#Character Death Mentions

[prokopetz]

I love that Supergiant's answer to "how can we possibly follow up on the first game's rebellious failson protagonist" is to make the sequel's protagonist an earnestly dorky honour-student-with-impostor-syndrome type whose college major is murder.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[stellewriites]

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o’clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[e-turn]

just some rambling under the cut

okay imagine this. when Mikeys hair start growing its already grey after everything he witnessed. His temples are already grey although he didn't even turn 20 yet.

also just wanna let you know this line possessed me for too long

Geralt looked at Ciri and almost screamed with rage when he noticed silver threads among her grey hair.

The Lady of the Lake, Andrzej Sapkowski

[anime-villian-irl]

"id let the world burn for you"

"I'd kill for you"

"id die for you"

"I'd sacrifice the world for you"

BORING!

Yawn snore snore. Honk shoo honk shoo.

I got twelve other guys ready to that for me. You already do that. You already destroy the world I would just happen to be there while you did.

The real question is.

Would you save the world for me?

Would you put aside your hatred for humanity and put my love for it Infront? Would you save the world because I love the world? Would you stop killing because I hate killing? Would you find a way to live because I want you alive?

Death and destruction are easy as hell. Do you know how fucking easy it is to kill someone? To blow up a building? Shure security is in the way but if it wasn't there it would be easy as hell.

You'd do the basics Shure. But would you do the hard thing and save the world because I asked you to?

Would you push aside your hatred of everyone but me because I asked you to nicely?

Would you?

[kathaynesart]

TMNT AU COMPETITION - CONTEXT COMICS: COMIC 1 - COMIC 2 - COMIC 3 - COMIC 4 - COMIC 5

Don't mind, Omega. He's just being dramatic. Thank you so much @abbeyofcyn and @thegunnsara for pulling me into this hilarious mashup as well as @kittynomore @tapakah0 @hylwicks and @isaacz for letting their characters be a part of it! Figured I would use this opportunity to do my Replica introduction as well!

The @tmntaucompetition has barely even started and I am already overwhelmed by the amount of asks and support I've received! Thank you everyone! There are so many things I want to respond to, but I just don't have the time!

However I am so excited to get to interact with some of you! I'll be sure to respond to a few more that reference Omega directly when I can (looking at you @intotheelliwoods and @karonkar )!

Also, please don't destroy my asks trying to offer chew toys to Donnie... it's too late. His fate has been sealed. He's in autistic robot hell now. Goodnight sweet prince.

Also also, uh... THAT one image? Don't think about it too hard. :)

[piratefishmama]

Just ONE chance

Stephanie Harrington never intended to be a whole presence online.

She hadn’t even really understood the whole thing at first, it didn’t exist when she was a kid! An if it did it sure as hell wasn’t in every nook and cranny of the globe like it now seemed to be. Kids with iPads, hands glued to phones, six year olds who simply had to have the latest Apple thing.

It was all Dustin’s idea. King of the Gadget. Overseer of all things technology. Gargantuan nerd. Stevie’s little brother.

Not biologically, Claudia, Dustin’s mother had basically adopted Stevie when her own parents had tragically lost control of the wheel during a storm and wrapped their car around a tree back when Stevie was still a teenager. Back when Stevie was still Dustin’s regular babysitter and very suddenly found herself alone having been babysitting when the news reached her.

They’d been coming back from a business trip that she hadn’t been able to go with them on because of school. They’d been so close to home. She’d heard the sirens. They’d been that close.

It was fine though, in one fell swoop, yes she lost her parents, but she gained Claudia, and Dustin, and that was enough, because she sure as hell didn’t get anything else from them. It was all swallowed up, snatched away by her parents business partners because people are sharks and she just… wasn’t prepared to fight them on any of it, especially not when her parents had stupidly left her without a will.

Apparently they believed they’d live forever! The money vanished, the house was sold, she was left with nothing.

With growing up in the Henderson house, came choices, some great, some really stupid, and some that’d led to the very happy accident of Rosie.

To be fair to herself, she’d been in quite a long term relationship at that point! It was a happy one too! She’d thought he’d be it. Sure he’d been a lot rough around the edges, at the start, it’d been a shame cycle at the beginning since he was in fact, a colossal prick, but he was also the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Like, unfairly attractive considering his personality, and he knew exactly how to touch her to melt her icy resolve into a watery mess.

But once he’d gotten away from his dipshit of a father, his step mother dragging him with her when she escaped the man too, once Stevie had laid down the law of how little of the bullshit he’d learned from said father she’d personally tolerate before he’d get a boot out the door, he’d come around.

The racism had stopped immediately. The attitude had ebbed bit by bit as feelings set in, and he’d become a regular ol handsome teddy bear, he’d allowed himself to soften after he’d escaped the only reason he’d had to protect himself.

He’d even started getting along with his step sister, one of Dustin’s friends.

Then stupidity happened when they ran out of condoms, her cycles stopped, and three months in, two drunk idiots in a pickup ran a stoplight while he was getting her some ice cream. Doctors said he probably hadn’t felt a thing.

Rosie came along, a beautiful little thing, had her dad’s soft cheeks, his stormy eyes, thick dark lashes and soft curls, but she took after Stevie in everything else.

Stevie didn’t date after that. A personal choice really. She’d lost her parents, lost her love, and now she had a little girl to focus on, she was done. She felt herself complete! So what if she was still in her mid-twenties. Life had dealt her a hand, she was going to run with it.

Rosie would always come first, and she didn’t like explaining where Rosies father was, she didn’t like the look of pity on people’s faces, the apologies, the rinse and repeat cycle, and so she just. Didn’t bother!

It was easier! She had Rosie, she had her adoptive mother, she had Dustin, she had Billy’s sister Max and her other half Lucas, she had Susan, she had Robin, her co-worker and platonic soulmate from that dumb job at the mall she’d picked up to help Claudia with the bills, she had a whole support network, and she was fine.

Soon Rosie was in preschool, and then middle school, and the internet became a household thing, houses had computers, kids had phones, then smartphones, laptops, tablets, and suddenly the internet was everywhere and everyone had to be on it.

So there she was now. Mid-thirties, with a little girl, and a house paid for by her little brother.

Dustin had struck gold with a job at NASA, he’d put the downpayment on a little two bed house with a cute picket fence lined garden for her when Rosie was born without consulting her, just did it and “SURPRISE STEVIE, now get the hell out of mom’s basement, Jesus Christ.” Kept paying until it was all hers, and that was that… until he came round with computers and gadgets and then she had the internet because Rosie would need it for school because while libraries were awesome he’d had to suffer the five books at a time, Dustin rule one too many times and the internet had UNLIMITED books.

And now Stevie had a smart phone, and apps, and Instagram was fun! Doomscrolling the FYP took up chunks of her days off work while Rosie was at school! She never intended to be a name on there. She’d heard that people could become known for stuff, go viral or whatever.

She never intended to do that. She was a mother. Not even a hot young mom either. She was in her thirties! She remembered when the world didn’t have internet, she was there.

She posted work out videos, never having lost the competitive streak she’d always had as a teenager, sports were her thing back in high school, Gymnastics specifically, which led into cheering. She’d done some competition once with the team but nothing huge, she was fit, healthy, and the subject of many a thirst comment that she pointedly ignored.

She’d posted the occasional rant about Sally the PTA bitch with the self-proclaimed “best potato salad in the State” while doing her morning makeup, still never paying much mind to the comments section, the little rapidly climbing number that signalled followers, or the occasional DM from brands wanting to ‘collab’.

She didn’t care for that, she just wanted to post her little videos in peace. In retrospect, if peace was what she wanted, the lunch trend… probably wasn’t the best one to pick up. It was just a trend though! She’d seen a few moms doing it! Just posting little harmless videos online of what they’d pack their kids for lunch every day!

Harmless, fun! She loved making Rosies lunches, she saw no harm in sharing the fun!

They were always affordable, packed with healthy options, and creative too! She tried her hand at sushi, Rosie hated it, Robin loved it, so Robin got the sushi rolls in her lunches instead, picked up every morning when she grabbed Rosie on the way into work, they were both going to the same place after all, Robin taking on the music teacher role at the Middle school Rosie attended.

She tried noodle jars, cool wraps, made shapes and fun little animals out of fruit, she got creative, but they were all very cookie cutter videos, they all had the same vibe, similar content, it was something to fill her free time that she enjoyed so never in a million years would she have ever predicted that ONE of them, would cause so much chaos.

It started with the beeping.

The incessant pings sometime in the early hours of the morning. Notifications on her phone going off one after the other until she was forced to sit up, bleary eyed, and stare with squinted eyes at the far too bright screen of her phone, then she silenced it and went back to sleep.

With the chaos of the morning routines, getting Rosie up, washed, dressed, packed up for school, and out the door, she didn’t think about the incessant little beeping she’d silenced. It was a distant memory buried under the fog of a heavy sleep and continued to be a distant memory right up until Dustin appeared at her doorstep at around one in the afternoon midway through her afternoon workout, ruffled, stressed, flustered, and frankly just a little too sweaty.

He bypassed all niceties, as usual, bulldozing straight to the point, he pinpointed her phone, which sat comfortably on the countertop, seemingly oh so innocent, grabbed it, brandished it up as if to highlight its very existence and just “Woman, do you LOOK, AT YOUR PHONE?!”

Now, Stevie was not in the business of accepting a tone like that, especially not from her little brother. No matter how much he’d shelled out for the house, the attitude had to go. “Tone problem you little shit, fix it now or get the fuck out of this house and try again later.”

To his credit, he took a breath, and fixed it “Sorry, I’m sorry, but—look! Look at it, please, for the love of Christ, the internet is freaking out.”

“What?”

“Your video yesterday! The one with the like… teddy bear thing you did? With the rice an the—”

“Rosies lunch?”

“Yeah! Have you seen the comments on it?” Stevie rolled her eyes and went about picking up her things, workout sufficiently disrupted, she wouldn’t be able to pick that pace back up now. “Stevie?”

“You know I don’t look at those, people get weird on the internet, it’s like it gives weirdos the perfect place to be their weirdest selves and not in a good way.” She’d looked at them once, curiosity had gotten the better of her once upon a time and wound up having to ask Max what ‘OF?’ meant. She’d taken the win, let it momentarily boost her self-confidence, and decided to never look again. She was done with all that.

“Stevie, this time… one of those weirdos, is famous.” Since it was the age of the internet, Stevie regarded him with a look of disinterest, ‘famous’ could be anything, it could be some dweeb behind a computer screaming obscenities at a mic hooked up to some ridiculously overpriced gaming PC for likes. It could be a podcast bro with half a brain cell kicking its long since dead other half, it could be—“rockstar famous.” Dustin clarified. “One of the guys from that band I like? Corroded Coffin, they just—” he swiped the phone, letting out a soft scoff as the screen just flicked to life, no security pin to be seen of course, no matter, he’d probably berate later, he had a video to find and—“Ah-hah! Look!” and a phone to once again shove into his big sister’s face.

“That’s not even my video!”

“I know! They took the comment down already, but it’s EVERYWHERE, look!” Someone had screenshots. It wasn’t just one video covering it, Dustin scrolled, another popped up soon after, someone getting a little too excited about what was probably the most unfortunate of accidents.

“Don’t they have like… I dunno, people running their accounts? A person? Maybe their internet person just forgot to log out of that account?”

“No! Eddie runs it! The guitarist? Eddie Munson, he usually runs it all himself so everyone thinks it’s him, AND—AND LOOK!” Dustin clicked on the Corroded Coffin’s account, then tapped on the most recent post. Just a big black square, with the word ‘Whoops’ in big bold white lettering, captioned ‘I regret nothing. Just ONE chance, sweetheart, just one.’ With a little prayer hands emoji. “He’s ASKING you out!”

“He’s being a freak on the internet” hands found her hips, the classic mom pose. Immovable, stubborn.

“He’s always a freak! But he’s really cool! He does like, Make A Wish stuff, and—and visits children’s hospitals dressed up like fantasy characters, and he runs DnD things on the account every few months an he’s just REALLY cool, I mean they’re all really cool but Eddie is really cool maybe—maybe you could—”

“Upend my life, Rosie’s life, for a guy I don’t know, who has a job that takes him all over the world, who probably has his pick of whoever the hell he wants so what exactly could I bring to the table to keep him around? I’m done with all that shit, Dusty… I had my time, I have Rosie, I have everything I need. What makes you think I’d even like him?”

“You liked Billy.”

“Get out.”

“No, wait, not like that, I mean, they’re the same! Well, okay, not the same, Eddie didn’t start out a giant prick an he’s never been racist, but they’re sorta similar, similar music tastes, shit fathers, he’s rough round the edges, lil scary looking sometimes but he’s just a big softie when you get past the whole, scary dog thing. Eddie’s like… if Billy never had a shit dad. I just think that maybe… if you looked him up, maybe you’d… I dunno, you’d like him… maybe he’d be your kind of guy… maybe you could finally find someone who appreciates you… you’re not supposed to be on your own, Stevie.”

“Yeah well, I’m not. I have Rosie, and Robin, an you guys… an y’know. Bob.”

“Bob?” One of her patented looks told him all he needed to know, he jerked back in revulsion “ew! God! Fine, could you just! I dunno, look him up or something? Just think about it, I swear he’s really cool an I’d—”

“You’d love free tickets to their next concert.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Alright then, nice to see you Dustin. Always a pleasure to have you round, please get the hell out of my house.” 

“UggGGGGGHHHHH, STEVIIIIEEE!!!”

“Uggghh, DUSTIIIIN! You interrupted my work out for internet pervert nonsense.” She began shooing him toward the door “Shoo, shoo. I have a family sized bar of chocolate to work off my hips before it gets stuck there.”

“He’d love your hips! With the addition of chocolate bars or not!”

“Weird! Out!” Out the door he went, it closed behind him.

That of course didn’t stop him from yelling through the door, “Just look him up!! I promise you won’t regret it!” But she mostly ignored him, until he went away.

Mostly because… Dustin never spoke up in favour of men before. He’d even gone through a period of hinting at maybe just switching sides and dating Robin when he found out Robin was a lesbian, but both women had promptly shut that down every single time he tried bringing it up.

He wasn’t a huge fan of men.

He’d been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d had a strong female role model in Stevie who’d pushed through every trauma life had thrown at her, he had Robin, he had Max, Jane, Erica, he had Nancy his friend Mike’s older sister, one of his friends had also been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d been surrounded by strong women his entire life with only one real solid male figure.

And that was his middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. Which was kind of sad when you thought about it.

For him to really vouch for a man, it meant something! It wasn’t something to ignore, even if every instinct Stevie had told her to just. Leave it. What kind of man could a rockstar lifestyle have created. What kind of red flags could Eddie Munson be hiding that Dustin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see.

Did he really even mean it?

Was it actually Eddie, and not someone else from the band? Would she be seen as foolish for even entertaining the thought? It wasn’t like she’d ever paid attention to the bands Dustin liked, so surely nobody would see her as a weird fan for thinking about it, right? She didn’t even approach him!

He approached her!

Shit like that didn’t just happen though. Or did it? Could it? Was she stupid to even entertain the thought?

Before she knew it, it was time to pick Rosie up, and she hadn’t even finished her work out. it was fine, her hips could handle a chocolate bar. For now. Its days were numbered.

[moliathh]

Better the devil you know than the angel you don't

[cjlouwho]

My idea for a good 9-1-1 storyline is that Buck kills someone (completely justified, the guy was gonna kill Tommy) and it is heavily implied that the 118 just buried the body. And is never caught. Athena is on to them but she tells no one. What do you even do if you're a cop and your husband helps his son coworker bury a body. Also Buck and Tommy get back together.

Sorry, I turned this into a prompt! It's kinda ooc and not everyone is included, but this was fun to write anyway! I also could have made this like 5k, but I shortened it to 2.1k.

It's a gray area.

His hands are shaking, there's a dead man on the floor, and it's a gray area because, “He... He was gonna kill you, Tommy. Wasn't- He was going to, wasn't he?”

Tommy's frozen. He can't look away from the man's eyes, staring up blankly at him. Almost like they are staring straight into his soul. “Buck,” he manages to breathe out.

This is bad. Very, very bad.

“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Buck starts to panic, because he just killed a man! He snapped his neck like a twig, felt him go limp in his arms as he dropped to the ground. Buck had fallen back with him before scooting out from under him so fast you would have thought he was on fire. “Oh my God, Tommy!”

“O- Okay. Okay, Buck. It's okay,” Tommy says, Buck's panic breaking him out of his trance. “I need you to calm down, okay? Just... just let me think for a second.”

“Calm down?! You want me to calm down?! Tommy, I just killed a man! I just killed y-”

“Evan, stop! It was self defense. He... he was coming at me-”

“With a cell phone!” Buck finished. “I- I thought it was a gun, Tommy! I thought he was gonna shoot you.”

“He was still coming at me, Buck!” Tommy tries to reason. “He was being aggressive and making threats and I- I was frozen. You saved me. That's what we'll tell the police, okay?”

“No!” Buck yells. “No, you- Tommy, I'll go prison!”

“Not for self defense! I'll back you up, whatever you say.”

Buck's hands go to his hair at that, pulling at the strands. “Ohhhh, oh my God. Oh, no. No, Tommy. No, no, no.” He's backing away. Backing away until he hits the wall, then he slides down it.

Tommy walks over to him, kneels in front of him. He grabs onto Buck's hands and tugs until Buck let's go of his hair and looks up at him. “Buck, there is nothing else we can do but call the cops.”

Buck's shaking his head, moving more rapidly with each word Tommy speaks.

“He's like seventy years old, Tommy,” he whispers out as though they weren't the only one's there. “They're not gonna believe for a second that we were so threatened by this man that we, that I, had to kill him!” A new wave of panic rushes over Buck, his eyes widening. “Tommy, I killed a person.” His hands are shaking again and Tommy holds onto them tight. “I killed someone.”

“Evan-”

“I'm gonna throw up.” Buck manages to push himself up and away from Tommy, running down the hall to the bathroom. From the living room, Tommy can hear him gagging and coughing.

Tommy stands and turns back to the man. His heart is pounding in his ears. He feels a little dizzy himself, but he can't focus on that right now. He's got to keep it together. Buck needs him to keep it together.

Tommy hears the toilet flush and the sink come on for a second, then Buck was back, looking paler than a ghost.

Before they can get out a word, they hear the sound of a door slamming.

“What-”

“It's Eddie,” Tommy says, realization hitting him. “He was coming over today to spar.”

“D- Don't let him in, Tommy.”

At the same time Buck spoke, Tommy noticed the door was unlocked, and Eddie was one who always let himself in.

Tommy tried to hurry to the door to lock it before it was too late, but... it was too late.

“Tommy, I'm h- Oh my God!”

Tommy was quick to close the door behind Eddie, making sure no one was outside to see or hear anything.

The next ten minutes was filled with Buck desperately trying to explain himself, Tommy trying to calm Buck down, Eddie looking like a confused puppy, and then Buck having a full blown panic attack as the reality of the situation hit him again.

A smack to his chest had Eddie coming back to the present. He went over to Buck to try and help, but he was completely out of it, his breathing so erratic that Eddie wasn't sure how much longer he'd last before passing out.

That's when he pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asks.

“Calling Bobby.”

“Oh, yeah, because we need more people in on this,” Tommy says sarcastically.

“Hey, no one is getting Buck out of this panic attack but Bobby. You want a dead man in your house all night?”

Resigned, Tommy sighs. “No.”

“Okay. I'm calling Bobby.”

Eddie says nothing on the phone about a dead body being in the house, but he does tell Bobby there was an emergency with Buck at Tommy's place and he needs to come over, alone and fast.

As soon as Bobby steps in the door, his eyes immediately fall to the unmissable body. “What the hell happened?” he asks, hurrying over to the man as if on autopilot. He checks for a pulse, then rests his head over the man's chest.

“He's gone, Bobby,” Tommy says. “He was gone right away.”

“Cap, we need you for Buck,” Eddie says, tapping Bobby's back and pointing over to Buck who is hyperventilating in the corner. “He's... It's not good.”

Bobby doesn't hesitate. He moves over to Buck and squats down in front of him. “Buck?” he tries. Buck's whole body is shaking, breaths coming in shallow bursts. He's sweating, but chilling at the same time. He's in shock.

“Buck? Kid!” Bobby reaches out and gets his hand around Buck's wrist, wiggling him slightly. This seems to help. Buck's glassy eyes drift to him. He looks confused.

“Cap?”

“I need you to tell me what happened, Kid. How'd this happen?”

“I- I- I,” Buck stutters, unable to find the words. “I didn't-”

“Tell me how you got to Tommy's. You drive here?”

Buck nods. “Mhm.”

“Okay. Why'd you come?”

“To- I wanted to-” His eyes move back toward the body, but Bobby moves to block his line of sight.

“Eyes on me, Buck. Why'd you come?”

Buck blinks once, twice. Swallows hard. “I wanted to talk to Tommy. I- I needed to talk to him.”

“Okay, that's fine. What happened when you came in?”

Buck took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I- the front door was cracked open. I heard yelling, so I- I let myself in. He- He was screaming at Tommy, Cap. He kept saying all these h- horrible things and then he was lunging toward him and I thought he... I thought he had a gun.”

“It was self defense,” Tommy reiterates.

Buck shakes his head. “Bobby, he's old. He- He doesn't have a gun. I didn't have to- we're both stronger than him. You know. You know what this means.”

It's a gray area.

“Buck-”

“No. No, Cap, I- I know what you're gonna say and no. We can't tell Athena. I- I will go to prison! I didn't mean it. I-”

“Buck, you can't-”

They start talking over each other, then Eddie gets in on it as well.

“Guys, we've got to do-”

“Kid, you can't run from-

“I'll be a murderer forever! I killed hi-”

“Hold on!” Tommy yells, silencing the room. All eyes turn to him. He sighs. “Just, everyone wait a second. I'll be right back.”

He heads to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Buck focuses on his breathing as the minutes tick by. Bobby studies over the body, wondering who the hell this man is. Eddie keeps glancing down the hall to see when Tommy comes back out of his room.

Two more minutes feels like an hour, then Tommy is back and stuffing his phone into his pocket. “I know a guy who owes me a favor,” he explains. “We'll get the body to his place and take care of it.”

Bobby holds up his hand. “What now?”

“We're going to take the body to an address I know and handle it there.”

“You just so happen to know a man that cleans up murders?” Eddie asks.

“I know a man who cremates animals, Eddie, and I asked if I could use his facilities. He's out of town right now, but leaves a key under a rock.”

“No offense, Tommy,” Eddie replies, “but this man is a little bigger than a dog!”

Tommy groans. “He lives outsides the city. He cremates cows and horses. This man is big, but not as big as a horse.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Bobby steps forward. “Why are we not calling the police?”

Tommy glances over at Buck, then leans in closer to Bobby. “He's not totally wrong, Bobby. A detective sees this, Evan's done.”

“What about the fact this is a whole human being?” Eddie questions. “What about when someone comes looking for him?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I know this man, okay? So, I- I don't need you guys to worry about all that. I can take care of that stuff. I just need the body out of my house.”

Eddie points down at the body. “You know this man? Who is he?”

“I think this is a the-less-you-know-the-better type situation, Eddie.” He walks over to Buck, siting down in front of him and resting a hand on his knee. “It's gonna get taken care of, Buck. Don't worry.”

*****

If you would have asked any of these four men what they would be doing at ten o'clock at night on a Tuesday in December, none of them would have said, “Carrying a body to a Jeep and driving it out to the country to put it inside a cremation oven, wait for it to burn, then scoop the cremains into a bag, going to the ocean, and dumping the cremains into said ocean.”

But that's exactly what they did. Then they went back to Tommy's place, vowed never to speak of this again, and went their separate ways.

That night, when Athena asked where Bobby had been, he looked at her with hollowed eyes. “It's a long story.”

She laughs. “What'd you do? Kill somebody?”

When he doesn't answer, she gets worried. “Bobby? Did you-”

“No,” he tells her. “I had to help Buck with a problem, and I really, really need you to not ask anymore questions. Please,” he pleads.

She knows him. It's scary just how much she knows him. “Okay,” she agrees. “No questions.”

She takes his hand and they go to bed.

Eddie falls back on his bed with a thump. He thinks he can sleep, maybe. He's seen dead bodies before. He's seen war. That was worse than this.

He just needed to close his eyes.

So he closes his eyes, and he sees a body. He sees Buck's terrified face. He sees secrets Tommy's hiding. He sees how he pulled Bobby into the mess.

He gets up and grabs his keys. He still knows some places that have underground fights on Tuesday nights. Maybe he'll hit one up.

Buck drives around aimlessly for hours until he finds himself right back at Tommy's place.

He knocks on the door, waits, and then there's Tommy.

“Evan, you shouldn't be here,” Tommy says, but he lets Buck push right past him without a fight.

“I can't- Tommy, I can't go home. Please, I just...” his voice trails off when he sees it. The carpet has already been pulled up, folded and taped, ready to go out with the trash.

“I've been looking for a reason to remodel,” Tommy says, desperate to lighten the mood. Not that that's possible.

Buck turns to him. “I needed to talk to you, Tommy. It... Today's been about me, and that's not right. I- Tommy, I'm so sorry. I am so, so-”

“Hey,” Tommy stops him. “I said it more than once, I'll say it again. Self defense.”

“That's not what I mean.”

They stare at each other for a moment, then Tommy nods toward the couch.

They sit, closer than exes should. They're not touching, but it's close.

“Tommy, someone will come looking for him. That shouldn't be on you.”

“A man like that... Evan, he doesn't have anyone to ask about him. I promise you, no one will care he's gone.”

With tears in his eyes, Buck pulls Tommy to him. Tommy's head rests on his chest, and he cards his fingers through Tommy's hair. “Not even you?”

Tommy lets himself be wrapped up in Buck's arms, lets a couple of tears fall too. “He was never much of a dad to me anyway.”

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

This is not cannon, as the weird route is finished and it will not be added upon. But.......I often find myself wanting to draw for it. So here you are...

The weird route ends abruptly and without art for a reason. I wanted to make it painfully obvious that as YOU continue the route/story YOU stop getting anything out of it. You're only hurting the characters, and by the end, there's nothing left to do except start over.

I had thought of Asriel discovering Chara...well, dead. But I think that would have been too much for the scene. I didn't want to get any more depressing than it already was.

tbh I only hope that I can make an ending even half as good as this one. I still think about it often and I'm proud of the amount of work I put into it.

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your... characters...?

[prokopetz]

Reading Tom Bloom's latest tabletop RPG and playing "spot the thinly disguised expy of Allison from Kill Six Billion Demons".

[frownyalfred]

I came across a post where someone mentioned that Martha Wayne’s pearls were actually her teeth, but Bruce misremembered or blocked it out…

This has to be one of the most heartbreaking and gut-wrenching headcanons I’ve ever encountered about Martha and Bruce. Just imagine the scene—her teeth falling out instead of the pearls, either from the impact of the bullet or from the way she fell and hit her mouth.

The imagery is so disturbing and visceral. It adds a whole new layer of trauma to Bruce’s memory, making his recollection of that night even more tragic.

Also— I feel like we don’t talk enough about what the Waynes’ deaths must have really been like…

The thought that Bruce might have been splattered with his parents’ blood, or even brain matter, from the impact. .. I feel like the writers never really specified where exactly they were shot or what kind of gun was used, which could have made the injuries even more horrifying depending on the weapon. The unease in his father’s voice—something foreign that Bruce had probably never heard before—from a man who was usually so optimistic and confident, might have been the first time Bruce saw his father truly scared. And then there’s his mother’s screams. In Christopher Nolan’s movies, Martha’s screams still haunt me to this day. The actress did an incredible job capturing that raw terror.

But what really gets me is the time. How long did Bruce stand there, in the pool of his parents’ blood, waiting for someone to come and help him? Did he try to pick up his mother’s pearls, or maybe try to stop the blood from pouring out of their wounds? That time must have felt like an eternity for him—standing there, powerless, with his parents’ blood on his hands, the smell of rot from the nearby trash, the powder of the gunshot lingering in the air, the city’s humidity, and the iron tang of blood.

And another chilling thought: what if his parents died with their eyes open? The idea of Thomas Wayne’s lifeless eyes staring up at his now-traumatized, orphaned son is just devastating.

Anyways, sorry for the ramble… I would love to hear your thoughts !!!

oh my god. yeah…..I mean, yeah. I’m getting smacked speechless by some of these anons today.

I actually saw someone knock all their teeth out once like you’re describing and it is gruesome. seeing teeth where they aren’t supposed to be is horrifying.

I think comics and movie adaptations letting the Waynes get shot somewhere in center mass, away from their faces, by low caliber bullets so they bleed out with last words is a mercy, in some ways.

modern guns could make that scene could look very, very different. I won’t go into them here but…yeah. there’s a reason they die with their faces intact in the comics and most movies, in my opinion. and with a few words or screams, maybe, before they fully die.

but yeah. there’s a world where they both get hit point blank in the head, brain and blood go everywhere, and Bruce has to sit there caked in for a while. until the cops show up, and even then, he probably doesn’t get clean for a while, since he’s covered in the decade’s most haunting crime scene.

[monkayy]

[o-wild-west-wind]

you know, I’m just gonna come out and say it. reason 182639302 why I’m sad ofmd was canceled: I would’ve liked to see a post-Izzy world.

you can stab me in the face now.

[skyward-floored]

Horrible lu thought of the evening:

Warriors knew Marin in the war, and figures out Legend is the Link she was always talking about. It comes out somehow that Warriors met her and Legend lights up and immediately starts hounding him for details.

...Warriors just has to figure out how to break it to him that Marin died in the war.