#Death au

[blingblong55]

From Eden -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: in my delusional mind, Simon and Reader are talking to each other in this song

photo credit: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

--- GN!Reader, life and death au, death!Ghost, Life!reader, fluff?, platonic!relationship, --- A/N: inspired by an bot on C.ai(@/maskedmenenthusiast), and read the @yawnderu version of this concept. 

You were sitting on the mothy grass, your angelic features overlooking the lakes where the calm koi fish swim. The day was peaceful, it always was for you. Humans, are so simple and easy, if only it was all the same for you. Years since the creation of planet Earth, you were created to form life. You, alongside your friend Simon, also known as Ghost have roamed the Earth, watching its beginning and its current moment in time. He and you have accompanied the other through it all. From the first humans to the latest ones. Simon was created to take away those you created with love. The first time he did this, it pained you to see such a soul be taken away but now, you've grown used to it, it's part of the cycle.

Every day, there is new life, one you so happily watch when creating it. Simon, every day takes away a new or old life, something he's done for so many years. With death comes life and with life comes death. Simon walks through the fog, his scythe strapped to his back, his cloak draped over his body, fitting him so perfectly. He always called you his angel or just life, something that you grew accustomed to. "My angel, what are you doing here?" He sits beside you, the sun shining through making his and your eyes glimmer. He always called you his angel or just life, something that you grew accustomed to. You sigh, "It's peaceful here." You quietly respond.

This was your place, no human had ever stepped foot in this place. No one knows it exists because well, it is not a real place on Earth, this place was created for Simon and you to rest in. People always assume he is some evil man for what he does but no one knows him like you do, no one ever will. He looks ahead, his icy skin warming with the sun. The birds chirp and he chuckles, it was always that damn blue bird that sang to him. A kind reminder of you. According to others, he enjoyed what he did but in reality, he was tired of it, it drained him because he knew how much every human you ever created was loved by you. 

Being your friend, he couldn't do it but it was his role and every day, at this time, he would come to you. His head hangs low as he watches all the souls swim through his veins. He looks over at you, your skin so soft and beautiful. You were so innocent and kind, so majestic and here he was, ruining all that beauty with his darkness. His scythe is laid on the floor as he looks away from you. "Do you ever think one day we'll be replaced?" Doubt clouded his mind, Ghost was one thing, the reaper of souls, Simon was a man, a simple man who always had doubts and fears and...well loneliness when you weren't around. 

"Don't think so, we've been the ones created for this specific job. Would be mean if they did take us out of it though," your head now rested in his. His hand found its way to you. You were the sun and he the moon. You shined in the day and he brightened up the night. With others who were tasked with some small roles on this planet, he was cold, mean and harsh but with you, his oldest and only friend, he was just Simon. He smiled and nudged you when you made a joke, wiped your tears when you were sad, hurt those who made you sad and like moth to flame, he came to you for it all. 

In the dark cold nights when he took souls away, that smile you carried, that little nose crinkle, that is what brought him to sit down under a willow tree with you. Your hands light up the grass, you are magical. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if your deer friend came back again to pester me," he comments and you chuckle. That cute little fallow deer, with its wet nose, poked at Simons's scythe and then looked at him with curious eyes. "He likes to be around you, can you blame him?" Your hand caresses Simons. "I can indeed, because every day he follows me around, I have important things to do, my angel." His hand gripped yours with so much delicateness. "Liar, I know you follow me into the city," you look up at him. "I...well I do that because what if you accidentally make a monster like last time and I have to kill it?"

"That was a mistake and I did it because you told me that scary story the night before-" "Excuses. Admit it my angel, you just wanted a reason to have me near you all day," his hands, hesitating to caress your precious face. He was partially right. "You know, I won't entertain this nonsense," you look away and he smirks. His angel, oh how he adored it when you'd look away and he could look down at you and smile, his eyes filled with love. His chin rested on your head. 

It had been long since you were in charge of creating every single life on Earth and now that you oversee the work, you have time to be here with him. His situation was the same, he wasn't gone all day and night reaping souls away, he overlooked the work and that was it. "Are you cold?" His voice is softer than usual. "mhm," you nod your head just a little. His black cloak now keeping both of you warm. The silence, how sweet this was when the world outside of this safe bubble was so chaotic. 

"I've always admired your work," Simon tells you, his expression unchanging as he speaks. "The way you create those souls, I swear I can see their essence being infused into you. Such beauty in the work you do." It was like a memory. The first time he saw you create life, how glorious you appeared before him. "I always wondered how you viewed life before it's taken away." His hands caress your arms. "I think I should be the one asking you that question since you are the one to take their souls." 

"Hmph, a fair point." Simon's hands are so warm against your skin, it was like you melted the other with this amount of skin contact. "I've had centuries to observe, and the more time I had, the more I realized how fleeting it truly is. It is a beautiful gift you give, even if I have to take it eventually. But as they die, they become one with me, just like you have become a part of them. Even so, they do not cease to exist, you know that." In some sad but captivating way, you creating life and him taking it is a way of him and you, being one with the other. 

"I don't know what this feeling is but, I like it when you make me feel it," his confession whispered. The sun setting over the horizon. Your hand over his again, "Ghost-" "No, we don't do that, I'm Simon to you, my angel." Your lips curved to a smile. 

---

"Death, meet Life. Life, meet Death. You two will now be one, work with the other to make this civilization work properly. From this day forward, your jobs complement the other for however long this planet shall live." This is when Life and Death met when they shook hands and smiled at each other as they appeared before a small paradise. Their forever home, where they create and end lives. From this day forward, you're not one without the other. 

As time progressed, you and he roamed the plant alone, slowly populating it and controlling it however you could. One day, as you sit underneath his black feathered wing, he looks over at you. "Call me Simon, I'm Simon," his gaze back to the desert. "Simon and...what shall you call me?" You look over at him. "R/N but I think My Angel is way better, so I'll stick with it." He was always so cold and in this moment you swear he maybe hung out with one too many angels when he visited the gods. "Only you'll call me Simon, no other, understood, Life?" He looks over at you again. "Don't worry, Simon, you're name stays with me." He looks away, a small smile on his lips. 

---

In the beginning, if you told him that he'd be so close to you, to know you so well, he would have laughed and drank more of his wine. Now, he smiles proudly to know you are here, with him. From your lips, a yawn escapes. "Tired already, my angel?" His hands play with your hair. You nod, "It's been so long since I slept." His arms, pulling you closer, your head resting on his lap, his wings keeping you warm. His touch is soothing as you finally close your eyes. "Rest, my angel," Simon caresses your face, you smile and feel warm underneath his hand. "Good night, Simon." "Good night, my angel," his gaze back to the sunset. That bluebird, singing a melody for all millennia and maybe even the next one. That deer, coming only when it knows you are resting. Its nose touches Simon's scythe, "Aren't you something," he chuckles and pets it. Its eyes close and it rests against Simon. 

No one will ever know, that even the Grim Reaper himself needs moments like this. For he isn't some stone-hearted man, he cares enough to walk you to the afterlife and in this moment, as he holds you in his arms, awaiting another day of guiding souls, this is when he finds peace. He always believed, at the beginning at least, that he was meant to be evil but when he holds Life in his arms like there is no other remedy for his ache, that is when he knows he is too a good man. The souls attached to his skin, all keeping him alive in many ways and you, keeping him a little closer to happiness. 

They say Life is with you, even in your darkest nights and Death is there, for when your soul feels alone. Life creates you, Death guides you. 

Life and Death, are forever welded to each other. To roam Earth and know that out there the other one is still there. To live an eternity and know Death is always lurking in the shadows for you. To know without Life, Death is no one and without Death, Life is no one. Simon and R/N, forever one, for good or worse. 

Tags:

@warenai @liyanahelena @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @scarletdfox @actuallyhiswife @kit-kats06 @@goldenmclaren @eicee @ilove-masked-men @iruzias @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien

[serialkilluh1996]

☠︎︎The Cause☠︎︎

Psychic-Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Dead-female-reader

When Kyle arrives on scene to investigate your suicide, he finds that he can't, and I mean cannot, drop your case.

Proshippers, Comshippers DNI

Warnings: suicide, gore, guns, angst, contact me if I need to add more.

It wasn't a pretty sight; the bright, flashing police lights, the yellow caution tape. It was pretty overwhelming and took quite a toll on his anxiety.

One could blame him by saying he shouldn't work a job he wasn't mentally equipped for, but only someone deeply desensitized is mentally equipped for the things one saw working on his task force, especially not this time.

For example, the sight of CSI showering you in camera flashes, leaned in close to get a good angle of your blown off head as you slouched in your seat.

It was bloody, messy, splattered across the enclosure of your vehicle, your brain scattered across the place. It wasn't for the weak stomached.

He winced as he watched them pull you out of the car, laying you on the stretcher. Your head gushed and oozed with the movement, leaking across the scene, your hand shriveled, tight around the gun you used to end your life. Even in death, you held it tight, your fingers locked tightly around the trigger.

"Gaz," Price snaps the man out of his trance. "You're doing it again." Gaz sighs at the Captain's words, knowing he was right. He had a bad habit of zoning out at scenes like this, but he did try his best to stay focused.

"You're one of my best men, Gaz. I need ta know you can handle this mission without havin' another episode." "Of course, I can. I've seen worse." His brows furrow, almost taking offensive. He wouldn't dare back out, but he couldn't tell him the real reason why.

"You've seen better and felt worse." Price counters, putting his hands in his pockets. "I know it looks...awful. But if you can't fulfill the job, I can find someone else to fill in for ya." He snorts, backing up as they passed them with your now covered corpse.

Gaz closes his eyes, his skull tingling at the sight of you hidden beneath the thin white sheet, blood seeping through around your head. Seeing you, what was left of your face, shielded by the blanket sent a certain urge through Gaz. Not a sexual urge or a violent urge. It didn't even feel like a human desire. It was something beyond that. A guilty urge. A soul-haggling requirement to make things right.

He felt numb yet prickly all over, weak in the stomach and full of adrenaline. Then suddenly, it was gone. The second they lifted you into the ambulance, the feeling was snatched away from him. Gaz breathes heavily.

"...I-...I can't drop this mission, Captain... It's meant for me." He expresses, watching the ambulance pull off. He couldn't help but want to follow it, even knowing exactly where the thing was headed. "Whateva ya say, Gaz."

12:03am

Gaz can't seem to get himself to sleep, even knowing how snarky he can get if he doesnt get enough rest. He sits elbows out against his computer desk, constantly rewatching the final video you recorded. He knows it's not healthy, but something about your face drew him in, like a sailor to a siren's song.

There was something about the look on your face as you rambled on and on about God knows what, a melancholy smile making it's way onto his face as he watched you prolong your death. For someone talking to themselves, you were a great conversationalist, ignoring all the stuttering and trailed off sentences.

Can't really expect a girl to be calm and collected while she's trying to kill herself, can you?

To Gaz, it didn't really seem like you wanted to die. It seemed like you needed someone to talk to. He felt bad. Guilty. Something was telling him that if he'd gotten to you sooner, he could've talked you out of it. But even with the guilt, he couldn't move past how absolutely gorgeous you were to him. Just...raw, natural, frantic. No facade.

Gaz had a thing for crazy unpredictable women. His whole life, he's been a calm, level-headed guy and he was raised to remain chill in even the most devastating situations, and to help others in need.

So, seeing girls who were always on the verge of a break down, just a second away from chaos, it made him feel...leveled. he felt like he could help them. He wanted to help them. Badly.

He had an awful "I can fix her" mentality, and anytime he finds himself in a situation that he knows he can solve somehow, he feels bad when he doesn't. And he knows he could've helped you. He just...didn't. There was something much he could've done for you.

Bang! He shudders, watching you commit the final act. He was on his third time watching this video and he jumped every. fucking. time. He just could NOT prepare himself to see you die.

He closes his laptop, leaning down into his hands and rubbing his face. "Damn..." he cursed, sighing. "...why'd you do that?..." he asks in a whisper, almost angry that you didn't get the help you needed.

"... I'm sorry..."

His head lifts immediately, heart instantly palpitating. "Breathe, Kyle, Breathe" He tells himself, resetting his breathing patterns slowly but surely. He turns around to see a girl sitting at the edge of his bed. Not just any girl. You.

Your head was in...better condition. It was still put together of not for the smoke coming from the cracks around your eye, resembling the areas that had blown off.

"Oh, ☆☆☆." He turns out of his chair, pulling you close into his arms. "It's okay, baby, its alright." He cradles you against his chest. "It's okay, ☆☆☆...damn, you shoulda called me, girl....you shoulda called me..." He sniffles, clinging onto you like a little girl holding her broken porcelain doll.

"I forgot your number..."

Your voice was blank, monotone, with only a hint of emotion; shame. "I know, honey, I know...that's my fault. I shoulda kept in contact with you...uh, how much do you remember? Do you know who you are? Who I am?"

"..Kyle.."

"That's...that's right. Kyle. That's good. You're not far gone. What am I to you, ☆☆☆? What's our relationship?" He tries gage how much you remember after death. It would determine if you could still stay with him.

"My boyfriend..."

He sighs. You must not remember the breakup. He didn't want you to either. It made him feel awful. Gaz felt he shouldn't have left you during your worse. He knew you were going through so much and he just abandoned you. "Yeah, that's right, angel..."

Oh, his poor baby didn't even know... just dead and clueless. But he'd much wrather you not remember the breakup, knowing damn well that's probably what triggered your suicide in the first place. He wouldn't dare remind you that he was the cause.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

Banner credits go to @ghoulbloggerrr!

[alice-angel12x]

Death is always around the Corner

Vil + Death!Reader

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil,Idia, Malleus

Masterlist

Let's set the scene:

"Magic Mirror on the wall. Tell me, who is the fairest of them all," The Beautiful queen asked her magic mirror. " I see the figure of your fair stepdaughter. With her lips as red as a rose, hair as black as ebony, and skin as white as snow," The mirror said. " Snow White…!" The Queen scowled.

Death stood in the shadows as they watched the vain queen glare and curse the young princess.

---------------------------------------

Reading Vil's book brought back memories of the terrible women. Y/n could only hope that history is not about to repeat itself, but they knew. Just by the patterns of what has been happening around this school, they knew that was most likely.

"Wha—?! Don’t just stop and stare, Yuu! I hit my nose on your leg, yanno?" Grim groaned.

"You’re staring intently at the Great Seven’s statue, Y/n. Something up?" Ace asked.

"It's... It's strange seeing all these people. Being looked up to and aspired as such," Y/n said simply.

"Why is that? Did you know them personally?" Deuce asked.

"Not personally, but I was there to witness their prime and watch their downfall," Y/n explained.

"Really?! So what was the Queen of Hearts like?" Ace asked."

"A hypocritical tyrant. She would enforce the rules on everyone, but herself. She would even make up laws on the fly just to have an excuse to behead people. 60% of the rules in Heartsybuyl were ''on the fly'' made ruled," Y/n explained.

-----------------------------------

After that Ace and Deuce certainly had a new perspective of the queen of hearts. But school continued as normal, and Y/n could already feel the presence of a growing blot. It Has Begun.

Later that day an announcement was posted in the cafeteria. An audition for the Joint Cultural Festival’s Vocal & Dance Championship.

“Come and join us! Aspiring singers and dancers, this is your chance for stardom! You shall represent our glorious school! In the case that you are chosen to be part of the finalists. The prize money of 5 million Madol will be divided among the participating members."

This certainly caught the boy's attention. As the group walked through the courtyard expressing their excitement. They were interrupted by singing, a lovely voice too.

That voice belongs to none other than Epel Felmier. As those boys began talking, Epel noticed that Y/n seemed to be left out. Sadly before he could reach.

----------------------------------

"Goodness, Epel. Are you neglecting your lessons to talk to some pigeons?" asked a smug voice.

"Vil-san!" Epel gasped.

"Wha—?! Is he talking about us?" Grim asked nervesly.

"Who else is there? This is an important lesson for our Epel. There are less than two months before the VDC. He does not have the time to be fraternizing with lowlifes like you," Vil said with a prideful smirk. " Please do not bother him while he is doing his lessons."

"We weren’t bothering him at all—," "Vil-san, don’t shout at them! This’s—This is my fault—," Epel said, cutting Deuce off.

"Epel, how many times must I tell you to stop with that vulgar way of speaking? It is not befitting a person of your standard. Surely you do not want to be referred to as a “Poisonous Red Apple,” do you?" Vil continued.

"But I—I don’t really want to do this—!" Epel stuttered

"Have you forgotten your promise with me already? Come along now," Vil commanded.

"Hey, you. I don’t care whether you’re a Prefect or not, but you just look like you’re bullying him," Ace glared.

" H-hey, you two…! Didn’t the Headmaster tell you both not to pick fights anymore?!" Deuce said nervesly.

"Hmph, pretty bold of you nobodies to challenge me. This will be perfect exercise after a meal. Come now, I’ll turn you into mashed potatoes," Vil smirked.

Sadly Adeuce and Grim were not on the same level as Vil, so Y/n eventually decided to step in. Just as Vil was about to throw a blow at the First Years, Y/n effortlessly caught his fist.

"Abusing your authority as a Prefect is not a good look. I thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong," Y/n smirked as they tossed Vil into the air. Only to grab him by his collar and slam hard onto the stone below. Vil had the wind knocked out of him.

"I'd give you a... 5 points out of 100," Y/n smirked at Vil's gasping form.

"Instant kill!" Grim and Ace cheered.

"S-so cool," Epel awed quietly.

______________________________________________________

After that one-sided fight, Epel asked Y/n if it would be possible to be as strong as them. They answered "That is for you to decide, but don't focus only on the strength. Or is trying to be a muscle head the only thing about you?"

With that Y/n and the Adeuce group left. After some days of dance training with Kalim and Jamil. The group had to sign up by talking to Rook. The school stalker, who was all to happy to lurt random info on the group. Though he didn't have much on Y/n

So Y/n returned in kind.

"Greetings Rook hunt from Class 3-A, seat number 10. Your height is 177cm, whose unique magic is "I see you," Y/n smirked as Rook froze. For the first time being on the receiving end of his action.

But Rook would smile it off and tells them to come to Pomfiore in three days' time. And thankfully Adeuce was accepted into the group. Along with Kalim and Jamil.

But unfortunately, Y/n and Grim were forced to house the new VDC group. for the next 2 months, and While Grim was easily won over with money and tuna. Y/n didn't want to share their temporary home.

So with much back and forth Crowley ignored Y/n and gave the boys the green light. So Y/n was not the happiest when they came. especially when Vil starts making demands and setting down his own rules. And order them around.

Sadly not only did Y/n have to house them, but also help assist them with their training.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Of course. Manager, please play the song for us," Vil said expectantly.

"Who?" Y/n asked as they leaned against the windowsill.

"Who else is there? Didn’t the Headmaster ask you to support us? If you want to get paid, then work yourself to the bone for us, too," Vil said.

"Well, I don't need your currency," Y/n answered simply.

"What?!" Grim Gasped. "B-But my Tuna!"

"Grim I cook fresh fish for you for Breakfast and Dinner. You have no reason to complain. I even get the certain types of fish you like," Y/n scolded.

But Grim wants that money so he did follow Vil's command. As the Video was about to play an Ad of Neige popped up. And As Y/n watched they could see Vil crumble inside.

"He is very Lovable," Y/n commented, throwing salt into the wound.

"Gentlemen, stop focusing on the wrong things and watch the dance video, for god’s sake! This time for sure… I promise that we will not lose," Vil promised.

"Good. Well, I wish you luck. Don't cause trouble Grim," Y/n said as they left the dance room.

"W-where are you going?" Vil asked, but was ignored.

Practice went well, all the way to sunset, But Vil began to rear his head. As his ugly tendency surfaced.

" I… I don’t want to do it…" Epel stuttered.

"Pardon? “Meandering and girly? Are you sleep-talking, my dear? Well, even then I still will not tolerate such brashness," Vil scoffed as he grabbed and yanked harshly on Epel's ear. "Let me explain. This “meandering” dance trains the inner muscles so that our movements look clean and beautiful. Clothes and dancing should not be categorized into “girly” or “manly.” You are absolutely being close-minded if you think you shouldn’t do “girly” dances just because you’re a boy."

Suddenly Vil yelped in pain as a strong pair of fingers grabbed his ear. He was pulled down to Y/n's level by his ear as Y/n began to talk directly into it.

"And You should know that Boy or Girl, you have no right to place your hands on another individual. Or have you thrown out common human decency?" Y/n asked. "Since we're on the trend of pointing out flaws, I have many of yours to point out."

"Like how you drag unwilling people into your goals. Aren't you ashamed of forcing your dreams onto Epel? What are you incapable of reaching your goals on your own, and need someone else to succeed for you?"

__________________________________________

Y/n called the first day of training to a close. Vil wasn't feeling too chatty after that earful with Y/n.

Y/n sensing that Vil had enough, they left the group alone Till everyone went to bed. Kalim was surprised to See y/n outside. They gave Kalim a small pep talk and sent him back to bed.

Since Y/n death Didn't need sleep, they continued to do work. Like Removing Vil's curse on the baked goods Trey made. Before anyone could get hurt, reaping unfortunate souls, and Catching fish for Grim to eat.

Vil was not happy when he caught Ace and Deuce eating sweets, but was infuriated to learn that Y/n removed his curse. And Y/n would continue to be a thorn in Vil's side.

But sadly Vil's tune didn't change over the few days. And Eventually, it Got to the group. Epel quits, Deuce with a massive loss of confidence, and Ace becomes more of a jerk.

________________________________________

" Well only after a few days, you're out of a team. Seems like you are well on your way to losing after all," Y/n laughed.

"Those potatoes didn't have what it takes," Vil glared.

"Oh, just like you don't have what it takes to beat Neige?" Y/n asked with a knowing and cruel smile.

"Gaining what you want by means of pure effort is a thing of dreams," Vil muttered to himself. "And I do have what it takes, I will be the fairest of them all."

"Will you, or are just repeating words of people telling you are beautiful?" Y/n asked. " find something else to do with your time. Like becoming a better teacher or instructor."

"Do you just enjoy insulting me?" Vil glared.

"I just act how you act when you do when you are around people you think are beneath you. Time 5 of course,' Y/n said. " And yes, I do find it amusing how fail to be an influencer. Like how you fail to influence Epel into seeing the benefits of being pretty. You just Sqwaked and screeched at him the whole time."

"Then what would you do?" Vil scoffed, as he nervesly watched Y/n polish their blades.

_________________________________________

Y/n recommended trying to appeal to Epel, like helping his family with their business. This helped ease things over with Epel, and Vil was a bit nicer. And soon 2 months were a breeze.

Things were looking up for the group and Vil, spirits were high, and confidence was through the roof. Til Vil got cold feet after seeing Neige's performance. And the story of the evil queen replayed once again.

---------------------------------------------------

"Where am I?" Vil wondered as walked in the darkness.

As he did he found a backstage vanity, the lights were bright and the station was pristine. There was a book on the table, it was about Him. He read through the script-like text, and memories began to surface. And it was strange seeing it from a new perspective.

"Ah, your here Mr.Vil. Are you ready for your makeup session?" Asked a voice.

Vil turned in his seat to see Y/n dressed like a makeup artist. The boy nodded slowly as Y/n began to recline his chair.

"So what do you think of the script. Do you like the Vil Shoenheit character?" Y/n asked as they began to soak Vil's hair with warm water.

"I just wanted to stand on the stage till the very end," Was all he could say.

"Everyone one does, and you just wanted more then what you got," Y/n agreed as they began to shampoo his hair. " You didn't want to be seen as the Villain any more."

"Exactly, but no matter how much I try and Improve... I don't want to be just that, that villain character. I'm sure the Queen of beauty would look upon me with disappointment," Vil sighed.

"The queen of beauty wouldn't give a flying feather about your struggles. If she were in your passion, she would have killed Neige back in high school. And eat his heart, thinking she would gain his beauty," Y/n said as they rinsed Vil's hair.

"Do not mock the Queen of beauty, and how could you possibly know who she was?" Vil spat as Y/n conditioned his hair.

"I know you very well, I wrote the script in your book," Y/n answered.

"Y-you did. How did you know such personal details about me? Who are you Y/n?" Vil asked slowly.

"I am always near, but never quite here, I am feared by most, yet always appear. I take life from the living, with one final breath. Who am I?" Y/n asked as they rinsed and dried his hair.

Vil looked back at the mirror, but instead of seeing a style artist. There stood a black-robed figure with two razor-sharp scythes.

"Y-your Death. So... You were there during The queens time?" Vil asked as Y/n brushed his hair.

Flashes of Y/n's memories of the Evil queen appeared in the vanity mirror. Showing the queen's true color. Vil slumped into his chair as his idol, everything he knew of her... Was a lie.

"If you were to ask me, you outshine the queen far more than snow white," Y/n said as he turned his chair to face them, applying the makeup. "The queen never cared about improving her own beauty. She simply would not allow more beautiful people to live. You on the other hand worked har to improve your beauty."

"You really mean that?" Vil asked as he looked back at his book, only to see a wanted poster on top of it.

"Yes, straight from death's lips. You are everything, you thought the queen embodied. Sadly you would have never known that, because you really on strangers to inform your worth. When only you can truly know what your value is," Y/n said as they finished their work and turned Vil around to face the Vanity.

"Vil? Who is the fairest of them all?" Death asked.

As he looked in the mirror, images of his life achievements flashed in the vanity. Vil smiled as turned to face Death.

"I am the fairest," Vil said.

"Are you sure?" Death asked as they bored into Vil's eyes.

Vil stood from his chair and stood face to face with Death. " Yes, I'm very certain."

"Good," Y/n smiled as they stepped aside. "Well, you better hurry. You're going Live in 30 seconds. Your public awaits."

Vil looked ahead to see the stage doors open, as a blinding light showed through. With confidence, he stepped back into the living.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Death!Lucy Winters x Tommy Shelby

"You got me a present," she said, kneeling down beside the body of the man Tommy had shot, trailing a fingertip through the blood leaking from his head.

He was sitting in his chair, chest heaving, running a hand through his hair. "I had to see you."

She rose. Went to him. Slid into his lap and curled her arms around him while he laid his head on her chest and closed his eyes.

"I can't stay long. I have to get this one to where he needs to go," she indicated the body on the floor.

"Take me with you this time," he begged, eyeing the gun set on the desk. Lucy swallowed hard, continuing to draw patterns through his soft dark hair.

There was more grey in it, these days. The sight of which brought her a strange sense of comfort. It meant that he was drawing just that little bit closer to being able to be with her.

"It's not your time yet, sweet one," she said gently, even though it hurt her to say no to him. How odd it was, to have so many spend their entire lives trying to run from her, and yet here was this man, who could not seem to be able to get to her fast enough. "Soon," she promised, leaning back to look into his beautiful blue eyes.

"And then we'll be together?"

"For forever and ever, my darling."

Lucy's Main Series • Succubus!Lucy

Since I'm not doing anything super special for Halloween this year as I'm still working on getting my main series completed, I thought I'd give you all some quick little moodboards and blurbs of some AU ideas I've got knocking around in my head. Maybe someday I'll turn some of these into actual fics. In the meantime, enjoy!

Thank you for viewing! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[larz-barz]

@aceofstars0 basilmilo angst >:3

(don’t mind how weird milo’s legs look in the one where they’re running-)

tagging: @hotelcaliforniaenbydancer @nothingtoseehere1-2-3 @rosalinastan1 @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira @pinkwisteria @nimmie-nugget @kimetsu-chan @shycroissanti @slayfics @night-mince101 @zenitsustherapist @frostburn-shoto @floofgryph @aceofstars0 @pulim-v

[uhratkicker-2000]

I DID ITT

@jacenotjason The death au or whateva (・・;)

[barclaysangel]

The Death AU: Junior absolutely knows what death looks like. He knows it’s Devon, so when he sees that familiar boy walking Jake home — he immediately pulls Devon to the side. He tried threatening, that didn’t work. Devon barely seemed phased, so Junior tried begging. He was already loosing his mother, he’d seen Devon around her, helping her carry in something else she had bought. Junior didn’t want to loose his family, much less his mother and his cousin. He’d be miserable. So Devon offers him a compromise; he can only offer time, and only 2 years at best. It’s better than nothing, so Junior takes it.

This is so painful but I can see that happening. Junior knows he's losing his mom but can't lose his cousin too. He'll be alone and stuck with his father. There's no other way but he'll take Devon's compromise, he'll take those two years and make the best of it

[lookismfanfics]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞

Jake Kim Fic.

Notes: I will give you no warnings and I fully expect you all to question my mental stability. (Y/N) is AFAB

Something was different about Jake’s mornings now. He had a new mattress, set an alarm, and did live in a small apartment. That’s not what he meant though. It was a different feeling. A sudden jolt in his stomach and a slight panic whenever he awoke. It only lasted a few seconds before he returned to his numb state of consciousness. A sight panic. It wasn’t immediate… in fact a few minutes into his morning routine always passed before he felt it. Suddenly he’s come to the realization that he was alone, but not completely.

He wasn’t used to waking up, glancing over his shoulder, and discovering a warm bundle of… a person… laying beside him. It still weighed on him. He wasn’t looking after just himself anymore. He had bigger responsibilities than just Big Deal. He’d avoid it like the plague at first. Slip out of bed as quietly as he could. His feet heavily padding against the floor as he stumbled into the kitchen. Make breakfast, style his hair, get dressed, and then wake the kid. That was the routine.

Jake would help him into his high chair. A high chair Jake hadn’t bought and still struggled to use. He fumbled with the bib, but eventually the kid had it on and he could give him whatever breakfast there was. He knew, deep down, helping a toddler wasn’t that hard. Especially when he was sleepy still. Jerry could strap him into that high chair in a heartbeat. Somehow Jake couldn’t. Everyone else seemed more capable of caring for the little tyke except for Jake. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, especially since the kid lived with him. Even if the kid didn’t have much stuff to begin with, Jake was happy some items around the house gave him comfort. Items lying around that normally only added to the clutter.

Samuels old jacket; Golden Age pictures; Samuel’s old cigarettes; magazines of women’s clothes; some of Jake’s cologne. The kid loved those things, and Jake knew why. He missed the kid’s dad, too.

Strapping the kid into the car was difficult, too. Jakes fingers fumbled with the baby-seat-straps. Sinu’s car held a lot of memories, especially in the back seat. It smelled of cigarettes back there. Just a little though. Stale cigarettes- Jake didn’t smoke. “Smells like daddy.” “Yeah, it does,” Jake smiles.

Jake smiles a lot for the kid. The kid does make him smile… naturally. Jake walks around, feeling numb and hollow. He goes through the motions. He leaves the kid with the ladies of Big Deal street, and naturally that lifts some weight off his shoulders. There’s only one downside. “Jake! Today we was… folding clothes. And they said ‘just like… yer mama!’ And I said ‘yes!’” The kid slurs his words together before waddling up to Jake and wrapping his chubby arms around Jake’s legs. “Mama mama…”

Another thing that leaves Jake feeling empty, maybe even confused. He never fuels the topic. On the ride home he’ll listen to the jumbled, mumbled words of the toddler, nodding and smiling, giving soft “wow”s in reply. The baby mentions his dad and Jake stops smiling. The baby mentions his mom and Jake asks him to be quiet for a minute. Politely of course. The kid stares out the window.

Jake could ghost the hallways of his apartment for hours. He can spend the rest of eternity clawing for some warmth and wondering why he feels so lonely. He could dodge phone calls for months, not speak to anyone for years, stay by himself for as long as he needs until he’s healed. In reality, he can’t do any of that. Not when he crawls into bed at midnight, then turns in the covers to see the kid already in there. Warm little guy, wearing his pajamas already, pudgy cheeks smushed into the pillows. Jake can’t process anything when he’s a godfather. He didn’t even know it until the parents were gone. He wishes he could hear Samuel’s bitter voice asking, gruffly, reluctantly, if Jake would accept the position. Jake would have said yes. He would’ve done anything for him, especially if it would’ve filled this void of confusion and emptiness he feels right now. When did Samuel ever decide he still trusted Jake? When had he ever agreed to (Y/N)’s insistent arguments? Jake wanted to know so badly. He wanted to hear their voices, in person, asking him. Telling him. He wanted to feel their presence. They didn’t have to touch him… he just wanted to feel that they were really there. Something, anything, because Jake was goddamn lonely. He felt so sick; so empty; so horrible. How could he be expected to heal? How could he move on. How… when that little Samuel lay beside him in bed? How… when that miniature (Y/N) tried his hardest to please him, tried his hardest to make Jake smile.

How was Jake supposed to heal, when instead of the kid wailing about missing his parents, it’s the godfather sobbing into his pillow in the middle of the night. How can he teach the kid to walk on his own, when Jake himself can hardly crawl? Jake doesn’t want to participate in this kid’s life when all it seems to do is drain his own. When did he become such a pity-party? When did Jake Kim become such a sour wuss? Maybe it was the moment his hands went numb. His body tingled and his stomach dropped. His mind shut off. But he was crying. He was crying a lot. The moment when everyone froze… everyone panicked, because their boss was crying.

Jake didn’t want to be alone in this apartment. He didn’t want to have to wake up, eat some breakfast, and then realize he had to make another serving for someone else’s kid. He didn’t want to sit in silent solace, waiting for some form of comfort to come to him. He didn’t want to be alone. He wished he wasn’t so adept at hiding his emotions. He wanted help. He wanted Jerry’s help… maybe; or else Lua’s help. Or maybe he wanted a long talk with Jason or Lineman. Maybe he just wanted to sit quietly with Brad. It all sounded so nice. Nostalgic. The only activity that actually excited him… made him feel warm inside… was being with Sinu. But not just Sinu. Of course, Jake wished for the impossible. He would kill to stand, just the three of them on the pier. Sinu, Samuel, and Jake.

He wanted to hug (Y/N) again. He wanted to feel their touch, smell their hair, listen to their voice. He loved (Y/N). The way they laughed, the way they whispered. The way they confided in Jake about everything. About Samuel… about being pregnant.

Jake wanted Sammy. He had stopped using the nickname in his head… but he realized that it was the only name that felt right.

Jake didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the teardrops on his pillow. He felt two little hands shaking him. He heard a trembling voice. “Jake…” Iseul sniffled. (Y/N) had picked the name out. Jake loved it. He sat upright, wiping away at his tears hastily. It was hard to get toddlers to stop crying… he had no idea how the kid would react to seeing him cry.

”Y-Yeah, what is it buddy?” Jake wipes his nose and smiles serenely. Like plastic. Iseul crawls into Jake’s lap, lighter than expected. His head leans against Jake’s chest and the kid’s little hands attempt to grip onto his shoulders. “Please don’t cry… please. I’m sorry I make you cry.”

“You don’t make me cry,” Jake assures, his brows shooting upward in surprise. “I was just feeling a little… it’s nothing kiddo.”

Jake is a bad parent. He’s a bad parent to Samuel’s kid. In his head he knows he could do better, yet his body doesn’t seem able to function like a proper parent. “Yeah I do…” Iseul nods, his face rubbing up and down on Jake’s sleeping shirt. “Cuz I look like daddy.”

Jake feels his throat tightening. “Yeah you do.” His voice feels hoarse. Lips trembling, he plants a soft kiss against the kid’s head. A miniature best friend. The person Jake has been craving for. He smooths back Iseul’s dark head of hair. If they styled it a bit he’s look exactly like his dad.

“I miss my mommy and daddy.” Jake feels wet droplets on his shirt. He has to close his eyes to steady his breathing, not at all prepared for this conversation.

Tiny, pudgy hands form fists. Iseul pounds his hands against Jake’s chest, screaming and begging to have his parents back. His little body shakes as he demands for his parents. A feeble voice shouts for them back, and Jake can’t answer.

This goes on for a couple minutes. Jake forgot to breathe. He didn’t realize all his replies were muddled by his own sobs.

The kid calms down, eyes red and bloodshot and tiny body heaving for air. Jake wraps his arms around Iseul tighter. “Iseul I’m so sorry… that I can’t do anything about that. Really. If I could I would bring your parents back. But they’re de… they’re d-” he pauses for a few seconds.

“Your parents are gone. And I know neither of us are really yet but… I’m as good of a dad as you’re gonna get.” He apologizes in his head if he sucks at it.

The kid sleeps. Jake does too. Tired from crying, tired from hiding his feelings. He doesn’t feel ready to move on. But… he’s got a kid now.

Sorry

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

In the Puss in Boots Death AU in TFA, do you think that Death would become extremely annoyed at Starscream given his ability to revive?

Maybe like Puss, Death thinks Starscream is taking his new lives for granted? Always coming back only to still try and destroy Megatron over and over again😡

Oh, definitely. They are annoyed that despite being given a new lease on life, Starscream continues to go after Megatron's life, even though it's never worked out in his favor before. He's a coward and is afraid of dying yet he refuses to live his best life. Death looks forward to taking his spark.

[iybms]

lance keeps dying and resetting, and every time he sees the same asshole angel for some reason

[ghostblobbletea]

Love Thy Reaper

[cherishedverses]

what if i made a project sekai death au

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Balloon Airmail Day & Break the Monotony Day & National Black Cat Appreciation Day & National Thrift Shop Day

Person A is bored from being stuck inside due to being sickly and frail, but starts getting strange balloons with packages sent to their window, with various gifts. Person A has no clue who is sending the gifts, but starts trying to ask the people who visit them about it. Person B is a grim reaper/angel of death, who spends their time invisible when interacting with people at the hospice home they frequent, not wanting to have to speak to their future clients directly or the medical staff who help them. But Person B also has a hobby for thrifting and due to limited space in their home, often brings their excess collection to the windows of patients, with a balloon, so the patient doesn’t get weirded out by a floating package. Person A is the first to start trying to correspond with them by tying letters onto the balloons after taking the gift.

[alice-angel12x]

Death isn't so scary pt.2

Lilia x Death! reader (Part 1)

Somewhat takes place during ch.7 in the dream scape.

It was a calm moonlight night, and Y/n Death sat patiently under a lone willow tree. Under its swaying branches was a simple table, where Y/n sat and waited for their company.

As they listened to the breeze, a masked figure came up. He wore a goblin mask and a general uniform of the Briar Valley.

"Took you a while, I was beginning to think you stood me up," Y/n smiled slightly.

"I would never do such a thing. It was difficult escaping the party I was at. Yet I am here now," Lilia smiles as he removes his mask.

"I'm surprised you would even want to celebrate your resignation from General with me. And not with the queen and your fellow soldiers," Y/n said.

"Well, I will still be working close to the royal family. And I'll still see my friends often. It's you, the one I see by chance," Lilia smiled and takes a sip of tea.

"Why would you want to be in the company of me?" Y/n asked as they watched Lilia enjoy the little meal.

Not too far away two figures peeked out from behind some trees. And only one of them could see a white bird circle around Lilia. A blue-fire Tanuki, a green-haired half-fae, and a silver-haired human watched from afar.

"Silver are you sure this is master Lilia's dream?" Sebek asked Siver.

"I am certain, this is father's dream. But why is he dreaming about having a tea party with Y/n?" Sebek asked. " They wouldn't be alive all those centuries go."

"They would. Y/n has been around since like... Forever," Grim said.

"What are you talking about?" Sebek asked.

"I wish Y/n was in the dream with us to explain," Sliver sighed.

"I am here, just not in a form you can see me," Said Y/n's disembodied voice.

"What! Y/n? Where are you?" Grimm asked as he looked around for her.

"I am incapable of dreaming. So I can't enter the dream Plane. So this is the most I can do. So, What is happening in the dream?" Y/n's voice asked again.

"It's lord Lilia's dream, and it seems he's dreaming about having a tea party with you to celebrate his retirement from General. I think a couple of decades after the War," Sebek explained.

"Are you a fae yourself Y/n?" Silver asked. "How else would you be there around that time."

"I am no Fae. I have been around for a long time, even longer than the oldest Fae," Y/n's voice said. " I... I am not human."

"S-so did you really have a tea party with him, like in this dream?" Silver asked.

"I did, though I think Lilia may be dreaming with rose-tinted lens, 'cause I did not dance with him," Y/n voice.

The boys looked back to see that Lilia had led Dream Y/n into a waltz under the star-lit sky. Dream Y/n had a faint smile as they let Lilia lead them in the dance. who had a faint blush

"He looks really happy dancing with You," Grimm commented.

"That was something I could never understand about Lilia. He was a popular bachelor himself. Yet he would always brush those admirers aside," Y/n's voice commented. "Along with-"

-----------

"Oh? Why are you moving to a cottage in the dark woods?" Dream Y/n asked Lilia.

"Oh, just... Wanted a change of paste, and a break from the hustle and bustle of the kingdom," Lilia smiled sheepishly.

"Hmm, well I think that is a lonely kind of place you have chosen for yourself," Dream Y/n said gently.

"I don't think it would be too bad, since I know it's a common stomping ground for some friends," Lilia smiles at Dream Y/n.

------------

"Fath- I mean Lord Lilia seems very infatuated with you?" Silver looked to the sky.

"He is?" Y/n's voice asked in confusion.

Sebek and Grim face-palm at that.

[asumiverde]

narugaa! narugaa! narugaa! another fucking au folks!! WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

baby gaara v

*claps hands together* SO this is a death god au with ying yang aspects, nature and seasons mixed in to show personality of their respective death characteristics.

gaara is seen as colder as his nature is winter/autumn but hes also more mindful of those he's walking towards death, even if he doesn't speak a lot he shows he cares about the soul he's taking to the afterlife by protecting it from the grievances of the souls past. a prowling protector who usually leaves the soul to tread in his domain and only steps in if things are Dire for the soul. naruto is a lot warmer as his nature is summer/spring and is more focused on the fun aspects of life instead of ruminating on it to the point you brood, coughgaaracough. more of a grand send off towards the soul he's guiding. but don't let his easy going nature fool you into trying to run back to the land of the living! those manacles are not for your protection but your fucking doom in ensuring you do pass over because naruto is also the inevitable end to all life's fun because there is no point to fun if it's endless, you need a break!

need to hibernate with your homoie

they are elves cause i wanted to do long ears and gaara's are longer/glow at the tips cause moon elf

naruto has a living sunrise in his arms, flickering/glowing

gaara is like a cat in that the bells on his dress can be quieted just because he can be that sneaky

the animal pelts they have can shift over their entire bodies to use diff parts, usually just have the tail hanging out. naruto likes putting his hands in his foxes paw pelt like those scene kids (breaks the ice cause people not seeing his lower face offputs some)

[marvelmaniac715]

This is the AU I was talking about where Chucky is Death and Tiffany falls in love with him. It’s darker than my usual fanfictions, it involves child death and (for the first time) descriptions of death; suicide and murder, but I felt compelled to write it. Trigger warnings if any of those topics affect you, I totally understand if this fic isn’t for you. But if you do read it, I hope you enjoy it, because despite the dark subject matter, I really loved writing it.

————————————————————-

Tiffany was twenty years old when her mother died. She was in the room when it happened, standing by her frail, sick mother’s bedside, clutching her paper-white, shaking hand in her’s, listening to the rasping, slowed breathing emanating from the older woman’s struggling chest and lungs. She was the only other person in the room, but then, she saw him. 

He was slender, and immensely pale, with the most striking thing about him being his bright blue eyes. Inky black tendrils of curly hair reached down to his shoulders, framing his thin face. He was dressed all in black, with a black silk shirt and a black trench coat that billowed around his waist as he crept with catlike movements across the room. He didn’t acknowledge Tiffany, who was gazing at him in shock and awe. Instead, he went to Tiffany’s mother, Victoria, and gently took her other hand, shaking her awake just as Tiffany felt the life leave her with her last breath. The man softly called out:

“Victoria, you have to come with me now, it’s time.”

At that moment, Victoria Valentine’s spirit lifted from her body, pure and shining with indescribable joy and relief. She took the man’s hands as he politely nodded at her, then the two drifted into the distance, leaving Tiffany in stunned contemplation.

It had been such a short interaction, barely an interaction at all, but the very moment she set eyes on him, Tiffany Valentine fell in love, and was desperate to see him again. But she didn’t want to die, and it would be inconvenient to wait a long time at a hospital or a retirement home for somebody to naturally die, so that left only one solution to this problem…

————————————————————-

Tiffany’s first murder was desperate and mildly sloppy. The victim was her boyfriend at the time, who she had decided to dump in the most brutal way possible in favour of the man she didn’t even know the name of. All she knew was that he had to be Death himself, so murder was the only plausible way to see him again.

The smell of a rotting corpse was an acquired taste, and Tiffany loathed the sensation of hot, sticky blood under her nails, but it was all worth it when he slowly and gracefully entered the room, examine the corpse with morbid fascination. He didn’t look at Tiffany though - something she would have to fix for next time - but it was all worth it just to see him again, to briefly breathe the same air (if he even breathed at all).  She should have felt horrified about taking an innocent human life, but strangely, Tiffany couldn’t bring herself to care.

————————————————————-

The next four murders were all about trial and error, trying to discover the best and most efficient methods to kill, and any ways that might make Death notice her as well as the murdered victims. Whilst committing her sixth murder, the brilliant idea struck her to hug the corpse against her own body, arms wrapped around it, forcing Death to touch and acknowledge her as he claimed yet another soul.

When he came, he examined the corpse with the same morbid fascination as he had the other five murders, and then, to Tiffany’s immense delight, he locked eyes with her for the very first time. Death cocked his head to the side, incredibly amused as he teasingly asked:

“Trying to get my attention, are you?”

Tiffany had no words, she simply nodded, breathless, as she felt blood rushing to her cheeks and her heart beating faster. Death’s teasing attitude faded as he softly said:

“Well, you’ve certainly gained my attention, not to mention my approval. Just to clarify, you did this all by yourself?”

Again, Tiffany nodded, causing Death to grin and step closer to her.

“Well done, I can’t say that anybody has killed so many people in order to gain my attention in quite some time - I’m impressed by your dedication, but I still have to wonder… why did you wish for me to notice you in the first place, Tiffany?”

Tiffany gulped nervously and decided to just come out with it immediately:

“I-I think I might love you.”

Death’s face went slack as he stumbled backwards into a wall, shaking his head  as he insisted:

“No- nobody has ever loved me. From the moment of my creation I have been feared, hated even. Children cry if they see me come near, children, young ones who have not yet developed prejudice. If the innocent, untainted minds of young children can find me horrifying to behold, how is it that anybody can truly love me?”

Tiffany’s eyes became steely with resolve as she repeated with much more confidence:

“I love you.”

Death shook his head again, sadly mouthed the word ‘no’ then turned his attention to the dead victim. He didn’t acknowledge her again that day, but Tiffany knew that something was beginning - something strange yet wonderful.

————————————————————-

Tiffany killed again and again, and each time she grew more bold, daring to lay out a romantic candlelit dinner for two to share with Death every once in a while. Every time he saw her, Death would politely nod his head, occasionally making awkward small talk, unused to interacting with humans. But this wasn’t enough for Tiffany, she would beg him to stay, beg him to tell her about himself, with her efforts ultimately being in vain nine times out of ten.

But occasionally, if he was in an exceptionally good mood, like today, Tiffany could gently coax some information out of him. As Death politely sipped at a glass of wine, Tiffany asked:

“What is your name?”

The man blinked in genuine surprise, swallowing his mouthful before quietly admitting:

“I was never given one. All I am is Death, so that is what I have become.”

Tiffany suddenly felt extremely indignant on his behalf as she stubbornly insisted:

“Well, everybody needs a name! It’s not right for you to just- just not have one! I can fix this, I can-‘

Death cut her off by raising a hand and staring at her intently, asking:

“How do you intend to ‘fix it’, Tiffany?”

Tiffany frowned for a moment in concentration, before meeting Death’s gaze.

“I’m sure I can think of a name for you, would you like a proper name?”

The man nodded, so Tiffany wracked her brain in order to come up with the right name. Then it hit her. She had been reading David Copperfield earlier that day, a book written by…

“How about ‘Charles’?”

Death smiled at this and nodded.

“Charles? Alright, I like it.”

Emboldened by her success with naming Death, Tiffany slowly leant towards Death - no, Charles now, she had to remember that - and tried to kiss him, only for him to back away and shake his head.

“No, as I’ve already said, nobody loves me. I’m not… entirely indifferent to you, but I can never stay for long, it wouldn’t work. So I beg you, for your own sake, please forget me and live your life, start a family, just stop trying to summon me.”

————————————————————-

Tiffany tried a few more times to summon Charles, to talk to him, but he wouldn’t even look at her, focusing solely on gently guiding the recently deceased souls to the afterlife. So, entirely heartbroken, Tiffany decided to take his advice to heart. She stopped killing, giving up on gaining his attention again, and she found a husband - Henry - a kind man who was… sweet… but nothing like Charles. She ached to see him again, and to her surprise, her prayers were answered on her wedding day.

At Tiffany’s wedding reception, an elderly guest had an unexpected heart attack - they didn’t survive. When Charles arrived, he was mildly disheartened to find that he was at Tiffany’s wedding, as he had secretly hoped that she would not take his advice to this extent. But still, he went to find her, in the beautiful, lantern-lit gazebo just outside the reception hall, and he remained civil. He told her:

“You look beautiful.”

Tiffany blushed and said:

“Thank you, Mister Death.”

The man grinned and shook his head, saying:

“No, it’s Charles, remember?”

Tiffany grinned as well, giggling softly. The two stood in silence for a moment, then, in the distance, the wedding band began to play, probably in a desperate attempt to distract from the heart attack. It was a slow dance, and, given that there was nobody else around, Charles shrugged, offered his hand to Tiffany and politely enquired:

“May I have this dance?”

And so, that is what they did - Charles and Tiffany shared their first dance in a small gazebo whilst a crowd of people panicked over an elderly man’s heart attack a few miles away. The dance solidified in Tiffany’s mind the fact that she did not truly love Henry, not as much as she loved Charles, and if she disregarded her ‘husband’, this day could have been her wedding to Charles instead.

For years afterwards, she remembered this day, this one moment of happiness, in her heart, and she dwelled upon it whenever she felt upset. She stuck to his advice and killed nobody else, so she couldn’t see him, but these memories were the next best thing.

————————————————————-

A few years after her wedding, Tiffany had two five year old twins. They were the light of her life, and she loved them more than anything. She was a single mother, because poor, unlucky Henry suffered a fatal accident at work (an incident that, surprisingly, did not involve Tiffany). 

Glen and Glenda were wonderful children, and Tiffany was very happy, but with Henry gone, there was nobody to even pretend to fill the hole left in her heart that Charles had left behind. She had resigned herself to never seeing him again, but one day, Glen let out a rattling cough, and Glenda began complaining of dizziness. That night, as she tucked her children into bed, she saw Charles poke his head through the door. Despite her joy at seeing him, a chill ran down her spine.

The next day, the twins were even sicker, and Charles wasn’t even trying to hide his presence, hovering over the twins’ beds, a concerned expression on his face (he always mourned when he had to escort little ones to the afterlife). Tiffany had to go to work, but she didn’t feel comfortable going when Charles - Death himself - was watching over her children and touching them, stroking their hair and giving Tiffany sad, meaningful glances.

But she couldn’t afford to not go, so she told her children:

“I love you both, always remember that.”

The twins were too weak to respond, but Charles whispered:

“They love you too, and they always will.”

Seeing her fear, Charles continued sympathetically:

“They won’t suffer, I always try to numb any pain that children and the very sick experience when it comes time for them to cross over. And I’ll watch over them, I always watch over the little ones who cross over into my realm. They’ll surely miss you, but they will be alright.”

Somehow, this cheered Tiffany up a little, and she went to work in slightly higher spirits. A few hours after she left, Glen and Glenda were able to see Charles, and he crouched down in front of them, taking one of each twin’s hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze as he asked them gently:

“Would you like to meet your grandmother? She’s sad that you’re coming so soon, but she’s been looking forward to seeing you.”

Then he stepped back and reached his arms out for a hug. Glen and Glenda looked at each other and nodded, suddenly feeling a lot better, with their coughs and fevers no longer troubling them. They also felt quite weightless, and without a moment’s hesitation, they willingly entered Death’s chilling embrace, feeling content in the knowledge that they would be in no more pain.

————————————————————-

Tiffany, despite being reassured by Charles that they would not suffer, took the death of her children quite hard. She had no friends and no real interests outside of caring for her children or… well, death. She didn’t want to keep going, and she wanted to see him again, even it was only one more time for a few brief moments. So she came up with a plan.

She chose one of her favourite movies to watch as she stepped into her bathtub, taking one last swig of wine to give her courage. Then, he appeared, in his black shirt and trench coat, looking at her with a great deal of regret.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Tiffany nodded, which seemed to solidify the decision in both of their minds. Charles stepped forwards and kneeled down next to the tub, taking her hands in his.

“Then… I’ll stay with you until it happens.”

Tiffany took a deep breath and began to raise her arms towards the television perched on the edge of her tub, hands still clasped in Charles’ icy grip. With his hands on top of her’s, gently guiding her, Tiffany pushed the television into her tub. There was a light shock, and then… weightlessness. Tiffany sort of floated out of the tub, and stood there, in her bathrobe, staring at Charles in disbelief, not quite understanding how she had done it.

Then, there was a tugging on the hem of her robe. Tiffany looked down to see the faces of her children - entirely healthy - beaming up at her. Charles had kept his promise, her babies were happy and healthy. She took a moment to hug the twins and run her hands through their curls, then she kissed them both on the tops of their heads and turned to Charles, who smiled warmly at her.

Tiffany practically ran into his embrace, not caring in the slightest about the chill, and then, for the very first time, he kissed her. It was strange - Tiffany had always heard that the kiss of Death was a horrific thing, but at that moment, it was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced.