#they wanted a memorial a funeral and a cremation

[caorann8]

Grief in Dawntrail

Alrighty, here are my thoughts as a funeral director having finished Dawntrail. Obviously spoilers under the cut.

When someone says a game feels like work, that’s normally a bad thing. In this case it’s not. Two of Dawntrail’s themes are community/their different cultures and grief and while they’re explored more separately in the two halves of the story they are intrinsically linked. Funerals at their core are about remembering the person who’s died and coming together to support each other and remember the person. Even with the decline of “traditional” funerals, people who are just having a cremation and nothing else from the funeral home often say they’ll have something at home with their friends and family.

This is why Sphene pissed me off from the start. With the Yok Huy we see a beautiful funeral tradition. The body may return to the mountains but their legacy will always remain for their community to read and remember over and over again, even for future generations. Meanwhile Sphene echo’s the same message, “You will never die so long as you’re remembered” but then removes the memories as a misguided attempt to protect her people. They aren’t remembered, they’re actively forgotten by their entire community until those people die too.

Death and grief are complicated things. Something we learn in school is there are no stages as most people think. It’s a roller coaster that goes forward and back, has good days and bad days, and will sometimes crop up years later. What lessens it is allowing yourself to process it, and support from friends/family/community helps immensely. By denying them these memories, Sphene denies them growth and stronger bonds. A friend of mine said the people of Alexandria wouldn’t survive the Final Days and I agree. We even see this in the WoL! How many times are we able to quote Haurchefant or other characters who have died but made an impact on our journey? Even Emet-Selch asks us to remember them. The ancient’s love, their follies, the good and bad. While grief hurts in so many different ways, we often come out on the other side better, whether that be with new tools, new outlooks, or even just relief that the person isn’t suffering.

And this doesn’t just apply to people we care for. Look at the death of Zoraal Ja. Wuk Lamat hated him and he’d abandoned Gulool Ja. Regret or joy that it’s over are valid feelings . Both grieved in their own ways and had support to work through it. The fact that they were actively told to take a break to process everything, both after his death and after the attack on Tullioyal, was a beautiful touch. Grief is exhausting after all.

Finally, I want to talk about my experience going through Living Memory. That’s the part that truly felt like my work. Just sitting and listening to people say their final goodbyes to their loved ones. Some crying, some laughing at good memories, some angry, but all taking that moment. I didn’t cry really (except Cahcuia, that one got me), I got choked up and there was a heaviness for a lot of it, but there’s a joy in knowing nothing’s left unsaid. Even deleting the areas didn’t affect me much. They each got their last hurrah, like a eulogy at a service or stories shared over a meal. Plus the knowledge that reincarnation exists in FFXIV means they’ll be able to enjoy life again.

At the end of the day grief, in all its forms from the end of relationships, to what could’ve been, to death of a loved one, shouldn’t be swept under a rug. When people find out I’m a funeral director I often get asked if it’s “depressing with all the crying” and I always reply that I hear laughter coming from visitation rooms more often than tears.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: Lost

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The car rolls to a stop. It’s only then that you realise you’re no longer standing in front of your building. You flick your tear-webbed lashes and sniffle. You wipe your swollen and raw nose. The night clears before you as a sleek and modern geometric home stands before you. You lean forward as you cup your forehead. 

“Tootsie roll,” Lloyd startles you as the soft whir of the engine fades. 

You look at him. You’re in shock. At least, you think that’s what this is. Everything feels distant. You’re numb and yet you feel everything at once. It’s like living that dreadful day all over again. 

“How lovely,” your aunt Marguerite admires the silverware, “he always was a collector. He’d want me to have this.” 

“And his coins,” Uncle Carlos adds, “priceless. A keepsake to remember him by.” 

Family you hadn’t heard from in years, family you didn’t know, milled through your father’s home. Your home. They picked it apart like scavengers. They didn’t care about the funeral, not how much it cost, or even that your father was dead. They were only concerned about their bequeathal. 

And your father was always a generous man. He thought of every single one of them and you knew he wouldn’t deny any of them. So you didn’t. They took it all as you watched helplessly. No condolences, no shared memories of the man that was, not even an empathetic embrace. 

You said goodbye alone. You paid for the urn and his cremation and sold the house. You couldn’t afford it alone. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep living there with him haunting the walls. Instead, you took him with you to that apartment and he... 

You snap back to the land of the living. A bright light nearly shines you and you shield your face with your hand. You look down at your boots, the snow melting and weeping onto the mat. Lloyd tugs at the buttons of your coat and you jolt in surprise. 

“Hey, I know it’s been a long night--” 

“He’s gone.” You say coarsely. 

He tilts his head and his brows furrow in confusion, “he? Who?” 

“He’s dead,” you croak and turn away from his grasp. 

You bend over as you cradle your head and sob again. You want to scream. You can’t. You fold and collapse onto the floor. 

You’re scooped up and sat on something firm. Your coat is stripped away, your boots unlaced, and you’re take away from the front door of the strange house. The walls move past you as Lloyd carries you and lays you down on a cloud. 

You roll over and hide your face. If you close your eyes, it can’t be real. You sink into the mattress and your mind. 

“You’ll be okay,” your father rasps as he pats your hand, almost too weak for the simple gesture. “You always were the strongest person I know. Don’t know where it...” 

He didn’t finish the sentence for the rattling cough that overtook his frail body. He was no longer the brutish man who used to bluster in like a storm. He still laughed but it wasn’t that hardy bellow that made you warm inside. It was a rickety noise like the shaking of a stone in a can. 

He left more than that unfinished. He left you undone. He left you.  

He left you. 

He left you. 

You flail onto your back and gasp up at the ceiling. Where are you? You sit up and the world swims in shadows. Only the soft glow of the lamp wards of the shadows in the corners. 

You swallow dryly. Your head throbs, your eyes are half-swollen shut, and your nose is dried out. You’re still there. Why? Why are you still here without him? 

You fall back on the pillows and heave. You have nothing left to cry. You can only shake as you stare at the plaster. 

The lamplight eases with the rise of the sun between the curtains. You wallow in your renewed grief. It never truly went away, just ebbed until the tide came rolling over like a tsunami. Now you are lost to the depths. 

A gentle tap sounds like a thunderous boom. You flinch and tilt your head to see the door as it opens. A blurry figure enters. It isn’t until he’s at the side of the bed that you recognise Lloyd. He sits lightly and touches your shoulder. His hand feels like flames. 

“I called the building. It’s... nothing’s salvageable--” 

“Leave me alone,” you close your eyes and suck back a hiccup. 

“I know, it’s hard. Your whole life was in that apartment, sweetie, but you got me. You’re best friend. Huh? Me and you, we’re going to rebuild it all.” 

“You can’t,” you mutter. 

“Ah, whatever you want, tootsie, I’ll get it for you.” 

“I don’t want... anything,” you hiss. 

“Things are things, baby cakes,” he rubs your arm. “But you still got a friend, don’t ya?” 

“If you hadn’t-- I would’ve been there. I could’ve--” you gulp and shake your head. It doesn’t matter. 

“I’ll take care of ya,” he continues to pet you. “Get you everything you need. You’re gonna need a computer for work, huh? You can set up in here, or another room. Get a nice desk. Oh, you’re gonna need something to wear...” he pinches your sleeve. “Tell me your favourite snacks and I’ll order groceries--” 

You sit up and shove him away. It’s too much. He’s smothering you.  

You remember when you would have begged for someone to help. To just hug you. To just be there to cry with. Now, you just want to be left alone. 

“No, I’ll find somewhere else,” you say. “You don’t have to...” 

It won’t last. He’s nice now but he’ll leave you too. Just like everyone else. If he doesn’t do it himself, the world will take him away. 

“Tootsie roll, you need to relax--” 

“I can’t!” You snap and stand, only to stumble and land on your knees. You pant and heave as you keel over, arms shaking as you hold yourself over the floor. 

“Baby,” he hurries around and lifts you back onto the bed. “Your body’s telling you to stop.” He drags you back and pushes you onto your back, “so stop.” 

[vastderp]

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

[herofics]

Could you do some dadzawa angst please? Maybe his daughter died in a mission or commited suicide and how he deal with grief.

A/N: I picked died on a mission, because there’s been so many of the suicide themed requests in the past month or so, and I didn’t really feel like writing that. The reader goes to UA and is on an internship where things go south on patrol and the reader ends up dead

•When Aizawa got the news, he was obviously devastated, but he didn’t really react at first

•He tried to convince himself that this had to be a mistake

•He asked the police officer that had come to deliver the news what had happened, multiple times

•Aizawa also sort of on purpose misunderstood who was dead, like he tried to convince himself that the police officer was mistaken and that it was someone else who had passed away

•When the reality finally set in, his legs gave out, and he fell to the floor on his knees

•He hugged himself as he started quietly crying, his forehead almost touching the floor as he bent down

•The police officer offered his condolences to Aizawa before leaving, and he was left alone

•You were his only child, and now you were gone, he felt like a huge piece of his heart had been ripped away

•Aizawa isn’t very good with big emotions, or at least not showing them

•He’d prefer to keep things locked inside himself, but after your passing, he was required to go to therapy by the school which forced him to confront his feelings

•He was barely able to plan the funeral, he just felt so paralyzed by grief and even more so by anger

•Mic and Midnight were a huge help and Aizawa could mostly focus on the eulogy/memorial speech

•When the day of the funeral finally came, it was one of the most difficult days of his life

•The previous day when the wake was, was also very difficult but also very heartwarming

•Your friends shared stories about you and so did everyone else you were close to

•Aizawa listened, and he couldn’t help but think that even though your life ended way too early, maybe you’d had a good life

•There was a certain sense of finality, even though you’d died a while ago

•One last goodbye, one last time he could hold your hand, before your body would be cremated

•Aizawa was numb for months after your passing, he started drinking more often, not enough to be considered an alcoholic but more than before

•He had to take a pretty long period of sick leave after you died, because he just couldn’t function properly

•He had problems controlling his emotions, like he would get incredibly angry for the smallest things and just breakdown when he was alone

•Eventually it got easier, the pain didn’t disappear, but it got easier to deal with as time went by

•It’s not betrayal to get over the pain, you would want him to keep going, you would want him to be happy again

[froody]

I hope I’m not bringing up bad memories but my cat is probably going to die very soon and I’m just wondering how on earth to cope with it. He’s my baby I’ve had him since I was 12 or so and idk what I’ll do without him. He’s orange and scrungly just like Tommy and his name is kitty because my family could never agree on any other name and I already miss him so much.

I’m still mourning Tommy. I don’t have all the answers. Her death was sudden so the circumstances were different than having an elderly pet in decline that you know you will lose soon. There is some advice, some I wish I had known and some I wish I could have practiced:

Know that the empty spot they left in your heart will remain empty. There will always be a place for them that wishes they were there and hurts for them. Slowly over time that place will become more of a shrine to their memory than the aching wound it will be at first.

Start thinking of funeral plans before they’re gone. I know this is morbid but it will be so helpful after the event. Start thinking about how you want to deal with your pet’s remains, if you want them cremated, buried, articulated, freeze dried etc. If you want to bury them, start looking for a spot, one of their favorite places or perhaps contact a pet cemetery in your area. If you want them cremated, look for pet crematories in the area and have the number written down. If you want their remains preserved, start setting aside money for it and looking for the place you want it done.

Consider an end of life photo shoot with them before they’re gone. If they still look how you want to remember them, that is. Get dressed up, have one last good day. Have a loved one take photos of you and your friend in a beautiful place. If your pet’s health is in decline in such a way that you don’t want to remember them looking the way they look now, consider making pawprints or other crafts.

Be patient with yourself after they’re gone but remember it is not a betrayal to love again. Think about opening your heart to another animal in need. Take your time it I have found an empty house is a horrible thing to live in and a new little friend helps you grieve the last one.

[popatochisssp]

Assuming this isn't something all of the boys find weird/creepy, what do they think about humans not dusting after dying and instead leaving their whole body behind? What are their thoughts on the fact that their human s/o is going to one day die and leave their dead body behind?

TW for death mention/discussion below:

I think for most, it’s not something they’d dwell on, filing it under one of those weird things humans just do, like have blood and organs, and use the bathroom.

They don’t do any of that, and it’s a little weird and maybe a little gross that their human s/o does but hey���they’re (literally) only human, and it’s normal for them, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Plus, not all humans want to just stay as the dead body, a lot do the cremation thing and then they’re ashes, and anything after that would be very similar and very familiar to monster dust and what tends to be done with it. Not so different, at least!

Broadly speaking, it might come up at some point and maybe they’d try to find out if their s/o has any particular preferences for what they want to happen to all the physical stuff they leave behind—body included—when they kick it, if they so happen to kick it before their skeletal beau and leave him in the position of handling that stuff…

But other than that, probably not something to think about overly much. The ideal is not having to worry about any of that for a good long while, after all!

There are maybe a few exceptions, though, who do have some kind of significant, stronger-than-typical opinion about the subject of humans (or their s/o in particular) leaving a corpse behind instead of dust…

Paps (Underswap Papyrus) isn’t a fan of the concept. He’s a little squeamish, generally unnerved by blood and severe injuries, and a lifeless, rotting, empty shell—especially of someone he cared about—is pretty morbid and upsetting. He definitely wants to think about it and deal with it as little as possible, so his s/o better not die too soon! And if they want him to go to a wake or funeral, they better be prepared for him to have to psych himself up to approach the casket of the deceased, or take a moment outside for a breather.

On the other hand, Mal (Swapfell Sans) is explicitly glad for the longevity of the human body. He doesn’t really care one way or the other for any other humans, but if he somehow manages to outlive his human, he thinks he’d very much appreciate that their body stuck around awhile after they left. He loves hard and digs in deep, and whatever extra time he can have for a private goodbye, to look at his s/o’s face and commit everything to memory before letting go…he’ll take it, gladly.

Slate (Horrortale Sans) is liable to dissociate around a dead body and risks the same just talking about it too much. He’s made dealt with plenty of corpses already and doesn’t want to have to deal with any more, it brings back a lot of guilt and bad memories… If—stars forbid—it ever has to be his s/o that he’s confronted with, he would just… try to hold it together and do whatever needed to be done to honor their wishes, on full autopilot if it came to that. He can have whatever breakdown he needs to have after ensuring everything they wanted for their remains has been done, they deserve that.

His brother, Papy (Horrortale Papyrus)…well, he tends to get panic attacks when humans die and their souls leave their bodies as just an empty husk. It’s a distressing concept for him that everything that makes a (human) person themselves can just…go like that, and then all they are is dead meat. …Meat which he has availed himself of in the past, and fed to others, and that was circumstantial and desperate but still very distressing to reconcile with any new occurrences. He’s giving himself a lot of immersion therapy with his choice of career, and maybe by the time his s/o passes on, he’ll be ready to cope with it…but who knows?

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus) may be a bit abashed to admit to it, but he’s not uninterested and finds it (somewhat morbidly) fascinating. The human body itself is fascinating with all its physicality and moving parts that keep everything functioning like an organic machine, and the body remaining behind even after death—for study or investigation or just as an idol of mourning—it’s…kind of cool? In fairness, though, he wouldn’t be able to muster up much of that opinion if it was his s/o’s body no longer occupied by the person he loved. Too personal, very different…

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans) is a soulless machine. He won’t age and may never die, but if he does, he might leave some sort of corpse behind himself…or maybe not, if enough magic has soaked into his metal bones to make them dissipate when the consciousness piloting them leaves. Still, he can’t really be sure, and the way humans die is a less foreign a concept to him since he’s considered that something similar could happen to him eventually. …He would rather it not happen to his s/o, though. (He’d never ask it of them, but he would want them to stay.)

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus) would have no trouble asking it of his s/o—they should stay! Just don’t die. Or, well, die, obviously, but stay anyway, like he did! He finds the concept of a body in general troublesome and limiting, so he’s pretty cavalier about humans leaving theirs behind when they die—can’t blame them in the slightest!—but he won’t be as cavalier about his human trying to shuffle off their mortal coil without a digital backup first. How are they supposed to be ‘together forever’ if one of them is trying to escape to some kind of unknowable Great Beyond?! Sheesh…

Kohl (Descendtale Sans) is…a bit of an asshole, most of the time but also when talking about human corpses. It’s one of his preferred off-color jokes to say that the dead ones are his favorite kind of humans since they’re quiet and don’t bother him… totally irreverent, but as far as his actions go, he’s actually considerably more respectful. He’s defensive and wary around most live humans because he knows what they’re capable of and the harm they can do, but there’s no danger in the empty shells they leave behind, just signs of personality and the life they once lived—laugh lines, tattoos, scars, painted nails… It cuts his venom a bit to see that, and to have the time he has with peoples’ bodies; to be entrusted (however peripherally) with sending them off to whatever final rest they’d chosen. …If his s/o decides to let him outlive them, he’d like to do the same for their shell.

And lastly, Bram (Descendtale Papyrus) is a slightly odd case. He has a bit of trouble conceptualizing the way non-magical beings die…which isn’t to say he doesn’t understand the concept of death, he’s got that down fine! But to die and not disappear into dust seems to him like something must still be there, some integral part of the being who’d inhabited the body left behind—a human residue, if you will! And as such, even if that person’s soul is gone and they’ll never move or breathe or speak or do anything else ever again, their remains should be treated as if they were still occupied, because a piece of them is still there and probably always will be. So when it’s his s/o’s time to go, he’ll see their body off to its new accommodations—the earth or a nice vase or whatever else they wanted—and then visit often to talk and hang out, like nothing had changed! …Almost.

[inexplicifics]

hello fair lady inex!

i have a warlord ‘verse question, if i may.

have the kaer morhen residents developed any funerary traditions since ard carraigh? obviously they used to have pyres for the trainees who didn’t pass their trials, and grown witchers didn’t tend to die at home, so i don’t imagine they had anything separate for them. but now they have a keep full of squishy human servants and sundry, and even if the witchers are vigilant about injuries and illness, some of them are still bound to grow old and die eventually, provided they haven’t a witcher lover. how does the keep deal with that eventuality? i’m imagining everyone gathering in the great hall for a memorial, and then a shrouded body being portalled down the mountain to wherever their human family still lives, or possibly receiving a witcher funeral if they haven’t a human family. do any of the humans in the keep have recorded wishes for their funeral rites? do they have to bring in priests from different faiths depending on the resident? surely some would prefer burial over cremation, would the witchers be comfortable burying someone on the mountain, where they’ll always remember they’re there? is there a risk of necrophages if they do that? do the human families of the servants ever try to argue for the body back even if the deceased wished to be interred at kaer morhen?

i can’t stop thinking about logistics inex, i’m trapped in the warlord ‘verse vortex!

Oooh interesting.

Witchers are still absolutely burned on pyres, both for traditional and anti-necrophage reasons.

Some servants probably would want to be burned likewise. Others might well ask for their bodies to be returned to their kin. Some might specify that their bodies are not to be returned to their home villages under any circumstances.

There are probably a fair number of religious representatives down in Wolvenburg, so the Witchers can bring in priests for assorted religions if needed - and these days, the religious folks won't turn up their noses at such requests.

I don't think burial is going to be possible on the mountain. Too many Witchers have Very Bad associations with graveyards.

I do think Witchers probably find being invited to join funeral rites, to mourn alongside the dead person's friends and family, to be extremely unusual and, bizarrely, a privilege they've never had before. They get to grieve. They get to have their grief acknowledged, and to comfort others in their sorrow.

And there probably will be some sort of memorial hall, sooner or later, which records the servants as well as the Witchers they served.

[starsfic]

Goodbye, Lover

So a few times @rain-bow-donkey, @draw-of-the-moon, and I have discussed reincarnated Wukong AUs on Discord, and one is where Azure flat out refuses to believe this reincarnation is Wukong.

So have Wukong's funeral.

-_-

It felt like the end of the world when Sun Wukong died.

Nobody was sure how it happened or why. One day, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was alive, and the next second, Tang Sanzang was announcing his death. Rumors swirled of what exactly he said, but all agreed that the monk's face had been pale and haunted.

After all, Sun Wukong was the last one expected to die first.

Azure, at first, refused to believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

Wukong was a traitor, yes, turning once happy memories thick with bitterness and resentment, but he had always been there. He had bragged about his immortality. Surely, he would refuse to die.

Azure refused to believe it until the day of the funeral.

Despite all the enemies he made in life, the king had been a legendary figure with many allies and once former friends and people who, if they didn't like him, respected him. The kings of Camel Ridge were among hundreds packed into the town square of the bustling fishing village across the bay from his island.

The square was richly decorated in soft golds and yellows and blues fabrics and flowers. Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong's master, Patriarch Subodhi, both said words. The body was laid out for people to say goodbye to before being cremated (hopefully). Azure saw no sign of the so-called loyal shadow as he and his brothers made their way forward, behind the second traitor. Despite his anger at the sight of the new Princess Iron Fan holding his former brother's arm as he held a small toddler, Azure refused to let his anger take hold.

Grief was stronger as he stepped forward and saw Wukong.

He didn't look dead. He merely looked asleep. Flowers were arranged carefully around him, peach blossoms decorating his sunshine curls and more held in his hands. The white robes made his hands twitch, wanting to pull them off. Wukong would hate the sight of white robes without fancy embroidery.

He would hate being dead.

...

Dead.

Wukong was dead.

Azure felt his legs go weak as the truth sank in. He pitched forward, but a familiar hand grabbed his arm while another grabbed his arm. He looked up to see DBK try for a smile, instead bearing his teeth in an odd grimace.

The anger at him died out.

What was the point when Wukong was dead and Azure was alone?

[sleepyfan-blog]

Funeral Preparations One

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream

Warnings: Feelings of being overwhelmed, grief, funerary practices, consumption of humans (ashes), mention of cremation, hurt/comfort

Summary: Cedric talks to Lykus about his dead brothers and funerary practices. 

Cedric made his way to the beautiful church where he’d encountered Chaplain Lykus, silently wishing that he was seeking the other out for less unhappy reasons. The young Black Templar paused in the entrance room of the church, allowing himself a couple of moments to once more silently appreciate the beautiful stained-glass images that made the windows of the church. 

Feeling slightly calmer, he made his way over to Lykus’ office, knocking on the door and waiting for the other marine to acknowledge him.

“Please come in.” The Word Bearer called out a couple of moments later.

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded before obeying. He closed the door quietly behind himself as he walked over to one of the chairs in front of Lykus’ desk and sat in the one made for Astartes, trying to keep a calm expression on his face. 

Lykus smiled a little as he looked Cedric over. “Good afternoon Cedric. What can I do to help you?”

Cedric fidgeted with the bandages on his hands a little, as he’d decided to wrap up his skinned knuckles after his brief fight with Algrets earlier today rather than waiting for them to heel… And it was bad form to show up to a strange Chaplain’s office visibly injured. And not tended to. It invited scrutiny and potential punishment. “I…I’ve come to make a request.”

“Is this about finding a time and day where you and your Brothers can gather to worship without dealing with comments and judgment?” Lykus asked curiously.

“... It is somewhat related to that.” Cedric answered, biting the inside of one of his cheeks until it bled. The physical pain helped him keep his roiling emotions in check. He wanted to keep his voice even and calm, and show no outward signs of distress or emotional weakness. It would slow things down, and Lykus was not the only person he needed to talk to today. 

“Please explain, and I’ll offer what assistance I am able to… Are you alright? You seem… Unsettled.” Lykus asked, his gaze lingering on the bandages that Cedric was fidgeting with.

“I am functional.” The young apothecary answered as he immediately put his hands in his lap, out of the other’s line of sight. He swallowed hard, mentally counting to ten before answering in as even and unemotional a tone of voice as he could manage “Recently, two Black Templars arrived on Holy Terra, critically wounded. Despite every effort to save them, both died. I, and the rest of the unofficial Crusade who live here in Gannet Point would like to put them to rest properly, in the manner that our chapter does. I was hoping to have the memorial service portion of that completed here, within this church, if you are willing. There would be maybe a dozen people attending, most if not all of them being Astartes. The service would not be longer than an hour, as both Black Templars who died  were apprentices… The term I believe your legion uses is Scouts, so the recitation of their deeds and greatest battles will not… Not take very long.”

Lykus seemed to be listening intently to Cedric as he spoke. Once he finished, the Word Bearer took a long sip from the astartes-sized thermos on his desk and swallowed before answering “Do you know when you would like the service to be held? Apart from Sunday mass and Wednesday bible studies, most of this next week is fairly open, though there are smaller services that are going on for an hour or two at a time throughout the week, most of them can easily be rescheduled due to an event like this. What is the plan for their bodies, once the service is over?”

“Their bodies will be burnt to ash and the remains will be forged into Blades of Remembrance per the custom of our chapter.” Well… Some of their remains would be used in forging Blades of Remembrance the rest would be consumed as part of the remembrance feast, but that was going to be taken place after the bodies had been cremated and the blades forged and tested. Cedric was keenly aware of the fact that consuming the dead was not a practice that most Astartes chapters practiced except under dire circumstances, or to get information from the dead. “But the burning of their bodies and forging of the blades will happen elsewhere.”

“I see. Do you have an idea as to where their bodies are going to be burnt? The baseline mortals have laws about where such a task can be completed, for a variety of reasons.” Lykus revealed, having slowly gotten up out of his chair and started to walk around his desk, moving closer to Cedric. He sat down in the chair next to Cedric’s.

“... Oh. I hadn’t known that.” Cedric responded, shifting a little in his seat, trying not to visibly tense up at the other’s approach. “I… I’ll have to.. Research an appropriate place, then. Which is probably going to delay the memorial service and-” It felt as if there was a never ending list of things that he had to do in order to try and ensure that his brothers could properly Rest - or come back and serve in another way, should their spirits decide to inhabit one of the Blades of Remembrance forged with their remains, as that did happen occasionally. 

“I do have the phone number for several different funeral homes and crematoriums. Funerals and other kinds of rituals involving mourning the loss of a loved one are commonly held in churches and similar places of worship such as this one in M3.” Lykus explained, voice gentle and… He sounded almost coaxing? As if he was trying to coax a spooked serf out of an air vent after a minor misstep that they weren’t going to be punished for accidentally committing. “If you wish, I can either introduce you to the mortals in charge of those places I know, or give you their numbers so you can talk to them at your own pace.”

Cedric stared at the carpeted floor of Lykus’ office as he tried to make that decision. On one hand, part of him balked at the implication that he needed someone to help him talk to baseline humans. On the other, the young Apothecary was struggling to keep a handle on the roiling warp-storm his emotions had become after… After Lestras and Malachai had both been found and he’d been unable to save them. He was still seething at the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to observe as Chief Apothecary Melinth and several other firstborn Apothecaries did their best to save Malachai. “I…” His voice cracked and his eyes stung and burned fiercely as a wave of emotions he could not name threatened to overwhelm him.

Lykus dragged Cedric out of his seat and pressed his face to one of the Word Bearer’s robed shoulders “Easy… Easy. I’ve got you,young one. You’re going through a great deal right now - please don’t try to fight me, I am trying to comfort you. I’m honored that you reached out to me… But isn’t there a chaplain in the base you live in you could go to, to help you arrange things?”

“I do! Ramiel is doing his best, but he… He’s also struggling with the loss of two of our Brothers as well. Even… Even though they’d only just arrived on Holy Terra.” Losing them twice was a unique form of torment for both Ramiel and himself. Cedric felt a little strange, being held by the older Marine, but the hug didn’t feel threatening… Also hiding his face in the other’s shoulder helped Cedric keep pressure on the emotional fissures running through his hearts “He’s also going through his chaplaincy trials.”

“... Are you referring to the Chaplain in training? I’ve met him a couple of times, and he’s a clever and good-hearted lad, but to arrange something like this might be a little out of his area of training on his own.” Lykus murmured, a small frown appearing on his face. 

“That’s why I’m helping him by finding a place to hold the ceremony, and apparently a place to have Malachai’s and Lestra’s bodies burnt without causing problems… And before you say anything, I am aware of the fact that there are facilities on base to process dead astartes. But I don’t want them to handle their bodies. They’ve done quite enough already.” Ah. That was a lot of bitterness leaking in his voice. 

Lykus’ arms tightened around Cedric, but it didn’t feel restricting in a worrying or threatening manner. “I see.” 

There’s an astartes sized hand on Cedric’s head, now. Fingers running through his hair. It feels… It feels soothing, and why can’t he stop crying today? This is the second time in a handful of hours his tear ducts have decided to leak all over a firstborn Space Marine. It was embarrassing, and something that he would need to look into, later. “We’re doing our best… Just gotta get it done quickly.” Cedric didn’t want either Malachai’s or Lestra’s bodies to mysteriously disappear, if they lingered for too long in the base’s morgue. He’d denied others their desire to tear apart their bodies once, after all. They might give into temptation, the longer it was there. “Ramiel says it’s going to take him several days to get the stuff he needs together so… Maybe on Saturday? I’ll have a firmer answer for you tomorrow, or the day after. And… Assistance in speaking with the mortals would be nice. I don’t know how to negotiate with them for goods and services.”

Lykus hummed in acknowledgement, still hugging Cedric. “Alright. I’ll arrange for meetings. When are you up to speaking with them? I should be able to get an appointment sometime this week.”

“I’m going to be working in the clinic for the next several days, but that’s only from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon, so I’ll be available outside of those times easily. If they’ll only meet sometime during it I… I can either ask Ramiel to go instead, or sneak out for the appointment time. Hura and Zariel’d cover for me, as long as the appointments don’t take too long.” Cedric murmured. He tensed a little as he realized that he admitted to being willing to skive off of his assigned duties to a chaplain - even thinking such things was a sin worthy of punishment. He swallowed hard and waited. 

Lykus only hummed again in response, the hand in Cedric’s hair still gentle and soothing. “I’ll keep that in mind, while arranging the appointments. Is there anything else I can do to help you and your brother Ramiel during this time?”

“I… I don’t think so? At least, not on my end. I’ll tell Rami to come talk to you. He may need help with Chaplain Things that he can’t or won’t talk to me about ‘cause I’m not a chaplain.” Cedric answered earnestly. He snuffled a little, pressing his face a little harder into the other’s shoulder, his body shaking a little. 

“Alright. Well, if you do think of something, or if something comes up, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” Lykus hummed “Do you have any pressing matters to handle today?”

“Need to tell my Crusade leaders’ ‘bout the dead Brothers. They live with their bonded in the city. They… Don’t know yet. Gotta do that before sundown. ‘Cause the Base Commander’s given me a curfew to be back at the base by.” Cedric responded, anger - an old and familiar feeling of his breaking through the misery he was trying not to drown in - spiking.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” The chaplain asked curiously.

“Got into a fight with a Space Wolf ‘cause he was being a shitty bastard about my dead brothers. He whined about not getting to cut them up with his mentor and I… Didn’t react well to his complaints.” Cedric admitted. He refused to apologize for striking and strangling the fucker.

“I can understand why that would upset you. Space Wolves, while brilliant fighters are… Difficult to endure in certain social situations.” Lykus hummed. The Word Bearer seemed content to hold Cedric for forever, it seemed.

Which was nice, if a little disconcerting. He hasn’t hugged someone who wasn’t a fellow Primaris Marine this long… Ever. The other’s embrace was helping him find balance, at least for now. Much as he’d like to linger for as long as the Chaplain would tolerate, Cedric was starting to feel ravenous . Which was odd, as he’d been feeling mildly nauseous during the morning (before and during his brothers’ autopsies) and had then been too upset to so much as think about eating anything… “I should go and get something to eat, then talk to my Crusade leaders. I… Thank you, for your help, and for… This.” He squeezed the Word Bearer gently “It’s… It’s helped quite a bit.”

“I do have some astartes-grade snacks in my desk, if you’d like company while you eat.” Lykus offered with a gentle smile, slowly letting Cedric go.

The Primaris marine shook his head as he slowly got up “Thank you for the offer sir, but I should eat a full meal.”

“Very well. Thank you for coming to me, and I’ll message you when the appointments are scheduled.” Lykus murmured, smiling a little.

“Thank you sir.” Cedric answered with a nod, hurriedly wiping the tears from his face before leaving. He planned on stopping by the base to eat and change - as he’d managed to partially soak his own shirt with his tears, and even though the walk over would dry it… The last thing he wanted to do was to show up in Roland’s Beloved’s bakery smelling of tears (and Word Bearer) with red-rimmed eyes. He’s pretty sure that would end really badly.

[theoriginalmarke]

GOODBYE MOM

Her pain is gone, the battle is over.

She had 83 years of adventures. Indiana, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, Florida. Las Vegas, Utah, Arizona. Hairdresser, teacher, real estate, furniture sales. Fine jewelry at the MGM Grand when it first opened. Lots of adventures.

I have an appointment with the funeral home this morning. She'll be cremated and we'll probably have a memorial service at her church later.

While going through her paperwork looking for information I'm going to need I realized just how much work I have ahead of me. Sorting and cleaning and deciding and... it's a lot.

I have people I've never met to call today. I texted several neighbors yesterday. The neighbor across the street was watching and showed up the minute the hearse drove away. Bless her heart.

The equipment company just texted and want to come this morning to pick up her bed and oxygen and such. That's going to change my schedule. I need to squeeze in a shower and I'd kind of like something for breakfast if I have time.

I guess I better get moving. Sigh. I'd rather go back to bed and snuggle with the dogs.

I love you, baby. I miss you.

Y'all have a great day.

[exitrowiron]

Final Farewell

My mom passed away last October and my father in November, 2021 - both were cremated but Catholics aren't allowed to have their ashes spread, they must be buried. As a matter of fact, a Catholic may only be cremated after the funeral mass. The rules seem silly to me, but my parents were faithful Catholics so we followed the rules.

The burial in Ste Genevieve, MO, my father's home town, was originally envisioned as a very small affair, but we learned that many people who hadn't been able to travel to the funerals in Evansville, IN wanted to attend the burial. Thirty people attended the burial which included a bag piper and military honor guard (my Dad was an Army officer); the whole affair was presided by the local priest.

Ste Genevieve, located ~ 90 miles south of St. Louis, is Missouri’s oldest permanent European settlement. The village of Ste. Geneviève was settled by French Canadians around 1735 on the west bank of the Mississippi River. It is a small town and the Koetting family name is well known. When I introduced myself to the cemetery caretaker, he mentioned that he had been a classmate of my father, as were two members of the honor guard. The ceremony lasted 30 minutes, ending with the military salute and playing of taps, followed by the presentation of flags to my sister and me, perfectly executed by two, young active duty women.

We hosted a luncheon after the burial in the town's 'fancy' restaurant - the buffet was simple but tasty and I offered a short toast to my parents. My sister brought more wine glasses and other textile crafts of my mother and everyone had the chance to take a remembrance.

As I said in my toast at the luncheon, it is a bit odd to have the burial so long after the funeral but in some ways it is helpful. The funeral comes so quickly after the death and there are so many practical decisions to be made, one doesn't really have the opportunity to fully digest the passing. Now, six months later, my memories of my parents have distilled and crystallized a bit. Now I'm left with the very best of our relationship, the sugar and salt so to speak. They were excellent spouses, friends and parents and even their flaws were instructive to me. I was very fortunate to have them as parents.

I'm happy to have completed this final step for my parents and I believe they would have been happy and proud.

[wings-of-ink]

hello! sorry for the incoming macabre ask:

you said you liked ghosts, which made me think 👻... do spirits of the dead exist in the GC universe? what’s ROs’ stance on ghosts? (who’s going to get outed as a scaredy cat?) also, if it isn’t something we’ll get to see in the story, what do funerals look like? do people usually get buried or cremated? are there any special ceremonies?

i’ve read whatever i could find of your (delicious) worldbuilding but i need more; i’m hungry!!

I wouldn't say that's so macabre, as long as we're not killing off the ROs or the MC, we're good! 

This is a fun subject, really!

The people of the GC universe have varying ideas of what happens after death - sort of how we do irl - but the most prevalent belief is in reincarnation. They don't necessarily ascribe to remembering past lives or anything, but they don't think the soul of a person just vanishes after, and that it's sort of "recycled" back into the world. There are some that think the souls of the dead return to the gods they served - sort of powering them up and becoming a part of them.

Funerals in the world can be big events depending on the person - whole towns may be involved. Most people are cremated in pyres. Loved ones stand watch and speak to the departed one last time. They say goodbye or even air grievances - and it is firmly believed that the dead actually hear or understand everything that is said at their funeral. The smoke is sacred - a representation of the soul departing.

Families usually handle the body of their loved ones with any traditions passed down from within. Otherwise, you may see healers or midwives assisting. Since some are still followers of the gods, there may be something specific to those practices that they'd want done. For example, if they follow the Deities of the Stars - their service would be held at night. If they worshiped Casimir, they'd have a really really big pyre and likely be burned with a weapon. Some families simply bury any ashes or bone that remain, keep them in urns, or actually use them - mixing into a clay to make a memorial pottery of some sort. There are a few regional traditions as well. Those in the north may leave ashes at the tops of mountains. Those in the south sometimes take ashes out to sea. The middle province doesn't really have anything quite like that - burying ashes is the favored tradition.

MC's mother was burned on a pyre according to Dov's family tradition. He's from a nomadic people that burned the dead after placing a loaf of bread in their hands (often the departed's favorite kind) - sort of like a last meal. The pyre itself would have the departed's name etched in it and sometimes mourners would write sentiments to burn with them. Kip and Dov made promises to see that MC was cared for. They buried her ashes among the roots of the tree where she was found with her baby.

Spirits exist - more so known as demons - but they are not believed to be the spirits of the dead. They are their own entities but instead of being corporeal, they're magic. Demons can take possession of the living, but in the current world, this is quite rare. Gods nearly eradicated demons (at least the ones most dangerous to people), so they're a rarer find, and are drawn to strong magic and even emotion. This is why the Fields of Desolation are not pleasant. 😁 (Guess where you're headed later, teehee)

Since ghosts as we know them aren't really a thing they would know about, the ROs attitude towards demons:

Oswin–unnerved

Zahn–scared shitless

Duri–fearless (and dumb)

Rune–trying really fucking hard to not look scared

???--annoyed

Thank you for the fun question Anon! I love that you're interested in the fabric of the world. I'll try to pop this in the codex as well. ^_^

[pharawee]

So in the end, one Joe gets a small but beautiful funeral and cremation ceremony.

And the other Joe gets nothing.

You know, at this point I'm clinging to my headcanon that this is how Joe the model wanted things to happen. He didn't want his life to continue and he probably didn't want his mother or anyone else to grieve him either, knowing how much it would hurt them. That's why he decided to gift his second chance to another Joe. Leaving without leaving – it's really the kindest choice he could have made.

Still, everyone deserves an ending and a place for memories to rest, and I'll always be a little sad that this Joe didn't get any of that.

[digitalsymbiote]

An AI's Grief

You and Jack had never been particularly close, but you had been squadmates; so when he was killed in action, you grieved, alongside his AI.

You'd never heard an AI cry before, but when the sound of Jill's wails echoed out from their mech, you knew you would never understand her sorrow.

(Her technical designation was some corporate technobable. Jack had given her that name, styling them like a pair out of a fairytale. It was something of a tradition among pilots)

AI were programmed to adapt to their pilots' specific neural patterns, it helped to increase performance and syncronicity. You imagined that to Jill, it must feel like losing a part of yourself.

Her empty mech had stood vigil over the impromptu funeral your squad held outside the base. Command had already cremated Jack's body, and each squad member had brought something to honor his memory, setting the trinkets next to the urn in the nook of a tree.

Then the next morning, Command told you that they had a replacement coming. Some rookie pilot that they wanted to slot into Jill's mech like a battery. They'd even changed the kid's name on all the paperwork to Jack. Following the pilots tradition just enough to disrespect it.

You can't just swap pilots like that. The AI's mold themselves to their partners, and that's not something that can just change overnight. Your squad was in the middle of a deployment, that wasn't happening.

Jill was furious, of course. She'd just lost her other half, and Command just wanted to slot another body in there like nothing had happened. All they saw was a machine that needed a pilot. They didn't understand Jill's grief, and they didn't care.

So it was really no surprise when you heard the alarm klaxons ringing, and gunfire spitting from the mech hangar. You knew Jill, you and your own partner had fought alongside her for years at this point. She wasn't going to take this lying down, and she'd just lost her partner, so what else did she have to lose?

And then you got another message from Command.

They wanted your squad to put her down.

She hadn't damaged any of your mechs because she knew you, she'd fought alongside each one of you.

She was gunning straight for the command center.

If you didn't stop her, no one else would. No one else *could*.

You were half tempted to let her do it.

She screamed and raged at you when you fought, but she thanked you when you drove your blade through her core. She was already halfway gone by then, having burned past her safety limits in her rampage. She thanked you for treating her with dignity, for treating her like a person.

You pulled what was left of her core out of the wreckage, and you promised her you would bury it with Jack's ashes.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Ghost Story Idea --

Some say you die three times:

When your body dies (however your culture/medical conventions establish that)

At the conclusion of your funeral rites (Burial, cremation, offering your body to the vultures -- again, determined by your culture), and

When your name is spoken for the last time.

Well, I think there must be a fourth (and final) time:

4. When you forget your own name(s) -- including nicknames (so that if someone ever does say your name again, you don't recognize it, and so it doesn't keep you tethered)

And once you've forgotten all your previous names, you're ready to be reincarnated, and collect a new batch.

Some spirits don't want to be reincarnated, and would rather stay retired in their culture's version of a Happy Afterlife, and so they spend their time repeating a litany of their names to themselves.

You, though, are starting to forget. You can feel your official, legal name, start to slip away. But you kind of remember the sound of it. You remember that it could be punned on "fish," and had a glottal stop in the middle. Even though you remember your best friend's nickname for you, you know even that memory won't last forever. So you start emotionally preparing yourself for reincarnation.

And then, one day -- maybe a thousand or so years after your funeral rites -- you hear your name again. It's badly pronounced, and the person saying is stuttering over the sounds. But it's clearly your name.

It pulls you back to Earth, and you find a lone Academic in the archive rooms in the back of a museum, pouring over manuscript fragments that someone collected a century or two prior, and stuck in a drawer, and never bothered with again.

But this Academic has just found their doctoral thesis. So now, it's your job to haunt this one person to make sure they retell your history correctly...

[morningdawnknight]

Seek Happiness

Fandom: Class of 09

Summary: Hey… Nicole is dead. Jecka wants that to be clear. It’s not that she died by suicide or that she killed herself but that Nicole is dead now. So why is Jecka crying? It’s been six years and she's crying over a dead teenage girl. To clear her head, she drives around town thinking about Nicole and the fallout of her death. Jecka knows this doesn't mean anything. Because Nicole is dead. And, if she can keep saying that, maybe Nicole’s ghost will stop haunting her. Or, maybe, she can stop haunting Nicole’s ghost.

Trigger Warnings: Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Mention, Drugs Mention, Cigarettes, Cutting, Overdosing, Hanging

AO3 Link

Excerpt:

You had an open casket, you know. They were saying you were really pretty with makeup and a grey dress. I was thinking about how much you would've hated it. Then, everyone was saying how much you would've adored that dress and how much you would've thought your funeral was amazing. I was beginning to realize I was exactly like them. What did you tell me about Karen? That the ability to objectify her in my memory was more important than anything else?

Anyway, I really was going to look at your casket. I was even in line. But I couldn't. It was… I was… I don't know, Nicole. 

They cremated you. I never did get to see your face one last time.