#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 c̷̹��͋́̃h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢ă̶̸̝ͦ͊��͋͞n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘c̷̹͖͋́̃ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊s̩͙͖̋͛͟ 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)

[anirakiya]

I AM NOT READY FOR THE INFINITY CASTLE ARC TO BE ANIMATED

i don’t want to see my babies die ☹️🙏🙏 please dont make shinobu, genya, muichiro, AND mitsuri’s death gruesome im begging on my knees ufotable 🤧🤧🙏🙏🙏

[canadiannationalfox]

So uuhhhhhhh ok this is from episode 6

This means one of 3 things: 1) Cyn pretended to be Tessa immediately after the massacre 2) She let Tessa live for another day before skinning her like Cruella making a dalmatian coat

OR the most traumatic yet

3) Tessa didn't know for a day what happened and then Cyn springlocked her from the inside so to say

[peasant-player]

A little very early wip, it's a drawing of finduilas tragic death and I got inspired by @serene-faerie. They have a really good post about basically elven and spicy paintings! Check that out!!

[edennill]

interconnected young númenórean OCs:

oruzîr: native of romenna from a faithful family, loosely associated with the brotherhood. he's taken when random people are being picked off the streets in Romenna in retaliation for a joint assassination attempt on Sauron and Ar-Pharazon (the loyalists are filtered out, of course, but he's very much not) and killed-slash-sacrificed. I am not giving any details but, uh, it's not pleasant by any means because of the whole "collective punishment and deterrent against treason" facet.

he also becomes the basis of a lot of númenórean/gondor-arnorian folklore about dead people appearing to their kin in dreams (together with gorlim from the first age probably) because he does. more than once, and all with namo's permission, he's just waiting for his best friend to arrive in the halls and there are those whose spirits can be raised by the appearance of someone who died well and is now a given value of okay.

angrod: yes, his parents chose a random name from the histories, next question; on a day to day basis he goes by something adunaic. taken on the same day as his best friend and for the same reasons, killed a few days after him. one of the people oru did talk to in dreams, they leave the halls together.

ireth: oru's cousin and other best friend, born and raised somewhere beyond romenna. her family moved to pelargir a few years before the other was killed, because the situation in númenor was getting too bad for their liking and that's probably how she survived everything that happened. also talks with oru in a dream, raises a symbolical grave for him in her garden which becomes something of a local curiosity/chapelet in later days. her letters regarding the post-mortem conversation are probably the best preserved account of the whole idea. childhood friend to several members of the brotherhood.

dirên: youth engaged to avalêzrê, very deep in illegal activities. he is killed while leading a fugitive "traitor" to the coast.

khamil: dirên's younger brother, raised by him after their parents passed on from illness, 14 at time of death. in the absence of a dirên to question he is unfortunately arrested by the king's men and brought to the temple where in dire circumstances he manages not to reveal the names of any of his brother's co-conspirators. I feel guilty for killing him off because lil bro is the same age and I realised that's actually a kid when I put the two together.

avalêzrê: she's the unofficial leader of a group in romenna that calls itself the brotherhood for lack of a better name and consists of several "full-time" and several looser affiliated members. their goals are non-military, they mostly occupy themselves with the collection of medical and financial support, preservation of art and culture, as well as passing on messages for whoever among the faithful might have need such service.

tirithon: core member of the brotherhood. taken by sauron, he is unable to keep many of the others secret under interrogation. sacrificed soon after.

azgabar: friend of tirithon betrayed by him. he holds no grudge and forgives him in the halls before they go on.

azrathel: sole survivor of the brotherhood, former neighbour of oruzîr and angrod. she meets and becomes a friend of ireth after the downfall.

súrion: an acquaintance/loose friend of azrathel and one of the people who came up with the assassination plot. if he ever learns about the azrathel-ireth-oruzir connection it's going to be awkward, especially as he's probably going to meet ireth someday. ("your cousin kinda died instead of me, and tbh neither of us should have died but uh if anyone here committed treason it was not him and maybe I should have predicted the outcome")

[goosewizard]

thinking about tommys death and resurrection. thinking about dream, with no access to anything outside of what is in his cell. dream, bludgeoning tommys corpse and tearing apart skin and muscle to grab at his new tools. dream, with bone shards for scalpels and sewing needles, with tendon for string. tommy wasn’t using it right anyway. dream, who puts tommy back together piece by piece, just to destroy him again. and tommy, who is broken and made anew over and over, tommy, who paradoxically loses as much flesh as he gains, tommy, who is never whole but retains all the pieces, tommy, who’s cracks are not filled with gold but his own flesh, twisted and wrong, tommy, who’s broken and ugly, tommy, who walks with a limp now, tommy, whos bones never set right, tommy, who never fully left the prison, tommy, who is still sitting shiny and new on dreams countertop.

[cruilty-ink]

Yipeee I finished this 2 minute animation

Would recommend reading tags before watching, cus there's a lot of triggers

[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

[midasfortnite]

*drops out of context oc lore*

[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

[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.