#joey death tw

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Joey from Full House straight up died. Don’t worry though, he got better. :)

[katkalis-the-fanartist]

Board of animals I love and also like to look at...👁👁

[historybunnny]

Welcome to The Slayers Curse 🦇🩸🗡️

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Transcript Below The Cut

Unnamed Vampire: Tell me where the girl is! Unnamed Victim: [gasping] N-never! Unnamed Vampire: This is your last chance, slayer! Tell me where she is or say goodbye to your foolish mortal world Unnamed Victim: [whimpering] Unnamed Vampire: [giggling] Oh, they do taste so delicious when they have hope

Dru: [breathing heavily] Joey: [whispering] Hey, you alright? Did you have another one of your nightmares? Dru: [breathless] Yeah...same one as always Joey: Do you want to talk about it? Dru: There's nothing to tell, I suppose I just wish I knew what it meant Joey: Sometimes, dreams are just dreams, Dru Come here...you're alright. You're here safe with me

[natalgenic-culture-is]

This is a very heavy topic but one that I'm still coping with the grief and trauma of. Has anyone else ever lost a baby in system?

Something tragic happened within a very short time of her arriving. Both her and the mother were gone. They (the mother) were still present in other ways, but that specific facet of them isn't.

It was around 2 years ago now. There is a lot of trauma around this and guilt, grief. We have a couple of different pairs in the system that have babies together, and this trauma hasn't ruined that, but it was very hard at times and probably will be again. It's hard to heal and talk about.

I don't know if other people have experienced this kind of loss, but maybe at least they'll know their not alone.

.

[olddirtybadfic]

The Exorcism of Joey Wheeler: Because there weren't enough possessed teenagers in Yu-Gi-Oh (part one of three)

Yugi and friends visit a murder house. Joey gets possessed by Satan. Somewhere in there, I start trying to ship Joey with Tristan.

This fic contains: Questionable understanding of demon possession; teen!me trying to write a parody of The Exorcist without having watched The Exorcist and while forgetting to be funny; blood; attempt at writing Joey's accent phonetically; Yami is corporeal and a separate person for some reason; Joey exsanguinates a mouse with his mouth; ellipses abuse

-O-o-O-o-O-

“You guys, I don’t think we should be here,” Tea said.

The gang, which consisted of Yugi, Yami, Tea, Joey, and Tristan, was standing outside of a huge, scary-looking house. The house was mostly made out of wood. The windows were broken, there were cobwebs all over it, the yard was unkempt, and sometimes bats could be seen flying around it at night.

It was 9:00 P.M. on an evening in early summer. It had started to get dark around 8:30 and by 10:00, it would be pitch-black, except for the streetlights.

“Why? The cops won’t arrest us for trespassing,” Yugi said.

“And it’s safe to go in,” Tristan said.

“But look at it! It’s big, old, scary, and probably haunted!” Tea exclaimed. “It’s probably got ghosts, vampires, and demons!”

“Tea, none o’ dose exist. It’s perfectly safe. And if dey did exist, don’tcha think dey woulda got us already?” Joey said.

“Well, you have a point,” Tea admitted.

“And I can mind crush any evil spirits,” Yami said.

“Okay,” Tea said, reluctantly. “Are you okay with this Yugi?”

“Sure, I like scary houses,” Yugi said. “They usually have a very interesting history.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t want to go in there?” Tea asked, surprised.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Tristan responded.

The five kids entered the dark, scary house.

The doors slammed shut behind them.

-O-o-O-

“AHHHH!” Tea screamed.

“It’s okay, Tea, it’s probably just a draft,” Yami said.

“Dis is so cool!” Joey said, getting excited as they explored the house.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you to wet yourself with excitement,” Tristan joked.

“Like dat’ll eva happen!” Joey retorted.

Suddenly they all heard someone scream.

The kids jumped, then huddled in a group.

“W-What was that?!” Tea squealed.

“I-I don’t know,” Tristan said.

“Are you scared, Yami?” Yugi said, sounding concerned.

“I-I’m the pharaoh. I can’t be scared,” Yami answered with a hint of fear in his voice.

“We’re neva gonna find out unless we keep goin’,” Joey said.

So they continued through the house, into the basement.

Why into the basement?

Who knows? Maybe they thought they’d be safe in the basement. After all, the person in the horror movies more often than not gets killed in the shower…………but, I digress.

“I don’t see anything that could’ve made a sound like that,” Yami said after they had all looked around.

Suddenly, Joey saw something in a room across the hall.

“What is dat?” he thought, entering the room.

What he saw in the room scared the lights out of him.

There was a pentagram made out of rusted metal.The weird thing about it was the fact that it was floating in midair with some kind of black shadow around it.

Joey stepped closer to see if it was really floating. It stopped floating and fell on the floor.

Joey picked it up to examine it. It was a star shape and it had been upside-down when it was floating, so he turned it right-side-up. The numbers “999" were scratched into it.

“999? What da heck does dat mean?” he said out loud.

Suddenly, the pentagram got extremely hot, as if it was burning him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, dropping the pentagram. When he looked at his hand, there was a cut on his right middle finger. The blood dripped onto the pentagram.

“It’s a good thing I got a tetanus vaccine,” he thought.

Then he turned around and happened to look into a mirror…..

Meanwhile, in an upstairs room, the gang was exploring when they noticed he was gone.

“Hey, where’s Joey?” Yami asked.

“Oh, no! I knew this was a bad idea!” Tea said, scared.

“AHHHH!” They heard a scream.

“Oh my goodness, that sounded like Joey!” Yugi said.

They ran to the basement stairs, just in time to see Joey running up them, looking terrified. He almost tripped and fell down the stairs, but Tristan caught him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you,” Tristan said, holding Joey.

“I saw a demon!” Joey yelled. “I was lookin’ in da mirror and he was right behind me!’

“Where was this demon?” Yami asked.

Joey led them to the room. The demon was gone.

“But…..he was here!” Joey said. “And dis was floatin’ in midair!” He pointed to the pentagram.

“Maybe we should go,” Tea said.

“If that demon comes out again, I’m gonna mind crush him something fierce,” Yami said.

They all heard footsteps.

“Let’s run!” Yugi yelled.

They all ran for the door. The footsteps got closer. It was nearly pitch-black.

“They’re gainin’ on us!” Tristan yelled.

Then Yugi and Yami tripped and crashed into the other three. They all ended up on a pile on the floor.

The footsteps got closer and closer. Then suddenly two bright, round lights shone in their eyes.

“TRUCK!!” Yami shouted.

Out of the shadows came the three Kaiba brothers: Noah, Seto, and Mokuba. They had flashlights.

“Why would a truck be in a house?” Mokuba said.

“What are you doing here?” Tea asked, scared.

“Well, Mokuba thought it was haunted in here and Seto didn’t. So I came with them to check it out,” Noah explained.

“It’s not haunted,” Seto said.

“And I owe you five bucks,” Mokuba said, giving Seto a five-dollar bill.

“They made a bet.” Noah explained it further.

“So what’re you guys doing here?” Mokuba asked.

“We were just looking at the house,” Yami said. “Did one of you scream earlier?”

“That was me. I accidentally shut the door on my foot,” Seto answered.

So they left the scary house, feeling pretty dumb for being scared.

-O-o-O-

When Joey got home, Serenity (his younger sister) asked, “Where were you? You missed ‘MTV’s Fear.’”

“I was out havin’ my own ‘Fear’ experience,” Joey answered.

“You didn’t go in that scary house on 666 De Vil Street, did you?” Serenity asked.

“Well….you could say I did….”

“Joey! You know that house is evil! Haven’t you heard those stories in the newspaper about strange things going on?!”

“I don’t believe all dat. Besides, I went in wit’ Yugi and da others. Safety in numbahs, y’know?”

“According to those stories, it doesn’t matter if you go in a group or alone,” Serenity said. “I’m just worried about you.”

“S’okay, Serenity. Nothin’ bad happened ta me.”

Little did Joey know, something bad was already happening……..

-O-o-O-

Serenity walked past her brother’s room that night.

She looked inside. Joey was sleeping peacefully, looking all cute and whatnot. But there were dark shadows in his room.

Now, you may be thinking, “Well, duh, it’s night. Of course there are shadows.” But that’s not the kind of shadows I mean.

I meant the evil kind of shadows.

“Hold up,” she thought. “The people in those news articles didn’t have any proof that the house was evil. Maybe Joey’s right. There are no demons in there.”

-O-o-O-

The next day, the kids were hanging out at the park, talking.

Then Marik (the pharaoh’s mortal enemy) came along and started screaming, “ Down with the Pharaoh!”

Basically, he was just being his own, demented self.

“Oh, shut up!” Yami yelled at him.

“Dat Marik! I just wanna……just wanna…..” Joey was fuming.

A fireball appeared in his hand. “What the hell’s that?!” Yugi shouted, jumping up.

“Huh?” Joey looked at his hand. “HOLY FRICKIN’ CRAP!”

Tristan jumped and Tea screamed.

Yami ran to the sandbox, got a handful of sand, ran back to the other kids, and dumped the sand on Joey’s hand.

Joey just stared at his hand as the flame died.

“Whoa…..You gotta teach me how to do that,” Yugi commented.

“I don’t know how dat happened! I got really pissed at Marik and it just appeared!” Joey said.

“Maybe it wasn’t really fire. Maybe it just looked like fire,” Yami said. Then he began to give a long, complicated, scientific explanation, while the others just stared at him.

“Dat was no fake fire. I could feel it burnin’ my hand!” Joey objected.

“Okay….This isn’t normal,” Tea said.

“Maybe that house is evil,” Tristan said.

“Serenity said da same thing last night. And I’m beginnin’ ta think she’s right,” Joey said.

-O-o-O-

Joey walked home that afternoon.

“Dis is gettin’ freaky. Where did I get dese powahs from?” he thought.

As he walked down the street, garbage cans on the other side of the street fell over as he walked. Then they caught fire. A fire truck came and put the fires out.

A cat leapt in front of Joey and hissed at him. He just walked past it.

“Man! What’s goin’ on wit’ me today?” he thought.

He went into his house. His mom was putting glue traps everywhere.

“Mom, what’re you doin’?” Joey asked.

“We have mice, so I’m putting glue traps out,” Mrs. Wheeler answered.

“Couldn’t our cat just eat them?” Serenity asked.

“He doesn’t like mice,” Mrs. Wheeler answered.

That night Serenity noticed that the dark shadows lingering in Joey’s room got darker and, quite possibly, more evil.

In the dead of night, when everyone was asleep, a mouse ran across the floor and got stuck in the glue trap.

As the mouse tried to free itself, a thin, blond figure pounced on it, bit it on the neck, and sucked all its blood.

Joey wiped the blood from his face and left the mouse lying on the glue trap, bleeding and dead.

“Dat was a nice midnight snack,” he whispered, his eyes glowing evilly.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: If you're going to go in the murder house and play with rusted metal, get your tetanus vaccine first.

[the-joey-show]

i love writing screenplays and stage plays but I could never write anything that goes public without being the director and producer also. it's hubris and it's wrong but I can't bear to watch someone mutilate the expression of my art. henry hidgens was so right for killing everyone who interfered with his artistic vision with an axe. he's so me.

[sennenpharaoh]

Old Duelist, New Deck

It seemed that the talk about death... or rather, him overhearing what little conversation he wanted to hear still was lingering in his mind. So much so that as soon as he got home he didn't slip into his nighttime wear like he usually did. Instead, as soon as he shut his apartment door he found himself staring at the duel disk on the bookshelf - a duel disk with a deck already loaded. Oh he knew exactly what deck that was; he had that deck built for a long, long time. With the thoughts still swimming in his mind he grabbed the duel disk and headed out, not bothering to let anyone know. This wasn't their burden to bear.

He made a note to never do it at the gravesite; he knew the other would look down on him with either pity or sympathy, neither of which he never felt he deserved. A toxic trait, he was well aware of. It's why he never let it out in the open. But on this seemingly quiet night, while others were doing... who knows what, Atem felt it opportune to slip away to just... let it out? No, he never called it that. Call it... being selfish. That seemed more fitting.

A quiet hill, away from the chaos of the city, lit by a street lamp or two and the moon and stars themselves he arrived, tossing his coat aside and letting whatever winds sting his bare arms as he wore a familiar sleeveless black shirt in place of his casual wear.

Click.

The snapping of the arm lock as he placed the familiar duel disk on, the quiet removal of the deck as he looked through the crafted deck, pulling out a card here and there, until he had a handful of cards - about five. It was then that he looked up, a small nighttime breeze beginning to form, before he let out a shaky breath and flipped a switch, the lights on the duel disk turning on.

The first card was set onto the disk.

An orange youthful dragon appeared in front of him, sputtering energetic noises, it was ready to fight!

A second card...

A clock looking creature, gears and ticking about. The little orange dragon seemed to know this one quite well as it gave an energetic wave the moment it was summoned.

A third card...

An armored knight, encased in iron, assumed a battle pose... before stopping. It, along with the clock creature and the young dragon, appeared confused and began looking around. They were ready for battle, but... there was no opponent. They turned around to see...

The fourth card. A swordsman draped in red and blue, crossing his arms and just looking forward, out towards the city nightscape. Unlike the other three, this one was still, maintaining a calm expression, almost as if he's been summoned like this before.

Then, finally, the winds began to pick up. The flapping of wings as in front of all of them - the four creatures and Atem himself - a black dragon appeared.

Opening its red eyes it opened its wings, causing a gust of wind to blow through the hills, before turning around to the duelist who summoned it. The duelist who summoned all five of them. All the other creatures followed the black dragon as they too looked at the duelist that summoned them, the young dragon and clock creature looking the most confused.

"I know... I know what you might be thinking." Atem finally spoke, as quiet and as... controlled as he possibly could. He kept his eyes locked in on every single one of the monsters that he summoned with as much steel and resolve as he could, despite his eyes showing the complete opposite.

"I understand the confusion. I get it. I'm... I'm not him. I'm not your rightful Duelist. The True Duelist you all have chosen. I know I could never replace him, and..." He felt his throat tighten a bit as he swallowed it down and placed a hand on his chest to keep him focused... and composed. "... I know you all are probably well aware of how... poorly I've treated my own monsters. Harmed them, betrayed them, corrupted them with dark magics, abused them... but... mark my words..." He could feel his lips start to quiver and his eyes start to water. Hold them back; they don't deserve the pathetic show of weakness. Not now.

"With your True Duelist watching me from above I will never... ever dare to treat you as anything less than the special companions you are! I know he'd want nothing more than to see his precious monsters continue to thrive in the game that he enjoyed. That... I enjoy. Your True Duelist's memory deserves to be honored and remembered, as he entrusted this deck to me I ask you, all of you... will you entrust your strength to me? Will you allow me to be your Duelist?"

There was silence as the monsters seemingly just look at each other, unable to communicate or rather... unable to understand.

A sad smile as Atem let out a dejected chuckle.

"Heh... that's right. I'm not him. I'm not your Duelist. We've barely started our bond so... there's no way you could understand me. Heh... It's okay. I can wait. Just know I'll never use you for combat, not at all. I'd never do that to his beloved monsters. I just... wanted to keep his spirit alive and honor his memory by playing the game both he and I love. I want..." His breath hitched as he just raised his head to look up at the night sky, trying to prevent the tears that formed from falling.

Unfortunately, to no avail.

"I want the monsters he loved to still enjoy the game, even when the Truest of Duelists no longer can! I want his deck and his memory to never be forgotten, even though he's no longer here! I want to show the strength, the passion, and the love of the True Duelist who fought to the end... and how much he meant to me."

"And how much I miss him."

[syscord-out-of-context]

[queeniecook]

March 29

On a gloomy day in Ravenwood, Jackson Kumar's memorial service is being held in his hometown. Despite not having his body released by Lilith, his friends Olivia and Lurch went ahead with a service for him, wanting not only some kind of closure for themselves but to pay respect to their loved one.

Annalise was going to accompany Lurch today but got called into the Hospital on an emergency. Lurch understands, it's her job and passion - it's one of the things he loves about her.

"I'll go first, you take some time to try to collect yourself." Lurch tells Olivia, trying to comfort her. The poor thing hasn't stopped crying since the moment they stepped into the funeral home. Both of them are supposed to speak at the service then it's open to anyone else who wants to say something.

Mourners arrive and the staff of the funeral home thankfully greet them while Lurch goes over what he wants to say and Olivia tries to calm herself. All she can think about today is her last meeting with Jackson. She had felt such hope when they parted. Now it's dead along with Jackson. She feels guilt. She wonders if her telling him about seeing Lilith with Vladislaus Straud led to his demise. Maybe if she hadn't set him on that path he'd still be alive? Or what passes for alive for a vampire, but he'd still be here. She'd still get to hear him call her Livvie.

"Jackson and I didn't set out to be friends but I'm glad it happened. He put up with me asking him endless questions about when he became a vampire. Listened to my romantic woes. We used to play chess for hours. I listened to his college stories and helped him get better at making plasma janes. He's one of the few good friends I've ever had in my life. I wanted..." Lurch pauses and takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. The fact that Jackson is gone truly hitting him. "I had planned to ask him to be my best man when I get married someday."

Lurch turns to the urn he and Olivia had selected for their friend, though it's empty. He folds his hands and gives a nod to the urn before looking across the room to the collection of photos Olivia had pieced together for the memory board. All of them from Jackson's younger years. "See you later, friend." Lurch whispers before stepping down from the podium. 

The trip up to the podium feels like years to Olivia. She sees her brother August and it helps her feel slightly better. Most of the people in the building she hasn't seen since college, outside of Joey Gates. Joey wasn't close to her or Jackson during college but she appreciates him showing up to honor Jackson.

"A moment of silence for the departed." Olivia says quietly. Moments slowly pass by before she lifts her head and tries to breathe. "I'm not really sure how to sum up everything. Because I can't. I don't know how I would have made it through college without him. Not only was he my boyfriend then but he was my best friend." Olivia pauses and sniffles back some tears that threaten to fall. "We went our separate ways but recently found each other again. Even though this hurts like hell I'm thankful we did. I'm glad I got to see him again. We both had changed a bit but deep down we were still the same souls." At that point she stops because her words are coming out more like cries than anything. She steps down and goes directly to August who wraps her up in his arms and comforts her while she cries.

The others come forwards and pay their respects.

After that Olvia doesn't remember much, there's some food she doesn't eat. Chats she don't recall and a drive home to Willow Creek that she don't remember because she falls asleep with her head against the car window. Thankfully August is the one driving and not her. He's agreed to stay the night at her house. Not only will he not have to drive back to Brindleton Bay in the dark but she won't be alone.

For some reason stepping into her house makes her break. She doesn't know why. Maybe because it's finally done? Though it's not. Not until Lilith let's Jackson's body be buried. Maybe that's what is upsetting her. That he can't lay at rest yet. Or maybe it's the fact that she feels like so much was ripped away from her.

August does his best to comfort his sister. He doesn't feel like he's doing the best job of it. Between Olivia losing Jackson and Paris losing her birth mother, he feels like a cloud of grief and sadness is hanging over the lives of the people around him.

The siblings talk. Mostly it's Olivia and August listens. He's fine with that, his sister needs to let it out and not keep it bottled up inside. At least one good thing has come from the situation, it's brought the Lewis siblings closer together.

[conicalcrowd]

We've been living on a fault line... And for awhile, you were all mine...

[skaianetsystemsincorporated]

I'm devastated to hear about the passing of Matthew Perry. Friends has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, so I wanted to throw out a little tribute 💔💔

[fishymom-art]

Metal and Ink Extra Finale Part 2

Part 1 - https://www.tumblr.com/fishymom-art/723476611223240704/metal-and-ink-extra-finale-part-1?source=share

Part 3 - https://www.tumblr.com/fishymom-art/723476677124046848/metal-and-ink-extra-finale-part-3?source=share

SOUNDTRACK

THE TRIGGER WARNINGS FROM THE FIRST PART STILL APPLY

[insane-control-room]

rinse and repeat

His job was a grisly one- find the works of the avatars, document them, and then undo them. Then prevent them. Most of the avatars did not like him constantly 'destroying' their work. Most. Not all of them.

rated: T warnings: described death. AU: TMA Length: 1,500 words (short-medium) notes: i don't know much about TMA, but im having a fun time with friends talking about aus so :3

gift fic for @halfusek ft. magenda (as i unaffectionately call this one)

ao3 link here

The pervasive smell in the room clued him off before anything else. It was the sense of dread worsening that immediately followed, an apprehension that made his stomach knot. A flashlight was beaming towards his feet, red slick appearing at the edges of the fallen beam.

Johan did not want to turn on the light, though he could see the words superimposed on the wall above the small switch, a demand rather than a thought. Steeling himself, he flicked it on, filling the room with an unsteady, buzzing light. 

Immediately, regret- no, not regret, some other sad emotion- filled him. 

The filing room had a desk with three chairs in the center- or usually situated in the center, as they had been moved aside for a ladder that now took stage center left. A few papers were scattered about, ruffling Johan mildly. However, his job was not a pleasant one, and sometimes included observing mis-managed paperwork, and… other, worse things. Such as the corpse - his true purpose for entering the room. He noted the body, at true stage center, was perhaps two or three hours old. 

It was a gruesome death. 

Suffocation, electrocution, and decapitation all played their roles. 

It was hard to tell which had killed him, though Johan snapped on a pair of gloves, and set himself to documenting the gritty scene. 

A ladder. 

A box of tools. 

Electrician’s gear taken out. 

It seemed like Bert- the man had taken upon himself to fix a faulty wire. Johan followed the trail to the circuit board and fuse box, and broke past the paneling to see the back of the fuses. 

A group of four were miswired. The dead man had turned off the wrong one, without even knowing it. 

It made Johan frown and sigh. How pointless. 

He returned to the ladder, climbing upwards. Several wires were already dangling loosely, and Johan narrowed his eyes as he attempted to determine the sequence of events.

One of the wires hummed quietly.

Johan traced its path, noting the bloodied loop at one ridge. That would be the decapitation, potentially if the man had fallen forward. Pulling out a tape measure, he checked the likely trajectory. Unfortunately, it lined up. Which meant that indeed, the decapitation had happened last. 

A pity. 

It would have been the fastest death. 

Johan nudged the ladder. It was sturdy. He looked along the wire, along the corpse. 

The bruising by the neck was no longer severe, as it all had been, well, cut, but from what he could see, there had been significant pressure upon it. If Johan were to piece together the order of events (which was exactly what he was doing at the moment), he would have said as follows.

Bertrum turned off the fuse box, unaware that what he was turning off had nothing to do with the task he had taken upon himself. As the light switch was off, and the flashlight lay dimming, Johan decided that the man had not bothered to check the lights when he entered the room, setting down supplies. Had he paused to ensure that the fuse was off, he may have survived. 

Doubtful.

Some other unfortunate happenstance would have occurred, perhaps more grisly than this. 

Regardless. Continuing reconstruction. 

Bertrum had then climbed up the ladder, and began working on rewiring the faulty electrical system. A significant burn on his hand, searing through to his flesh, explained the rest. While he was removing the old wire, he had gotten entangled, and as he had tried to pull it off, his hand brushed an unexposed part of the live wire. Then, with his body stiffening to the current, he must have lost his balance.

Severing his throat on the wire. 

Johan was meticulous in his documentation. If he was not, he may miss something in the next run that would result in another failure. Or he might get himself… quite hurt. Usually the latter always left him snapping awake in his threadbare bed, gasping for breath and with a dull painful sensation in his chest, ready to try again. However, that was an outcome he tried to avoid. 

Speaking of things that one tried to avoid….

Johan heard him before he saw him, the slightly off rhythm gait giving him away. Glancing around the room with a sigh, he acknowledged that:

Magenta had some connection to the death;

OR

Magenta was drawn towards it, like a fly to rotting flesh.

It may have been both. 

He said nothing as the other lanky man entered the room, smiling. 

Magenta surveyed the scene calmly, suppressing a shiver of delight. He said nothing to Johan, who was marking which of the wires were live. Johan rolled his eyes, and went back to examining the bad wire to determine where its true source really was to make sure that when he corrected this misconstrued blip, he did it properly - once. Magenta watched him work with a smile blandly painted over his face.

Eventually, Johan pulled out a chair, on the opposite side of the table from the corpse, and sat in it heavily, another sigh fighting to escape him. Magenta watched keenly, though his eyes were half open. Johan moved back a second chair, silently expectant, and Magenta sat in it. 

“This one is fun, isn't it?” Magenta commented lightly, a smile still on his face. Johan shrugged glumly, staring at the paperwork before him instead of the body just beyond the desk. Unique, certainly; saddening, yes. Not quite so ‘fun’ for him, especially when one considered what his job entailed.  “Don’t look so down, Jo!”

“Kinda hard not to when there’s a dead body in f-front of me,” Johan retorted, brow furrowing and mouth twitching downwards. Magenta shrugged, smiling still. “And when it’s so….”

“Purposeful?” Magenta questioned, teeth glinting in his smile. Johan stared at him, not enjoying the shudder of upset that he tried to hide. Magenta noticed it anyway. “Well, maybe that’s not the right word. Artistic might be a better one.” 

“Right,” Johan mumbled. It surely was an artistic death. “Maybe the creator might have done well to warn me. Content warnings or w-whatever.” 

Here Magenta frowned. 

Johan looked away, abashed. 

“S-sorry. That was unkind of me. I’m on edge.” 

“Sure,” Magenta rolled his eyes, leaning back. Johan stood, picking up the clipboard, making some final measurements and documentations. “Don’t forget the dead fuse.”

Johan tilted his head as he looked at him. Magenta raised an eyebrow, a silent dare to check him. Johan saw no need to do so- as he would be able to check when he would do his… ‘cleanup’. Not to mention, despite the man’s goals, Johan trusted Magenta. Which may have been the fault of memories not his own.

The older man matched the tilt of his head, humorous.

“What?” he asked, a slight grin at the edges of his mouth. Johan’s lips parted to say something, and then closed. Magenta’s smile broadened cheekily, eyes flashing. “Oh, dear. Be more careful, Jo! We wouldn’t want…” Magenta glanced at Bertrum’s mutilated, burned corpse, fighting his smile from growing wider. “An accident.” 

“Why d-did you tell me about it?” Johan asked, faced with a troubled emotion that he locked up and decided that he would not think about or confront. Magenta’s smile remained unchanging. “Mag….”

The other man stood up, still evenly looking at Johan.

“You’re smart, Jo,” the avatar of The End chided, tapping the end of Johan’s nose. “Think about it.”

“The resetting, I kn-know,” Johan replied, pursing his lips. He knew why Magenta was much more tranquil and compliant around him than the other essences of fears, who generally disliked watching Johan undo their work time after time. Not Magenta, though. Magenta was quite happy with the fact that he was able to expand on his medium repeatedly thanks to Johan’s role. “But why warn me a-about the fuse not working? You know what h-happens to me if… an ‘accident’ does occur.” 

Magenta shrugged, smile still on his face. 

“Thought it might make your day a bit better,” Magenta brightly replied. Johan looked away, face warming. “I’m sure that whatever weird process renews you is no party.” 

“It’s… it’s definitely not, no,” Johan agreed, feeling pain creeping along his spine. He exhaled, softening, managing a small smile on his stressed visage. “So… I thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Jo,” Magenta’s own relaxed smile was dazzling, toothy and bright; yet sharklike. It made a trickle of fluster bloom in Johan’s chest, worsened by his next words. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a nicer way to thank me, don’t you think?” 

Johan did not reply, looking away, face heating considerably. Magenta laughed a little, a chuckle, and Johan’s blushing intensified. A hand brushed his cheek as Magenta sauntered out of the room. 

Johan watched him leave, words he could not describe resting on his tongue, unsure if he should go after the man, properly ‘thank’ him.

Instead, Johan checked his paperwork, inhaled, and reset.

[owlclawstudios]

"Oh no!"

meme

susie campbell

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Olivia Quintero has seen a lot of dead people. 

She never got a chance to see her mother’s body. As soon as they heard what had happened, Joey had bundled them all into the car and they’d run as fast and as far as possible before someone decided they were a loose end.

But she’s seen a lot of them since.

People died in the transient camps all the time, for one reason or another. Age, illness, violent fights, overdoses. She’d been the first to find two of them. It hadn’t really scared her, not like it scared some of the other kids.

She was pretty sure one day, it would be her. When the seizures kept getting worse, and the doctor in the camp kept turning up only half-sober, with shaking hands he couldn’t even be bothered to wash properly and coughing at the end of every sentence. 

But even after they got across the border, got Via into a good hospital, it hadn’t meant the end of death following her. She’d seen patients wheeled out of the building with white cloth over them. She’d watched the girl in the bed next to her in the pediatric ward lose her own battle with her failing body. 

And now, she’s looking at her own sister’s lifeless face in a coffin in a dingy cemetery. Her black dress itches her neck where the collar touches, and she already popped the button off one of the sleeve cuffs, but she feels oddly numb in spite of it all.

Maybe because Joey doesn’t look dead. 

Tía says it’s just what they do at the funeral homes to make people look nice for their families, but Via knows what people look like when cars hit them. She watched a boy playing soccer in one of the camps dart into the road after his battered ball and get run over by someone speeding by. They hadn’t even stopped or turned back to see if he was still alive. 

She can’t see any bruises on Joey’s face or hands at all. There’s a thick layer of makeup on her face that Joey would have hated in life, but Ramona across the hall covers up the times her boyfriend hits her the same way, and Via can always see the purple and yellow underneath. 

Joey just looks like she’s asleep. Almost peaceful, aside from the way her lips curl a little, like they’re pulling back from her teeth. 

Via chews on her own lip. She can taste the vanilla chapstick Tía is always smearing on too thickly, and the saltiness of blood from the spot where she peeled away a bit of the skin. She wonders if that will remind her of Joey now, the way the taste of ripe papaya makes her think of Mami, because it was what Via was eating when the phone rang and Joey went all stiff like she was the one having a seizure and then told them Mami was never coming home. 

Mauri presses something into her hand. Via looks down at it. The faded colors and crumpled edges of the picture of their family that Joey carried with them all the way from home. The only way Via still knows what Mami looked like.

She and Mauri both agreed, Joey should keep it. Maybe she’ll be able to look at it in heaven and think of them. Maybe it’ll help her find Mami if she’s forgotten her as much as Via and Mauri have. 

Via reaches into the coffin and tucks the photo in between Joey’s hands and the lining of the worn leather jacket she always wore when she went out at night. The edge of the photo sticks on a tear in the fabric, and Via pushes a little harder. 

Her hand brushes up against Joey’s. Joey’s skin is cool, makeup smoothing out the roughness in her chapped fingers and her chipped nails, now painted an overly garish red, scraping against Via’s thumb. She pulls back, blood welling up from the tiny gash, a single drop falling onto the corner of the photo, and shoves her finger into her mouth, sucking on the cut. 

Via doesn’t cry when they close the lid on the coffin.

She doesn’t cry when the men from the funeral parlor lower the whole thing into the ground, or when she and Mauri and Tía throw in handfuls of dirt on top, Tía sniffling into her black lace handkerchief the whole time and Mauri’s lip quivering.

She doesn’t cry when people flood their tiny apartment, bringing food and empty words and emptier cards, when the room is filled with so many voices it makes her head hurt.

She wakes up at five in the morning, when the last guests have finally gone, when the smell of spilled tequila has faded, when the moonlight slanting through her window turns everything a pale blue.

Somewhere, out in the darkness, the sound that woke her echoes back again.

A woman’s scream.

Via normally sleeps through those sounds. They’re as common in this neighborhood as barking dogs and crashing pans and breaking glass and angry arguments. But there was something high and harsh and terrified in this one that woke her.

She rubs her fingers against her thumb, slipping one blunt nail under the edge of the forming scab on her cut, and tugs it away again. 

Another drop of blood wells up, glimmers in the moonlight, and falls to her stained blanket. 

Out in the night, something howls. Clearer and sharper than a coyote, but just as mournful. Just as haunted. Via buries her head under her pillow, and lets the sob she’s been clinging to all day tear through her.

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @the-lovely-wren

[commoninfected]

Slasher/DBD AU :))