#tw gruesome deaths

[simpymf]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 pt. 1/1

Word count: 2,152 words

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wanted ta post this lil piece because it sad, and i like sad tings. no smut, only pain.

This is a piece for the classic timeline... meaning, June n Lune are now back to their human selves and not their monster selves. Uhhhh... long story short, Lune bad, June good. June did Pacifist run first. Lune RESET, now bad. June n Lune can interact in their mindspace. Uh... thats it.

TW: blood, gore, angst, and just total despair. :(

enjoy this lil fic, y'all. cha cha <3

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▄▏ ▬ ▁ ▄ ☰ ▔█ ▀ ▬▀ ▉ ▀▏░░ ▄ ░█░

▉░ ▄▏▁ ▁ ☷ ▔ ▉▉               ▔ ▏ ▀ ▁▔▀ ▁ ▁ ▉ ▄▔ ▀ 

▀░▒░▒ ☰▒ █

                                          ▉ ▏ ▏ ▬ ▔ ▒▒ ▏ 

                         ☷▏ ▉ ☰ ▉

▄ ▏ ▬▬▒▬▬▄ ▔ ▏▬ ▏ ▉▉ ▀ ▀ ▉▁ ▁ ▀ ▀ ☷☷

“-̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǒ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ǔ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞m̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǎ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ď̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ě̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǐ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ȟ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ǐ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞š̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞f̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǎ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ř̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞-̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǒ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞w̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ň̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǐ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ň̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ȟ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ě̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞—̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞-̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ř̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞w̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ȟ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ǎ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǐ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞'̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞š̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞w̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǒ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ř̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ť̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ȟ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞-̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ř̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ǒ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ǔ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ď̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞ ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǒ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞'̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞y̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞ǎ̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞.̵̵͓̫̲̭͔̌̄̄̈́͟͞”

‎

I took what I had for granted... didn’t I?

Happiness... that was asking for too much...

At least... f̷̵̫̞̉͢ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈....

You just... can’t stand the thought of me getting a happy ending...

₴Ø Ɽł₱₱ł₦₲ ₳₩₳Ɏ ฿Ø₮Ⱨ Ø₣ ØɄⱤ ₵Ⱨ₳₦₵Ɇ₴ ₣ØⱤ Ø₦Ɇ ₩₳₴ ɎØɄⱤ ₦ɆӾ₮ ฿Ɇ₴₮ ₵ØɄⱤ₴Ɇ, ₩₳₴₦'₮ ł₮?

‎

          ᶦ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈˢ···

₴ⱧɄ₮ Ʉ₱.

ł ₲Ø₮ ₴ł₵₭ Ø₣ ɎØɄ ₩₳₴₮ł₦₲ ₮ł₥Ɇ.

ㄚㄖㄩ尺 几卂丨ᐯ乇ㄒㄚ 丨丂 山卄卂ㄒ Ꮆㄖㄒ ㄚㄖㄩ 卄乇尺乇.

Standing in the middle of a vast corridor, veiled by a radiant golden glow, is a woman. A human... s̩͙͖̋͛͟û̶͙̽̿͆̈p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚s̩͙͖̋͛͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡y̯̤͑́́̓́. Her pale face is cloaked by numerous strands of raven black hair, hiding away any possible glimmer of her demeanor.

Held in her trembling hand is a hatchet. Entirely pristine.

Her arm twitches, the blade reflecting shards of light against the aurelian pillars lining the perimeter of the hall. Between her disheveled strands of hair, her golden eye peers out to glue her gaze onto the single individual standing in her path.

Keeping his hands in his pockets, the skeleton adorning his signature blue jacket and black basketball shorts stands wordlessly, though both of his radius and ulna give a subtle shake beneath his sleeves. His eye sockets are entirely stuck onto 卄乇尺, denying himself even a fraction of vulnerability by tearing his gaze away.

₮ⱧɆɎ'VɆ ฿ɆɆ₦ ⱧɆⱤɆ ₣ØⱤ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ₣ɆɆⱠ₴ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ⱧØɄⱤ₴.

            ᴛɪᴄᴋ

  ᴛᴀᴄ

Sans stiffens in his spot, but he refuses to move. He can dodge anything she throws his way. He’s exhausted confident. All her efforts—although manic and likely out of pure adrenaline—become in vain the instant Sans sends her a last second surprise attack. Occasionally, she swung her weapon... and nearly managed to slice his bones.

Luckily... he’d summoned a bone straight from the floor to shoot straight up into her neck, her skull cracking as the sharpened end emerged from the crown of her head. Blood gushed down her chest and splat on the floor, her eyes rolling to the back to expose their whiteness, then she’d come back.

Again. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

A n d  a g a i n.

Sans doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Certainly longer than the time the kid tried until they finally gave up and RESET. This human, however...

S̢̼̼͖̺͖ͪH͇͇̹͊ͪ́̕ͅE̢̢̻ͮͧͦ͋͞͡ I̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟S̢̼̼͖̺͖ͪ I̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟N͔͔̥̺̞̿͊̇T̼̼̖̾͟͞E̢̢̻ͮͧͦ͋͞͡N͔͔̥̺̞̿͊̇T̼̼̖̾͟͞ Ơ̷̴̪̪̝͈̥͈̆̀̚N͔͔̥̺̞̿͊̇ F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞I̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟N͔͔̥̺̞̿͊̇I̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟S̢̼̼͖̺͖ͪH͇͇̹͊ͪ́̕ͅI̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟N͔͔̥̺̞̿͊̇G̯̯̩̙͆ͣ͟ T̼̼̖̾͟͞H͇͇̹͊ͪ́̕ͅI̡̨͙͙̪̹̾͟S̢̼̼͖̺͖ͪ.

Again, they faced each other.

A bone carved itself into her sternum, shredding her lungs and piercing the nerves in her spinal cord.

Again, they fought.

Her flesh left a gruesome scent as it torched underneath the ray of pure energy from the gaping mouth of a contorted skull.

Again, she came back.

She coughs and hacks up the blood coagulating in her throat, every muscle in her body quivering as she is propped up in the air with countless ivory poles penetrating her back. Bones emerge from the breadth of her chest, squeezing past her creaking ribs. Flesh encapsulates the circumference of each bone skewered through her body, viscous crimson fluids dribbling around her back and slipping down the length of each pale bone keeping her elevated.

     ᴋᴏғғ

              ʜᴀᴄᴋ

  ᴋɢʜᴄᴋ

Sans’s slippers are quiet even as he approaches her, lifting his left hand, preparing to end her life for the nth time before he freezes in his spot. He looks at her expression—her face upside down—unable to shake away an uneasy feeling spiraling in the depth of his ribcage. The corners of her cracked, bloodied lips begin to stretch, practically tearing through the skin of her cheeks in order to widen her grin.

H i s  S O U L  i s  p o u n d i n g.

“Y-ou... think... ɢʜᴄᴋ- yo-... ‘re in c-control... ʜᴄᴋᴋ-...”

         ᴋᴏғғ-

LUNE bends her head further back, crunches fill the atmosphere, but her features remain stagnant. Crimson dribbles up her face, immersing into one of her eyes, staining the once clean white color. She cackles but it almost comes out as a gurgle instead.

“-ou think... ɢʜᴋɢ- you’re... do-ing this... ᴋᴄᴋᴋ- f-for... the ɢᴄᴋ- good of... the people...”

“乃ㄩㄒ 丨 Ҝ几ㄖ山 ㄚㄖㄩ'尺乇 ᗪㄖ丨几Ꮆ 丨ㄒ 乃乇匚卂ㄩ丂乇 ㄚㄖㄩ 匚卄卂丂乇 ㄒ卄乇 ㄒ卄尺丨ㄥㄥ ㄖ千 Ҝ丨ㄥㄥ丨几Ꮆ 丂ㄖ爪乇ㄖ几乇.”

“...” Sans says nothing.

His hand hangs in the air, though no tingle of magic flows through his bones. His sockets are empty as they stare at Lune. His grin almost appears forced...

       “卄卂卄卂卄卂卄卂卄卂卄卂-!”

Wincing, Sans blinks, his arm shaking even as it hovers.

“丨 Ҝ几乇山 丨ㄒ. 丨 Ҝ几乇山 ㄚㄖㄩ 山乇尺乇 ﾌㄩ丂ㄒ 卂丂 山ㄖ尺ㄒ卄ㄥ乇丂丂 卂丂 爪乇-!”

９９９９

９９９９

９９９９

９９９９

                            ₚₗₑₐₛₑ...

                            ₛₜₒₚ...

Even after the blaster shuts its mouth, Sans is speechless. His entire being quakes beneath his baggy clothing. Dread fills his SOUL as Lune’s words echo in his mind over and over and over...

And over

and over

and over

Ȧ̶̵̗̳N̰̜͉͔ͬ̽͢Ḋ̤͇̮͙ͥ O̵̷̪̰ͩ͆ͅV̷̬̈ͫ͢͢͝E̸̖̪̱͚ͨ̀͜Ŗ̴̪̈̄͞

They’ve been fighting for countless times.

Sans isn’t sure if his legs are still attached to him.

Lune stands with ０１ health. Her grip on her weapon falters, yet her bottomless eyes stare directly into Sans.

      ʜғғ-

“maybe... let’s... ʜғʜ-... re-think this... huh?”

...?

Lune’s subtle panting slows, her shoulders no longer quivering like they were before.

“i-... i know there’s-... there’s a good person deep down... a person that... tried to make things right... a person that wants to be better... i know they’re inside... you just gotta let ‘em out... so...”

Lune’s eyebrows briefly furrow, witnessing the skeleton withdraw his hand from his pocket and stick it out for her to grab for a handshake.

“whaddya say? can we go back ta bein’ buddies?”

Wh—

          ᴴᵉ’ˢ··· ʰᵉ’ˢ ˢᵖᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵘˢᵎ

... A subtle grin plays on her lips.

JɄ₦Ɇ, who rests deep down within Lune’s SOUL, frantically rushes herself to her feet, her poofy pink hair hysterically flopping over her hopeful expression. Shaking on her legs, JɄ₦Ɇ gazes through Lune’s eyes, her hands slowly fisting themselves before tenderly pressing against her chest, where her pure white SOUL beats eagerly.

          ᴸ⁻ᴸᵘⁿᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉᵎ

...

Within her consciousness, Lune gradually turns to face her expectant alter, watching as her wide lemon-yellow eyes twinkle with desperate longing. Lune, however, stares back blankly, lashes brushing against wisps of choppy black hair hanging over her forehead.

...

          ᴸ⁻ᴸᵘⁿᵉ ʰᵉ’ˢ⁻ ʰʰ⁻ʰᵉ’ˢ ˢᵖᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵘˢᵎ ᵂᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉᵎ ᵂ⁻ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵎ

JɄ₦Ɇ glances back at her alter with a worried expression, her SOUL shuddering upon recognizing Lune’s empty gaze. Her arms quake, remaining pressed up against her pounding chest.

...heh...

Are you s̩͙͖̋͛͟t̴͕͖͓̀û̶͙̽̿͆̈p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜?

Whimpering, JɄ₦Ɇ watches as Lune creeps up on her, an ominous shadow hanging over her face. The pink-haired woman flinches, nearly stumbling in her attempt to walk back, but she is unable to evade the dark-haired woman who launches her hand to grab her hair.

JɄ₦Ɇ yelps loudly, tears instantly springing in the lines of her eyes as she is forced to bend closer toward Lune. She shakes violently, sobbing and stretching her arms above her, hysterically reaching Lune’s and digging her nails into her skin—a pitiful glint of hope to escape tormenting her. The evidently weaker alter repeatedly shrieks and sobs during her attempts of fighting her assailant, but it is of no use.

Lune’s stare remains even as she gawks down at her pathetic alter, feeling her nails pierce her hand. Her features still. Lune would grimace in disgust if she could feel it in the moment... all she CAN feel... is a bottomless pit digging in her chest. She does not care if this stupid skeleton’s sparing her.

          ᴾᵘʰ⁻ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉᵎ ᴸᵘⁿᵉᵎ ᴸ⁻ᴸᵉᵗ ᵍᵒᵎ ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ⁻ᵎ ᴴᵉ’ˢ⁻ᵎ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ˢᵖᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵘˢᵎ

          ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˢˢ⁻ˢᵗᵒᵖᵎ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉᵎ

...

Gasping, JɄ₦Ɇ feels her gravity dramatically shift, a solid force ramming into her rear and back. She quickly realizes she’s been thrown down onto the ground, her lungs forcibly releasing every ounce of air they once held. Writhing on the ground, JɄ₦Ɇ weakly pushes herself to rest on her side, sections of pink hair now wildly scattered over her front.

...you’re a fucking fool.

Lune hears another whimper break through her vocal cords—refusing to acknowledge it—as she steps closer to JɄ₦Ɇ. Her boots thunk until she’s looming over JɄ₦Ɇ’s shaking body, piercing yellow eyes staring her down.

Do you really think... he’s going to spare us?

After everything we di—

          ᴬᶠᵀᴱᴿ ᴱⱽᴱᴿʸᵀᴴᴵᴺᴳ ʸᴼᵁ ᴰᴵᴰ⁻ᵎ

...

Lune’s lips sew themselves shut.

Tears spill over JɄ₦Ɇ’s flushed cheeks, her breathing labored, quiet coughs interjecting her crying. She weakly lowers her head, squinting her eyes, drops of her tears slipping from her cheeks and plopping on the ground.

    ᴋᴄᴋᴋ-

             ʜᴄᴋ-

          ᴵ⁻··· ᴵ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ··· ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃ⁻ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ··· ᵇ⁻ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᶦˢ···

          ᶠᶠ⁻ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ⁻ᵎ

Overcome with silence, Lune does nothing but stare.

   sᴏʙ-

          ᴬ⁻ᴬˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ··· ʷᵃˢ ᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈˢ··· ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʰʰ⁻ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ···

...

          ᴮᵘᵗ ʸʸ⁻ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⁻ᵎ

          ʸ⁻ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ⁻ᵎ

          ˢˢ⁻ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵉᶜᶦᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵉˡˢᵉ⁻ᵎ

Another yelp leaves JɄ₦Ɇ when a web of pain surges on the top of her head, quickly realizing Lune grabbed her hair yet again. She breaks out in another sob, looking up with tears overflowing in her eyes.

Nothingness stares back at JɄ₦Ɇ, a blackhole destined to swallow SOULs whole. Lune tightens the clasp she has on JɄ₦Ɇ’s hair, ignoring her squeak.

Fine.

If you want your happy ending so badly...W̸͈ͯ̾̒̿h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢y̯̤͑́́̓́ d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘'t̴͕͖͓̀ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈ g̴̶̛̮̣͙͠ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚ g̴̶̛̮̣͙͠ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊t̴͕͖͓̀ i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟t̴͕͖͓̀?

JɄ₦Ɇ struggles to keep her gaze on Lune, her hands gripping her wrist in hopes of subsiding her pain. JɄ₦Ɇ winces.

          ᴴ⁻ᴴᵘʰˀ

Lune bends down uncomfortably close, acidic eyes wide with ominous intent that burns through JɄ₦Ɇ’s optimism. Her strength is firm, keeping her digits interlaced with JɄ₦Ɇ’s fluffy pink hair, practically tearing up her scalp.

Go ahead.

If you can convince this clown...

To SPARE us...

I’ll do it.

I’ll RESET...

I’ll let you live your happy little ending...

But let me tell you now...

Quietly squeaking, JɄ₦Ɇ watches as Lune hovers close, fearful of what may happen if she dare let her gaze go astray.

Y̵̷̛̤͍̅́̕ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟ c̷̹͖͋́̃h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘c̷̹͖͋́̃ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊s̩͙͖̋͛͟ ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟ t̴͕͖͓̀h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘.

The next thing June knows, she’s standing in the golden corridor with ⱠɄ₦Ɇ’s hatchet in her hand. Her legs waver, threatening to buckle if she twitches too hard. June, although maintaining the appearance of ⱠɄ₦Ɇ, quickly lifts her gaze to look at the skeleton, who remains offering his hand.

A glint of hope flashes in her eyes, remembrance of what feels like a distant memory dancing around her SOUL. June’s eyes almost tear up when she thinks about the life she once had.

She thinks about the laughter that rang within the sultry atmosphere of MTT Resort, laughter shared between her and Sans as they exchanged ridiculous jokes and puns. A fluffy excitement sang within her SOUL... along with a glimmer of fondness, perhaps?

I can bring it back-!

I-I can make things right, Sans-!

I can make everything go back- b-back to the way it was-!

I̶̴̗̗̦͍ͨͭ̉͢͟f̷̵̫̞̉͢ ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡y̯̤͑́́̓́ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈ c̷̹͖͋́̃ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜ p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀û̶͙̽̿͆̈t̴͕͖͓̀ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟ t̴͕͖͓̀r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟û̶͙̽̿͆̈s̩͙͖̋͛͟t̴͕͖͓̀ i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘ m̶̷͔ͪ̽͡ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊!

Gradually, her digits uncurl around the dingy handle of a weapon that never belonged to her. She listens to it clank in the hall, but her gaze is fixated on Sans. He also refuses to glance down at the hatchet.

                          well, that’s not somethin’ i expected...

                          huh...

June is oblivious to the way glistening trails emerge down her pale cheeks, a hesitant smile growing over her cracked lips. Soreness travels throughout her beaten and bruised body, though she shows no sign of discomfort. All she merely does is lift her arms with a sad smile, almost as if inviting a hug, hands extended out to Sans.

Please...

Please, trust me.

９９９９

９９９９

９９９９

９９９９

...what...?

A sharp pain shoots through June’s chest, eyes wide with terror slowly falling down, recognizing the end of a bone now pierced through her chest. Her SOUL violently trembles in her chest, barely maintaining the will to remain whole. She gasps quietly, lowering her hands only to hover them over her wounded chest.

“Hh-hahh... ah... I—...”

More tears flood June’s eyes, despair rooting deep in her SOUL as it crumbles apart before her very eyes. She sharply breathes in, weeping to herself, knees instantly hitting the floor. June directs her glistening gaze back up at Sans, eyebrows twisted above her nose and her lips parted, yet no word slips out.

Sans stares back at her, his left hand hovering by his side.

“...”

“...no... p-please...” June croaks, “This... can’t... be how... it ends...”

“...”

His eye sockets slightly squint.

“see you in hell, human...”

No...

Nononononono...

What...

...this...

‎

T̷̫͉̰͕̒́h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟s̩͙͖̋͛͟ i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟s̩͙͖̋͛͟n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘’t̴͕͖͓̀ m̶̷͔ͪ̽͡y̯̤͑́́̓́ h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀p̶̸̨̺͊̍̒̓̀y̯̤͑́́̓́ ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘d̸̡̩͍̔ͥ͜i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘g̴̶̛̮̣͙͠...

𝐅𝐈𝐍. (1/1)

[kaikamahine]

hard read under the cut. tw for death.

things i wish i wouldn't have to remember

the way her eyes bulged.

her tongue, pushing out between her teeth. i tried to pry her jaws apart, to clear her airway, but they were locked tight. i couldn't. her tongue was bleeding.

her eyes bulged. they pointed in different directions. like a ghibli character, enraged.

"i'm a little dizzy," she had said, before she listed to one side. before her eyes did that awful thing.

i grabbed her face. i righted it. i pointed it at me.

"mom!" i called. "yeah?" she said. "MOM!" i called. her eyes slid back to center, on me. "what?" she said. it wasn't speaking, really. her mouth barely moved. her tongue pushed.

these were the last words she said to me.

i was right there, kneeling in front of her. her head in my hands. calling to her.

her color was bad. so so bad.

i saw her eyes go away. i saw her stop breathing.

i hauled her to the floor. you need a hard surface to start cpr. her jaws rigid, couldn't clear her airway. called 911. wailed. mom's not breathing! mom's not breathing!

chest compressions. 911 had to remind me how to place my hands.

my brother told me, later, when i told him i was never going to forget how her eyes went fixed, that he was never going to forget the sight of me, throwing all my weight onto her chest.

he was there, throwing open the front door and hauling furniture out of the way. could hear sirens now. dog barking.

men coming in. man with a braid said, "i'll take over from here, sweetheart." his chest compressions looked a lot different from mine.

lot of men after that. women, too. all in blue. lots of plastic on the floor. they cut her sweatshirt off. the teal one, with the poinsettias. her shirt, her bra. she always tucked kleenex in her bra, for when her pants pockets were too far away. it went everywhere.

a machine. like an engine. they put it over her chest and strapped her wrists to it, so she was holding it up. it did the chest compressions now. hard. her body jerked with each one. she would have liked to see it.

a man, to me: is she allergic to anything? me, to him: everything. but nothing medical.

him, to me: does she have any health problems? me, to him: everything. breast cancer, diabetes, bad kidneys, eczema.

him, to the others: diabetic. get a sugar.

it was 570.

the thought, then, like a blow. like an axe to the head: had /I/ done this?

she just had a bout of diarrhea. i KNEW she tended to slide on her diet when she had the runs, to keep up her salts.

diabetic means no starch. but she needs a high fiber diet, too, her doctor said, and there's fiber in beans, peas, some vegetables. but the most fiber is in grains.

so we compromised. i would give her a high-fiber cereal for breakfast, when she was most likely to take her insulin straight afterward. healthy blood sugars are below 120. she usually ran in the 200s, even fasting.

never 570.

i didn't think about how she'd probably eaten something salty starchy. i didn't think that she probably would have forgotten her nightly insulin. i gave her breakfast as usual.

i didn't know, then, that it had been her heart. i thought it was a diabetic coma.

we were on the floor for half an hour. they stopped the machine twice, to check. i knew what a flatline sounded like.

a man, to me: sometimes in this situation we can call it. but your mother's markers are rising, which tells me her body wants to function. we'll take her to the hospital so they can try.

onto the stretcher. out the door.

it's december. below freezing. they put the blanket under her, to protect her from the stretcher. nothing on top of her. because of the machine, maybe?

my mom is hard to embarrass. but outside with all those men around with her breasts hanging out in the air would have flustered even her, i think.

hospital. there was an underground garage for parking. i was still in my nightdress. i'd grabbed a sweatshirt for my mom, thinking she'd want one since they cut her other one off, but i'd forgotten anything for me. fuck, it was cold.

a room in the lobby with a door that shut.

then a doctor. i don't remember her name. and trista, the chaplain.

it doesn't look good, they said. would you like to see her?

of course i would. what kind of question is that.

it was the first room inside the doors. so many people swarming. i couldn't have gotten to my mom's side even if i wanted.

doctor touched my arm. pointed to the heart monitor. said, surprised, "the situation's turned around. they've got her."

said, "but she was gone for so long. i want to manage your expectations. the brain damage is likely very severe."

i would take care of her no matter what, i said. she's my mom.

i wish

i wish now

with all my heart

i wish i had called out to her. while they had her. while she was there.

i wish i wish i wish

mom don't you dare leave me. mom you're going to be so mad if you miss this. mom. mom mom mama. don't leave me here.

but i didn't want to interrupt. mom was a retired medical professional. she trusted the process implicitly. and so many people were working so hard to save her.

she crashed again. they called it at 11:27am.

do you know the strangeness of a body in a hospital with nothing hooked up to it?

there's no mistaking a corpse for anything else.

her forehead was cold. her hand was cold. i hadn't brushed her hair yet that morning, so it was frizzing out of the braid she'd slept in. they'd closed her eyes.

i think i stroked her forehead so much that my warmth transferred into her, because when my brother got there it was better.

trista said (and signed, to our surprise,) take all the time you need.

but, not long later, and with genuine regret, i'm so sorry, but they need the room.

oh no, i said to my mom, i'm going to steal one more kiss. and did.

a frequent joke. would kiss her head once i'd gotten her comfy on the sofa, and then goblin scuttle back to steal one more. she'd laugh. oh no! she'd echo. not my daughter! not a kiss! her short term memory had been fraying, so it was a new joke every time.

closed the door behind my brother and i.

trista had been right: the er waiting room was packed. standing room only. with us, tear-stained, and trista, it was obvious what kind of procession we were. i hoped it helped someone; no one's ever in the er for anything good, but i hoped someone could look at us and think, at least i'm not them.

home, then.

my brother had tidied. cleaned the plastic up and the remains of mom's clothes, and her pill bottle that i'd knocked to the floor when i'd hauled her off the sofa. he'd adjusted the pillows, straightened the towel. it looked like a sofa in anyone's living room, not like the place my mother had nestled into and lived for the last six years.

her doctor called. emily. we saw her once a month. she's genuinely the best. all those posts warning you about bad faith doctors and to not be afraid to be firm and finding one to take you seriously, and we found her on the first try.

it had just come through on the patient portal, she said. oh my god, oh my god, honey. i'm so sorry.

emily, i said. wailed, really. emily, did i kill her? her blood sugar was 570.

no, she said. no no no. elizabeth, no. it was her heart. it says right here. it was a heart attack.

it was the first i'd heard of it.

how, i said. how? her heart was the only thing that wasn't wrong with her!

but there's no answer to that, of course.

it's so quiet.

it's two days, now. and it's so quiet. no tv, no wheels clattering on the tile as she trundles to the bathroom or into the kitchen to get more iced tea from the fridge. no one calling for me to maybe do that last thing for her, pretty please.

so quiet. my mom's not here.

things i am likely never ever ever to forget

it's the same list

[aimlessetymology]

misty's greatest crime was saving coach ben

[coneygoil]

I am sick to my stomach this morning. When I went to the chicken coop to let my chickens out, I found one of them dead. And not just dead but there was barely anything left of her! Bandit, my tiny brown silkie, had been broody for a couple of days so she was in the nesting box. Somehow a predictor squeezed in and literally ate her in there. The rest of the chickens were fine, even my crippled one that sleeps in the ground. I’m so shaken and I can’t get that image out of my head if finding her. I’ve never in my 11 years of chicken keeping had one die a gruesome death like that. We couldn’t even say goodbye to her proper bc there was only a few bones of feathers left. I found where something could have squeezed in. Can’t believe I hadn’t caught that breach until now 😩

Here’s a tribute to the Toasty Bandit , our tiny brown silkie. We’ve only had her since January, but we loved her very much 🤎 Fly high, precious girl

That bottom right picture was taken just two days ago 😢

[esoomris]

you ever Experience a piece of media and walk away feeling like your brain has been scrambled like an egg

[bookwyrminspiration]

That sure is a long weather report

Good day every-one it is I, your weather man, here to bring you to-day's weather with utmost correctness and punctuality, for I am the best man of weather in this country and know all there is to know about the sky and its moods.

So today police found a dead body

[siliconesausage]

Began a new multi-chapter work called Disco is (Not) Dead! It explores the 'suicide' of Harry Du Bois in a set of tapes that delve deep into his life -- and the strange, sudden end of it.

Please check the tags on this post for the warnings!

[spookcataloger]

Time Slows Down

[intcrastra]

The sheer potential angst of Gallagher genuinely falling in love with someone and having to war with both instincts and Duty versus wanting to be gentle and sweet with them, knowing that Ultimately, this whole relationship is prolly going to have a gruesome end if they can't align with his ultimate goal-

[morporkian-cryptid]

🇯🇵Elliott's Japan Trivia Corner🇯🇵

Today we're gonna talk DISEMBOWELMENT! 😃👍

Just kidding. I'm actually going to talk more about the cultural stuff that goes around seppuku, not the actual swish-swish. (Still, CW for suicide and graphic description of death)

For those who aren't aware, seppuku (or hara-kiri) refers to the act of cutting open your stomach, then having someone behead you to shorten your suffering 👍 It was a ritual suicide practiced (mostly) by the samurai, from the Kamakura period (12th century) up until 1991. Yup, you read that right. Seppuku was officially outlawed in 19-fucking-91.

Did you know that, in the Edo era, so many samurai were doing seppuku after the death of their lord, that the government had to ban the practice for that specific case? Fun times.

🤔 So, when can you perform 🗡seppuku🗡 ?

The short answer is: any fucking time you have a problem! 🥳 Boss died? Seppuku! Disagree with landlord? Seppuku! Bowed to someone at the wrong angle and embarrassed yourself? SE-FUCKING-PPUKU!

This form of ritual suicide is meant to either avoid dishonor, or regain lost honor. And in the Edo era you lost your honor like you lost a spare sock.

👉 Originally it was mostly done by warriors in battle to avoid being captured by the enemy.

During the Edo era, after the constant internal wars of the Sengoku period had ended, samurai found themselves without a good reason to show how metal they were by slitting their own stomachs open, and so they invented a bunch of excuses to do it anyway.

👉 As mentioned above, it could be when your lord died and you became a rōnin (a master-less wandering samurai), which apparently wasn't as cool as it is shown in anime, and kinda sucked.

(see the famous story of Lord Asano and the Fourty Seven Ronin)

👉 You could also commit seppuku to formally state your disagreement to your lord. Yes, samurai in the Edo era really went "I recognize the council has made a decision, but given as it is a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to KILL MYSELF ABOUT IT."

That specific practice sometimes even involved taping up your stomach wound, going to see your lord, telling him (respectfully) how much his decision sucked ass, and then un-taping your wound and bleeding out all over his tatami floor.

👉 Seppuku wasn't always exactly a suicide. In fact, most of the people who committed seppuku in the Edo era where condemned to do it in punishment for an offense. It was considered a way for the samurai in question to redeem himself. In fact, sometimes the "cutting your stomach" part was skipped altogether, the knife was replaced with a symbolic fan, and the guy was just beheaded. That was especially the case for court-ordered seppuku, because you don't really want to give a knife to a criminal you're about to execute.

Speaking of 🔥Honor🔥, you know who else could be dishonored forever? The guy cutting off the samurai's head to shorten his suffering! If he did it wrong, he would bring dishonor on himself AND his family for the rest of his life.

That part of seppuku required great swordsmanship, as you were supposed to sever the spinal cord but leave a small strip of skin so the head would remain attached to the body (hello morbid details my old friends...). Because when you order your enemy to commit ritual suicide, the last thing you want is to be assaulted by his flying head. 👹

A little vocabulary clear-up: you've probably heard it called "hara-kiri" more often than "seppuku". In fact, both words mean "cutting the stomach" and refer to the same ritual practice, but seppuku is a formal word used mostly in writing, while hara-kiri is more familiar and used orally.

And to conclude, I am legally obligated to say: DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME! If you have a problem with your boss, resolve it like a mature adult by replacing all their pens with crayons.

[whumpndump]

hello! could you write a yandere whumper drabble please

Whumpee felt sick. Whumper had left hours ago, claiming they needed to "clean up some unfinished business", and ever since, whumpee had been spiralling mentally trying to figure out what they were going to do. They sat on their soft double bed in the basement, a padded collar around their neck with a thick metal chain attached to the headboard keeping them in place.

Trinkets and luxuries scattered the room: books, video games, cds and a cd player, a wardrobe full of comfortable clothing, all gifts from their ""one true love"", all within the walking distance their collar allowed- all except for the door.

After a week of captivity they weren't panicking quite as much as at first, keeping hope in their heart that their family, their friends, their partner, someone would notice their absence and find them soon. At the very least they were comfortable until that happened ...as long as whumper was away, that is.

As if summoned by their thoughts of them, whumper cracked open the basement door and strutted inside, struggling to carry a stack of large boxes in their arms.

"Hello my sweetheart. I have more gifts for you. Special gifts. Will you open them?" Whumper asked, voice dripping with adoration as they stared at whumpee unwaveringly.

Knowing better than to ignore whumper's gifts at this point, whumpee rose from their bed and went towards the boxes. Deciding they were too heavy to de-stack, they simply started with the top one. Ripping off the tape and pulling open the flaps, whumpee stifled a gag.

"Well.. do you like it?"

Whumpee stared motionlessly into the box.

And their partner's lifeless head stared back.

[catnykit]

whump idea #1

woods+maggots+insanity? Not a good deal.

"Your stories are messed up" darling before knowing the whump community they were FUCKED UP,Now atleast I have to put a fucking category....

TW: READ THE TAGS.

I remember having this daydream/idea about one of my characters lost in the forest and having a "mindless episode"(i dont know,It could be psychosis,Drunkness,absolute and raw insanity,starvation,Delirium,mind control,You call it) but they find this weird ass pile of maggots. And eat it. And this was horrible because the maggots quickly squirm and start sparcing throught the MC's body like a virus. Tearing apart organs and tissue inside-to-outside. They start to feel sick in only some minutes after their conciousness come back. This alredy sounds enough agonazing,But to stress it even more,They were lost in the middle of nowhere,Their whimpers and struggles falling on deaf ears. They are supposed to die slowly and alone... BUT but,the good or worst part is the fact that,they didnt died like that!!! some maggots for some reason decided to go for the throat and lungs because Idfk they liked it there🤷‍♀️. so,Instead of getting eated alive painfully slowly they instead suffocate to death. Yes And,To stress this EVEN MORE is the fact that,No matter what was it,The "mindless episode" is a signal of probabily mentally unwell. Someone enough psychologically injured to go savague on the woods and dies in an HORRIBLE way,Without no one to help them. And even if someome did save them,This psycologicall injury would make it harder for anyone to help,ESPECIALLY if the deranged person is agressive even in great pain. So yeah,Thanks for coming to my ted talk about this whump daydream of long ago :3

[viatrixtravels-a]

// Man I usually love me some Xiaolumi angst but this artist on Twitter just ripped out my heart and then stepped on it.

[thinkingabout-girls]

it’s important to find people who’s brains work in similar ways to yours because if i talk to normal people about my extensive knowledge of historical execution methods they get freaked out but if i talk to my friends about it it’s a 45 minute informative discussion

[ennaku-sirri-da]

My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ INVESTIGATIONS....START!!!]

( Plaintext: My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 2 ] [ Investigations....start!!!] )

Habit is pretty new around here, but if he can't find a single friend then God help him he is going to make the ghost in the bathroom who may-or-may not-exist-but-hopefully-its-a-may-- his friend. Now if only he had any idea where to start?!?!

--

Well, she's fading in relevance, but some rumors still stick- that is atleast a place to start with.....

TO THE DRAMA TUNNEL!!!

( Wanna clarify this is NOT actually drama he's going there for though, that's just what the majority of the place harbours. I guess this particular use is like...more of...Information-Hole??)

[ GIF description: Pinkie Pie from MLP FIM uses a attached slide and somehow slides up and out of an underground lair where she prepares for parties with a variety of party items and folders on everyone's likes and dislikes. End GIF description]

That's right. You heard me, bozo. Habit has a secret underground cave under the angel statue at the forefront of his school full of folders on every single person only used for the V.V.V. Important Purposes Vital For Survival. Such as catty gossip that can be used against you later. He hasn't really told Kamal about it truthfully because he'd never let that fly HQKJSJSK

But sometimes when they're talking after being out of their respective schools he TRIES anyway. Getting really close and whispering conspirationally.

'' So I heared his moms gettin' die-vorced...''

( habitspeak translation: So I heard his moms gettin' divorced...)

''HAHA YES AMAZING''

Sorry guys, Kamal is also trying, but just to keep his cool. The times when he does tolerate enough to give some gossiping ground. Still though, brotato, personal space.....😳😖( blushing emoji and closed-eye agitated emoji )

HOWEVER. He simply won't entertain the idea of this fanciful ghost-hunt his friends picked up and the associated taperecorded interviews, derelict dental records(???), old newspapers, photographs, impromptu questioning around the neighbourhood, bake sales for means to obtain said-newspapers, urban legend discussion printouts, breaking n entering into school offices at 3 AM ... Holy DUCKNUGGETS. Chill out big time, saaley. Don't fuck around and find out with what we don't know, yeah? He's mildly superstitious( despite liking to think himself more rational than that) so he's really uncomfortable with Habit mentioning it.

>POV: your just the janitor in the basement to grab your dust pan but Habit is Happening

[ ID: Meme of a guy with a vast number of papers and red tape stuck together on the wall like a stereotypical conspiracy theorist. He is explaining them raptly with wildly serious looking eyes. End ID]

So, um. Habit gets more huffy around him about that But he Keeps Going Anyway. And getting into more trouble with everyone as usual.

Guys, I NEED you to know I'm TOTALLY imagining a musical sequence where Habit's going through his All Saints High school and EVERYONE'S LIKE....

[ Video Thumbnail ID: A painterly style illustration of the three musicians performing " We Don't Talk About Bruno...But It's Cursed" in the style of the Madrigal family members, but ominously done in glowing greens and bright reds. The title text is in the same colors and has a roughened look. Their eyes all glow green and the man in the middle has rats on him in an imitation of Camilo Madrigal. All of them are posed like they're telling a sinister story, clawing their hands and grinning in an unhinged manner. End ID]

" WE DONT TALK ABOUT MARTHA "

( plaintext: "We don't talk about Martha" )

Of COURSE it would not be like, the exact same bcuz different context. But just the general vibe of someone's real self faded into increasingly contrived stories, the implication that meeting with this person is a portent of bad luck, danger and possibly death itself and an enforced silence on events. And the protagonist wanting to unveil the truth.

Oh and! I particularly took a Catholic school for Habit to go to( it wasn't his choice, Father sent him off ) because of that one line he drops in a PSA " hate the sin love the sinner" I think, which I've most frequently heard around(not personally) as like. An anti LGBT sentiment from Christians. It was jarring to hear in the game, but worked to effect. And also Martha and Habit's story sprung from this one particular song that was sent to me, plus Catholic schools are some of the largest spread in the US, admitting non Catholic students as well. His own family would probably follow a different Russian Orthodox tradition though.

--

Well, what's happening on the B side?

Martha is quite, quite highly amused.

( Also perhaps holding an little flicker of hope, cuz it's like. People who do not fully believe in her cannot see her no-matter-what,

as she found out when she was newly-awakened and tried to go about school as usual

[ Gif description : An animated sequence from the Katawa Shoujo visual novel where Hanako looks on in confusion while students zip past her impossibly fast, their faces and figures blurring. Only one other person stands without moving. It generally represents the feeling of the world leaving Hanako behind. End ID]

<Yup. Kinda traumatizing. Stuff like this is why she prefers to stay stall-confined self-exiled most of the time.>

and also she has to reveal herself voluntarily. She's not shown herself, but he clearly does believe....)

She's like " Woah. DOLLY : O (open mouth emote)" HSJDJDJ A big, walking, talking one. Which he is. It just particularly endears her because she used to have a hobby of collecting them, finding out about their histories and stuff. When she was alive she eventually stopped talking about it because some people would find it embarrassing. Still carries that shame, but hey, there's no soul around to see right now.

Follows him around sometimes, even. Walking in front, clutching the walls above, at his shoulder.

Judgementally spectating him getting into another fight come-to-blows by virtue of his incredibly short-fuse especially with assholes( Hes uh. Stressed. To say the least.) . Only she likes to pretend he's actually following her by walking in front of him all-proud by vaguely predicting which direction he's taking. Actually he doesn't even see her there, but that just reduces any pesky possible arguements, right? Playing pretend is so much better. Few regrets. Like how he has to usually stitch his wounds up himself 'cause skin-bandages feel gross on the fur and don't do much. She could probably do that for him, and better!!! Without all the shaking and sniffling.

That is of course all a big IF. Habit's skyrocketed to the exact sort of notoriety she has spent so many years averting for herself, in like, record time. In a strange turn of events--- this kind of reputation making it hard for him to keep n' make new friends who don't slip through his paws like wilted petals-- has led him to.....someone who would under more non-time displaced circumstances...would NEVER be his friend. No matter how much she both admires and envies his loudly bold, curious and creative side coming through in times like how he touts around and takes apart the one Mecha Jesus Transformer ( from Kamal) with a whole backstory he's made up with his, apparently one friend, now. Or when he refuses to follow taken-for-granted rules without reason( like she couldn't bring herself to). But now, there's no one around to see......

Still, old habits die hard. Even when you're already dead in the ground. So she hesitates...and hesitates some more. Teetering on the edge of an afterlife-changing desicion.

But once...

It's just a regular bathroom visit. Open the door, check for other people, run inside. Regular running away from everyone, letting perenially red eyes run redder when for all the high-achieving to not make anyone mad still the teachers didn't know what to make of him. Running over chipped molars in the mirror-reflection for far too long, the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, not the cursing God, not the attempts in the stall to muffle his noise lest passing janitors hear, not the barely contained scream, not in-the-end when it all thankfully stops and he slumps down on the closed seat, exhausted.

And then he says something. New.

"I wish ..someone would miss me if I was gone."

Unfortunately this time Habit can't contain the part-excited and part-terrified scream hoarsely ripping from him when all his researching becomes reality.

[ Gif description: Animated cutscene from the Faith games in its signature usually colored-outline, black fill-in, rotoscoped cutscenes. Amy Martin rises up from the edge of the beds end, hands first and then up to her head covered by long hair. There's a slight glitching distortion. End description]

SHE IS HERE.

( Plaintext: She Is Here.)

[and-stir-the-stars]

being self-indulgent, okay, so:

explanations for the aus under the cut

SL canon compliant mike: got concussed and heavily injured from Funtime Foxy's attack; learning what happened to Liz was his first exposure to ghosts and possession, where he learned the hard way that even if he wants to help the spirits inside animatronics they're just going to attack and hurt him; doesn't fight as hard as he should against the wires holding him down at the Scooper because deep down he thinks he deserves this and he shouldn't fight if this stands the slightest chance of helping Liz

dire consequences mike: gets trapped in an abandoned Freddy's location by Evan's ghost; Evan just wants to play and be happy with his brother, but has been dead so long that he doesn't understand human concepts like starvation, dehydration, illness, and pain; Michael slowly withers away before Evan rips Mikey open to figure out what's wrong with him, finally killing Mike (fic for reference)

silent protector mike: while working as Mike Schmidt in fnaf 1, Mike finds Evan's ghost possessing Golden Freddy; Mike tries to bare his soul and apologize for what he did, except Evan utterly rejects and kills him, giving Mike's ghost some Serious Trauma later; Evan picks Mike up, puts his head inside Fredbear's mouth, and chomps/activates the springlocks

paradoxical reaper mike (from my specific one shot): as per dire-kumori's au, scooped Mike ("the monster") gets sent back in time and gets himself stuck in a time loop trying to kill his teenage self over and over. My one-shot has teen Mike trying to fight back only to get himself impaled on some spikes that teen Mike himself set up to kill the "monster" chasing him; the "monster" tells teen Mike that Mike brought this on himself, rips away Mike's Foxy mask (the only thing that made him feel strong enough to survive the monster's attack), and watches Mike slowly die

lonely children mike: is essentially stuck in a time loop where he has to watch the Nightmare animatronics kill Evan over and over, and the only way the loop will reset (giving Michael the illusion of another chance to save Evan from the Nightmares), is if Mike kills himself over and over