#major character death /

[crimsonwolf715]

It's Not Your Fault

Jason’s been sitting in the therapist’s office for a while now, mostly silent as she asks him questions he gives one or two word answers to. 

“Why don’t you tell me about what happened?” the therapist asks, clearly trying to get Jason to interact with her. 

“Why should I?” Jason asks, keeping his eyes on his hands. 

“Because maybe if you talk about it, it will help you process through your grief. If you’re unable to talk about it we can start with something else.” 

Jason sighs. “It started out as a mission, barely a mission. The police needed assistance clearing out a building, so Red and I went. They were clearing out the building because due to some explosion that had happened next door a little earlier in the day, they found that it wasn’t likely the foundation of the building would hold. A bunch of debris fell on Red. He didn’t make it home.” 

“And how does that make you feel?” 

“Angry,” Jason answers. 

“Anything else?” she presses.

Jason shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“It’s natural to feel angry, but do you think there’s something stopping you from feeling anything else?” 

“Yeah, the anger.” Jason looks at his watch. “But would you look at that? Time’s up, so I’m gonna head home.” 

“We’re not done talking about this.” 

“I am. I’ve got other things to do today.” 

Jason gets up and grabs his bag, then heads out of the therapist’s office without another word. 

Jason heads up to the top floor to search for anybody else. When he doesn’t find anybody, he heads down to find Tim. Jason hears a crack, then the floor starts fracturing. 

“What floor are you on?” Jason asks. 

“I don’t know, eighth floor?” Tim answers. 

Dread fills Jason knowing that’s the floor right below him. 

“Get to the stairs, now. The floor above you is going to cave in.” 

“On my way.” 

Jason races down the stairs and he hears the floor give out on his way down. He gets to the next floor and doesn’t see Tim at the stairs. He runs onto the floor and Tim’s buried under debris. 

“Tim,” he breathes, then runs over. 

Jason removes debris and Tim’s not moving. Once enough debris is moved, Jason pulls Tim over to the stable side of the building. Tim’s eyes are half-open and he coughs up blood onto himself and Jason. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” 

He gently picks Tim up and gets him out of the building. Once they’re out of the building, Jason gently puts Tim down to check for injuries. Tim’s wheezing. 

“Medical’s on their way,” Jason says. “Just a little longer.” 

“I can’t,” Tim says. 

The words feel like a bucket of ice water being dumped on Jason’s head. 

“That’s okay, it’s not your fault.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, his voice breaking. 

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. You’ve done such a good job. You can rest now.” 

Tim gives Jason a small smile, then closes his eyes. Jason holds his brother close until he stops breathing. 

Jason gets home and heads straight for his room. 

“Jason!” 

It’s Dick, and Jason can hear footsteps behind him meaning that Dick’s following him. 

“Can you leave me alone?” Jason asks. 

“That’s all I’ve been doing for a month. I’ve tried being accommodating but you keep pushing me away.” 

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want anyone’s attention.” 

Jason slams his door shut behind him and he can almost hear Dick’s thoughts of knocking on Jason’s door. He doesn’t end up doing it and Jason can hear him head towards Damian’s room down the hall. Jason spends the rest of the day locked in his room reading the books Tim wrote in his little amount of free time before taking over WE or laying on his bed, occasionally throwing darts. 

It’s well after ten o’clock when he takes stock of the time and decides he should probably get something to drink. Jason walks downstairs and finds nobody. He sighs and heads to the kitchen. Not that he exactly wanted to run into anybody, but he was hoping that maybe he’d wanna talk if he did. He contemplates breaking into the liquor cabinet, but decides to just drown his sorrows in orange juice instead. He walks into the living room and Bruce is standing there. He must have just come up from the Batcave. 

Jason turns to leave when Bruce’s voice stops him. “Jason.” 

“Dickie tattle on me?” 

“No, what happened with you and Dick?” 

Jason turns back towards Bruce. “Nothing.” 

“Can we talk for a minute?” Bruce asks. 

“Why not? I don’t have anything better to do,” Jason answers. 

Jason stands behind the couch while Bruce stays standing over by the bookshelf. 

“Everyone’s worried,” Bruce says. 

“Of course everyone’s worried,” Jason replies, cutting Bruce off. “Nobody knows how to mind their own business in this family aside from Damian.” 

“Everyone’s worried because this isn’t healthy,” Bruce continues, clearly ignoring Jason’s jab at him. “Nobody wants you to keep living like this.” 

“How am I supposed to live with the fact that he’s dead?” Jason shouts. “All I feel is rage! The sadness was gone within a day and all I can feel is this rage that makes me want to go out and start killing every psychotic or psychopathic person in this city!” 

“I understand that,” Bruce starts, but Jason cuts him off. 

“How could you? You didn’t kill anyone!” Jason shouts, throwing the book that was on the table at Bruce. 

Bruce moves just enough that he doesn’t get hit by the book, but he keeps his eyes on Jason. Jason’s breathing heavily, trying not to cry, his temper starting to evaporate. Bruce walks over and wraps his arms around Jason. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Bruce says quietly. “It’s okay to be upset and angry, but it isn’t your fault that this happened. And I promise I’ll be here for you.” 

Jason starts crying and buries his head in Bruce’s shoulder, sadness replacing the anger in an instant. Bruce rubs his back while he cries, the two of them staying in that position until Jason runs out of tears. 

“Come on, let’s get you some water and then head to bed. It’s late and you obviously haven’t slept much lately. If you can’t sleep, we can talk.” 

Jason nods. “I’m sorry I threw that book at you, Dad.” 

“There’s no need to be sorry. I know you didn’t mean it.” 

They head upstairs and Jason asks, “Can you come sit with me for a bit?” 

Bruce nods, so they go sit on Jason’s bed. Jason talks about Tim for a bit, trying not to cry again, then falls asleep leaning against Bruce.

[peppermintquartz]

Future fic idea for BuckTommy: What if something tragic tragic brings them back together?

It reminds them that we only have so much time and they shouldn't waste it.

TW: character deaths

--

Buck tries not to flinch when he feels Tommy's presence beside him, yet the tension in his shoulders dissipates the moment Tommy touches him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Tommy murmurs.

It's been an hour since the doctor told them. Bobby told Buck earlier that he'll wait at the chapel; Hen and Eddie are filling out as much of the paperwork as they can; Athena hugged him and promised to pick Jee up, and Hen will take care of Jee until the paperwork is sorted out. Mr and Mrs Lee will have Buck's parents staying with them once they arrive in Los Angeles.

Which both makes it easier and harder to cope with the rest of this.

"They were on the way to buy Jee's birthday cake," Buck says, apropos of nothing. "She's still at the kindergarten. I'm... I don't know how to tell her..."

Sorry Jee, it's just you and me against the world now. Daddy and Mommy have gone away.

His vision blurring with tears, Buck reaches blindly next to him to grab Tommy's hand. And it is as strong and warm as he remembers. Warm as Maddie's used to be.

"I can't do this, Tommy. I don't know how." His voice cracks on the last word and he gives in, lets the tears flow down his face.

Tommy holds Buck's hand in between his own. After a while, after Buck regains a smidge of his composure, Tommy says, "I can help. Arrangements and everything, if you need someone to take on administration. Or help you move stuff. Or, I don't know. A shoulder."

"For how long?" Buck can't help the question from bursting out. Forever sound good to you? is what he doesn't say. It's not the time nor the place. But the thought is there: when Buck needs him, Tommy shows up.

He always shows up.

Tommy doesn't answer instantly. When he does, it's a measured reply. "We can talk about that after all this, Evan."

Buck chokes out a short laugh. No one else will be calling him Evan again. He straightens and finally looks at his ex-boyfriend in the eyes.

Tommy looks thinner, older. Buck supposes he isn't faring too well either in the looks department. With a deep breath, Buck whispers, "Yeah. After." He swipes over his cheeks with his free hand. "When mom and dad get here, I'm gonna need you with me." He smiles thinly. "Please."

Tommy reaches up to run the edge of his thumb over Buck's cheekbones. "Of course."

Of course.

Buck feels how he wants to lean in for a kiss, sees the yearning in Tommy's gaze, and forces himself to stand. "Let's go find Bobby. He's in the chapel."

As Tommy stands up, Buck adds, "Thank you."

Tommy smiles sadly. "You don't have to thank me, Evan. Not for this."

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no more runnin'

demon!joel miller x f!reader

words: 468

summary: joel comes to collect what you owe him.

warnings: dead dove do not read, major character death (reader), implied suicide, christian concepts of life and death, description of a self-inflicted wound, I wrote this because I needed a good cry and I was processing some feelings that I needed to feel even though they were painful.

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU READ THE WARNINGS.

viewer discretion is advised. you are responsible for the media you consume.

If you or someone you know is in crisis Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 (para ayuda en español, llame al 988). The Lifeline provides 24-hour, confidential support to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He found you there. He had a habit of being places he shouldn’t, seeing things he wasn’t supposed to see. Of finding people who didn’t want to be found. 

That was why he was there, after all. He had come calling for what he was owed. And you were finally ready to pay up. 

“No more runnin’, huh?” Joel asked, crouching down. He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“No more runnin’,” you rasp. 

“Coulda just told me,” he said, picking up your limp hand and inspecting the weeping wound below it. “I never said it hadta be painful. Coulda gone in your sleep.”

You manage a half shrug. “Maybe I wanted to say goodbye.”

He sighs, looking down at the damp concrete. “I would have given ya that, too,” he says. 

You close your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears, but they slip free anyway. He brushes them away with a swipe of his thumb. 

“Ah, shit,” he mutters. “It’s alright. I got ya. You’re not alone.”

He sits down beside you against the brick wall and pulls you into his arms. “This is why I don’t give extra time,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s always harder, sweetheart.”

“My own damn fault,” you say, a shaky laugh through tears. “Goin’ and fallin’ for the fuckin’ demon I sold my soul to.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly discourage ya, did I? But you know I can’t… I don’t…”

“I know,” you whisper. “No heart. Part of the whole arrangement. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“You’re a foolish girl,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it. “I was gonna give you a pass. Gonna risk my fuckin’ neck to send you off to someplace better. But you’ve gone and condemned yourself, darlin.’ Why would you do this?”

“You’ll be there,” you admit. 

“Ah, darlin’,” he said, voice strained. “You ain’t gonna remember me. I’m sorry.”

“Will you remember me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your breathing is shallow, unsteady. 

He knows it’s almost time. He tilts your chin up, pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and tender, nothing like the rushed and frantic clash of flesh and teeth that you’re used to.

“I could never forget you,” he assures. It’s true, but you can’t be sure. Like he’d say anything else right now, give you anything other than what you need to hear in this moment. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, cradling your head to his chest. “You can close your eyes. I’ll stay with ya.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Your lids are heavy, burdened by tear-laden lashes and too many years, too many losses. You relax against him, feeling the press of his lips on the top of your head once, twice, thrice, until you feel no more. 

[ashthewaterghoul]

https://www.tumblr.com/ashthewaterghoul/766771422142038016/httpswwwtumblrcomashthewaterghoul76675997042

Pleasure knowing you all 😔

I'm going to say the same, because I have a feeling my flat is about to surrounded by an angry mob...

Pro Memoria - #phanter cuddle buddies

    After however many years it had been since that glorious reunion, Copia and Phantom didn’t spend too many nights apart. Sure, there were tours and Copia would have to leave on business trips sometimes. But, more likely than not, they were together. Their bond closer than anyone had ever seen or would see again.

    No one even questioned it anymore, and everyone quite easily recognised the two as father and child despite the species barrier. Even they didn’t really acknowledge it anymore. For all intents and purposes Phantom was Copia’s child, and Copia was Phantom’s father, their Papa. It didn’t matter that Copia was actually Frater and had been for some time now, Phantom only ever called him Papa. It was what they called Copia when they were first summoned and he held that title, and plenty of humans called their dads Papa so it just made sense to them.

    But there was one thing that came with Copia being human that both of them never really acknowledged. And all things must end one day…

Read below the cut or on ao3!

    Phantom had been glued to their Papa’s side as of late. He got very achy and tired easier and so Phantom would always help, giving little zaps of Quintessence and providing comfort in the way they both loved. Their nightly cuddles. Tonight was no different, Phantom in some fluffy pyjamas that Copia had bought for them, and Copia in some that Phantom had gifted.

    Copia got under the covers with a bit of a wheeze as his hips seized up, and Phantom gave some Quintessence so it would be easier for him to get comfy. He looked a couple years younger as he smiled at Phantom. They could almost ignore all the grey and silver hairs and the wrinkles with the youthful glow of Copia’s beam.

    Phantom then climbed in, and wrapped their arms around Copia’s abdomen, their head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. They nuzzled their nose into Copia’s top, inhaling their favourite smell of old tobacco settled into woollen sweaters and aged parchment. They truly would never ever get enough of it. It was the smell of love and safety and home to them.

    Copia wrapped his arms around Phantom too. One around their back, rubbing up and down gently, the other in their hair as his bony and rigid fingers massaged a little. Phantom smiled and purred at the sensations, wrapping their tail around one of Copia’s legs, and Copia smiled too.

    “Buona notte, sogni d’oro.” Copia said.

    “G’night, Papa. I love you.” Phantom returned, yawning and stretching at the same time.

    “I love you too, il mio piccolo pipistrello.” Copia said, putting a kiss between Phantom’s horns.

    And like every night they had spent in each other’s arms, they fell asleep easily and completely content. A smile on both of their faces as the dreamworld whisked them away into its imaginative embrace.

    Phantom woke up first, judging by Copia’s stillness next to them. They sleepily managed a corner smile at that, been as it had only ever happened a handful of times over the years. But as Phantom came around more, they noticed something was off.

    Copia smelt different. Faded, and musty and…

    His chest wasn’t moving. Phantom’s head was still on there, and they couldn’t feel it moving up and down with his breathing. Time seemed to freeze as Phantom also realised they couldn’t feel his heart beating either…

    Phantom sat bolt upright and looked at Copia, their breaths quickening and too shallow. He was still smiling and looked so peaceful.

    “Papa?” Phantom whispered, reaching a hand to his face and finding him cold. Way too cold.

    Phantom’s face dropped, and tears threatened to fall. Their throat was squeezed tight with emotion and their soul felt so empty. Even more than it had been for the years they had to spend apart long ago.

    “No, Papa, please!” Phantom said, shaking Copia to wake him, “Wake up, please! Don’t-, no!”

    Phantom doesn’t know how long they spent trying to wake their Papa up. But they refused to succumb to the part of their mind that dared to say it was real.

    “No. It’s just a nightmare! I can’t- I-…” Phantom lost their words as sobs took over. They laid back down, frantically placing Copia’s limp arms back around them.

    It was just a dream, right? There was nothing about this that was real. Phantom would go back to sleep and wake up and Copia would be there, and everything would be okay.

    Phantom cried harder as Copia’s arms failed to listen to their muscle memory and hold the little Bat.

   They think they may have fallen asleep at some point. But when they woke up, Copia was still… asleep, and someone else was there too.

    “Phantom?” It was Aether, but Phantom refused to open their eyes or even move, “Bat, please, you have to let him go.”

    Aether’s voice was cracked with emotion as he reached a hand to Phantom’s shoulder. But they shrugged it off and held Copia tighter, nuzzling into him in an effort to find his heartbeat. He was just wearing a thicker jumper because he’d been getting colder easier. That’s why Phantom could find it, it was just buried a little.

    “No. I need to be here when he wakes up. I’m always here when he wakes up. He panics when I leave before him.” Phantom said, their own voice strained against every emotion that wanted to burst through their chest with the fragments of their broken heart.

    “Phantom, he’s gone.” Aether said.

    They shook their head, “He’s not. He’s fine, he’s just sleeping.”

    “He’s not waking up. I’m sorry, Bug, he’s dead.” Aether said in a voice heavier than a tonne of bricks.

    Phantom’s bottom lip started wobbling as they started crying again, “No! He’s not! He can’t be!”

    At some point, Aether had climbed in behind Phantom shaking and sobbing form, his hands around their torso and one lying over their heart to give them some Quintessence.

    “No,” Phantom said as they felt the magic, moving Aether’s hand to Copia’s chest, “Give it to him. Wake him up! He has a meeting this morning, and he’s going to be late if you don’t wake him up.”

    Aether’s heart broke even more as he felt the magic wash over Copia’s still and very much unalive chest under his palm.

    “I’m so sorry, Phantom.” Aether said again, and started moving.

    Before they could register what was happening, Aether had stood up, not letting go of Phantom, they were pulled from Copia’s hold as Aether carried them away.

    They saw Copia’s body, alone in his bed, and the empty space Phantom always filled.

    “No! Aether, please!” Phantom begged, kicking and flailing as much as they could, “I need to be there when he wakes up! Please, let me go!”

    Aether pulled Phantom back out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the Imperator Suite. There he knelt on the ground with Phantom, still wrestling to keep them in his arms. Aether nodded at the mortician who went in, bowing to Copia, before moving him onto the stretcher and body bag.

    “No! That’ll hurt his back, a- and his hips! He can’t breathe in there! Stop, please!” Phantom pleaded, choking on sobs.

    Aether just kept hold of them, trying to keep his own strength no matter how much his own heart was shattering. For Copia and Phantom both.

    When Aether woke up, his Quintessence was screaming at him that something was wrong. The bond he shared with Copia had merely ceased to exist overnight, and the one with Phantom was in such pain and stress and turmoil - Aether immediately knew what had happened. He ran up to the Imperator Suite and seeing Copia’s prone form, Phantom wrapped around him and begging for him to wake up, to be okay, all but confirmed it.

    When the mortician wheeled Copia’s body out, Phantom lunged for it, and managed to break Aether’s hold on them. They stood up and unzipped the bag. Copia was still smiling, shadows of his Clergy paint still on him from where he got too tired to scrub the little remainders away the night before.

    Phantom threw their arms around him once again, “Don’t leave me, please. You promised you’d always be there for me.”

    Aether and the mortician let Phantom have their time, but everything must end at some point.

    “It would be best for me and Frater to leave now.” The mortician said, “The Siblings will be leaving the breakfast hall soon and I’d hate to have to take Frater through them all.”

    “Of course.” Aether said, his voice thick with emotion as he peeled Phantom off of Copia’s body again.

    This time, Phantom had no energy to try and fight back, and so collapsed into Aether’s arms. And they broke.

    “I can’t, Aeth. He- he s- said he’d never leave me.” Phantom sobbed, hyperventilating on the panic of the prospect of living in a world without their Papa.

    “I know, Buggy, he didn’t want to leave either.” Aether said, holding Phantom as tight as he could.

    “Why did he go? I don’t want him to go!” Phantom cried.

    “I didn’t want him to leave either.” Aether whispered.

    Phantom’s sobs overtook them as they cried themself dry, the effort twisting their stomach and making them dry heave and choke on nothing. Aether held them the entire time, and slowly gave them more Quintessence until they were passed out in his arms.

    Phantom woke up in the bottom of a Ghoul pile, and for a glorious moment, they forgot why. When they scented everyone else’s sadness and despair, it all came crashing down around them, and they started crying again. They tried getting out from everyone’s hold, saying they needed to see their Papa, but everyone kept saying he was dead. Why would they say that? It wasn’t true, he was just asleep!

    But they kept saying it. And when the Ghouls were permitted to go down to the Chapel of rest to say their goodbyes privately, Copia was still asleep. He still had a small smile on him from being with his bambino that night. He was in his sleek black suit and his ruby Grucifix. His paint was on and he looked fine, he was okay. So why was everyone crying? Why were they crying? It wasn’t real, it was just a nightmare. A nightmare they’d soon wake up from, and Copia would be there to help them get over it. To tell them it wasn’t real, just a cruel and unsettling trick from their mind like the rest of their nightmares were, and help calm them back to sleep with loving words and gentle kisses and firm hugs.

    Maybe they were crying from exhaustion? They hadn’t slept right for the last week since Aether took them from Copia’s room. It was just that. It wasn’t sadness because their Papa wasn’t dead.

    “Must be a good sleep you’re having, Papa. Why won’t you wake up?” Phantom asked.

    All the Ghouls had left something with their Papa, and Phantom left the bat plushie they had brought with them on the night they were reunited.

    “I love you, Papa. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave your piccolo pipistrello, your bambino.” Phantom pleaded again, once more throwing their arms around Copia’s body, desperately trying to lift his arms to wrap around him.

    The mortician had to intervene at that point. Something about the embalming and rigor mortis making it so that Phantom could hurt Frater if they did that. But Phantom shook their head, holding their Papa and putting their head on his chest.

    “Please wake up, Papa.” Phantom asked again. And when Copia’s content and smiling face remained still. They sobbed once more.

    They were meant to say something at the funeral. They wrote the speech, and stood at the lectern and opened their mouth. But no words came out. Because saying these words meant Copia was dead. And Phantom wouldn’t accept that, couldn’t accept that their Papa was gone forever. They descended into sobs as they held onto the coffin and Mountain stood, bringing Phantom back to the pew and sitting them with the Ghoulettes as he read Phantom’s words instead.

    Phantom’s body was there, but their mind wasn’t. Their mind was in that last night falling asleep with Copia. Their Papa’s lovely scent, his tight arms, his beating heart.

    Phantom found quite a bit of irony in Quintessence Ghouls being nicknamed ‘voidlings’ as now that’s all they felt like. Their brain was hollow and unfeeling, their heart a pit of nothingness, their soul just completely empty.

    Like his brothers and father, Copia was put in a glass coffin and laid in his own alcove in the Ministry catacombs. Phantom found themself never leaving, always spending every possible second they could there. They had to be there when he woke up. Copia always panicked when he woke up and Phantom would be gone. Even if they left a note, Papa wouldn’t always see it right away, or he’d forget to put his glasses on and he couldn’t read it. He’d been asleep for so long, Phantom had to be there when he woke up.

    One day, they went down, and they never left. They stayed curled up next to their Papa’s coffin, like a cat in a cemetery waiting for their owner to return. And Phantom, locked into their mind and their grief, withered away and slowly succumbed to the void. Maybe they’d find Copia here, and they could hold each other’s souls in their embraces forevermore.

One shot master post can be found here All posts about this universe/hc can be found here on ao3 or under the #phanter cuddle buddies tag here on tumblr

[megahertzmaroon]

Fool’s Paradise /// Loop

Special thanks two my friends Carol (cowsaresushi) and hatch for helping out with this comic!

Here’s the song that partially inspired the thing.

[camilleflyingrotten]

The Fallen Kings

Elendil and Gil-galad

[mipmoth]

The pokemon museums always dealing with some ancient curse or other.

HE KEPT THE JOB!

[sgt-tombstone]

I should be sleeping but my brain won’t shut up about left-handed Ghost

he got it from his mother, and it was part of the reason why his father hated him so much; he thought Simon had the devil in him

he tried to beat it out of him, tied his hand behind his back, forced him to use his right hand for everything, and eventually Simon trained himself to be ambidextrous, if only to escape the punishments

when he joined the military, it worked in his favor. he was able to use both hands equally well which helped him shoot and spar better, and he never told anyone that he was naturally left-handed

when he met Soap, his handedness never even crossed his mind. at least, it didn’t until he overheard Johnny talking about an old Scottish superstition, something about bad luck meeting a left-handed person at the start of a journey

a load of bullshit, Johnny said, but Simon shrank back anyway. if Soap noticed him getting more distant, he never mentioned it, never made the connection, never found out that Ghost was left-handed

and when Soap died, a single bullet to the head, Simon couldn’t help but wonder if that old Scottish superstition held any water after all

after all, Johnny’s bad luck started the day he met Simon, and he never even knew it

[qiu-yan]

the upside: wei wuxian wants to return to lotus pier and reconcile with jiang wanyin.

the downside: jiang wanyin.

the upside: the conversation goes well, and jiang wanyin agrees to allow wei wuxian and lan wangji to visit lotus pier.

the downside: lan wangji can't swim.

the upside: jiang wanyin agrees to help teach lan wangji how to swim.

the downside: jiang wanyin does this by using the same method he has used to teach every jiang disciple how to swim: he plants his foot on an unsuspecting lan wangji's back and bodily kicks him into the lake.

the second downside: lan wangji still can't swim.

the upside: wei wuxian bravely dives into the lake to rescue his husband from drowning.

the downside: turns out mo xuanyu's body can't swim either.

[twilicidity]

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes

pairing: old man!logan howlett x gn! reader

word count: no idea but this one isn't very long.

part two is out!

tags: major character death — angst — reader is logan’s sunshine — mention of blood & wounds — logan low-key proposing 5 seconds before he dies — non established relationship

author's note: this has been on my mind since 2 days ago so I had to do it now.. I hope you guys enjoy reading this heartbreak! and yes I wrote this after watching Logan (2017) again. just a bit of an alternative type of ending so I can write abt logan x reader! as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

god stood me up

and I don't know why

lights are on

but nobody's home

you find him leaning against a tree trunk, a chunk of wood piercing his sides open as blood soaks through his shirt. that isn't the only wound he's sporting but it's the most evident one; the one that'll possibly lead him to his demise.

logan blinks upon noticing you as if he's just seeing things or dreaming. when you crouch down beside him and place your hand on his arm, he realizes exactly just how real you are. “logan?” there are tears in your eyes and he hates that you're crying because of him again. you had been living with him, charles and caliban way before it all turned to shit. and somehow the only ones left standing were laura and you. and the kids that logan had managed to save; he truly had saved so many lives.

there's a silence aside from his heavy breathing before your shaky hands cup his face. the blood flows out of his wound and mouth like a river. in some way you're bleeding too — inside your heart. “hey sunshine.” logan whispers with a soft smile and you feel something tear your chest apart from the inside. “I made you cry again.” you see the way his hand twitches by his side. he wants to touch you but he's old and tired and wounded. there's no energy left in him to move anymore. “the kids are okay, laura is okay— I have the car and..and there's still time— the hospital—” your voice trails off when logan closed his eyes.

“you know what makes me angry, sunshine?” logan asks and you simply stare at him, shaking your head. when he opens his eyes again, they are full of unshed tears. “gonna miss my daughter’s first birthday with me—” logan mutters brokenly and the vision of laura swims beneath his half-opened eyelids. and after laura there is you; smiling. at the beach. you've always wanted to go to the beach with him but he never took you since he was working day and night to take care of everything. of everyone. “and i’m also gonna miss my sunshine.” his eyes fall on you, on your crying face. the tears sliding down your cheeks are plenty and there is so much emotion pooling in those orbs of yours. logan wants to kiss you, tell you it'll be alright. but he can’t even move.

he coughs, some blood spluttering on his white shirt and you flinch. your fingers shake as you slide them through his messy hair, stroking them in the way he’s always loved. “logan, I'm sorry...I— I'm so sorry logan..” you keep chanting and logan feels the frustration in his bones when he tries to move his arms. he can't, he's too weak now, and he's angry with himself that he's unable to comfort you the way he wants. the way he once could but never did. “not you nor the entire world could ever prevent this, sunshine. it was meant to be like this.” he says before coughing again, more blood trickling down his beard.

you crawl by his side, on the dirty ground, and press against his ‘good’ side while leaning your head on his shoulder. you tilt your head back enough for your eyes to reach his exhausted face. logan maintains a smile you haven't seen in forever. in damn years to be precise. “charles spoke to me of other timelines and some shit about— multiverse was it?” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don't fucking know. I just wanted him to take the damn pills.” his sentence makes both of you laugh although logan is holding back with that — it'll only cause more physical pain after all. “point is..if it's true then—”

“—we gotta find each other yeah? and laura.” his eyes aren't on you anymore but they're in the sky. it's bluer than ever and the clouds part to show him the sun. logan doesn't look away even if it makes his eyes ache. you stare. “wanna make it right, sunshine.” he tells you as you sniffle by him. his fingers flinch again between your bodies and you slide a single hand down to hold his own, to intertwine your fingers in a gentle mess. “but for now I want to rest.” logan whispers and your grip tightens around his hand. if he had the strength, he'd squeeze back. you knew this.

“you did excellent.” you finally manage to say, a little steadier this time. logan averts his gaze to you as you continue. “you did a good job. you did such a good job.” you repeat with a smile so soft that logan starts yearning for you already. his faint chuckle turns into a rough cough and he takes some time to recover before speaking again.

“maybe after I rest, I'll open my eyes and..” you watch as logan’s eyes begin closing and how the heaving of his chest slows. he's deathly pale by now, the veins underneath his eyes are prominent, but your grip never slackens. you crawl closer until your foreheads touch. logan draws one last breath and you swallow down your cry. “and I'll see my daughter. and my... spouse.” your eyes shoot open wide but logan’s remain fallen shut. your chest heaves up and down intensely but logan’s remains still.

when the time comes, your feet are forcefully dragging you away towards your old car while logan lies beneath the ground.

[crimsonwolf715]

Death Will Do Us Part

(POV Bruce) 

Family dinner is chaotic as ever. Bruce smiles as his family eats and argues about whether or not to bet on the next villain to get out of Arkham. Of course, he doesn’t agree with the idea of placing bets on that, but it isn’t hurting anybody. Unless they break somebody out to win the bet, but that isn’t likely. The house shakes and everyone practically jumps to their feet. They can see vines through the roads outside, so everyone heads down to the Batcave. Bruce goes over to the computer and puts a call through to Commissioner Gordon. 

“What’s the situation, Gordon?” Bruce asks. 

“Everyone’s out of Arkham. We’re completely overpowered,” Gordon answers. 

“We’re on our way.” 

“Thanks.” 

His kids are collecting their gear and getting ready. 

“Did all of you hear that?” Bruce asks. 

“Yep, everybody’s out of Arkham,” Jason answers. “Pretty sure we jinxed it.” 

“Do we believe in that?” Cass asks. 

“I don’t believe in that,” Damian replies. 

“I don’t either,” Tim says. 

“I doubt we did,” Dick says. “But let’s just deal with this quickly. I have something to attend to later.” 

“Like a date?” Jason asks. 

“Like none of your business.” 

“It’s definitely a date,” Tim says. 

“Focus,” Bruce demands. 

“Don’t worry, we’re still getting ready as fast as we can. Speaking of which, I’m heading out,” Jason says. 

They all head out and start taking on the inmates of Arkham. Bruce gets a steady stream of updates over comms that his kids are dealing with inmates and he updates him when he takes them out as well. 

“Ivy’s causing too many problems. I have the building she’s in,” Barbara says. 

“Nice of you to join us, Oracle,” Dick’s replies. 

“Shut up. My setup got destroyed so I had to get to the Batcave to assist.” 

She gives the location. Bruce looks at his location. 

“I’m close.” 

“I’m close too, so I’ll come assist,” Jason says. 

The two make it to the building and it’s definitely a floral place. Jason and Bruce have to cut through greenery to get into the building at all. Poison Ivy gives them a hard time, but nothing the two of them can’t manage together. 

(POV Jason) 

“We should get out of here, this building’s unstable,” Bruce says. 

Jason nods, so the two head towards the roof with Ivy. 

“If I can’t win, you two won’t make it out of here alive,” Ivy says. 

Vines sprout up and start exploding, rocking the whole building. The floor cracks and Bruce shoves Jason to the part of the floor that isn’t cracked. 

“Dad!” 

Jason watches as the floor crumbles away under Bruce’s feet. He lunges to grab Bruce’s hand and barely misses the mark. Bruce tries to catch himself on one of the other floors, but fails. He falls onto a large piece of a floor, which impales him. 

“Dad!” Jason cries out. 

“What’s going on?” Barbara asks. “Why are Bruce’s suit’s stats bottoming out?” 

Jason pulls his helmet off and throws it. 

“Jason?” 

“I’m fine,” Jason says through gritted teeth. “But Batman isn’t. Delete the feed from my helmet without looking at it.” 

“What?” Barbara asks. 

“Delete the damn feed from my helmet without looking at it,” Jason demands. “Barbara, do it.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sending medics to your location.” 

A pause and Jason can almost hear his father stop breathing. 

“Jason.” 

“I know. Let the others know and I’ll get him to a safe location.” 

He turns his comm off and grips the floor. He spots Ivy, who got thrown away from the two during the explosions, but seems fine. He gets up and she looks terrified. She starts trying to get away and he shoots her hands and feet. She cries out and starts cursing Jason. 

“I should kill you for still breathing,” Jason growls. “But I’m better than that now. You are gonna pay for killing him, but you deserve to live and suffer for it.” 

Jason drags her out of the building by her hair and officers are heading towards the location. 

“Red Hood?” 

Jason throws her over to the officers. “You might wanna cuff her.” 

He turns and heads back into the building. He walks over to Bruce’s limp body and he feels an overwhelming amount of anger. He stuffs it down and as gently as he can gets Bruce out of the building. After getting him into the Batmobile, he turns his comm back on. 

“He’s in the Batmobile. Send him home, Oracle.” 

The Batmobile closes and speeds off. Jason heads back to continue taking out inmates, turning his comm off so he doesn’t have to hear everyone’s reaction. 

{POV Cass} 

Cass is searching for villains when she comes across several people tied to a lamppost by their feet. She throws a batarang to cut the rope on the first person and catches them. When she does, she sees that the person’s eyes are wide and they aren’t breathing. Cass checks their pulse and realizes that they’re gone. 

Smoke starts spilling out all around her, so she tries to find the source. A metal orb with straw on it. Cass goes to grab something from her utility belt when someone takes her legs out from underneath her. Batman’s towering over her, completely decayed. She backs away and Batman crumbles to pieces. She pulls a mask on, searching for more threats in the suddenly dark world. Gotham’s been replaced by a metal room. 

“The darkness is where you belong. Killing people for someone who will never appreciate your efforts. They’ll only expect more out of you.” That voice belongs to her father. 

 Her father comes forward and she stumbles back. She starts searching her belt but can’t find any of the things she usually keeps in there. She closes her eyes and tries to focus, blood rushing in her ears. Her father’s getting closer, sword raised for a fatal strike. She jabs herself with what she hopes is the fear toxin cure and kicks her father away. 

Slowly, the world returns to what it should be. A grimy Gotham street with Scarecrow not far from her, getting up. Cass attacks Scarecrow, who tries to run. After a mostly one sided fight, Cass takes out Scarecrow. She ties him up and heads towards a police checkpoint to drop him off, still feeling the aftereffects of the fear toxin. 

{POV Damian} 

“Please help us!” An officer shouts when Damian drops down. 

“What is it you require assistance with?” Damian asks. “There’s nothing going on here.” 

“Goons are running loose in this area and Killer Croc keeps popping up and taking officers out,” the officer answers. 

“Does he?” 

Damian unsheathes his sword. He pulls up the manhole cover and stands by it. Once the goons come back, Damian starts taking them out with expert ease. He kicks the first goon into the sewer grate and can hear the audible crunch sound of Croc eating the goon. He continues to beat up the goons and then kick them in the sewer until Croc comes barging out of the sewer. 

“There you are,” Damian says. “I was starting to think that you were too much of a bitch to come and get me.” 

Croc charges at Damian and he dodges, slashing at Croc as Croc passes him. 

While the blade is mostly blunt, Damian can still easily kill someone with it. Croc would need more force and a pressure point, but Damian’s goal isn’t to kill him. It’s to incapacitate him. 

Croc goes headfirst into a lamppost and Damian snorts. Croc regains his senses quickly, then rushes Damian again. Damian and Croc go back and forth until Damian picks up the manhole cover and throws it like a frisbee. It hits Croc in the head, knocking him unconscious. After instructing the officers on what to do from there, Damian leaves the area. 

“Croc is accounted for,” Damian says. “I’m heading to the next one.”  

{POV Jason} 

“Am I close to any more villains?” Jason asks. 

“Freeze has been reported about a block from you,” Barbara answers. “You sure you’re good to keep going?” 

“I’m fine, Oracle. Give me the location.” 

She sends it and after looking at it, Jason heads in the direction. He walks into the courthouse Freeze is supposed to be in and it feels like the temperature has dropped at least ten degrees. 

“Well, Freeze is definitely here.” 

He walks into each of the courtrooms and barely manages to dodge a blast from Freeze’s gun. 

“You’ll never defeat me, Bat-Brat!” Freeze shouts. 

Jason pulls out his gun and starts shooting the dome around Freeze’s head. 

“What are you doing?” Freeze demands, ducking behind something. 

“Unless you wanna die here, you’re gonna surrender quietly,” Jason says. “I’m far past the mood to be lenient with you lot.” 

“What happened?” Freeze asks. “Doesn’t Batman normally keep you on a tight leash as his wild-child?” 

Jason pulls out a smoke grenade and throws it over the desk Freeze is hiding behind. Freeze runs out from behind the desk and Jason dropkicks him into a wall. Smoke starts spewing out of the grenade and Freeze looks confused. 

“All my grenades look the same to other people,” Jason offers to cure Freeze’s confusion. “I’m the only one that knows which one is which. So unless you wanna test your luck to see if I’ll blow you to hell, you might wanna surrender.” 

Freeze unclicks a freeze grenade and throws it at the approaching Jason. Jason kicks it away from him and beside a little frost on his shoes, is unaffected. 

“I’ll surrender,” Freeze says, putting his hands up. 

“Good.” 

Jason pulls Freeze up and handcuffs him. 

Even though it hurts to say, Jason says, “Batman doesn’t keep a leash on me.”  

(POV Dick) 

“I think you’re the only one with villains left,” Barbara says. “Everyone else is accounted for.” 

“Well, that’s nice,” Dick replies sarcastically. 

He’s having a hard time pulling his punches with the emotions flooding through his system, but he manages. 

Can’t deal with this right now. Dad’s dead and I’m here dodging being shot by two people that should be in a mental hospital.  

“The others are on their way.” 

“Beautiful. Everyone can watch me have a mental breakdown.” 

Dick’s fighting Penguin and Two-Face, who have decided that it is best to temporarily get over their issues so that they can beat him. They’re not doing very well even though they are technically getting along. Dick’s just doing flips around them, literally. Penguin tries to keep up with him, moving and shooting, but he just ends up falling off the roof. 

Dick throws down a net so Penguin doesn’t die on impact, but then turns his attention back to Two-Face. Two-Face shoots at him until he runs out of bullets. Dick runs forward to strike him down when Two-Face shoots Dick’s leg and his leg goes completely numb. Dick stumbles and falls. 

“Had this little beauty waiting for me to try. I’ve wanted to use it for a while, but never found the right moment. Pays off to go and get gear before engaging, doesn’t it?” Two-Face asks. “Alright, do we deliver the kill shot? Let’s flip the coin.” 

Dick turns towards his leg and starts trying to beat life back into it. 

“Ooo, luck is not on your side, Nightwing. Goodbye.” 

“Grayson!” 

Dick turns in just enough time to see Damian take a shot meant for him. It would have killed Dick instantly. Dick attempts to get up but his leg won’t let him. Damian stumbles into him and Dick wraps an arm around him so he doesn’t go anywhere. He grabs Damian’s sword and throws it. It goes through Two-Face. Dick turns his attention to Damian, who’s attempting to stop the bleeding chest wound. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Barbara, we need medical attention right now. Damian’s injured.” 

“It’s on the way,” Barbara says. 

“You’re gonna be fine, buddy.”

(POV Tim) 

Tim jumps onto the roof of the building where Damian and Dick’s trackers are and finds a horror scene in front of him. Damian and Dick are covered in blood and Two-Face is dead not far from them. Tears start pouring down Damian’s face as he clings to Dick. While Tim doesn’t want to, he can’t seem to look away. Dick’s crying and trying to soothe Damian. Tim can feel Jason and Cass’ presence beside him, but he can’t look at them. 

“Ssh. It’s gonna be okay, Dami. I swear, everything is okay.” 

A pause in sobs and the silence is broken by Damian quietly asking, “You love me, right?” 

Dick nods. “Of course. I love you. Everyone does. I love you so much.” 

Damian’s sobs resume and persist for a little longer, then stop altogether. 

“No, Dami. No, not you too. Dami, stay with me please.” 

Jason walks over to Tim, who’s frozen in place. Jason pulls him into a hug that Tim doesn't even attempt to fight. 

“He can’t be gone…” Tim mutters. “They both can’t be…” 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “I’m really sorry.” 

Jason goes to move Tim to arm’s length and Tim clings to him. Jason rubs Tim’s back as Dick’s cries for Damian ring in his ears. After a while, Jason finally convinces Tim that they need to go. That the crisis is over for them and that they need to get home. 

Tim watches Jason walk over and puts a hand on Dick’s shoulder. 

“No, no. You can’t take him.” 

“I’m not gonna take him, but we need to go.” 

Cass takes Tim’s hand and the two of them hold hands, silently supporting each other. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

“On his way to the Batcave. I’m really sorry, Dickie.” 

Dick stands up slowly, holding Damian’s body like a baby. 

“It’s not your fault, Jay. It’s Ivy’s. We should…” He chokes up and looks away from Damian. “We need to get back to the Batcave. Make sure that Tim and Cass get there, okay?” 

Jason nods. After stomping some machine by Two-Face to pieces, Dick takes off with Damian. Jason turns towards Tim and Cass, the three of them coming to a silent agreement. They head to the Batcave and are met by Barbara and Alfred. 

“Dick here yet?” Tim asks. 

Barbara shakes her head. Cass, Tim, and Jason all hug Alfred, who looks like he might break down. Dick comes in and bypasses all of them to put Damian on the table beside Bruce. He sits between Damian and Bruce. 

“Come on. You all need to get cleaned up and taken care of,” Alfred says. 

So they head upstairs. Dick and Alfred join them not long after. 

(POV Dick) 

Dick planned the funeral, refusing to let anyone assist him. Whether it was so nobody else had to deal with the event or him, no one knew. The event was only for family and close friends. Many of the Justice League members showed up to show support. Dick stayed in the back during the event and after giving his speech, didn’t say anything to anyone. 

Since then, he’s locked himself in his room in the manor. Just about everyone’s tried to come in and talk, but he ends up running them all off. Tim knocks on the open door and Dick barely glances at him before returning his attention to his hands which are planted in his lap. 

“Did you come in here to talk me into feeling better? To tell me to pull myself together? How am I supposed to pull myself together when my father is dead? When my baby brother died in my arms while waiting for medical support that never arrived?” Dick shouts. 

Tim doesn’t flinch or leave the room like the others did. He walks over, sits down, and wraps his arms around his oldest brother. Dick breaks down sobbing and the two end up hugging for a while. Dick breaks away, walking over to his closet. Dick walks over to his closet and digs around until he finds his box of keepsakes. He holds it out and Tim takes it. 

“Feel free to keep it as long as you’d like. You can share it with the other two if you want to.” 

“What is it exactly?” Tim asks. 

“Things I keep here. Pictures, items, writings about memories. I figured that you’d enjoy looking at some of the nicer ones,” Dick answers. “I won’t be able to even think too hard about them for a while, so you guys might as well.” 

“Okay, I’ll share it with the others.” 

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “Thanks, buddy.” 

“Do you need space?” 

“Yeah, a little. I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Dick watches Tim leave the room and he collapses on his bed. 

How am I supposed to live with the guilt that it should have me? That Damian’s supposed to be alive right now?

[sha-biest]

Last Ronin - Prologue

CW: Blood/Injury, Loss of limbs, Major character Death

WELL! HERE IT IS After I told myself I wouldnt indulge in another AU but this one got me in a chokehold and I can only blame @thegunnsara for this (kissing your head and shaking you at the same time) DONT EXPECT ME TO DO MORE COMICS PLEASE

[jiveyuncle]

Keith cringes at the hiss of the bedroom door sliding open and the unforgiving hall light racing in to fill the darkness. Still, Lance doesn't stir from where he lays sprawled out across the mattress, hair mussed in the pillow and foot hanging off the edge. Keith feels a twinge of guilt at encroaching on his space as he slides his jacket off to hang on the coat rack next to Lance's.

It's not that Keith isn't welcome here - he knows he is. This little back and forth pattern of theirs has been going on long enough that these motions should be as easy as sliding into his own bed, but it's not. Instead, it makes his heart ache just that little bit more, makes the pit of his stomach open up to swallow his insides and leave him feeling empty even as Lance pushes into his space each time to fill it. Because the problem is Lance is comfortable with Keith. He's comfortable with Keith because he is comfortable with everyone. It's who Lance is. Inviting. Open. Caring. He gives himself freely. And after the first few times of bumping into each other wandering the ship in the middle of the night in hopes of exhausting themselves into sleep, then actually falling asleep on the common room couch next to each other only to wake up with achy necks, Lance started boldly dragging Keith to bed and holding him in place to prevent him from wandering until morning.

“There's no way I'm letting you in bed with your shoes on.” Lance mumbles. A precautionary hand appears from under the sheets and flops down over the blanket to ward off any attempts to climb under them.

Keith lets out a huff of air that's just light enough to be considered a laugh. “I was going to kick them off.”

“No, no. We're civilized. Put them away.” The hand guarding the covers lifts and shoos him towards the wardrobe before dropping lazily.

“I wake up before you. You won't even see them.” Keith argues even as he crosses the room to oblige. The cabinet to the wardrobe cries out in protest as he opens it, and Keith winces, yet again, at any sound that disturbs the peaceful quiet. He makes a mental note to bug Hunk for some oil to grease the noisy hinges. If he's going to start putting his shoes in here, it's going to need to be quieter.

“I tripped over them when I got up to piss last time.”

Keith smiles to himself as he slinks back over, Lance already peeling the sheets back to invite him in. Keith slides down into the space to lie on his back and has to fight the urge to swallow hard when Lance's arm lowers down with the covers over his chest and never draws back away. “You're awake?” he says instead.

Lance hums quietly. “Brain won't shut off. The usual stuff. I was actually thinking about heading your way before you showed up.” Lance peeks an eye open, squinting through the exhaustion in the dim light. “You came in day clothes.”

“Walked a couple laps around the ship first. Didn’t know I was coming over.”

Lance lifts his chin in the hint of a nod before letting his eye fall back shut. “Glad I waited, then.” His fingers tug lightly near the collar of Keith's shirt, fiddling with the fabric in the mindless way he does with anything he can get his hands on - sometimes it's a leaf plucked from foliage as they trek through forested pathways, sometimes it's a pen spinning endlessly between his fingers during long diplomatic negotiations, sometimes it's a spoon that never settles back on his plate even an hour after he's taken his last bite and the conversation is flowing, and other times it's Keith’s shirt or hair or fingers at 3am when neither of them can sleep and whatever tension that is sustained in the daylight slips away.

And, as always, it sends a mixture of unwanted hope and desire through Keith's veins that quickly burns away to leave guilt in its destructive wake.

This habit. This closeness.

It means something different to each of them, and it's getting harder and harder for Keith's heart to remember that.

Keith reaches up to still the moving fingers on his chest, but Lance's unquestioning thumb seamlessly, innocently, agonizingly slips up along the side of his hand to trace over his knuckles instead.

Keith controls his next exhale and tries to ignore the gentle movement, but his mind can’t help supplying a word with each tender pass of a thumb: maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe these things don't mean something quite so different to Lance. Maybe, if Keith offers a hand, then warm fingers will be there to take it.

Maybe.

He doesn't move again until Lance's breaths deepen and the soft brushes eventually slow to a stop.

When Keith rises in the morning, he bypasses the squeaky wardrobe, tugs on his jacket, and slides out into the hallway with only his socks to fight off the chill of the castleship floors from seeping into his feet. The warmth of a decision burns in his ribs as Keith settles into his lion 20 minutes later to start the early journey out to pick up a member of the Blade. Red senses the change, and a growl of approval rumbles through their bond, deep and affectionate and proud.

Keith’s mouth twitches up at the corner. He sends back his appreciation.

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 4/?)

Too bad he came to that decision a little late. Now, he’s kinda stuck not wanting to initiate something that he can no longer start.

Excited for y’all to spot where little nods to this snippet pop up in future chapters.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

[la-sera]

"burn my body"

Hyrule dies in his Hyrule. The monsters managed to sacrifice him to resurrect Ganon.

Legend wants to grant Hyrule's last wish: burn my body.

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

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

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

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

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