Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Tw: Death - Blog Posts
I saw a city die
However dramatic we make death out to be, really, a human death is quite easy. Your heart stops. Once. One kind of death for everyone.
Have you ever seen a city die? It's not one death. It's uncountable. A tree so big you can't watch its fall. Like you can't watch the sun travel. There it is. You get distracted. Something flashes on your wall. You look out. It is gone.
A city's deaths are very varied. Some are gardens dying. Some gardens don't die, but really they do. Really, they're dead.
Some are wild trees dying. The ones we watered by mistake, or by a thread of benevolence. Strung through palms and generations, maybe. A collective nurturing, and every solitary splash thought it was alone. They die, until they become the kind of sticks who's snaps are anonymous. There is nothing here.
Some are people leaving. There are a lot of those. But if you watch people leave, you notice they were the ones who came in the first place. Not the ones who already were.
The ones who already were always are. They are the city. Killing an elephant takes rounds of lead to the heart. Still it takes hours untill it falls, days until it stops breathing. It's not easy, killing a dragon. Those that are must be killed differently. They do not leave. But you can make their home hostile to them. Twist and contort it until those that are have no place to be. They find a new spot, of course. A new city. Who's life blood they aren't.
A city dies a hundred deaths. Like watching someone assemble a puzzle, it's not dramatic enough to watch the process. Like sand falling. Suddenly the glass is empty.
The problem is the body. It's our symbol, vessel and object of death. Without it we don't recognise decay.
Death of a city is the rarest thing you'll see. The bigger, the less you see it. The most imposing, the less you'll watch. The more lights, the less you notice the void.
Because it's a lie. And when you notice. Finally notice,
all you see are the whisps; floating. No sound. Unwatched. No meaning in silence. Nothing. Pathetic in the way they outline whatever isn't there anymore.
Some bodies with cancer do not win the battle. U-1146 is about to see this for himself, in a wild twist of events that forces him to reconsider his entire identity, that something about him was just slightly off.
[read the full fic here! first few paragraphs under the cut]
1146 sits with his back slumped against the cold, blue-hued glass of the containment tube he was held captive in. His dark eyes are a new kind of wide, and he clutches his wounded side with his hand. Deep red cytoplasm leaked through his fingers.
He could not feel his pain. No, not the pain of his body at least- but his emotional pain was very much real.
Laying on a bed of cancer were his friends and fellow immune cells, NK cell and Killer....no, Memory T cell. They were not moving. Not even a twitch of the fingers, or the rise and fall of their breathing. Their cytoplasm made a pool beneath them, and 1146 knew they were dead. Corpses.
He couldn't let himself cry, he thought, but his eyes still defiantly leaked tears as he pounded his hands against the glass. The cancer cell just laughed at his struggling.
"Why!?" 1146 screamed, anger bubbling up like boiling water. "Why do you have to do this!?"
"It's what I deserve! Consider it payback for the last time you put an end to me without a second thought! It's necessary to see my dream to fruition, after all!"
"But-"
"No buts, my friend! Look at how far my tumor is growing! And look at you. Defenseless. Don't you think your neutrophil pals will end up the same way? If I could take those guys down," he motions to the bodies with his hand, "then surely I can do it all again. Really, it was quite easy."
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64238365
Dazai finally gets what he wants, it hurts Chuuya more than either expected it to
major trigger warning for suicide and death, please be warned!!
with that said please enjoy i had a lot of fun writing it :3
Dec 20 death trope @tyzula-week
I cooked so hard it started burning (lame pun intended)
Jokes aside I think the saddest part of drawing this was not adding a highlight into ty lees eyes
The price you paid.
The white static made it hard to see what was what.
He could see his own breath like a foggy mist while his feet and arms begged for him to stop crawling through the thick snow. His nose caught in the smell of burnt metal and vulgar smoke.
Warm blood poured down as his left eye squinted and winced.
He touched his forehead only to see a warm sticky red trickle down his fingers. His head lolled to the side, before he regained his focus and continued to pull himself through the snow.
Hudson was already feeling lightheaded, but also felt like the world was slightly slanted.
Either way, it just didn’t feel right.
“How long has it been since I left the site of the crash? Have I just been going in circles? Those trees look familiar,” Thoughts creeped through his mind as he was too weak to push them away. They ate his determination and hope like bugs, while only emptiness stayed.
Everything hurts. My mind feels like someone swung a hammer at my head, He thought.
However, he thought about Felix, his co-pilot. Poor Felix waited at the site of the plane crash, his torso stuck under heavy metal and burnt steel.
What makes it even worse, the whole plane ride, all Felix talked about was how excited he was for his and his fiancé's wedding. How they were going to have it at a large beautiful church. Inside the church would be decorated with white flower petals. How they ordered custom golden rings for each other made specifically in Belgium. How beautiful his fiancé would look in her wedding gown.
Hudson’s stomach lurched at the thought of how Felix’s face twisted in pain when he tried to free his legs from under the wreckage. At how Felix had such calmness in his grey eyes when he looked up at him. He trusts me. He respects me.
The wind now sounded like a woman’s high pitch scream. Too much. It’s all just too much. His arms gave out and half of his face became buried in snow.
He could see crimson seeping into the pure white.
He tried to get up, but his arms gave out.
He could barely feel the snow cushioning his face. He wanted to call out for help, but he stayed silent. He hardly knew where he’d crashed.
Calling out into unknown territory could lead to fatality.
He wasn’t sure if any enemy officers were around and he didn't want to learn that the hard way.
His pale blue winter uniform is soaked. He should’ve worn his pilot suit all together, but due to the rush he was in he had little time to put it on.
With all the strength Hudson mustered, he army crawled through the snow and pushed ahead.
It was still bright outside, but he was worried that soon the sky would be casted into a deep darkness.
He noticed that the gash on his head was still bleeding heavily and the tips of his fingers were making his body scream in pain. Shards of glass from a broken windshield embedded into skin.
Squinting his brown eyes, he could see that they were an ugly white at the tips of his fingers.
Frostbite.
He shivered as he could hear his teeth clattering against each other.
He wearily looked up where he was faced with a black raven sitting on an overhanging branch. Its talons hooked the branch and its jet black feathers looked glossy in its white surroundings. It tilted its head at Hudson and squawked.
Hudson heard a twig snap behind him, but he was too frozen to roll over and see.
The raven squawked again and flapped its wings around frantically before it took off at the drop of a hat.
It flew away and Hudson watched it in burning envy.
Even the bird has places to be, He thought with bitterness. He was alone with his thoughts.
His cold wretched thoughts.
He glared ahead, before he rested his head on his arm, his legs feeling consumed by the cold.
For all his life, he had just been debating, comparing and surviving.
Reality hit him hard and pulled him under.
He would never have a chance to say those important words to Bill.
His family was scattered from the war.
Some of his friends were still yowling and fighting in the trenches, others fighting in the skies being shot at like birds, and more were dying in hospital beds, wounded beyond repair.
While only a rare few were stuck in New York, cheering him on.
Yet here he was: failing.
All the letters he had gotten from Jack. All the sweet words from a kind man who had been never, but good to him, would mean nothing soon. The man who he looked up to…the man he had hoped to return the kindness…he would never see again.
His heart lurched at that.
And what about Charlie and Cassidy?
Charlie had seen him off when he was on leave. Her hug was powerful even when she cried. He remembered how she promised to write, promised to cheer him on and tell his story.
Cassidy on the other hand now had two kids and was married to Robert. Happy and blessed.
He was so proud of her and happy.
He was an uncle.
Was.
But his thoughts turned to a different direction.
He wouldn’t even get discharged honorably, gaining peaceful retirement. Or even recognition for his hard work.
His body might be lost.
As well as his name in the archives.
People would forget him.
The cold had reached to his torso now, gripping tightly around his organs while his rib cage was too feeble to protect.
The bruises and cuts were starting to get to him as the pain he had repressed was now pulsing through him. He could feel the shards of glass poking at tissue and muscle, some even drilling deeper.
His eyes watered, blurring his vision. His chest felt heavy and his lungs clinging onto his unstable breathing.
Hudsons head rolled off his arm and was now laid dipped in the snow.
He glared up at the grey sky with a blurred vision.
Blood pooled the ground below him while the cold was now to his shoulders, biting through his uniform as it began to stab through his skin. Before numbing it.
The world slowly grew dark in Hudson's half-lidded eyes. The pilot's breathing grew shallow and slow.
He coughed, tasting blood and bitter soot.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, water streamed down his bloodied and soot tainted face.
“I tried. I really did.”
“But I can’t get up.”
Blood, soot, cold, glass, smoke and screams.
Oh such wonderful things.
"No child should say goodbye like this."
In this image, a little boy gently touches the forehead of his brother—cold, lifeless, lying in a morgue. This is not a goodbye any child should ever experience. But in Gaza, it happens every single day.
And yet… someone looked at this heartbreaking moment and chose mockery over empathy. Someone called this grief “a cult.” As if pain needs permission. As if mourning a sibling is some kind of performance.
But this is not a show. This is real. This is my life. I am a mother. My son is wounded and clinging to life. And every time he cries out in pain, I wonder—will I be next to say goodbye like this?
Instead of compassion, we receive mockery. Instead of help, we’re dehumanized.
But I will not stop fighting for my son’s life. And I ask you—please, stand with me. Help me get him the treatment he needs. Help me protect him from becoming another lifeless body… another number… another memory.
Don’t scroll past our pain. Don’t let hate drown out humanity
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so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what
Also I plan on adding some parallels to Melody, I made Edward before I saw Frozen Empire (I made him in April) but after watching Frozen Empire I thought about adding parallels in there-
First art post kinda nervous
Art style jumpscare aaaa Never really posted art before, these are some no color sketches I made yesterday of my ocs.
Alright time to infodump
TW: Mentions of suicide! Please skip this post of the topic is triggering to you :(
Also this kinda briefly mentions a slight one sided OC x Canon (or maybe they were in love but it’s complicated as shit)
Okay so…
Edward had a lot of issues that wasn’t just his anxiety. He hopelessly followed Egon around because he had fallen for him. A couple days before Egon completely left town, Edward had decided to confess after years of being quiet. And it seemed that Egon reciprocated. But when he figured out Egon was planning on leaving, he was pissed. He spilled his guts and Egon was leaving- not the most pleasant of experiences. (although Egon was also trying to leave him so he wouldn’t get hurt, he probably would’ve explained things or left some letter to apologize, I don’t feel like he’s just leave someone who confessed to him just a day prior without some reasoning)
He left with Egon to Summerville after an argument and practically demanding an explanation and calling him out on the fact that leaving is a really bad idea, but because he didn’t know what else to do he just followed along, not just going out of love but to keep him from getting hurt or killed because of how destructive ghost research can be. For a while it was fine, Edward just stuck with him and at least tried to defend him from people who called him crazy. But eventually some other argument happened, right after Egon caught Vinz and was going to catch Zuul. This time Edward didn’t follow behind. Their last words to each other weren’t good ones, said in the heat of an argument they both wish they could’ve took back. Edward left the Dirt Farm. Egon tried to catch Zuul. And we all know how that went. Consumed by the guilt and with nobody else to turn to because they all thought he went nuts, Edward spiraled. He died only three days later, suicide by gunshot. In those three days he called and made several apologies, leaving voicemails or letters to say sorry for leaving them. When Callie and the others come back to the Dirt Farm, Phoebe can’t help but notice there’s a more mournful spirit in the house, forever roaming but too scared to approach Egon out of fear that he hates him, even though it’s not true at all.
Phoebe notices the problem and instantly wants to help solve it before Edward’s ghostly depression turns into anything worse, which could put the whole house and anybody inside at risk. OUCH THAT WAS A LOT OF INFODUMPING BUT UH LORE IG
First art post kinda nervous
Art style jumpscare aaaa Never really posted art before, these are some no color sketches I made yesterday of my ocs.
Stealing the quote at the end. Gonna take it apart in my head (Google docs) n then do some good shit with it
It doesn't matter if you aren't hungry. The parasite demands a predator.
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KO-FI
She wasn't a good person. She knew that...
Jason was asking her to choose. Mother or child But how could she?