#mourning death

[imaginedreamwrite]

Break my heart with Steve + song lyric. Please just shatter me!

Here’s my attempt! Trigger warning for death, loss of life, mourning and grief

“Hi Steve.” He smiled bashfully and smoothed his hair down, aware of his newer size and strength, of his change in appearance. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m on a little leave before I have to go back.” He blushed, studying you and paying special attention to the hair bow you chose.

He would have to bring you back some fancy bows from France or England, something you’d really love.

Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair

He's a little shy so she give him a smile

So he said would you mind sittin' down for a while

And talking to me, I'm feeling a little low

“Do you have a minute?” Steve felt nervous, anxious to his core while you poured him a coffee. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Yeah…I’ve got a minute.” You flashed him a smile, your pretty eyes and beautiful smile making his entire uniform feel tight and rigid, instilling an incessant need to fidget. “Are you okay?”

“I’m shipping out soon, again.” Steve drew his hand over the edge of the napkin, his heart skipping a beat the longer he looked at you, the longer he searched your beautiful face. “And I was thinking when I came back…”

“Steve,” your hand rest upon his, reflecting the same small town and meagre upbringing he experienced, “are you asking me out?”

So they went down and they sat on the pier

He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care

I got no one to send a letter to

Would you mind if I sent one back here to you

“You’re not…you don’t have a soldier…?” Steve felt foolish, he felt like he was crossing a line and making some kind of mistake.

“No,” you squeezed his hand and brushed your thumb back and forth against him, “I don’t have a soldier. Its just me.”

“Me too,” Steve spoke with forlorn, dropping his gaze to your ring finger wondering what it would look like in the future, “but maybe when I get back we could see a film?”

“A film.” Your lips formed a small smile, nodding excitedly. “I’d really like that. To see a film with you.”

“I can write you too, if you want.” He could see it now, the life before him in a tiny place in Brooklyn. “I’d like to have someone to talk to.”

“Of course, Steve. You can write me anytime.”

I cried

Never gonna hold the hand of another guy

Too young for him they told her

STEVE ROGERS, HERO OF THE AMERICAN PEOPLE CRASHED INTO THE OCEAN—

Your hand shook and your eyes screwed closed. Nausea befell you, a cry or scream ripping from your throat as you clutched his last letter and broke down on the floor of your small apartment. You couldn’t deal with the immense loss and the papers that printed the news of his death had caused a great deal of mourning among people around you.

You were alone when you found out, you had little to remember him by. His letters and his Saint Christopher necklace he gave you was safely tucked in your drawers. Your heart felt like it was turning to ash in your chest, your mind thinking of nothing but him.

You finally cried, you finally broke down and managed to verbally mourn him. Your tears were rolling down your cheeks hot and heavy, your back pressed against the cracking plaster wall.

You’d been visited by one of the soldiers he had fought with, one of the men who returned home alive had given you something from Steve. The box that you hadn’t even touched yet had sat on your kitchen table with his handwriting scrawled across the tag.

“I know it hasn’t been long, but I wanna marry you. I’m gonna come home and we’re gonna get married.”

Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier

Our love will never end

Waitin' for the soldier to come back again

You kneeled in front of the grave they had for him, your fingers clutching the stone as you cried. You could barely breathe, barely speak and hardly get out the goodbye he deserved. Your heart shattered when you read the epitaph and you felt as if part of you died with him.

“I miss you.” Your voice shook, your fingers trailing across his name etched in stone. “I miss you so much.”

Never more to be alone when the letter says

A soldier's coming home

[scribe-of-death]

Mourning Death

Death has gone, and we shall remain.

Death has gone, and we shall stay.

Death has gone, and we shall be eternal.

Death has gone, yet so has Life.

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Something something Danny learns that Jason died and crawled out of his own grave.

Danny, to Jason: You actually got a grave?

Jason: Why? You want one?

He doesn’t notice how this could potentially sound like a threat from an outsider’s perspective.

[lackadaisycal-art]

Family Recipe

[askfordoodles]

"Young man, you cut that tsundere bullshit, I know what you're doing, I wasn't born yesterday." - Secret Brat Tamer Volkarin

[firedragon1321]

[typenonsense]

hey. hey. is anyone else thinking about how this is the first time skizz gets to properly mourn a teammate. is anyone else thinking about the fact that this is the first grave he can lay flowers at, the first eulogy he spoke.

[rowlight]

phone scribble of the pathetic

original bit

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Lost boys

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 3

Things are gonna get a bit darker than they have been in the second half of this moon. Be warned and check the tags! Happy Spooky Season!

The sun is ever-present in the summer sky. It sits vigil alongside the clan. Soon after the bodies arrive at camp a patrol sets out to track the rogues, but finding that they have already crossed Shadedclan's territory, it is decided that the opportunity for revenge has passed. They'll double patrols and wait to see if the murders try to cross the territory on their way home. Many are upset, but few argue. As the sky begins to lose it's duskiness, the vigil is ended, the bodies buried, and the clan cats left to filter back into camp at their own pace. Wildfirecry excuses himself to clear his head, while Dancepaw attempts to bridge the gap with the only brother he has left.

Seeing Rosehiptree will be left alone in the burial place, Songpaw decides to stay for a while.

It takes Wildfirecry three days to find the farm cats.

There are Forestclan traditions that were never passed on to Loudclan. Rites that were deemed too dark to touch the newborn clan and thus were cast aside. But here, miles past the valley territories, they live on.

Wildfirecry returns to Loudclan's camp a week after the vigil having lost two lives. No one questions where he has been. The scent of rancid dried blood still lingers despite a fresh coat of oil, and his wounds, while closed, are unmistakably fresh. The clan returns to an uneasy normalcy.

[Whoo! I did it! This moon was INCREDIBLY hard for me. The first part relies so much on my dialogue skills, which, is the part of comic-making that comes least easily to me, and the second part is super experimental, which was so much fun, but also mentally tiring. (On that note please let me know if it's like impossible to see. I meant for it to be a bit difficult to make out, but it's hard to gage between my ipad and my laptop whether it will be readable for all of you. I can fiddle with the color grading tomorrow if necessary.) And finally, Rosehip's experience here is really, really close to my heart. That means that her scenes here are ones that I really wanted to write, but also that I had to take a couple of breaks to make sure that I wasn't wearing myself down too much, so sorry that it took longer than I thought and I haven't been able to answer as many asks as I had hoped to. Anyway, despite early difficulty I had a GREAT time finishing this moon up and I'm happy with how it turned out! Songpaw and Rosehiptree are keeping the trauma dump to best friends pipeline alive and I love them for it. Erminekit is kinda being a brat but he really just wants to be there for his best friend and everyone is getting in the way! He doesn't really get the concept of "giving someone space". As far as Moon 30 I have a science class that I'd like to get finished by the end of the month, so it will probably be a minute. Hope you guys enjoy!]

First Moon

Next Moon

[maladaptivewriting]

yall remember in canon when kreacher charged into battle against the death eaters yelling about fighting for regulus?

[attyrocious]

ace on gouache more like gouace(??)

anyway happy birthday

[neymiiie]

I just want to see him again.

[lem0nademouth]

saw a tweet that was like “my current feed is all Middle Eastern people celebrating and white people with humanities degrees crying” and if that doesn’t sum up the last All Of Time

[tapeworrmart]

Hunger 🦷💫

[bixels]

I just saw one of your fave games is What remains of Edith Finch and I’m so happy! I feel like its a lesser known game but i loved playing through it. I’m so happy to know more than just my small friend group know about this game!

Sorry this isn’t a question. Also want to say that you’re art is amazing and the development of the designs is so interesting to see. Also the way you draw intimate scenes have so much emotion to them. I love the Aj and rarity kissing comic so much, you can just feel their love for each other ;w;

Thank you so much!

I highly, highly, highly recommend What Remains of Edith Finch to anyone interested in narrative game experiences/"walking simulators." It's one of those games that was handcrafted with nothing but love. Every room you explore is just... real. The way the light flows in and makes the colors of the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms glow. Playing the game is like walking through your childhood home as an adult and seeing how the dust clings to everything you once touched. Also genius-level gameplay mechanics, ones that can make you completely empathetic with the character you're embodying or feel completely complacent in their tragedy. It's really not fair to call it a walking simulator because it's so much more and so much smarter than that.Everyone talks about the fish one.

The theme of death and memory and storytelling and the burden of invisible trauma and self-fulfilling prophecies is so affecting too. The ending made me cry.