a violent mourning! @tragicrequiem - Tumblr Blog

# tragicrequiem. dependent blog for redcreekfm, written by lex.

₀₁ nyx rivera : mortician's assistant. intro. pinterest.

LOCATION: red creek cemetery, graveyards FROM: AKIHIKO TANAKA TO: OPEN STARTER [ 0 / 3 ]

a cloud of smoke, the crunch of soil underneath a pair of feet. akihiko has a black wool coat wrapped around them as they leave the main building of the cemetery, heading towards the grounds. the weather is cold enough that their breath fogs up where they part, and they search their pockets for a pack of cigarettes. shaking one off, they put it between their lips, followed by a flick of lighter, a long, deep breath of relief. as if they were not breathing before, and now oxygen can finally reach their lungs. it takes them a few minutes of quiet smoking to hear a pair of steps, and they ponder for a minute more whether they will remain far away. it doesn't seem to be the case, and they watch the other near the section where they are. it's likely they are visiting a grave here, as is ninety-five percent of the time, no one else comes to the cemetery otherwise. and while they would take a bet that people prefer being alone here, they still ask— wanting to smoke a bit more. could they do it elsewhere? sure. but this is their favorite section with the best view of the forest and the town. "do you have to be alone or can i continue smoking here?" it's blunt, although they don't try to be, that's how it usually comes out. a beat later, "did you come because of what happened?" death reminds people of death. you hear of someone dying, and you remember someone close to you who died. it's as easy as that - at least, for someone in akihiko's line of work.

tragicrequiem

she stepped into their peripheral like someone half – summoned, half - drifting — coat too thin for the cold. her eyes hazed over the graves, and then finally … them. “ smoke, i guess, ” she muttered, monotone and entirely apathetic. “ it’s whatever. ” she crouched beside the nearest headstone — one that wasn’t hers, not her mother’s — and pressed her gloved thumb into the rim of thawing soil like she was grounding herself. when she looked up again, there was a strange stillness to her, like she’d been listening to something that wasn’t there. “ and no, ” she added, slightly piqued by their continual interrogation. “ didn’t come because of what happened. ” and you’ve said too much already.

#nyx and aki.

tlkshowhost

his boots hit the pavement like he’d stepped into wet concrete, caught in a moment he hadn't meant to interrupt. he came looking for some quiet amongst the hum of all that neon. same corner he used to crash at years ago, back when the nights felt bigger and his body was still trying to figure itself out. " oh -- don’t worry, i’m not here for you," he reassured, and it was mostly true, though maybe he hoped the honesty might work in reverse, might make her offer something back. he cleared his throat, clumsy maybe, eyes dropping to the soft pack of cigarettes in his hands, head following down making his blond hair slide forward like a curtain. " y’know ---- this used to be my spot, " he murmured half aware that his voice could vanish into the distant carnival music that never really stopped. the pack hit his palm with a dull thud and two sticks popped free. he thought of nicasio, of his friends back then, and all of the secret hours under cheap carnival lights, first drags, first swigs, and that first kiss with the girl who tasted of cotton candy and stared back until the lights went out. he sniffled, brushed his hair back, offered her one of the smokes, eyes drifting from the paper to her outline. " but i guess some things change, " he said, and it sounded like a strange confession to make about red creek.

tragicrequiem

the tears clung to her lashes, cold tracks down her cheeks, but she held herself with the same detached slouch, shoulder against the brick like she was stapled there. he walked up with all that nostalgia weighing down his boots, trying to hand her the shape of his past like she’d asked for it. she kept her eyes half - lidded. “ congrats. gold star. ” she muttered, fingernails digging into the palm of her hand. when he offered a cigarette, she took it with a shrug, brushing her cheek with the back of her hand as if it were sweat or rain — something meaningless. she lit it off her own, the flame catching. “ if something changed, ” she added after a long moment, “ it wasn’t this place. ”

#nyx and soren.

visicnsofalife

charlene watched with a sense of detachment . watched through the lens of a camera . a shot of people laughing before panning to nyx crying in the corner . the praise of the metaphors and the contrast and the unspoken words in the video buzzed against her brain . a small shake of her head and her predatory gaze shifted into a look of empathy . she'd become infected during her stay in california and coming home to red creek was her quarantine . " you're joking , right ? you cannot be saying no to a candied apple . it's a red creek delicacy . that's basically a crime . "

tragicrequiem

nyx drags a sleeve across her cheek like she’s erasing something inconsequential from a chalkboard. she looks at charlene the way someone looks at a noise they can’ t locate. “ charlene, ” she says, barely a breath, “ i’m not eating a fucking candied apple. ” a beat. her mouth twitches. she shifts her gaze away again, already done with the conversation before it’s started.

#nyx and charlene.#Please

redstonedust

the worst part about grief is that it feels like the world should be horrendously earth shatteringly changed, and to an extent it IS but its also the same. to everyone else it's just another tuesday. the world moves on. you have to go grocery shopping.

#nyx : musings.

apara-dise-penguin

Jenna Ortega x Instyle ImageMaker Awards.

#nyx : visage.

sandushengshou

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024) dir. Tim Burton

#nyx : musings.

abstrxcts

👤 who: @tragicrequiem . 📍 where: ring toss. ⌛ time: 6:07 pm.

he had his eyes on the fat one. usually it was just beta’s they had at this game, but for whatever reason there was a fat little goldfish swimming around in those god awful plastic bags, and casio was planning to win it. he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it, his place wasn’t particularly the best place for it, especially with mitra roaming around, but he didn’t have anywhere else to put it either. the mechanics and bar weren’t great options, and he’d never consider his dad’s place… he tosses a ring and lands it.

maybe he could give it away. it would be better than letting it stay a sad prize for a game. what do they do with them after the night’s done?

he tossed a second ring, landing it. one more.

looking around casio tried to find someone who could use a fishy companion.

“whaddya think bout that fat one?” he said to the person nearest to him.

tragicrequiem

the crowd’s noise folded inwards — cheap music, laughter, the dull clatter of coins — and she stood in the middle of it all, detached, scrolling through something that didn't even fucking matter. when he spoke, her response was delayed, like the words had to travel a long way to reach her. “ which one ? ” she muttered, not glancing up. he gestured toward the bag, but she only lifted her eyes for a second, long enough to catch a glimpse of scales and cloudy water. “ … yeah, ” she said eventually. “ it’s fine. ” her voice was dry, without conviction. she shifted her weight, thumb flicking over the screen again.

#nyx and nicasio.

recoyles-deactivated20260108

serendipitous timing, as always — smoke break turned awkward interaction, with heath eternally grateful that nyx was more so absorbed in her own misery to see his stumble. a one-two glance, teeth pulled and a slick inhale between them. but, his presence had been noted already — unwanted, perhaps, but acknowledged nonetheless. he didn't crouch, seeking stability with his back to a steel beam, leaning against it as a singular joint plucked from the depths of its denim home. a silent offering, the inaugural smoke, substance over sadness. “ just wondering if you wanted something to distract you. waste of a night to be hiding by yourself. ”

tragicrequiem

eyes cut toward him, slow and heavy — like wading through something sticky, like she’d forgotten what it felt like to look at something that might still hurt. she didn’t bother straightening up. just let her shoulder melt into the harshness of the wall, that thin film of damp running through her jacket, grounding her entirely. he held the joint out, and she took it without thinking — the faintest graze of flesh, a ritual they’d worn down to instinct. one drag, two. the silence between them pulsed — almost safe, if you didn’t breathe too hard. “ yeah, ” she muttered, exhaling toward the concrete. “ whatever, heath. ” but she didn’t tell him to leave. she never did. just watched him fade, like maybe if she waited long enough, it would take them both.

#nyx and heath.#your BRAIN.

𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 ...

#nyx : edits.

time : 8 pm, behind the ferris wheel. open : to anyone. [ 4/5 ].

hadn’t meant for anyone to see her — eyes glazed, breath snagging in her throat, mascara bleeding down the curve of her cheek. it's pathetic, really. the kind of thing that ruins the illusion she’s so carefully built: impenetrable, detached. so when she hears the faint shift of air, every muscle tightens. stillness. a slow inhale. then drags the back of her hand across her face, smearing grief into something less legible. ‘ don’t. ’ the word sounds wrong in her mouth, but she’s already turned away — shoulders sharp, spine straight, face blanked into silence. whatever ache had lived in her expression folds inward, swallowed whole.

#redcreek.start