#death is not the end

[thechurchofsplatterdaysaints]

Alexander Heir

[savagewildnerness]

I imagined Lestat’s letter anew, as he might express his thoughts from the perspective of thinking Louis dead for 50 years…

“Something dreadful has occurred, which is your death. But we do not now exist in two different worlds.

I cannot carry on with my living. Know only this, Mon Cher, you are the only being I trust and whom I love, above and beyond myself.

All my love belongs to you. You are its keeper. A veil will now forever separate our union. But it is a thin veil… and I am trying to push through, if only I knew the way from the other side, my longing pressed towards your beautiful face.

Lestat de Lioncourt”

This felt like it had to be on piano. But I did do a tiny bit of violin in the middle. I don’t like it so I might try it again next week, but I haven’t the heart to try it again today 😭💔. Or I have too much heart? I don’t know.

[jhsgf82]

Death Is Not the End Chapter Three Posted!

Cover edit by @mrspeetamellark

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Story Synopsis: Paranormal AU. Katniss, an immortal countess, travels to America for the funeral of her beloved sister, Primrose. However, Katniss is not simply there to pay her respects; she plans to steal Prim’s body in hopes of later resurrecting her. While there, she meets a nosy reporter, Peeta Mellark, who seeks an exclusive interview with her. When he won’t take no for an answer, she decides to give him the inside scoop-at her castle. Loosely based on Netflix’s Dracula (2020).

~It doesn’t matter how much you learn about me, Peeta Mellark; it’ll do you no good. You may be clever and articulate, but you haven’t even realized that you’re never leaving this place~

Chapter Three: The Castle Teaser: Peeta couldn’t believe he was on a flight to another country right now, and what was more, he was seated next to a gorgeous young countess.

He hadn’t intended to get involved with her beyond a simple interview. Was he enticed by her? Yes. And that brought him endless guilt.

He hadn’t expected anyone to catch his fancy. When he originally heard of her, he was merely eager to uncover her story, but it quickly became much more than professional curiosity. He became driven, obsessed, even. He’d only approached her on the street to inquire about a few things that’d been gnawing away at him, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he was not going to get the answers he was searching for.

Peeta Mellark was no fool; he knew he was playing with fire, and he didn’t care.

Read on AO3 HERE

[talktomeinclexa]

Death Is Not the End

Summary: Lexa is an Angel of Death tasked with helping the spirits seamlessly move on. Clarke is a doctor who has fought her whole adult life to keep Death at bay, and now she’s the one whose days are numbered. It would suck if those two were to fall in love, wouldn’t it?

***

“Damn it. Time of death: 22:16.”

Clarke throws her gloves onto the floor and lets out a strangled cry of frustration. Her staff gives her a wide berth, well accustomed to her intense reaction every time a patient under her care dies.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lexa whispers even though she knows the distraught woman can’t hear her. “You did your best.”

Dr. Clarke Griffin, MD, FACS, and Head of the Emergency Department of Arkadia General, has saved more gray cases than Lexa has ever seen another doctor do. She’s excellent at her job and, despite having worked for years in the ER, refuses to bow to Death. She fights for every single patient no matter the state they arrive in.

But Atom Ward wasn’t a gray case. He was brought to the hospital with a barely visible aura and a large gash to his throat that let out blood faster than the IV could replenish it. His time was up, and Clarke had fought a lost battle from the start.

Even he seemed to have accepted it. His spirit severs the connection with his body without Lexa needing to intervene, and he moves on by himself.

Not that Lexa stuck around for him. It has become a habit at this point to hover in the background whenever Clarke deals with a tough case. She’s not the one Lexa is meant to help let go, yet she hopes her invisible presence can alleviate some of Clarke’s pain whenever things don’t go the way she wishes them to.

“I can talk to his family if you want.”

Lexa jerks aside as Wells Jaha, the cardio attending, passes through her to approach Clarke. After decades spent in the narrow corridors and overcrowded rooms of various hospitals, she should be used to mortals moving through her immaterial form. Alas, as with the pungent smell of bleach inseparable from the white walls she often occupies, she has yet to ignore her disgust.

Clarke shakes her head, her brows stubbornly furrowed. She won’t cry. Not in front of her coworkers or when she tells Atom’s parents the worst news of their lives. She will hold it inside until she can find a quiet spot—the stairs or her office—and allow herself to crumble for a minute. Lexa has witnessed the scene a few times. Perhaps that’s why she feels this irrepressible need to shadow Clarke.

“I will do it,” Clarke replies, and Wells doesn’t press the matter.

Lexa is distracted from the scene by the call from an angry spirit one floor below. He doesn’t understand what happened to him and wants to linger. She’s down to her knees through the floor when she senses another Angel of Death’s presence below. They will take care of the issue and help the spirit accept his new reality.

Lexa floats back up into the room. She shouldn’t go with Clarke. There’s no need for her in the waiting area, and the hospital is full of dying people who might require her aid.

“Good luck,” she whispers in Clarke’s direction before freezing.

With the agitation caused by Atom’s arrival and the doctors’ attempts to save him, Lexa was distracted. She was supposed to focus on him. But now that he’s gone, all she can see is Clarke’s fading aura, slowly turning from its usual indigo to a washed-out sky blue.

Lexa has been an Angel of Death for over a millennium. She knows what fading auras mean—they call to her and her fellows. It’s not fair, but then, Death rarely is.

With a heavy heart, she watches as Clarke leaves the room, unaware of how numbered her days are, and sighs. “I will see you soon.”

[cl0wnwiththesickness]

decay *digital collage using pictures i took of a dead opossum a few days apart from each other*

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

"Listen: life is worth a fight. Expectation must be shed like winter leaves. Even in death, there is wondrous beauty. And death is not The End."

from Hollow Kingdom, by Kira Jane Buxton

[jt1674]

[mysteroads]

Indomitable Will: Epilogue: The Indomitable and the Adorable

Summary: We catch up with Mr. Compress a year after the Final War.

Excerpt:

“You chose a difficult day to come and visit, Midoriya-kun,” he said, waving him to the other chair.

Midoriya sat down and nodded. “I know. But I didn’t think you should be alone today. I know we were on separate sides, but I… well, I told you about what I learned last year in Tomura’s inner world. You can’t get that close to someone without gaining a connection. I… I mourn him too. You’re the only one who really understands.” Tears spilled down Midoriya’s freckled cheeks. 

Atsuhiro, in a fit of romanticism, had once thought that Midoriya cried for all people who couldn’t. Today, he was willing to believe it, and was pathetically grateful that someone could cry for Tomura. Reaching out, he put his hand over Midoriya’s, squeezing it. “Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse. 

Midoriya’s tears got bigger and he nodded, squeezing back. They sat like that for a long time, until their grief was rudely interrupted by the box in Midoriya’s lap. It rocked gently, and there was a soft little squeaking noise. 

“What is that?” Atsuhiro asked, eyeing the box warily.

Now Midoriya’s smile came back, a little sheepish, a little hopeful. “Well, I need help with something, and you’re the best person I could think of.”

“Me?” Atsuhiro blurted.

“Yeah.” Midoriya set the box in Atsuhiro’s lap and sat back, fingers steepled like a scheming villain.

Giving the boy a suspicious glance, Atsuhiro carefully lifted the flaps of the box, noting as he did the air holes punched in the top. A look inside showed… a kitten. A very small kitten, still young enough to be wobbly on its legs, with strangely patchy fur and enormous milky blue eyes. It looked… fragile. But there was nothing fragile about the demanding yowl it gave the second it saw him. “Good grief,” he murmured, eyes widening. The little thing must be ninety percent lungs.

[dsireland86]

Liam Payne death: Former One Direction member found dead at Hotel Casa Sur Palermo, Buenos Aires, Argentina | CNN

Fly high, friend. God this fucking sucks.

[brain-rotted-yi-city-fan]

I had a bonfire during a really nice sunset last Saturday! I got these wonderful pictures of the sun setting and the fire's destruction.

[thechurchofsplatterdaysaints]

Alexander Heir

[jhsgf82]

"Death Is Not the End" -Chapter Two Posted!

Edit by @mrspeetamellark

Author's Note: So, I'm writing again, woo-hoo! Slowly but surely. I wanted to have this out for Halloween, but at least I'm working on my fics (and my fictions). Baby steps.

Synopsis: Paranormal AU. Katniss, an immortal countess, travels to America for the funeral of her beloved sister, Primrose. However, Katniss is not simply there to pay her respects; she plans to steal Prim’s body in hopes of later resurrecting her. While there, she meets a nosy reporter, Peeta Mellark, who seeks an exclusive interview with her. When he won’t take no for an answer, she decides to give him the inside scoop-at her castle. Loosely based on Netflix’s Dracula (2020).

~It doesn’t matter how much you learn about me, Peeta Mellark; it’ll do you no good. You may be clever and articulate, but you haven’t even realized that you’re never leaving this place~

Excerpt: Katniss lay on the hotel bed, eyes closed, hands clasped on her chest‒right over where her heart remained dormant. She recalled the night it froze in place in her chest, the night her blood ran chill then coursed hotly anew and everlasting through her veins. Sometimes she wondered if she even bled anymore, or if she’d been drained entirely. And what color would it be if she did? Probably black as death.

She was thinking of Prim, of course, as she often did.

Their last argument had been foolish to her. Primrose had chastised her for what she’d done to that lovely young couple, freshly married. But what did her younger sister expect? Was she to deny her nature? And what of what had been done to her by that man at such a tender young age?

Katniss’s lips curled up into a snarl.

The incident was only five short (and yet eternal) years ago. She remembered it like it was yesterday‒the way he’d ravaged her then left her for dead after drinking his fill from her neck. She could still feel her agony, the pulsing at her jugular, the horrifying way her bones seemed to snap inside of her before reconstructing themselves, more powerful than before.

But all that was nothing compared to the anguish of losing Primrose. Katniss ached for her Little Duck, face fresh as the raindrop and sweetness incarnate.

To think this was only the beginning of her immortality, and already, she was alone.

But not for long...

Read on AO3 HERE

[hauntinghere]

hello, I am a new blog to share the beauty that grows from what is left behind. looking for mutuals 🪦

[cl0wnwiththesickness]

opossum wet specimen

[lairesta]

Pippin Took: I didn't think it would end this way.

Gandalf the White: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass... then you see it!

Pippin Took: What? Gandalf? See what?

Gandalf the White: White shores... and beyond. A far green country, under a swift sunrise.

Pippin Took: Well, that isn't so bad.

Gandalf the White: [smiles] No... no, it isn't.

-- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of The King --

.

[geezerwench]

There's more!?!