc and I never see anyone represent me or anyone even acknowledge people like me exist(unless we're fucking dead) so I kinda just take matters into my own hands and base my art around that because it's the only way I can truly express myself.

[teaboot]

Wait why were you in israel/palestine? Aren’t you canadian?

I am. A friend of my family was traveling from Egypt to Jerusalem on pilgrimage and someone who had reserved a spot in the group had to drop out, so there was a last-minute seat available and they asked me if I was interested.

Life is short, and it wasn't the sort of trip I'd be able to afford on my own in a million years, so I tagged along as the token agnostic.

And I'm glad I did, because a few months later some of the places we'd visited were leveled flat.

A lot of beautiful, rolling green hillsides are charred dust now, and good, kind people are dead.

Buildings we slept in are gone. Children who waved to us in the street are gone. Small shops and vendors and houses are gone. Old men gathered together to smoke and chat in little rooms by the streetside are gone.

Passing from Israel into Palestine was a visible, abrupt switch from a modern city not unlike Vancouver to a slum. Like some of the reservations I've been to here up north that go to shit sometimes, where the Chief and his family all have brand new BMW's and nobody else has had their plumbing fixed.

Buildings were repaired with minimal supplies, trash was gathered in the streets, and the roads were bare dirt for long stretches at a time. You could tell that this wasn't a place being treated kindly, but people were doing their best. Everyone we met treated us well. Everyone we met was kind, and welcoming, and generous.

One man I spoke with said he was hoping to come to Canada someday. Take his family and live here. He asked how cold it got.

I told him that their winter was like our summer. He didn't like that- said he didn't like being cold.

I told him to wait for summer, then, and he could visit with me. Told him everywhere he'd have to see when he arrived, all the best landmarks and museums.

The first bombs dropped before winter.

I don't know if he waited.

[toringo]

No turning back

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[contact-guy]

CHARLES AUGUSTUS MILVERTON part 4 - death of a blackmailer

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

content warnings for: guns, blood, death. which you are *probably* expecting if you know how this story goes in canon, although this version is...not exactly how Watson told it to the Strand.

(This is part of the Watsons sketchbook series)

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

[strawdool]

anywayyy lmao

pt 1 here

(also based on a scene from beastars lmao spoilers if u want to read it)

[kaijutegu]

Yesterday, I went to Baltimore with the intention of visiting a friend in hospice. Her health had taken a sharp nosedive over the weekend, and on Monday evening, the doctors said she maybe had a week left.

What actually happened was I went to Baltimore to help clean out her stuff, because she died at 8:44 on Tuesday morning and my plane didn't land until 8:50. So me and another friend helped another friend/her roommate (before hospice) find important documents, as well as save sentimental items for her actual loved ones because her family, well.

Her friends were her family. But because she died intestate, the people in her family of choice were entitled to nothing under the law. Instead of her beloved, disabled partner, her estranged family has legal rights to her savings bonds and the rest of her estate. (Sometimes common-law partners can inherit but they weren't together long enough to meet that criterion.)

I knew this was coming for a long time. You don't recover from the brain cancer she had. But it still really hurts. And knowing that people she hadn't spoken to in years are getting that money instead of the person she loved most... well, that hurts too.

Please, if you don't have one already, make a will. It's not hard. We don't like to think about it, because nobody likes thinking about post-death legal matters, but you need to make a will. If you're in the US, you can use websites like Free Will. You don't need an estate attorney or anything like that. In many states, a notarized letter is fine. I don't know enough about international estate law to say anything in that regard, but take half an hour to google estate laws in your jurisdiction and put together a will.

If something happened to you tomorrow, who do you want taking care of your pets? Do you have a collection of anything that you want looked after? Do you want your money to go to a person, a charity, or something else specific? If you don't have kids, everything reverts to a spouse. If you don't have a spouse, it goes to your parents. I know I don't want to burden my parents with figuring out what to do with my tegu, my skeletal collection, or my library. But if I died tomorrow, my will would take care of all of that. Thinking about mortality isn't fun, but dying intestate is worse. Make a will.

[godwaltz]

hey guys. wouldnt it be funny if instead of arthur coming back john took over his body when he got stabbed 1 million times, lol