#griefbringers

[pigeonheadsmumblngs]

LETTING GO

I threw my heart out

to the sea,

the words I never can say.

The secrets I keep deep inside

carried on the wind today.

If the ocean can carry words

than maybe you can know,

I opened up my mouth,

and I let all of it go.

In a whisper and a cry

with a tear upon my face,

all of it flew out…

I left not a trace.

It’s lived in a pocket

deep inside my heart,

it’s beaten me down,

and it’s torn me apart.

I sent it to you

with love and with a sigh,

then I turned away,

and I told you goodbye.

~pigeon head~

4.23.2023

#poetwhispers #writeblrcafe #writerscreed #originalpoetry #poeticstories #spilledink #poetry #smittenbypoetry #bitsofstarglow #pigeonheadsmumblings #the ocean #letting go #goodbye #griefbringers #griefsucks #love and grief #grief poetry

[korinthiakos]

who died and made you king? [ graves continuing to be disreectful towards higher ranking nightmares. SMH]

"CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?" PROMPTS. ( accepting !! )

His hand was in his pocket, and yet his hand is itching for a knife - a dagger; whatever sharp object was near to grasp was something he wanted to use the moment Graves opened his mouth. He looked up at the other, the fakeness smile ever now shown on his lips. Such disrespect.

"Is that what you see? Funny. I don't need to be a king to do what I want. Are you going to be a snitch? Be a little tattle tell? Because I did some shit that I shouldn't be doing?"

#[ answered. — you called forth a dream ; you caught yourself a nightmare ] #griefbringers #( despite the heights. corinthian really be talking down to graves like this )

[nightmarecountry]

♦ for graves :)

"Beast."

If he were feeling especially malevolent towards the Griefbringers that night, he might say: misplaced. Wreckage. Something-that-doesn't-belong.

#ic. #v: the remake #griefbringers #griefbringers: graves #[ i can write with myself as a treat. ]

[melpcmene]

@griefbringers has sent this in: 💋 graves is going to fucking DIE if he doesn't get a kissy from dream RIGHT NOW. don't ask me why or how. | everyone sending ‘💋’ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse. ( accepting !! )

"Is that what you ask, Little Griefbringer?" It's unusual, so thought the Dream. To be asked of something like that. Something that feels so mundane. Their voice echoes. A chilling tone that would run down your spine. ( Unless you happened to be a subject that is used to their disembodied voice - how it travels through your skull. ) The Dream lets out a thoughtful hum before beckoning the Griefbringer to step closer. "So be it." The Dream then leans forward. "But do be careful what you ask for. Okay? I do not expect you to depend on such mundane affections."

And then their lips are pressed firm to Graves' skull. It was a simple one. It could be a blessing. It could be the opposite. But it was something soft nonetheless.

#[ ans. dream of the endless — what power would hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream of heaven? ] #v. tba #griefbringers #( I HOPE THIS SOUNDS ALL RIGHT???? ) #( AGAIN NOT THAT CONFIDENT WITH DREAM but i am tryin' snfksf )

[eclipsecrowned]

🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write? //@griefbringers

One of the things I genuinely compensate for as a writer is that I rely very heavily on tropes. Not played straight, mind you, but I have recurring character concepts/themes/threads that I revisit over and over again, whether pigeonholing them, subverting them, or amplifying them. I have to keep diversifying those that I rely on so I don't become a one trick pony, while still satisfying the itch in my brain that has me coming back to these themes.

That said...

Let's start with genres. I'll list my top three.

I keep returning to a lot of urban fantasy/fantastical themes in my work, something probably apparent in the fandoms I venture into on this blog. Even my fandomless muses are pretty stacked towards historical-to-modern fantasy, from Roman immortals to early 20th century werewolves.

I'm also into a good spy/modern conflict setting. I have a real love for spy fiction, and love the actual methodical, cunning tradecraft, not the big guns blazing spectacle of film. It gives me and my partners a lot of opportunity to explore problem solving IC and build layered narratives, I feel. It probably helps I wrote a spy character for over five years in the past, across a variety of espionage-based fandoms.

No matter what genre I write in, I'm a big fan of horror elements. If there's fridge horror to be found in a setting, I will suss it out and bring it to supertext. It might be a bit edgy of me, but a good horror genre or flavoring will get me obsessed like nothing else -- especially if there's untapped potential for me to delve in fleshing it out.

A few favorite themes are as follows. Top Ten.

Themes of morality. There are acts that are unequivocally good. There are acts that are unequivocally evil. And any character I write lives between the two poles, some dancing closer to one end than the other, but always able to change -- for better or for worse. With the right character development, a victim can become a villain, and a monster can claw his way into Heaven. I like exploring what makes characters do what they do, what built their world view, and how they express it. We're built by our experiences and our perceptions. Our behavior is as much innate as it is learned. What makes someone balk at their base instincts? What makes someone forego being the better person? I love finding that out, and how to find the good in a devil and the evil in a saint.

Build Your Own Family. And I don't mean in the way 'found family' has been co-opted to foster traditional nuclear family dynamics among those who do not share blood or upbringing. I mean the traditional queer lens of 'family is what you make it.' Friends, companions, those who survived trial by fire, those who are just trying to survive a shit situation, anything goes for me. I love seeing bonds develop naturally and fiercely independently of traditional definition and without being devalued by the idea all important bonds must be romantic or those of blood.

By that card, I'm also a fool for an adoption/blood isn't the end all be all of family narrative. Most of my mother's family is pieced together from odd kids out who got taken into families that were made whole for their inclusion, and so it's a subject that is very dear to me. A lot of my muses are either adopted, have or are step-parents, or have sibling bonds that are built on love and responsibility rather than shared bloodline.

Othering, outsiders, the child who is not embraced by the village. Many of my muses fit this mold, but no two react the same to their isolation and rejection. Some are made villainous by it, some rise above it, some lashed out and are now trying to make amends, and try to convince themselves they are happier in what they know. This is probably a theme where I project heavily and turn it over and over trying to g lean some insight about myself.

I have a tendency towards examining ships that... IDK? The best way I can sum it up is 'we met in a difficult place as mutual outsiders and fell in love despite our shared struggle, but the journey ended, and I followed you home, and now I'm the stranger in a strange land while you are the newly returned and revered prodigal child, and now I'm not sure about any of this without calamity and commonality overhead.' I don't consciously go in saying 'that's how this is going to go,' but it's recurred with enough frequency in my writing that I must be fond of it for some reason.

Horror, especially the gothic or psychological. I'm a big enby. I can admit it. I was raised on 19th century literature and more cerebral horror movies, and that's not just a statement to build credibility. I said before if such a thread does not exist outright in a narrative, I will find the first place I can shove it in. Several OCs are really thinly veiled attempts to explore fridge or glossed over horrific implications in a canon -- and what characters do when confronted with these truths.

Parental relationships. How parents shape their children, how no one ever really leaves their childhood home behind no matter how far they are from it. Did muses have good parents? Did they have bad parents? Is their parents touch mere fingerprints on pristine glass, or the hole left where a bomb detonated? What sort of parents do my muses who are so inclined become? Were they loved? Did it save them? Did it matter in the end? Did it make it worse if they were? Again, not something I mean to insert into my ouevre, but it keeps happening.

Doomed love. There was love. There is also grief. Is it easier if they die, or is the real burden knowing they are out there without you? Or are you still there, two splintering pieces of wood holding up the shell of what was once a beautiful home? Was it inevitable, or was it circumstantial? Did they think they could change? Were they too soft, or too rough? Is there closure, or is it the wound that will not heal? Did you love them more in the moment, or in their absence? What's the aftershock of it on those around you?

Duty and tradition as a chain used to beat everyone. I play several rulers or nobles who would rather be anywhere else, but who due to pride, loyalty, or being so broken by the system, are unable to move on. Characters of any class who would be a thousand times happier as anything other than what their society tells them to be. Those hurt by the system and those who enforce it into pure villainy. Those who fight the system and those who manipulate it to their own aims. It really revs my engines.

Prophecy and predestination as bullshit. Your choices are your own, so long as you have the autonomy to make them. Like duty and tradition, prophecy is a flawed system that destroys everyone involved. Your choices are your own. The future does not absolve your present. It's an excuse to do worse in pursuit of a tomorrow you might not even see.

#griefbringers #out of stories #about the mun

[flcraiscn]

@griefbringers sent:

37) for gravedigger to bite dwight's neck and shake him like a fucking rabbit. dbd verse buy my silence.

Dwight is face-down in the stinking, clinging wet mud of the swamp. The filth has already seeped through his clothes and is frigid against his skin. It's going to be hell to get out of his hair, he thinks with a detached sort of resignation. There's no point trying to get up; he can hear the killer coming through the reeds to his left and, besides, he barely has the energy to lift his head to see how close they are. He's never going to make it to the open exit gates like this.

His other teammates are out. He saw them leave, David, Silver and Ellie. He's grateful for that, at least.

The killer is standing over him now, and his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his chest and bury itself in the cold, wet muck below. Their breath is on the back of his neck

-- and then he cries out as teeth pierce his skin. He is as helpless as a rabbit as the Gravedigger shakes, and he hears his neck snap as if it's happening to another person. Dwight screams again, and goes limp, numb and fading fast.

He opens his eyes; he's back at the campfire, and there's no teeth buried in his now-unbroken neck, but when he blinks, he's sure he can feel the phantom sensation of a skeletal animal snout snuffling at the back of his neck.

#griefbringers #in character | dwight fairfield. #in character. #cw death #hey dwight hated every second of this 🧡

[griefbringers]

“Everybody wants to sleep with you.” [ johnny to graves ]

their drink is shared: johnny's hands, graves' mouth, the two of them working in tandem for once. they haven't used this form since they gave up the search for cassidy. they haven't worked together since then, either. two decades since then and johnny's memory of it all is full of holes; he wasn't there for most of it. maybe any of it. graves wasn't there for huge swathes of it either, but somehow he remembers where the others don't. his curse, he calls it. johnny envies him.

"everybody wants to sleep with you," johnny hums with graves' mouth. their eyes sweep over the rest of the bar. in johnny's day these places were full of smoke and sweat and sex; they feel almost clean now. no-smoking bans.

graves sighs through its nose. he's not blind to the looks he's been given, nor the passes made. johnny being around means they come off more cool than shady, sitting there alone; benefits of being a dream, maybe. benefits of the music playing over the speakers, the way it draws people inexplicably towards them like they're somehow responsible for it, even though they aren't...

(meek doesn't let him play in public anymore.)

so, sure. everyone wants to sleep with graves - with what they think he's going to be like once they get him alone.

"that," graves says to the empty air, setting down an equally empty glass before he rises, "is just too damn bad. come on, songbird. we're going home."

if anyone notices him talking to himself as he leaves--well. maybe he was more shady than cool after all.

#ic. #ic: johnny #ic: graves #griefbringers #v: in all my dreams i drown (sandman verse)

[korinthsobs]

caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them . [ johnny's short ass caging corinth in-- ]

kiss & tell. ( accepting !! )

The nightmare is immediately amused by Johnny's boldness. There's an air of excitement when Johnny takes charge, pushing the phantom to the nearest wall. The Corinthian did not move. He stood still and he stood tall, looking down at Johnny. 5'4'' vs 6'2''. A grin is stretched out along their lips - teeth bare, a threat to most, ravenous hunger to Johnny. A different kind of hunger that most wouldn't be able to see for themselves; this hunger belongs to Johnny and Johnny only.

And then Johnny yanked him down. His short ass managing to bend the Corinthian forward to seal their lips in a fiery kiss. His tongue was acting on impulse now. Slipping into Johnny's mouth. Hands on his face. The Corinthian was successfully caged between the wall and the dream of grief. A growl slips out - his lips grinning hard against Johnny's sweet mouth. The hunger continues, slowly being sated by Johnny's mere presence and delicious bold actions.

#[ ans. the corinthian — you called forth a dream ; you caught yourself a nightmare ] #griefbringers #( corinthian gaining more back pain but is it worth it????? yes ) #( he'll still complain though later in their pillow nest )

[korinthiakos]

you have more power than i thought. [ Johnny, sounding a little nervous, ]

"CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?" PROMPTS. ( accepting !! )

There's that grin; full of bite and bark, teeth on show like a threat. ( But never towards someone like Johnny. ) And like a predator. "And is that a bad thing?" He says as his eyebrows raised. There's some hint of amusement in his expression. Like Johnny sounding a little nervous was funny to him.

"I am 8,000 years or more old, Johnny. I have plenty of power." But never enough to escape full-time.

#[ answered. — you called forth a dream ; you caught yourself a nightmare ] #griefbringers #( corinthian rattling his cage- wanting to be in the waking again )

[nightmarecountry]

👗 to tell my muse they look beautiful/handsome [ graves is calling him beautiful, but it is not a compliment. ]

the gravedigger calls him beautiful not as a compliment, but as an extension of his function: he was made beautiful in the same way he was made to hunt, the same way the griefbringer--long ago--was made for its own purpose.

yes, the corinthian is beautiful. how else to lure his dreamers in?

"thank you," it tells the gravedigger, smiling.

the gravedigger inclines its great head. "welcome," it says in turn.

neither of them mean it.

#ic. #v: the original #griefbringers #griefbringers: graves #[ writing with myself. yes yes what of it ]

[melpcmene]

johnny REQUIRES a kissy from corinthian thanks

First Five Asks Get A Kiss [ Corinthian 1 / 5 ] ( accepting !! )

They cup Johnny's cheek - their fingers softly gliding over the cheekbone. A softness that is usually reserved for Johnny these days. "Y'know, I could ask where your manners at. But I prefer the boldness of a dream telling me what to do." The Corinthian whispers as they lean in; their hot breath ghosting over Johnny's lips.

"But of course you require a kiss from me." They keep whispering against Johnny's lips; a cruel tease, the closeness of a kiss so possible and yet there is no intention of doing so. ( Not yet. ) "How will you live? How will you go on about your day without even a chaste kiss?" Luckily for Johnny, Corinthian did not plan on starving him. So they kiss him softly, and at the end, as always, Corinthian softly bites Johnny's bottom lip. Not enough to hurt; not even enough to make him bleed. Just a habit really.

#[ ans. the corinthian — you called forth a dream ; you caught yourself a nightmare ] #griefbringers #( giving him ALL the kisses 'cos Johnny needs his usual fuel )

[endlessxdesires]

I can’t trust you.

[ from Gravedigger 👀 local nightmare is allegiant to the Dreaming and VERY wary]

► Angsty Sentence Starters

There's a low purr that leaves them in response to the nightmare's comment, a sly bit of a smile on their lips and their tone more amused than anything else. It's little surprise to them that creation of the Dreaming doesn't trust them but it also means little to them, more so just curing their boredom for the moment as they slip from their position to stalk around it. Though they may not consider themselves particularly trustworthy or untrustworthy, it doesn't stop the mock offense playing on their features.

"And here I've done nothing to warrant such distrust, now have I? What have I possibly done to you, little nightmare, to make you not trust me?"

#local nightmare is very fair to be wary XD #:) #answered asks #griefbringers

[ronithesnail]

i cant explain it but this moment is so gay of them. just look at em. standing next to eachother and posing like that. synchronized and on cue exactly at the same time without hesitation or needing to communicate. they just know. Its a reflex its so natural. gay as fuck

#i was rewatching master of the mountain last night #also if anyone actually reads these tags i have a small crack theory that Gleck is Geo’s father #idk when in the timeline lilly defeated griefbringer or how old gleck was when she gave him the locket but imean #i think just by the fact that he was alive at the time i think its a possibility #anyway #i LOVE the oppositeshipping content in this season #i used to not give much of a shit about them but lately theyve made me so feral #i think it has something to do with the good omens brainrot tbh… idk man #kai x zane #beloveds #i need to draw them #Oh also the whole fire x ice thing thats soooo good to me #ugh #anywayyy #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #kai smith #zane julien #oppositeshipping #ninjago #ninjago master of the mountain