#tw implied major character death
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gloomysoup · 1 month ago
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before we get too old
rating: T+ | word count: 3,563 | tags: major character death, angst, hurt no comfort, canon-typical violence, implied steddie (if you squint) | ao3
*title is from Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol*
i am so happy to FINALLY be sharing this fic with y'all. I've been sitting on this one for MONTHS, and surprisingly kept it pretty secret. I wanna give quick thanks to my friends, Ro and Seph, for helping me edit over the last several weeks and convincing me it's actually good enough to post. They are godsends, I swear. And of course a special thank you to my spouse @estrellami-1 for having full confidence in me and always being my cheerleader 💜 I hope y'all enjoy this fic (and don't hate me too much for what I've done here)
It happened so fast. His attention was away from Mike and Will for maybe a handful of seconds at most, turned just long enough to scan the area behind him for movement. All it took was a few seconds though. When he turned back around, a demogorgon had lept toward the two young teens, and Steve Harrington was blocking them.
There wasn’t even enough time for Steve to raise his bat. He didn’t stand a chance. He shoved the two boys behind him so hard that Will tripped and fell. Mike was frozen on the spot. The creature had a hold on Steve before anyone could even blink. Its claws dug into his skin as its face opened up, sinking sharp teeth into tender muscle and tearing. Steve gritted his teeth to keep from screaming too loudly, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. The others regained their senses and shot at the demogorgon, forcing it to release Steve and move back far enough for Jonathan to hit it with flames. Steve crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood, falling limp like a rag doll, tossed aside by a child who found something more interesting to play with.
The creature was dead. The other groups were scattered, following the plan. This hadn’t been part of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mike and Will stood a few paces away from where Steve laid on the ground, forcing wet, gasping breaths into his lungs through the blood pouring out in droves. Jonathan dropped to his side as soon as he was certain the rest of the area was clear.
“Steve,” he said between quick breaths. He pulled a wad of gauze from his bag, a precaution Nancy had made them all take. Part of him knew, just looking at Steve, that it wasn’t going to be enough. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay, man.”
Steve coughed, blood spilling from his mouth and dripping down the sides of his face. “It- it came outta- outta nowhere, man. I had- had to help- had to keep the kids safe.”
“Yeah, you did. They’re fine, Steve. You protected them.” Jonathan fought the emotions creeping up his throat as he pressed the gauze into the gaping wounds on Steve’s torso. The skin was ripped to shreds. Jonathan could almost convince himself he could see the bones of Steve’s rib cage through all the blood. Steve winced and groaned at the sharp pressure. “I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta stop the bleeding. It’s a lot of blood.”
“Be better if Nance was here, huh?” Steve tried to laugh, but it just came out weak and strained. It led to another cough, blood spilling everywhere. It was already pooling underneath him, seeping into the ground. “She’d know exactly what to do."
“You’re right, she would. She’s always the one better in a crisis, isn’t she?” Jonathan licked his lips. His hands were coated in blood. It was seeping through the gauze far quicker than he had hoped it would. This was bad. “You’re gonna be okay, Steve. We’re gonna get you outta here, yeah?”
Steve took a few more gasping breaths, his eyes fluttering before drifting behind Jonathan to Mike and Will. His gaze pulled back to Jonathan, dark and dim as he fought for every blood-soaked breath. “You don’t have to lie, man. I- I know it’s bad. I’m not making it out of here, am I?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No, you gotta hang on, okay? We’ll find a way. We’ll get you help, and everything will be fine.” The gauze was completely soaked through. Blood seeped through his fingers, coating his hands in thick, sticky red. He could feel it soaking into the knees of his jeans. He looked over his shoulder. “Mike, Will, I need you to help,” he called. “I need something to stop the bleeding.”
Mike stood stock-still, whole body trembling, but Will seemed to instantly jump into action. He rummaged through their small supply, looking for anything they could use. He found a spare t-shirt and a jacket. It would have to do. They didn't have any other option, and the walkies hadn’t been working this whole time. They had no way of calling the others for help. They were on their own. Will tossed the shirt at his brother, standing just to the side as Jonathan switched out the dark red, dripping gauze for the shirt. It had done nothing to staunch any of the bleeding. Steve had gone pale. Paler than any person ever should be. He was losing too much.
“W- Will, okay?” Steve asked, still fighting for air.
“I’m fine, Steve,” Will answered softly. “We both are. You saved us.”
“That’s- that’s good.” His eyes drifted shut, and Jonathan began to panic. His heart pounded in his chest. His lungs constricted. He couldn't breathe. He needed Steve to make it out of this. He had to save him.
“Hey, hey, no, Steve, you have to stay awake,” he said quickly, pressing one hand to his face and tapping his cheek. He tried to swallow back the bile that wanted to rise at the red it left behind. “I need you to stay awake for me, yeah? You’re gonna be okay, but you can’t close your eyes.”
Steve winced again, his breathing coming shallow and raspy. He was losing so much blood. “R-Robin?”
“She’s coming,” Jonathan promised quickly, not knowing if it was true or not, but also knowing that all he could do now was try to comfort Steve. All he could do was try and reassure him, make this easier on the guy that had sacrificed so much for all of them and never expected anything in return. He just needed to believe that everything was okay. That he would see Robin soon. He still didn't fully understand their relationship, but he knew it was important to both of them. “Robin’s coming, Steve. You just gotta stay with me a little longer. She’ll be here soon.”
“Jonathan,” Will whispered, looking at his brother worriedly. He was crouched on the other side of Steve now, his face pale. Like he knew. He just knew. Jonathan hated that he knew. Will was too young. He shouldn't have to know.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Jonathan said firmly, trying to reassure everyone in a situation that he knew wasn’t going to have a happy ending. What else was he supposed to do?
“Hey- hey, man, I- uh- I’m sorry.” Jonathan put his attention on Steve, not quite sure what he was apologizing for. “All the shit- the shit that I did. Wasn’t cool. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize for that stuff. It doesn't matter anymore. I got over it a long time ago. If anything, I should be the one sorry. I’m the one that stole your girlfriend.
Steve tried to laugh again, but it just made him choke up more blood. God, there was so much blood. “Nah, she never really- really loved me. It was always you anyway.” His eyes drifted shut for a moment again, but he was still speaking. “Robin- Robin’s on her way, yeah?”
“She’s coming, Steve. You just gotta keep breathing. She’ll be here soon.”
“You know, she- she’s my best friend. She always- always jokes that we’re soulmates. Platonic with a capital ‘P’.” Steve’s voice was slow and syrupy. Rough. Jonathan hated how slow it sounded.
“Yeah? That’s really cool, man. You deserve someone like that.”
Jonathan just needed to keep him talking. If he was talking, he was alive. The longer he was alive, the more hope they had. Jonathan knew that wasn't actually true, but it's all he could do. Convince himself of lies. Anything to keep from falling apart in front of Mike and Will. They didn't need that. They needed him to be strong.
Steve nodded his head slowly, just barely enough to catch the movement. “I- you’ll tell her I- I love her, right? She’s gotta know. Someone’s gotta tell her.”
“You can tell her yourself.”
He winced, shaking his head. “I think we both know that’s not gonna happen.” Another cough. “Promise me something?”
“No, Steve, you’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“Jon.” His voice was raspy and distant. Jonathan doubted he had much time left. “Take- take care of them for me. Nance especially. Don’t- don’t let her blame herself. Me, Barb. None of it was- was her fault. And Robs. She’s- she’s gonna need someone. You’ve gotta- gotta look out for her for me. Promise you- you’ll be there for them?”
Jonathan nodded quickly. He didn’t have a choice anymore. Any hope that Steve was getting out of there alive was dwindling rapidly. His skin was growing more and more pale and cold from blood loss. His eyes were heavy and dim. His breathing was too shallow. Jonathan knew if he felt for his pulse, it would barely even be there. Too weak to keep pumping blood he didn't have. “Of course I will. I’ll make sure they’re okay. You don't have to worry. I’ve got them.”
“Thanks, man.” Steve took a few breaths and his head lolled over toward Will as he looked at him. He tried to muster a smile, but it was tight and bloody. So red. “You’re a good kid, Will,” he muttered. “You’ve gotta- gotta make sure all you little- little rugrats are looking after each other.”
Will nodded instantly, tear tracks on his cheeks. Jonathan could tell that Will knew. He knew this was it. He watched his little brother choke back a sob.
“Hey, no, you don’ gotta do that. You’ll be okay.”
Mike dropped to his knees next to Will, sobbing harder than Jonathan had ever seen. “You can’t die on us, Steve!” he begged, grabbing the older boy’s cold, clammy hand.
“Mike,” Steve whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“No! No, you can’t! We- we need you!”
“Nah, you guys are strong. You’ll be okay.”
“No, Steve, don’t! I- I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you. I’m sorry. I never should have been like that. You were always there to save us, and I was awful to you!”
The corner of Steve’s lips tugged up slightly as he tried to squeeze Mike’s hand with the little strength he had left. “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just a kid.”
“That’s not an excuse!”
“I know. I’m not mad. I love all you- you little twerps, okay?”
“Steve, please, don’t go.”
“‘S okay, Mike. Eddie’s waitin’ for me. ‘M not gonna be alone anymore.”
Jonathan looked up and spotted people in the distance. Nancy, Robin, Lucas, and Erica. He stood up instantly, scrambling to his feet. “Nance! Robin!” he yelled as loudly as he could, his voice breaking as he realized he was crying now too. He waved his arms frantically, tripping over his feet to get closer. “Robin! It’s Steve!” The group stopped dead. Nancy, Lucas, and Erica exchanged looks, but Robin didn’t hesitate. She took off sprinting toward them, the other three following behind a split second later. Jonathan dropped back down, his hand on Steve’s bicep to get his attention. “Steve, hold on, okay? Robin’s coming. She’s right here. Just another moment longer.”
Robin came skidding to a halt, Will and Jonathan taking a few steps back as she collapsed to her knees at his side. She took his face in her hands, and Steve coughed up some more blood before attempting a smile, his teeth stained. Jonathan could still make out his own blood red fingerprint on Steve’s cheek between Robin’s fingers. He was fading fast now. He didn't have much time left. “Steve, no, no, hey, you’re going to be okay.” She started rambling, tears streaking her face. Steve cut her off, weakly raising his arm to cup her cheek. His thumb smeared red across her skin while he tried to comfort her with a bloody hand.
“Robs,” he whispered. “Robs, ’s- ’s okay. Gonna- gonna see Eds again. ‘M okay.”
“Steve, please.” Robin’s voice cracked and broke.
The others had arrived, and Mike had moved back to stand with his sister and his friends. It wasn’t the whole group, but at least Steve wasn’t alone. At least he got to say goodbye to Robin. Nancy was crying, looking between Steve and Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head. There wasn’t anything more they could do. He had tried everything he could. There was no hope of getting him help. He wouldn’t make it back to the gate. This was it.
“‘S okay, Robbie. ‘M gonna be okay. You’re gonna be- be okay.”
“No, I’m not. Not without you. I need you, dingus.”
“No, you don't. You never did. I needed you.” Steve’s eyes fluttered. “Tell Dustin- Dustin that ‘m sorry, and ‘m with Eddie now, ‘kay? Make sure he’s- he’s okay. He’s gotta- gotta remember that- that I love ‘im, ‘kay? Max and El too. They- they gotta…. Do that for me?”
“Tell them yourself, dingus,” Robin whispered. “Stay alive, and tell them yourself.”
Steve tried to take a breath, but it was rattling and shallow. He got cut off by another rough bout of coughing that sounded so painful, even Jonathan’s chest hurt in sympathy. “I'm not sure I can anymore. I- I'm so- so cold.” He blinked at Robin, trying to smile. “Promise. Please?”
Robin sniffed, her next breath shaky. “Okay. I promise.”
“Thank you.” He sighed softly. “Love you, Robbie. Always,” he whispered on his last remaining breath. His eyes were closed, and he let out one last puff of air before his chest stilled. The air around them was heavy and silent as they all watched his arm go limp, falling from Robin’s cheek and hitting the ground with a gentle thud. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. That was it. Steve was gone.
The next sound that filled the air around them was Robin’s screaming as she collapsed forward onto her best friend. Her soulmate. She was covered in what remained of his blood, not even caring as she pressed her face against his chest and grabbed at his body as she shook with the force of each devastating sob. “I love you,” she stuttered out between gasping breaths and heart-wrenching cries. “I love you, okay? I love you.”
Steve had always done so much. He took care of them. He protected them. He loved them. In the end, there was nothing they could do to protect him.
Twenty years old was too young to die.
Nancy stood by Jonathan’s side, watching Robin as the grief completely overwhelmed her. “What happened?” she finally asked quietly, voice strained with tears.
Jonathan swallowed hard, his arm tight around her shoulders. “Demogorgon. It came out of nowhere, headed straight for Mike and Will. Steve shoved them out of the way, but there wasn’t time to fight it off. He didn’t stand a chance.”
“Dustin and Max are going to be devastated.”
“Robin almost didn’t make it in time,” Jonathan whispered, watching the girl gasp through more sobs that wracked her entire body. “I think he was waiting for her. He just wanted to say goodbye to his best friend.”
“I can’t imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been here soon enough….” Nancy glanced at Mike and Will, who were standing with Lucas and Erica. All four of them watched in silence, tears rolling down their cheeks. “Are they okay?”
“Physically, they’re fine. Steve was the only one who- who got hurt. I don’t think they’re ever going to be okay about this, though. Mike is really upset. I think he blames himself a little.”
There was movement and noise in the distance. Jonathan looked up, spotting Hopper first. His heart dropped, knowing what he had to do now. He pulled away from Nancy, nodding in their direction when she looked at him.
"I'm gonna meet them halfway," he whispered. "I want to try to prepare them."
Nancy nodded. "I'll stay here with the kids and Robin. Jonathan?" He looked back at her. "Good luck."
He nodded solemnly. "Thanks."
Jonathan jogged to catch the other group before they got too close. They instantly slowed to a stop as he reached them.
Hopper frowned, eyes roving over Jonathan's appearance. "What happened? Are you okay? Where is that blood coming from?"
Jonathan glanced down at himself for the first time since all this started. He was covered, practically head to toe, in blood. Steve's blood. It was everywhere, soaked into his clothes and staining his hands. Distantly, he could still hear Robin's piercing screams echoing through the air.
"It- it's not mine," he answered dumbly, shaking his head.
"Then whose the hell is it?" Hopper demanded.
Silence followed for a moment. Jonathan paused, trying to think of how to say what he needed to say. There was really only one way to answer that question, though. He just had to say it. "Steve's."
"What?" Dustin paled where he stood next to Hopper. His eyes flickered between Jonathan and Hopper rapidly. Jonathan could see the panic rising in him.
He could feel the shock finally settling in. He knew it by the tingling that had started up in his fingers and toes. The way he couldn't quite get a full breath into his lungs. His heart was pounding against his rib cage and his blood was rushing in his ears.
"There- there was a- a demogorgon. He- he put himself in front of the boys.
Max was off before anyone could try to stop her. His mom had El in her arms as the tears started. Dustin was frozen, staring at Jonathan in horror.
"No," he whispered. "No, he- he-"
"I tried everything," Jonathan said softly. "I couldn't- I couldn't stop it. There was so much blood...."
"Jonathan." He looked up at the tone in Hopper's voice. He blinked a few times, trying to straighten out his scrambling brain.
"He- He didn't make it."
"No!" Dustin screamed, fat tears running down his grimy cheeks. "No, he can't! We have to save him! Steve!" Dustin took off. Jonathan could hear the sobs bursting from his chest as he ran.
"Is there any way-"
"No."
Jonathan was sticky with half-dried blood. He didn't know what to do anymore. He swayed on his feet. It was all coming down around him. He couldn't save Steve. He couldn't protect any of them. The blood was so sticky.
“Jonathan.” He looked up, not even realizing he had been staring at his red-stained hands. “Are you okay? Did anyone else get hurt?”
He shook his head again. “Steve, he- he pushed them out of the way. He saved them, and I- I couldn't even save him.”
“It's not your fault.”
Steve’s blood-soaked smile fluttered through his mind. His ears rang with Robin’s screaming sobs, her begging. He could still feel Steve’s blood seeping from his body between his fingers, soaking through everything they had to try and stop it. He couldn't save him. It sure felt like his fault.
He doesn't know what happens after that. Everything passes by him, every moment slipping through the gaps. All he knows is his hands are stained and tacky with dried blood. His clothes stick to him. Steve is dead.
Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.
-----
No one ever prepares you for the aftermath of tragedy.
It's been a month, and Jonathan still can't close his eyes without seeing blood and bone and shredded muscle. He can't close his eyes without feeling the wetness seeping between his fingers and into his clothes. He always hears the echo of last words, of screaming, crying. He hears Robin begging Steve to hold on. He hears her stuttering “I love yous” in the wake of death.
Twenty years old is too young to die.
No one has seen or heard from Robin since. Max is more withdrawn than ever before. Mike is too quiet. Dustin’s just a shell. They've all been hit hard by so much loss. Everywhere they turned, someone else was dead. They were all bound to break eventually.
Jonathan knows it isn’t fair to think, but sometimes he wishes it had been him instead. Not that he thinks he deserves it over Steve and Eddie. No one deserves to die like that. It’s just…. Jonathan sees the way everyone needs them. He sees the way losing them has affected everyone else. He just wonders if maybe it would have been different. Maybe they wouldn’t be hurting so much, if Jonathan had died instead.
It's not fair.
Nothing is fair.
Steve Harrington has been dead one month, and Jonathan still doesn’t know how to live his life. He doesn't know how to move on from it. Jonathan is also convinced he has finally lost it. Every time he turns around, there Steve is. A glimpse in the grocery store, standing by the bus stop, lurking between shelves in Family Video.
God, they weren't even friends. They never had been. Truthfully, most of the time, they barely got along. They were civil, obviously. There was no hesitation when it came to the end of the world. But they were so far from friends. And yet.
Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.
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stoutguts · 3 months ago
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Been re-playing 09 recently, and like what if what if—
(the idea is low-key out there but just hear me out, also MAJOR ANGST, MCD, trigger warning/content warning for implied/briefly mentioned s*ic*de)
Price knows that he's in a vídeo game. Like, he figured it out after the first couple of resets,—after the first few playthroughs of the campaign. He has sentience across MW’s 1-3, while everyone else doesn’t.
No matter what he does, the outcome always remains the same.
Like a broken tape recorder, history repeats itself.
Forced to sit by and watch as his men die, again and again.
With their being absolutely fucking nothing he can do to stop it.
The plot is predetermined, and the programming just won’t allow it.
No matter how many times he tries to fight it, no matter how many times he tries to scream or say something off script, or move his body in a different way, it’s all futile.
First, it’s always Gaz.
Killed by Zakhaev, with that damned Desert Eagle.
Failing to protect him from the shot, time and time again. Even when he tries his best to shield him, it just phases right through him.
Then eventually it’s time for Ghost and Roach to go, and it’s never not devastating.
His transmission over comms is always just a smidge too late, no matter how many times he tries to warn them.
The worst part of it is that they’re not even able to recover the bodies,—Shepherd took care of that and then some.
But the most soul crushing of all—
Soap.
The bloody game has the audacity to give Price and the player some sliver of hope,—that maybe Johnny’ll make it out alive somehow.
Shepherd didn’t manage to kill him,—he survived that near death experience at the very least.—But that all comes crashing down after Modern Warfare 3–“Blood Brothers”.
The most brutal of them all, (in Price’s opinion), and it’s of course for the person he cares about most.
His (essentially) adopted son slowly bleeding to death, as they’re under heavy gunfire and surrounded by enemies on all sides. Before finally kicking the bucket from explosives planted by that bastard Makarov.
Of all people, why did it have to be him?
Yuri is gone before he even really got to know the guy.
So blah blah blah, the cycle continues over and over again, and the loop remains unbroken for a long time.
Price tries everything he can possibly think of, and eventually he runs out of options.
By some miracle however,—perhaps some fault in the game’s coding.—There comes an opportunity to end the cycle.—Price meanwhile, has slowly and progressively lost his mind,—until he finally snaps.
After he’d killed Makarov for around the 1,000th time, he can finally end his suffering.
As he watches Makarov’s lifeless body hanging from the rappel, instead of the usual lighter he pulls out to light his cigar, he gains just enough control over his body to pull out his pistol and pull the trigger.
A mass recall of copies of MW3 ensued after the discovery of this “glitch”, due to a outrage within the fan base and community. No matter what the developers and devs tried too, it couldn’t be patched. The game was then rewritten to where Price is the one to die, while Soap lives and is the one to kill Makarov instead. Re-released in 2013.
The idea came to me while listening to/was heavily inspired by the song “S.I.U” by Maretu btw.
If any of you know that song or are familiar, you’re a real one.
Also, completey unrelated, but is it just me or like does 09’s Makarov not sound and look like fucking Ben Shapiro lmfao??? He more so sounds like him though, or at least he reminds me of Ben Shapiro—
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slveepyscwrs · 3 months ago
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Obey Me stans, want a Mammon angst fanfic (that may or may not make you cry)? Let me know if you like this idea!
I don't think I've mentioned being a long time Obey Me fan, so this is a long shot, but I've been thinking about this idea ever since I lost the original document.
It's called: He will never wake up again
Major TW for Character Death + Sui
Okay so basically here's how it went:
Mammon always tried to brush off the bullying from his brothers with a playful attitude, but he had always been hiding how much it crushed him inside.
He never felt loved. He felt that his existence in the Devildom would never be worthy enough.
And so, he took his life...
How much time has passed since then? No one could really tell. Death really messes up time perception, both for the deceased themselves and the living who are left to grieve.
That's the thing, though– ever since Mammon died, he couldn't bring himself to visit the House of Lamentation.
Still, he can't help but wonder how his brothers have lived their lives since then.
He's certain that they will be happy that the greedy burden on them is gone.
His spirit can't remain in the Devildom forever, and time is running out.
So, he decides to visit his brothers one last time, before moving on to whatever's next.
Besides, all he wanted this whole time was to see them happy...
When he does go there, however, he sees a whole new story in front of him, more complex than he could have ever imagined.
(Note 1: I know that considering the actual lore, Devildom demons probably don't turn into ghosts when they die, but for the sake of the story this is ignored.)
(Note 2: This story is more centric on the brothers, so there's no guarantee that MC will be included as well.)
(Note 3: I headcanon that Satan finally got a cat after Mammon died, because Lucifer is too wrapped up in his own struggles to care, so Mammon isn't completely invisible– Satan's cat is the only one who can see him.)
So, yeah, I'm curious– would you read something like this?
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dance-like-an-idiot · 6 months ago
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tw: death, grief, sickness
whizzer is at the baseball game, and whizzer walks away. 
marvin lets out a heavy breath of relief as a pit forms in his stomach. 
a pit of regret. 
— 
marvin sees him at another game of jasons, weeks later, and whizzer doesn't make eye contact with him once. 
whizzer seems very happy, and marvin wishes he could still be happy when they meet eyes.
but they don't. 
whizzer is at the park with a camera nearly two months later and he seems at peace.
marvin doesn't want to break it so he picks up his speed despite a worsening stomach ache.
they're common now.
marvin after 1 month of not seeing whizzer gives into charlotte, cordelia, mendel, and even jason's requests. 
whizzer sits 4 seats away from marvin at the gay bar, swirling a drink and getting close with a guy.
he goes home. 
whizzer looks pale even under the warm sun, and its only been a week since he last saw him. 
marvin stops on the sidewalk and can't muster the courage to walk further into the park. 
they meet eyes.
marvin hasn't seen whizzer in two weeks since he ran from the park again and when he walks by there he is.
whizzer doesn't notice him this time, but marvin notices that his clothes don't fit like they used to.
he looks sick.
whizzer has been gone for a month, marvin is sure of it as he sits in the park he's visited every day this month.
marvin stands up from the bench and walks home, but his eye catches a newspaper and he pays for one. 
"gay pneumonia." huh.
marvin had finally found where whizzer was, and it was the last place he could have imagined.
whizzer's tombstone is boring, unmarred, and represents nothing of the person that decays beneath. 
he rips his right cuff and recites.
whizzer's tombstone is as pale as his face, and its only been 2 weeks since he first saw it for the first time.
marvin visits everyday to place a stone and he brings cordelia and charlotte with him when they can join.
22 stones placed.
marvin has been losing weight for too long now, and he runs out of breath daily, with worsening frequency.
whizzer lies under the ground in front of him, and marvin looks at the familiar stones and white king on it.
he passes out.
whizzer's name is one of the few things he says as marvin lays in the hospital bed, dying, he knows.
marvin wants to be buried next to whizzer, so he knows that he had always wanted to be there for his lover.
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blaisenova · 6 months ago
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what's up gamers, sorry for disappearing for a while there. life's been kicking my ass lately LMAO
to all the people who've sent in requests, i'm working on them!! as for why they're taking so long, see above.
been writing some stuff on and off for a bit, and i'm sure my fellow writers know how it is. when inspiration for something hits, you just kinda shit it out and then move on. i try to put a little more effort into my requests LOL. but i love killer and i also love hurting him, so this is what came out of that. yippee!!
this one goes out to all the people with complicated romantic lives!!!!!!! i see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
so, take this piece of shit to tide you over. thank you guys for your patience <3
content is below the cut due to length and sensitive subjects. as always, it can be found on ao3 in the reblogs if that's your cup of tea.
cw/tw: major character death (offscreen, but a main point), implied/referenced toxic relationship, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, an all around shitty situationship
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Grains of dust fell between his fingers and into his joints, making them crackle when he gripped the faded red scarf in his hands. It was so like when his brother had died, and there was something poetic about that thought, and that poetry was the highest insult the multiverse could have asked him to endure. Nevertheless, there was a distinct lack of snow, and, though his surroundings were deeply familiar – the cool toned darkness of the castle’s atmosphere, broken only by the warm, orange glow of the castle’s mounted lanterns – they would never be as familiar as limbo.
Dust piled beneath his knees, scraping against the bone and leaving it raw, but all Killer could do was press his forehead into the pile before him and hold his breath to prevent it from dispelling; to be as close as possible without disturbing the remains.
When a voice rang out from the shadows, he didn’t startle; its presence had been imminent from the start. It held the same chilled, deep tones of the castle, broken only by the warm dredges of poorly concealed laughter behind its words. Despite himself, Killer found that the tension in his bones melted away at the sound.
“So, you finally killed him.”
It wasn’t a question. There was no surprise.
Voice hoarse, Killer laughed, and the dust darted away from his breath and stuck to the liquid determination that marred his cheeks. “He was hurting me.”
Beside him, someone knelt. Fingers, dark with viscous negativity, ran through the particles and pressed it together testingly. The other hummed, then shook the dust from his hands, as if it were something dirty. Killer shouldn’t have felt so offended at the thought.
“Well, obviously,” Nightmare responded, voice flat with disinterest. “It’s about time that you did something about it.”
Clutching the scarf to his chest, Killer’s soul wobbled unsteadily, and he wheezed. “Do you think– Will– He’ll… He’ll be better when he comes back, right?”
At that, came Nightmare’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and a hand came to rest against his back. Fingers danced what might have been soothing circles over the fabric of his jacket, coaxing out small noises of misery that Killer hadn’t realised he was holding back. “He’s not like you, Killer,” Nightmare hummed. “He won’t come back.”
At that, came Killer’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and he curled further into the dust as it continued to try and run away. “Oh,” he breathed. Then, again, “oh. That’s– That’s not what I wanted.”
There was a beat of silence, and Killer breathed in the judgement in the lack of words. “Then,” Nightmare finally drawled, steady in a way Killer could not be, “what did you want?”
A sound was pulled from his chest at the question, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I just wanted it to stop hurting,” he hissed. “I… I didn’t want to lose him forever.”
With another hum, Nightmare’s fingers pressed more firmly into Killer’s back, drawing him out of wheezing breaths he hadn’t realised he’d been taking. “Why not, if he was hurting you?”
“Because I loved him,” Killer spat; immediately; bitterly. Then, through a lump in his throat, “love. Because I love him.”
For a moment, Nightmare’s steady ministrations faltered, as if the admission surprised him, though Killer was certain he must have known; must have felt it even through every other emotion that had led them here. Just as soon as he began to miss the touch, though, they started up again, and, once more, he choked on a sob as his soul spasmed against his chest. Each breath was suffocating and filled with dust, coating his bones from the inside out and sticking to him in a way that made him feel sick.
“I didn’t want this,” Killer repeated, like a plea. “What did I do wrong?”
It ran deeper than a slash across the chest and bones crumbling between his fingers, blood painting his sweater bright red. It must have. It must have been more than the final blow.
“I– I fucked up somehow,” he wheezed. “If I just knew how, I… I could have done better. Should have done better. Then, maybe…”
“There’s no point in trying to fix it now,” Nightmare chided, with a subtle gentleness that Killer might not have recognised if not for the tenderness of the hand that pressed between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “You’re agonising over your relationship with a corpse. It cannot hear your apologies.” A beat. “Although, perhaps, it wouldn’t matter even if it could.”
Sockets squeezing shut, Killer bit back a wail. His knuckles ached from the force with which he clung to the scarf, and the soreness extended to his chest, right where his soul sat. “I hurt him,” he said. “He’s gone.” 
All at once, he sat up, and Nightmare’s hand darted away in surprise, cyan socket wide. Dust speckled the dark streaks across Killer’s cheeks and clung to the bone where he’d feverishly pressed his skull against the pile, as if it might feel his touch and spring back to life. Dull, pale eyelights trembled in his sockets, and the expression of pity before him was blurry and unclear, though, something about that was a mercy. 
At the thought, Killer scrubbed at his sockets furiously, trying to deny himself the grace he didn’t deserve. The moment his vision cleared, however, it was blurred again by tears. Idly, he found himself thankful for the threadbare cloth in his hands, without which his fingers would have found their way to his soul and tried to pry the feelings out themselves; another mercy he refused to indulge.
“He’s gone,” Killer repeated. “I was in love with him. And, now, he’s gone, and it’s my fault. I hurt him.”
Through fuzzy vision, Killer watched Nightmare bare his teeth; it could have been a snarl, or maybe a grimace. “You’ll live.”
“I don’t want to live,” he wailed, unable to stop himself. He blinked, and tar-like tears smeared down his cheeks. They dropped down to his chin, then fell into his lap, and a choked sound of anguish left him as he realised the scarf was stained with them. The damage was done, though, and he sobbed louder as he pressed the cloth to his face. His words were muffled through the barrier, “I loved him. I loved him. Why did I hurt him? Why did he hurt me?”
“The multiverse is cruel,” Nightmare said, “and we are but inhabitants of it, carefully crafted to perpetuate its cruelty. You asked too much when you sought out happiness.”
“Then,” he breathed, pulling himself together long enough to speak, “what was I supposed to do?”
“You shouldn’t have fallen in love,” came the answer, simply. “Certainly, not you. Certainly, not with someone like him.”
His breath faltered once more, and something giddy made his soul tremble. A soft rattling emanated throughout his bones, nausea making some deep, magic based part of him broil and burn. He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held the scarf over his eyes as if going blind to the situation would make it disappear. “Maybe I deserve everything he ever did.”
With a huff that might have been laughter, Nightmare hummed, “Maybe you do.” He gestured to the messy pile of dust – the thin fabric of the scarf easily showing the shifting shadows – and Killer shuddered at the reminder. “And, maybe he did, too.”
At the notion, Killer’s shoulders sagged, and, tiredly, he shook his head. “Not him,” he whispered, reverent. “Never him.”
Again, came that laugh, and there was something frustrated in its bitter tones. “Oh, what a pedestal you’ve placed him on,” he drawled.
“Why don’t you care?” Killer spat, and anger sparked alongside despair like a match to gasoline. All of the exhaustion from before was driven away, and fevered fury took its place. His soul spasmed painfully as he finally yanked the scarf back down to face reality head on, staring Nightmare in the eye with a strange sort of determination to condemn himself. “He was yours, just as I am. Why don’t you care that he’s gone? Why don’t you care what I did to him?”
Refusing the vitriol that he’d been met with, Nightmare’s tone remained carefully even. “And, forget what he did to you?” His head tilted to the side curiously, and he regarded Killer’s crime with indifference. “You’re hardly being fair. It’s not as if you haven’t killed others for much less. It’s not as if he’s not just as replaceable as you.”
Tiredness returned, like a weight in his bones or a fist around his soul, making him wilt. Unconsciously, he leaned towards his king, and Nightmare mercifully closed the distance between them, allowing Killer’s skull to rest against his shoulder. Shame burned alongside misery as he found miniscule comfort in the familiar worthlessness. “No. He was different. He tried,” he mumbled. Then, insistently, “He tried, and he loved me. Who else has ever done that? For me? I don’t deserve it.”
“And, yet, it wasn’t enough,” Nightmare replied, and Killer couldn’t help but cringe at the callousness.
“Well, it should have been,” he persisted. “It should have been enough for me.”
“And, yet,” he repeated, “it wasn’t.”
Scoffing, Killer shifted, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hoped that he looked as small as he felt. “Gee, thanks, Nightmare,” he murmured. “Like I wasn’t already feeling like a piece of shit.” Then, with another scoff and marked bitterness, “I mean– Shit, it’s not even like I was asking for very much, right? Or– Or, I was, I guess, but it shouldn’t be so hard… right? How many people are there in the multiverse that have perfectly healthy relationships? Where they feel like people? Why not me?”
He ran a hand over his skull with an exasperated laugh, pressing his forehead against his knees. “I mean, I know why not. I’m not a person, but is it so much to ask that someone pretends? That… That I don’t fuck everything up without even trying? That I don’t deserve to be hurt?” he hissed, sharply. “That I don’t earn mistreatment simply by being?”
Thick, black rivulets of determination fell from his sockets, and Killer raised his head once more, meeting the chilling cyan of Nightmare’s gaze and feeling an awful lot like he was asking for answers he didn’t really want. “He was trying, Night. I know he was. I saw it,” he insisted, though his words grew soft as his shoulders slumped forward again. “What does it say about me that even when someone is trying not to hurt me, I make them do it anyway? Without even meaning to?” 
He cringed, the tips of his fingers pressing into his bone with a satisfying sting. “And, then, I hurt them back. God, like I don’t deserve it when they do it, right? Like– Like they did?” His gaze went back to the pile of dust. “Like he did? I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t, but I did it anyway, knowing it would hurt, because I’m so selfish that I wanted it to stop hurting me. Like it would ever stop hurting, even if he was gone.”
Finally, Killer fell silent, with a shrug that he could only hope would communicate everything he could no longer force past the lump in his throat and the way his soul wobbled painfully in front of his chest, fighting to make him feel all of the emotions he’d crushed down and bottled up for so long. His sockets burned unpleasantly, but he didn’t dare blink, afraid that the motion would start up a sickening sort of sobbing that he wouldn’t be able to stop until he passed out or died. An unfitting way to go for someone like him; it would hurt, but not enough; never enough, when wallowing in his own self-pity.
When he looked up, he was met with the scrutinising glare of Nightmare’s eyelight, and he felt himself unconsciously straighten, as if that would make him appear any less pathetic.
“Do you know what I think?” Nightmare began, haltingly. “I think… you’re reading too much into the actions of someone who was just as broken as you. Regardless of his intentions, he hurt you, and, now, you’ve hurt him. And, the worst part?” he hummed, almost pleasantly. “It was entirely inevitable. You shouldn’t have fallen in love, Killer.”
Not trusting himself enough to speak, all he could do was nod.
“Pick up the dust of your ruined relationship,” Nightmare continued, and he gently knocked Killer’s skull away from his shoulder as he urged him towards the scattered pile. “Store it away somewhere that you won’t forget; close to your heart, but not in it. Then, move on. There’s nothing more you can do now but that.”
Shaking eyelights, darting from the dust to the tattered scarf gripped between his fingers, stared down at the macabre display of an end that was, in many ways, poetry; poetry of insult. He swallowed his agony. “Will that make it stop hurting?”
Without looking up, Killer could feel the way that Nightmare regarded him, somewhere between disdain and pity. “No,” he said. “But, it’s a start.”
Another dust filled urn on the mantel, each gathering a thin layer of grime that dulls the shine of their golden casket with time. This one would remain golden for a while, like the last, marred by nothing but fingerprints from when he would take it from its place and hold it in his arms. But, eventually, it, too, would lose its beckoning lustre, and its tarnish would mean healing.
Another dust filled urn on the mantel, and here’s to many more.
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another-whump-sideblog · 9 months ago
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Jane's Pets Chapter 97: Miracle (Season Finale)
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Puppy regrets nodding about Bunny killing Master almost immediately after she does it. This is what anger does, makes her act irrationally in ways that will get others hurt. She shouldn't have encouraged him, it can only make things worse.
She shakes her head immediately after she nods, but Bunny doesn't seem nearly as impacted by that as he was by her nod.
Master lets her and Bunny bring Kitty upstairs and take care of them. They’re hardly injured at all. Just some acid burns on their toes. It’ll make it hard to walk, but Puppy won’t mind helping.
They’re really out of it, so she and Bunny get them set up all cozy on the couch with some snacks.
“I’m sorry.” Bunny whispers over and over to them. “I’m so sorry, I won’t let this happen ever again.”
After Kitty’s settled in, Bunny pulls Puppy aside.
“I think you’re really brave, you know. And strong. And I want you to know I love you no matter what happens.”
He's going to do something really stupid. That's the only reason he'd say that.
Her worry must be visible on her face, because Bunny looks sad.
"It's all going to be okay." He hugs her tightly, then runs off to his room. He can't use his hands, so hopefully he won't be able to do anything too stupid…
She really doesn't want to have to watch him get his hands and tongue cut off. She should supervise him, just to make sure he didn't find a way to cast without hands, but Kitty also needs supervision.
She thinks that if Kitty tries to get themself hurt, she'd be able to stop them, but she's not sure about Bunny. So she stays in the living room where she knows she can be useful, as much as leaving Bunny to his own devices pains her.
~~
You've just had the most wonderful idea.
Everything has magic in it, first of all. Barron (you'll just have to push through the discomfort and think about it) and its books tended to only use twigs, leaves, and rocks, but theoretically anything could be used to cast, especially if it's less refined and closer to nature. And Puppy communicated to you that Jane's blood is important… it only makes sense to use that to cast. You're a genius!
If you manage to kill her, you probably won't be able to cast anymore, but you're okay with that. Magic no longer existing is a small price to pay in order to be free of Jane.
Oh, does that have something to do with how she's not usually affected by magic? If she was made immortal by the same thing that made magic possible, it doesn't seem too crazy to think she wouldn't be impacted by magic in the same way everything else is…
Wait. Wait wait wait wait- her blood has to do with her immortality. Her immortality has to do with the creation of magic, which means that her immortality (and therefore blood) is connected to why magic doesn't work on her the same way. So maybe, if she had enough normal blood in her body… magic might work normally on her, and she might be able to die!
"Jane! Jane! I have an idea on how to kill you! Jane!"
Jane appears sitting on your bed. "My stupid Bunny has an idea? Don't hurt yourself."
"Shut up. Have you ever tried to replace your blood with a mortal's?"
"Yes. Do you really think no one's thought of that before you?"
That's a bit demoralizing, but you continue. "Have you ever had someone cast magic on you while there was mortal blood in you? Oh, oh! And had someone cast using your blood, at the same time? So like, there's a spell on the normal blood and a spell on the immortal blood?"
Jane blinks. "I… not at the same time…" She regains her composure swiftly. "But I have tried those separately. Why would doing them at the same time work?"
You've got her. There's no way she won't want to try. "Well it would probably be impossible to replace all your blood with mortal blood, so it makes sense why that one wouldn't work on its own. As for using your blood to cast… well, did it have any effect when you tried it on its own? Or did nothing happen at all, like when I tried to make you intangible?"
"Nothing happened." Jane is sounding more and more annoyed.
"What spells did you try? I guess that since your blood works different it wouldn't be able to cast the same things the same way…"
"...What makes you so sure that my blood works different?"
Shit, you don't want to get Puppy in trouble. "It doesn't matter. What spells did you try?"
She rolls her eyes, but luckily she doesn't seem to care enough to push it. Maybe she already knew, or figured it out (did you ask Puppy while Jane could've been listening? You can't remember). "Any spell that had even a tiny chance of killing me."
"Hmm… and you cast it? Or did someone else?"
"Someone else. I can't cast, at least not the way mages can. Which I know because I tried, many times."
Oh, it's a good thing you asked, since she talks about it saying 'I' instead of 'we.' You suppose it does make sense for her to think about mortals that helped her in the past as just extensions of herself.
Another idea is starting to form. You've been forcing yourself to think about Barron a lot lately, and its death (along with the others') is fresh in your mind after thinking Kitty was dead. You think 'what would Barron do?' You think about your first time meeting it. 
"Well… your blood, uh, makes more of itself only while it's inside your body, right? So maybe using it to cast would only work if it was still inside your body? I could… I could carve a rune into a rock, then like… cut you open and put it inside you and cast, so that it would have the normal magic of the rock and the weird magic of your blood." Man, this is a pretty gory conversation… Living here has really desensitized you.
Jane tilts her head to the side. "...worth a shot."
"Wha- you've never tried that before?" You were expecting to have to give more justifications as to why it would be different this time.
"I have reason to believe my blood maintains its properties while it's outside my body, but you're right that it only replicates while it's in my veins. So it's worth a shot, even if nothing comes of it. Come downstairs."
Jane vanishes.
This could go very, very bad, but you leave your room and go down the stairs to the basement anyway, purposefully avoiding looking at Puppy and Kitty's reactions.
Jane is setting up some kind of scary looking contraption. You instinctually step back when you see it.
"Relax, it's not for you. You've seen how instantaneous my healing is, this is to hold my arm open while you… hey, your hands are still broken! Go grab Kitty and Puppy, you can instruct them on how to carve your runes or whatever. That works out better anyway, I'd have to cut off your hands if you did it yourself, or no one would believe my threats again."
You run back upstairs. You can't stop the smile starting to form on your face. This might work. This might actually work! Even Jane thinks it might work!
"You guys need to come downstairs. Not for a punishment! Probably. I suggested a way to maybe kill Jane and she agreed! But I need your help cause I can't use my hands right now. Um, Puppy, could you help me get supplies from my room?"
She looks skeptical, but follows anyway. Kitty wordlessly goes down the stairs into the basement, walking on their heels.
You direct Puppy on what materials to grab, and then you and her go down into the basement too.
Jane is sitting in a chair that wasn't there before, with the scary contraption beside her. "Alright! Tell them what to do. You two, do what Bunny says for now."
You take a moment to gather your thoughts. Your plan is complicated, so you're afraid you'll miss a step. 
You direct Puppy on what rune to draw on a leaf (you've decided engraving a rock would take too long) and have tell Kitty how to cast a healing spell with the stuff you've already got prepared. Their magic makes you taste sour candy.
You feel the bones in your hands mend. "Perfect, thank you Kitty. First I want to try casting with your blood. I want to see if it can do things like healing and teleporting, since those are the magic things you can do."
Jane scoffs. "My magic doesn't heal me. It keeps me in the state I was right before- it keeps me in this specific state. To call any of my powers healing is ridiculous, the entire point is for me to suffer."
You gasp. She said that so casually, like it wasn't the last piece of the puzzle. Has she said that before? Maybe she has, and you didn't realize the importance.
She's tried so many different ways to kill herself. If the purpose of her magic isn't to make people miserable, what could it possibly be?
Magic responds strongly to intention. Her blood, her magic… what if it only works if the end result is more suffering? 
Okay, drop the replacing some of her blood with yours idea. You just need her blood. "Do you have, like, a bloodbag in your void?"
"I have everything in my void." Jane sets up a blood draw quickly herself. "Will that be enough?"
You nod. You shouldn't need much at all. You know why using her blood to cast didn't work when she tried it before…
Well, you don't know. Which is why this first step is important. You set the blood bag aside. "Puppy, hand me that leaf you drew on like I told you."
She hands you the leaf, her expression unreadable.
Jane laughs. "You know that if this doesn't kill me I'll have to cut off your hands and tongue, right? Since you're casting it yourself."
"Yep." You examine Jane's contraption. "So how does this work?"
"It'll cut and hold the flesh open while you stick the leaf in there. You'll have to do it as fast as possible. Are you ready?" She puts her arm in the contraption and holds down a lever.
You position the leaf right above where it looks like the contraption will cut. "Ready."
She releases the lever and the contraption slices and pulls, ripping skin and then muscle and holding the rip open. You can see the flesh trying to reunite, straining against the contraption. Ew. Jane doesn't flinch.
You thrust the leaf forward into the wound (ew ew ew ew) and chant the spell words, then yank your hand away and pull the contraption off. Her skin mends around the leaf.
Magic responds to intention. Usually that means that it doesn't work unless you have the right intentions, but it can benefit you too. You want the force-field to hold her in place while leaving a hole for magic to get through, and it does. Instead of being a sphere around her, it's shaped the same as her so that she can't move, with a hole over her chest.
"...why did you do that?" Jane looks more confused than anything.
She teleports, but once she reappears across the room the force-field is still around her. It worked! You can't cast spells on her, but you can cast spells on the area around her, and since the leaf's inside her it will move with her, so the spell is always on the area around her! And she can't teleport it out, and she can't cut it out because she can't move her arms. It really worked! So long as you keep the spell up, she won't be able to hurt anyone.
You watch as the realization dawns on her. "Ha ha. So clever. Except the spell will still only work until you lose focus, and with your brain damage I doubt I'll have to wait long… And if I told my Puppy to attack you, she would, and you'd lose focus even faster."
"I know. I just needed… insurance. I need you to not be able to hurt anyone while I try this. Sit back down, I think my idea will work."
She appears back in the chair and rolls her eyes. You pick the blood bag back up.
"Puppy… I need you to cast this spell for me. You… her magic, it only causes suffering right?"
She nods hesitantly.
"That's it's purpose?"
She nods again, and you feel giddy. You were right! Puppy confirmed it!
"So if we want to cast with her blood, it has to be to cause suffering. And I think… you're the only one who can try to kill Jane and see it as a cause of suffering. I think that you're the only one here who's even capable of processing Jane's death as a bad thing." You're not positive, but based on the way she acts around Jane, and some of the things that Kitty's told you… it's possible. Her hatred for Jane doesn't seem to be as strong as yours and Kitty's, at the very least.
Tears well up in her eyes, and she nods slowly.
You hand her the blood bag. "Okay, I need you to, like, fingerpaint with the blood." You describe the rune to her and she dutifully paints it on the floor.
"And then… you need to say the spell words." There are probably other ways to cast without the ability to speak, but you don't know them.
Jane has been watching silently, but when Puppy looks at her pleadingly she speaks up. "I'm not going to give you permission to speak. If you actually think this is going to work, you don't need my permission, because I won't be able to punish you. And if you don't think it'll work… you have no reason to do it."
Tears stream down Puppy's face. You don't know what to do– if it doesn't work, you don't want Puppy getting hurt because of you.
Kitty has been mostly quiet, but now they speak up. "...Puppy. You've got this. If it doesn't work… we'll keep trying, and she won't be able to hurt you– or anyone, because of the forcefield. And… if your worry is about us getting hurt… we're willing to risk that. Right, Bunny?"
"Right."
"Please, Puppy… I can't do this anymore. I can't– I wouldn't be able to go on knowing that we had a chance and we didn't take it. Please."
Puppy wipes her eyes, unclips and removes her muzzle, and hesitantly takes off her collar. Jane doesn't say anything.
You quickly tell her the spell words, and she repeats them. Her tears mix with the blood on the ground.
When she's finished, Jane goes unnaturally still. Her eyes lose focus. Despite how hopeful you were, your first thought is oh, she's fucking with us.
If it worked… she shouldn't be able to heal (or whatever she wants to call it) anymore, right?
You take one of the many knives laid out in the basement and drive it through the hole in the forcefield, into her chest, then pull it out. The wound doesn't heal.
"Guys- guys!" You drop the forcefield and slit her throat. It bleeds and it keeps bleeding and there's not even the slightest pull bringing the flesh back together.
"She's dead. Jane is dead. She's- she's-"
It doesn't feel all that different to when you killed other people under her orders. You feel kind of… numb. Everything feels too quiet. You've daydreamed about this for so long, but you don't feel triumphant like you expected. Just… tired.
And you always pictured dying right after. Sacrificing your and Jane's life for Puppy and Kitty's. But you're alive. You're alive and Jane is dead.
A/N: Everything so far has built up to this... I hope it's at least a little good! Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Season 4 will begin April 22nd at 5:00PM EST.
Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff
@fuckcapitalismasshole
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wayward-sherlock · 1 year ago
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goodbye stranger.
They’d already made it to the end of the world. There was no point in waiting, not anymore — Will was almost certain that if he waited any longer, the words he wanted to say would be his dying ones, melting on his lips with warm blood and his last breath.
Will loved Mike.
And now he was going to kill him.
will's been taken by vecna. he's killed mike hundreds of times, and he has no idea which one is going to be real.
for @bylerween2023 day 4!
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crashingmoons · 1 year ago
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Jimmy didn't mean to go back to civilization, all he planned to do was take his dogs and run as far as possible...but he just couldn't leave Scott alone without any warning?
Jimmy had ran away two days ago, and the only thing he'd been thinking about was Scott. He'd betrayed him, he left him to rot.
Jimmy had ran away two days ago, and now he was going back to Rivendale, not to stay, just to say goodbye to Scott...see him one last time.
There is was...an empire covered in blue crystals.
"...Scott!" He called, waiting for an answer...but it didn't come.
"Scott?" He called again. "It's Jimmy!"
Nothing.
He turned from his base and turned the corner. That's when he saw it.
Scott.
Lying in a pool of blood with a sword through his chest.
Jimmy barely noticed Xornoths body. All that was going through his head was 'no'.
"SCOTT!" He yelled and started shaking him, the world hazed. "SCOTT PLEASE."
Nothing happened, and that's when he realised.
This was Jimmy's fault. He was so caught up in his title that he not only destroyed everyone's bases but he brought back Xornoth and killed Scott.
Jimmy killed Scott.
He dropped Scott and just started sobbing on his limp body.
Guilt rushed through his ears.
Guilt and sadness.
He didn't deserve to live. He didn't deserve to live when he killed Scott.
And that's when he spotted the sword.
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riahlynn101 · 1 year ago
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Whumptober: Day Eight - Alternative Prompt: "Shaking."
Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced kidnapping and murder, and major character death.
Please, ignore that this is three hours later than usual.
Word count: 1,430
--
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Mike can’t force himself to sleep. He wanders out of his room and down the hall. All the way to his….
He stares at the off-white door. Garrett’s name is still printed across the top in red letters (“red is my favorite color, because it reminds me of you.” Mike never understood what his brother meant by that, and now he never would). He hesitates, hand on the door knob. 
Mike takes a quick glance towards his parents’ room. His mom and dad wouldn’t be happy to see him up so late (they don’t seem happy to see him ever. Not after…), but their door is shut and all the lights look to be off. 
His heart is beating fast in his chest. Not out of fear. He’s been in here so many times. The room is practically his safe haven from a world that has changed so much since his brother went missing. 
Mike closes the door behind himself, quickly and quietly just in case his parents decide to mosey down the hallway. The room smells clean. Unlived in. It feels wrong. His brother was naturally tidy, but this….
Mike swallows down his anxieties and lays on the tiny twin-bed. Once upon a time, this bed belonged to him. It’s funny how time works. 
He lays on his back, closing his eyes. It’s hard now, almost two years later, to remember the sound of his brother’s voice. It shouldn’t be. Mike had been twelve. Not three. He should be able to keep the memory of Garrett in his head. So many people told him before, during, and after the “funeral” (which was pointless, because he’s sure his brother is out there somewhere. Alive and well and healthy and…and…) that Garrett will forever remain in his heart. He hated that. He hated it so much. Especially when the memories he holds so dear are starting to leave him. It feels like his brother’s leaving for a second time. 
“.......Mike…….” 
His eyes shoot open. He sits up, looking around the room. Everything seems to be in place. His mom liked to clean the room every so often to prevent dust and mildew. 
“Mikey…..” the voice says again. 
He scrambles out of bed, heart resuming its previous task of beating against his ribcage. “Gar-Garrett…?” He whispers into the darkness of the room. “Where…where are you?”
“Follow my voice,” his brother tells him, and Mike would know (even if it’s almost entirely faded from his memory) Garrett’s voice from anywhere. 
He wanders out of the room, not even bothering to check if his parents are up. Mike has more important things to do.
“I miss you, Mikey,” his brother murmurs, voice drifting down the hallway. He follows it without a second thought. 
“I miss you too.”  
Mike is led down the stairs and towards the front door. He pauses in the doorway. It’s the dead of winter, and bitterly cold outside. And he only has a tee-shirt and pajama pants on. 
“Mike…?” His little brother asks, voice somewhere outside.
“I…I can’t go outside. It’s too cold.”
“But Mike,” Garrett whines, “I want to play with you.”
“Let me grab a-”
“Please.”
Maybe it isn’t that cold outside. And as long as he isn’t out for a long time, it’ll probably be okay. 
“Okay,” Mike gives in, stepping through the threshold. He closes the door behind him. 
“Yay!” His brother cheers. 
“Where are we going?” Mike asks, starting to trek down the icy driveway. He crosses his arms to stay warm. 
“That’s a surprise.”
They walk for a while until Mike can’t bear the cold anymore. “I…I think I need to go home. It’s too cold out here.”
“But I want to play with you.”
“I-I kn-know, but…but my fe-feet and hands are starting to r-r-really hurt. I…I d-d-don’t think it’s s-s-safe to-to be out here.” He vaguely remembers hearing on the news that the temperatures were supposed to drop to dangerous levels. 
“Please,” his brother begs. “I miss you a lot.”
“I…I’m c-c-cold,” Mike gets out between chattering teeth.
“You’re almost there.”
Against his better judgment, MIke nods, ignoring the pain radiating from all of his extremities. “O–okay.”
He’s led to a small diner. It looks old and abandoned. The lights are all turned off, and there’s a ‘closed�� sign in the front window that has several layers of dust on it. 
“Wh-where are w-w-we….” Mike stutters, mind slowing down. 
His brother doesn’t answer, but the padlock on the chain around the front door falls away. Not wanting to stay in the cold a minute longer, Mike lunges at the doors. He has to force them open, as they either haven’t been used in a long, long time, or the below-zero temperatures have frozen them together. 
The diner is warmer, but just barely. It’s obvious no one has been here in years. “Hello…?” He calls out. “Garrett?”
But no one answers him. 
Mike shivers, teeth still chattering together. “Garrett? Where are you?” He goes deeper into the restaurant, hoping (at the very least) it might warm him up.
He passes a small stage. There’s two spots where it's obvious something heavy stood for a long time. 
Mike yawns, drowsy. “Garrett?” 
“Almost there, Mike,” his little brother calls to him. “I’m in the backroom.”
Nodding, Mike stumbles his way down the hall and over to a large metal door. The words: Parts and Services are labeled across the top in big, blocky letters. He opens the door. 
The inside of the room is somehow colder than the rest of the restaurant. Mike’s shivering becomes even more evident. “G-Gar-Garrett…?”
A sudden clatter to his right makes Mike jump. He throws his arms up, ready to attack whoever or whatever made the noise. The movement almost throws him off balance. 
An old bear animatronic sits in the furthest corner. One of its eyes has been torn out and wires protrude from the socket. It also only has one ear, the other one reduced to bits of metal and wires. Its costume is tattered and dirty, and if Mike squints he swears he can see dark stains around the thing’s mouth. 
All the alarm bells  should be going off in his head, but the feeling of wanting to curl up and sleep is starting to become harder to ignore. He stumbles closer, staggering from side to side. His feet and hands are almost numb, but his teeth continue to chatter together. 
“You found me!” His little brother cheers. The voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere near the suit, but when Mike looks, there’s no one there. 
“Wh-where…?” Mike slurs his words, almost falling when he takes a step forward. 
“Right here.”
“I-I d-don’t see you.”
“In the suit.”
“Oh,” he says, like that’s normal.  
“Come sit next to me. I’m sure you’re very tired.”
Instead of answering, Mike finds himself wobbling the last few steps over to the broken down animatronic. He falls to his knees next to it, arms still wrapped around himself. Mike curls into a ball next to it, the back of his head resting against its leg. 
“Goodnight, big brother,” his little brother says. 
Mike murmurs a response, but it comes out garbled and incoherent. 
It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim him. 
-x-x-x-
William stomps down the hallway. His security cameras alerted him-two hours later-of someone entering the diner. Probably a squatter or a very brave (or foolish) teenager. Though, according to the grainy footage, they haven’t left yet (unless they did so while William was away from his monitor).
He checked the entirety of the restaurant. Under tables, behind the counters, in the kitchen, and even the bathrooms. So, there’s only one more place they can hide. 
He slams open the door to the backroom. 
In the corner of the room, Fredbear, noticeably powered up, stares at him. Cradled in its arms is likely the person who broke in. 
For a second, William just stands there. “Who is that?” He asks, like Fredbear is actually going to answer him. 
The animatronic bear huffs, joints creaking as it tightens its hold on the person’s body. William laughs. He comes closer. His eyes sweep across the body. 
A young boy, either a preteen or in his very early teens. The boy looks almost angelic nestled in Fredbear’s arms. A few of his dark curls have fallen onto his face, contrasting with his unnaturally pale skin.
William’s heart stops. 
His entire world screeches to a halt. 
Because the boy in Fredbear’s arms is……
“Michael….?”
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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 years ago
Text
Broken promise
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warning : hurt, angst, hurt/no comfort, tiny comfort, fluff, implied/referenced smut, mention of sex (fivesome), kissing, hugging, major character death, tw death, blood/wounds, no use of Y/n, emotional
Summary : You come back to Santa Carla after a trip to your parents' house. Your four friends have missed you and you have missed them too. A sweet reunion and a few events happen. But what happens when things are left unsaid? What happens when you don't tell everything? What happens when you make promises and they are...broken?
Poly!Lost Boys x fem reader
masterlist
Info : (Originally named Broken promises) I hope my dear reader you still like it, despite the hurtful things and enjoye the reading. I enjoed the writing but even I had to admit it, it was a though one. Have fun
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moon shone especially brightly on the night of her arrival. The planet seemed to rejoice as well as the four vampires. They all knew that their beloved was coming back today. Knew that her heartbeat would fill them again. Knew that their beloved was finally coming back to Santa Carla. They could hardly wait. But the young woman at the wheel also drove faster than allowed down the long road towards her four friends.
She turned up her radio and listened to loud music and hummed. A smile played around her lips. She had been away too long to visit her family for a long time. She had stayed here for the last few years since she graduated from school and came back to her hometown for a few weeks to visit her parents.
It was a good time, no question, they had a lot to talk about, what the job was like, studying and of course if she had a boyfriend yet. You could say that, she had told her mother with a small, mischievous smile as she pushed the homemade muffin into her mouth. ,,You could say that," she muttered after her words and her finger tapped lightly on the steering wheel before she drove on faster. She still knew exactly where she was going, knew exactly where she had to go. Knew exactly that they would all be waiting for her.
The light shining from the front of her car illuminated the streets well. Even though she was not a creature of the night, she swore she could drive the roads better at night. It was easier, fewer people on the road and the night offered so much more. She didn't know what had happened in the last few weeks.
Didn't know about the new residents of Santa Carla. She didn't know what had happened. But she was sure that her four friends would tell her everything. She turned off the radio before parking her car near the entrance of the cave. She pulled out the key and took her small bag of clothes.
She hurriedly got out of the car and, with one last look up at the moon, went into the cave. She heard her footsteps echoing inside, as if she were chasing herself. But she knew it wasn't like that, knew that the cave had its own peculiarities.
She knew where she had to go. She had taken the path too often to stumble. Before, with one last big step and a leap, she finally reached the inside. The usual musty smell with its mix of leather, perfume, cool night air and metal was in the atmosphere. Nothing had changed. If anything, only more spider threads and pigeons had been added.
She looked around at the individual nests under mountains of pillows and blankets. But none of them seemed to be there. Not even Star and Laddie were there. Where are they? she asked herself, guessing that maybe they were out for a walk or on one of the rides. She was not a vampire, her heart was beating, her warm blood was flowing through her body and her teeth were not made for killing.
But still she could feel them watching her from the darkness. They seemed to be watching her as if they were trying to play with her. Testing how far they could go. You're welcome she thought and a smirk came to her lips before she put the bag down on the couch and positioned herself in front of the fountain. A little show couldn't hurt.
She knew the four of them were watching her, suppressing their lust and love for her. They only seemed to be waiting for something. She slowly took off her jacket and laid it carelessly on the edge of the fountain. Before she gradually felt the relative cold of the surroundings.
She felt the goose bumps spreading. ,,Is anyone here?" she asked playfully into the darkness, but heard only a giggle. Paul. She recognised the giggle above all. She had missed him and wanted to hold him in her arms again. She had missed his loving yet slightly clumsy romantic nature. She had missed them all. All of them.
Before she took off her thin jumper that was almost the last instance. Carelessly laying it on the edge, she wore only her thin top. Which clung to her upper body and yet gave a good view of her body underneath in the right moonlight.
Only a few moments later she saw a small flame flicker up, followed by smoke coming out of the darkness. David. The charismatic leader. She had almost missed the little smell of smoke that always seemed to be everywhere. She missed him, his laugh, his seductive words that made her heart beat faster.
Before she decided to let the boys wait a little longer. She moved to the edge of the fountain and walked a few laps around. Moving slightly spinning and slightly dancing as if she could hear the music on her radio. Moved her arms and hips slightly to it, got lost in a rhythm. Sinking into the melody of love. Saw a pair of eyes flash in the darkness. Dwayne. The black-haired tall quiet one.
She felt the intense gaze and a shudder go through her body. His looks always told her more than words, his looks had already persuaded her to do many things. Many things she inwardly wished she had done earlier. Before she moved on and her fingers played lightly with her hair.
Down to her neck where she felt her aorta. Before she saw the grin flash out of the darkness. Marko. The smallest and yet most bloodthirsty of the four. She had missed his way of showing her things that had evoked something in her. It was unbelievable.
They were all there. Wordlessly she turned one last time before spreading her arms and jumping backwards off the well. For a moment she felt herself fall before she felt the cold hands of the four vampires on her. ,,Coming straight into our arms, huh?" Marko said and grinned at her as the four of them lowered her to the ground and were finally together again. ,,I missed you all so much," she said, spreading her arms to simulate the need for a hug.
Before Paul was the first to throw himself into her arms followed by Marko and David who threw his cigarette away carelessly before the round was completed by Dwayne who hugged them all almost to death. But it did feel good. It was good to have their four friends with them again.
She seemed to finally feel her life through the others again. Their love was reunited. ,,The five of us together so close brings back sinful memories," she heard Paul, who was pressed closest to her. Before David laughed slightly, Dwayne sighed and Marko just grinned wider before they all broke away from the embrace. The four of them had not changed as they were immortal. They all still looked beautiful.
She felt Paul's hand still around her though. She had missed his hugs, his sweet and energetic way. She felt Marko playing with a strand of her hair and his fingers almost innocently stroking her neck every now and then. Saw that David already had a new cigarette between his lips and Dwayne didn't take his eyes off her.
They all hadn't changed. ,,We thought you weren't coming anymore," the leader said and she actually thought she saw something like worry flashing in his ice-blue eyes. She saw Paul nod and the other two seemed to agree. Her heart beat faster knowing that the four of them had missed her. It touched her. A soft smile came to her lips before she laid a hand gently on the leader's cheek. Cold. As always.
She took the cigarette from him, took a puff of her own before she said, ,,Did my boys miss me that much?" before she gave him a kiss. She felt him respond, a grin on his lips.
He deepened the kiss and seemed almost proud. As Marko tightened his grip on her hair and Paul's hands slowly moved over her body, she sighed. She had missed the touch of the four of them.
She lost herself in the kiss and wanted to get closer to David. Before Dwayne suddenly detached her from him and kissed her instead. More gently, less impetuously, and yet she felt goosebumps come over her body as she looked up at him. They all seemed so incredibly attractive. They always did.
Ever since she had run into the four of them and asked for a motorbike race with her car. Which she had almost won. But she had never drunk the blood from the bottle. She didn't want to, she loved life. She loved to have a heartbeat and to be really alive. She would decide for herself when she wanted to be transformed.
But she was torn from her kiss when she felt Paul's kisses on her neck and Marko's light, not deep bites. Knew what the little one was getting at. Felt her heart beat faster at the thought. It had been a long time. ,,I suggest we move our lovely reunion over there," David ordered, taking a last drag on his cigarette. He finished it before taking her hand and pulling her and the three boys towards one of the many nests full of blankets and pillows.
The night when the moon was so brightly lit had been over for a few days. The long night of love between the five had passed. But she seemed to still feel them all. How Paul had placed himself between her legs, bringing her to ecstasy.
How Dwayne had pulled her onto his lap and whispered sweet words to her. Marko bit into the soft skin of her thighs again and again. Before she felt the sweet tug on her breast as the icy blue of David's eyes seemed to devour her. It was a night of lust and sin.
But the love between them seemed stronger than ever. The days had passed and slowly it would be day again. Star, Laddie and the four others were all with her in the cave. They were all waiting to go to sleep.
Laddie was already under the covers, dozing lightly even though he was not yet completely asleep. Star was also sitting on her bed reading a book, but something about her seemed different. She seemed happier and yet sadder. Something had happened. But her friend had not really had time to find out everything.
She only knew that David had made a young man named Michael drink his blood. But she had not met him yet. She was curious what he would be like. She sat on the couch with a book between her hands and read the pages halfway attentively. Even though her attention went to the four of them every now and then. David sat in his wheelchair and smoked quietly.
Every now and then he chuckled about the events. Dwayne looked at Laddie's bed and seemed to just watch everything, even though he seemed to be in thoughts. Paul made himself another joint for the coming night and she wondered if it would really be enough. While Marko talked to his pigeons and put another patch on his jacket. It was a calm, relaxed atmosphere. It was caring.
Before, after a few more minutes, David rose from the chair and finished his cigarette before saying, ,,Time to go to sleep". There was a rolling of the eyes from Marko and a grumbling from Paul, but they all rose and slowly walked towards the passageway that led further inside.
Their mutual friend also stood up and put the book away carelessly before she joyfully placed herself in front of the passage. Before she gave the boys a hug and a goodnight kiss. First Paul, then Marko before Dwayne and finally David.
She had just pulled away from him when she felt his hand on hers. ,,You sure you don't want to sleep with us?" he asked quietly and looked briefly at the rest of the mattress and blankets. They had offered her to sleep directly under them. But she shook her head slightly. ,,It's fine, really, I like sleeping on the couch, closer to Star and Laddie in case anything happens," she replied, squeezing his hand lightly.
She saw his blue eyes run over her, searching for something. ,,If anything is, you know...we're all here to protect you, I promise," he said before kissing her hand and disappearing into the darkness himself. ,,Good night!" she called into the darkness to the four of them before sitting back on the couch to get a few hours sleep herself until noon before running a few errands for the group and planning to take care of the pigeons. Slipping happily under the covers, she sighed at the comfort before falling asleep with thoughts of the night ahead.
The sun stood brightly over Santa Carla at noon and she slowly woke up again. The light did not reach every corner of the cave, but it was bright enough to see more than just everything. Yawning, she had already bought the most necessary things in town and was already on her way back to the cave. She took another entrance, so she didn't take the stairs. It would bring fewer questions if she was seen less.
And not always a young woman disappearing in the cave. Humming a song to herself, she put the box down and wiped her hands on her jeans. Before she looked around and noticed something. Or rather, didn't notice something. Is she under the covers? she asked herself and walked over to Star and Laddie. But the closer she got, the more clearly she saw that the two beds were empty.
Discomfort and fear rose up in her. That was not possible, they were both asleep in an almost comatose state. They could not be gone. ,,Star? Laddie? Where are you two?" she asked into the cave as she turned over and scattered all the blankets and pillows. They were gone. She knew not to worry about the sun. ,,They can't be out," she muttered, knowing that they were asleep and wouldn't wake up any time soon. Something or someone happened.
Looking around she tried to spot signs. Before she hurried back to the couch and reached in her pocket for her knife. Strictly speaking, it was a gift from the four of them for defensive reasons. They knew that as soon as the sun came up they could not protect themselves very well. She took it in her hand and grasped the handle, looking at the blade for a moment.
Sharp and deadly if need be. The more she searched and looked around, the more nervous she seemed to get. She knew she could hardly defend herself alone. Especially not if it were the Surf Nazis. She bit her lip and cursed inwardly. They must be people she thought nervously and looked around.
She had just arrived back at Star's bed when she saw two figures scurrying towards the doorway.They're heading for them, she realized in a panic before running after them. ,,Stop!" she shouted and reached out a hand in the half-light. She felt a collar catch her hand and she yanked on it with all her might.
The person was lighter than she had thought, which is why she flew back out of the shadows with the person and went to the ground. ,,Shit, you're bitten!" she heard a childish voice, a teenager barely older.
Picking herself up but not letting go of the knife she saw who was standing there. The Frog brothers. She knew them from the comic shop, she had bought something there a few times. ,,No, just a scratch," the other replied, a small bloody scratch on his arm from the impact.
He was about to run back to his brother when she grabbed him by the collar again. ,,What are you two doing here?" she asked, looking at them uncertainly. They can't know, can they? she asked herself, but when she saw the weapons the younger two had, she shuddered. It would be enough to kill all four of them. ,,Let him go! We should have known, you're her bride like in the comics, you're keeping them alive!" Edgar shouted, his red bandana already drenched in sweat.
They were all tense and fucking terrified. ,,Just shoot!" the other one yelled and tried to get out of her grip. But she continued to hold him out firmly before she pressed the knife against his neck as gently as she could in the situation. What am I doing here? she asked herself and knew that her hands were trembling slightly. That her heart was beating far too fast and she was afraid. She was threatening children...and yet only to protect her love. She would do anything for them.
She had fallen for them, but of her own free will, they all loved each other. One does everything for love. She knew the dangers that would come. ,,They love me! And I advise you whatever you think you know, they are not here...leave and be glad that I don't call the police!" it was a weak lie and yet a warning. A warning that would come true and become reality when night fell. She thought feverishly about what to do.
She looked at the stake gun and swallowed. One shot to pierce her and she would be dead too. ,,Lie! We know you're here, we've already got the little one and the girl. We'll get your bloodsucking mates too and then you'll die, you half-vampire!" Alan shouted and his brother aimed at her. But she moved Alan in front of her and if Edgar pulled the trigger he would hurt his brother. He wouldn't risk it.
Her eyes wandered searchingly for David's bottle. All she had to do was take a sip and, if she was lucky, bite one of them. All she had to do was turn and she could win.
Before she saw the bottle lying next to the wheelchair. Something she could not know. ,, They are not here for the last time! If you don't want him to die then get out now!" she shouted and pressed the knife harder against the younger man's throat. There was no sign of Alan winking at his brother to draw his attention to something. She didn't see Edgar reply silently. She only heard the click of the gun but it was not a stake coming out. Instead it was holy water.
But the surprise effect was there. She flinched, pushed Alan away, lost the knife and ran towards the bottle. It was only a few steps away. She had already reached out for it when a shot echoed through the cave. A single shot. ,,Come on, let's go!" she heard Edgar say muffled as he pulled his brother out of the cave with him.
She had fallen to the ground from the force of the shot. The rush of her blood seemed too loud for her to hear them any more. Slowly, apppathetically and trembling, she looked down as far as she could. She lay lightly on her side and her vision blurred by the tears in her eyes.
The wooden stake had pierced through her middle. She only partly felt the pool of blood spreading beneath her, only partly felt how heavy the wood actually was, only partly felt her strength leaving her. She looked at the bottle and reached for it. Empty. She sobbed painfully as she realised what it meant. Death.
Tears ran down her cheek to the floor mingling with the pool of blood. No-No...I don't want it to end like this she heard her inner voice and looked towards the doorway. Rescue. ,,My...love" she murmured as she pulled herself up with a scream. She almost fell to the floor again if she hadn't supported herself. Everything hurt, her tears wouldn't stop and she could feel her blood escaping.
She lost more and more and left a trail behind her. She limped, walking far too slowly towards the passage, always thinking that the four of them would save her. You said it David she thought of his promise and groaned painfully as the wood shifted slightly due to her movement.
It hurt so much. ,,Help me...please" she cried out and tried not to look at the wood. It would only have made her cry more. It would have stained her hands even more with blood. It would only be a few more steps, but she began to stumble. The weight of the wood and her lack of strength were too much.
She collapsed and went down again, crying out again from the impact. She seemed to bleed even more from the collision, but she was only half aware of it. Her body could not hold out much longer. ,,Ju-Just...into the darkness," she gasped and heaved herself towards the passage.
But it didn't work, she had no strength left, she lay powerless and on the verge of death in front of the darkness. She had not reached the darkness. She had not reached the four. She had not reached her love. It was the end. ,,David...Dwayne...Paul...Marko don't leave me alone...I'm scared" she murmured before her vision became more and more blurred and her heart stopped beating.
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The moon seemed to glow blood-red that night as the four awoke from their sleep. But they all seemed to feel something. That something had happened. David saw the same uncertain look in the eyes of the three. It was the same uncertain look in his blue eyes as they were unaware of her heartbeat. Immediately they ran out of their section and the short way back to the main cave.
The light of the moon shone darker into the cave, not illuminating every corner. But before they could even enter, they all stopped in shock. Wordless, powerless, powerless, they stopped in front of her.
The vampires fixed their gaze on her corpse as if they were still dreaming. It seemed to be a nightmare. This could not have happened. Then it would have happened. ,,What...What happened?" said Dwayne first, who seemed to have banished any sign of his feelings within seconds.
He put a hand on Paul's shoulder when he saw the blond shaking slightly. He was crying. Paul was the first to cry bloody tears. His crying was the first to turn into sobs and he hid his face in his hands as he knelt down beside you.
He reached out his trembling hands and clasped yours. He held you convulsively as if he was afraid you might disappear at any second. He would have given anything to hold you in his arms again. Dwayne also went over to you and knelt down next to you.
The tallest one wanted to be closer to you, even though he loved to just kiss you on the head or forehead. Now the thought seemed to hurt him even more. Dwayne was the second to shed tears of blood. He did it silently, quietly, not to be heard. He put his hand so unspeakably carefully on your leg, he was afraid he would hurt you. He had always been afraid of hurting you.
A loud crack went through the cave as Marko punched one hole after another in the stone, his knuckles had long since burst open, but it didn't hurt. He felt nothing. He felt nothing more because you could only give him that feeling.
You made him feel something again. More than just a thirst for blood. He hated himself at that moment more than ever before. Marko was the third to cry bloody tears, trying to hold them back but it didn't work.
Dwayne opened his mouth but closed it again. He had no strength to nag Marko to let it go. For the first time he didn't care. ,,Marko" said David after the smallest one had cut a particularly deep hole in the stone and a complete rumble went through the cave. It didn't bring you back. It wouldn't do any good.
The usually grinning vampire turned to you. His face full of sadness and anger and hate. Anger and hatred for the one who had done this to you. Before he came to you and knelt beside you as well. His fingers slowly went to your hair, just holding a strand. He had felt fear for a long time. Fear that he might hurt you.
He cried and seemed to want to say something, but instead he just sobbed. David. David was the last one to come to you. His attempts to light a cigarette had failed. His fingers were shaking too much, his lighter wouldn't light and he wanted to scream.
He knelt down next to you. He saw your battered body. Saw the wooden stake that went through you. ,,She...protected us," Paul whimpered in response to Dwayne's question and only sobbed more. David swallowed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. ,,Protected," he mumbled, his voice seeming to break every second.
The three did not take their eyes off you and yet they listened to their leader. Then it was David's turn to cry one bloody tear, he was the fourth and last. Before he realised what he had done. He had broken his promise.
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quirkle2 · 8 months ago
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in zombie au, what if the hypothetical situation where the gang does indeed run into Zero food supply, would zombie mob really eat either or both tome and ritsu :o (i literally laid awake last night imagining this scenario jwndjwndkwn)
oh and one more thing! i would very much like to know what goes on mob's thoughts when said hypothetical situation comes around :3
hogod . oh god i did this didnt i. i did this im so evil im so
ok. this is the evil timeline.we don't talk abt this timeline very much, it's evil. so this is prolly the only ask i'll answer abt it. warning for cannibalism, mcd, and suicide
in the not-canon hypothetical where they Do run completely out of food, mob would indeed get desperate enough to snap and lunge at one of them, and he'd go for tome first. she's less familiar, she's Not his sibling, and she's only been around for a few months
how ritsu responds to this sorta depends on the situation, but in that particular scenario from the previous ask and its tags ritsu probably Doesn't have it in him to shoot mob and he lets tome get killed. he feels like a Monster for it, but he's simply not going to kill his own brother for a girl he just met a couple months ago. he's going to choose mob every time
given that ritsu doesn't have any food for himself here, he's sorta trapped in a nightmare. if they leave after mob gets his fill, he'll feel like tome kinda died in vain, or at least smth close to it. through the fucking Raw Fear he's probably feeling after watching his brother eat another person, he's doing his best to grasp onto logic and say well we should stay here. bc that means shige will get rly well-fed. there's a perfectly good... food source right here. we shouldn't waste it
but ritsu has no food, and he literally can't resort to eating her bc that's tainted meat now. he'd just turn afterward. so they have to leave her. and that makes him so fucking upset in the grand scheme of things but rly, in the moment, he's glad to make that decision bc it means he can stop being in the same room as her corpse
now if it somehow happened Again and mob got that desperate a second time, with nobody but ritsu around? uhm.,,,,he would? i think. he would. as much as i'd love to say he wouldn't, he's a zombie. instincts takes over eventually. and then he'd wander aimlessly until exhaustion, a patrol, or starvation claims him. hashtag bad ending hashtag throwing tomatoes at the stage
to answer ur second question: after mob gets cured, in the middle of his recovery, he starts to remember bits n pieces of the journey, and while it's very fuzzy and it jumps around a lot, he Thinks there was somebody else w them at some point
so he asks ritsu. hey was there ?? anybody else with us? and like.whatthe hell do u say to that. ritsu knows that if mob knows, he'd lose his mind. he wouldn't be able to handle that. so he Has to lie, and he kinda panics and fucks it up a bit bc he says, "nah bro just us ^-^" and completely omits tome from the picture. fucked up but he panicked, okay
mob goes hm. ok. but then he remembers more. he remembers her face, vaguely, and her name, and at first he kinda chalks it up to brain weirdness in his recovery stages, but as time goes on and he gains more and more memories of this girl that ritsu claims was never there, he comes to the conclusion that ritsu Lying might be more likely
and if ritsu lied to his face about this, about a Whole Person being with them, what else is he hiding?
if mob ever did find out what exactly he did to her, or even to that man he mauls to protect ritsu in the canon timeline of this au, i think he'd lose it. he wouldn't be able to live w himself. i genuinely don't think he'd be able to go on after that
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skillzissue · 1 year ago
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TW//IMPLIED SIBLING DEATH
(Take care of yourselves okay!!! Forehead kithes <3)
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Love you guys MUAH <333 (skips away as if I didn’t just post soul crushing angst)
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aprocessionofthoughts · 3 months ago
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In the Night
whumptober24 day 11- convenience store fandom- spiderman tw- suicidal ideation, depression, gun violence, possible character death implied (open ended) summary- Peter is tired
masterlist ao3
Peter sighs as he steps into the convenience store. He’s so tired. He’s just gotten off his second job of the day, and he doesn't think he has the energy to go out as Spiderman tonight. 
Not that he really needs to anymore, he thinks. There’s a new superhero team now. The Fantastic Four. Peter can’t help but be a little bitter at the fact that the public accepted them so readily while he’s always been called a menace. Not when their dislike of him pushed him into the stupid decision to go to Dr. Strange. Not when he’s lost everyone he loves because of his fear of what the public would do to him and the people he cared about.
He may have lost them, but at least most of them are safe and alive, even if they don’t remember him.
And the new team is smart too. If he remembers correctly, most of them are wicked smart scientists. And the Human torch is his age. They make him think of what could have been if the Avengers had stayed together, if Thanos had never happened. 
Would he have been able to visit the tower? Maybe had a room there? Worked with Mr. Stark in the lab, hung out with the other Avengers, learned from them? It’s hard not to be jealous. Human Torch has a whole team to help him, to protect him.
Peter has nobody.
It doesn’t matter. He still has Spiderman, even if the public still seems to hate him. He’s not going to stop. It’s like he told Mr. Stark. He protects the little guys. And that’s still true. The Fantastic Four might be here now, but they're not on the streets almost every day stopping ordinary crime.
That’s what Spiderman does. But still. He longs for people to lean on, to be able to relax with, to be himself with.
Maybe he can introduce himself, explain that he’s trying to do his part in his own way.
He’s almost done gathering the few things he came here for when he hears the bell above the door jingle. He ignores it thinking it’s another customer, but then he hears a gruff voice addressing the cashier, and his spidey sense flares.
“Money in the bag, or I shoot.”
Peter closes his eyes and curses under his breath. He’s tired, and he doesn’t have time to change into Spiderman. He turns slowly to keep an eye on what’s happening. As long as no one gets hurt…
But the terrified cashier is shaking her head.
“I don’t have access. Only the shift manatee has the key, and he’s not here right now. Please, don’t shoot.” They have their hands raised, and they’re trembling. 
The thief snorts. “Sure.” he says sarcastically. “Open the register and don’t bother telling anymore lies.” He steps closer to the cashier, his gun still raised.
Shoot. This is bad.
“I’m not lying, please!” The cashier has tears running down her face.
Peter steps forward. “Hey, now. There’s no reason to get upset. She doesn't have the keys, so let’s try to settle down. You need money? I’ve got a couple twenties in my pocket.”
“Don’t move.” The gun is pointed at Peter now, which is better than being pointed at the cashier.
“Okay, okay, I’m not moving.” Peter says, raising his hands.
The thief is getting agitated, the gun moving between Peter and the cashier. He has to keep his focus.
“Come on, man. She can’t help you.”
“Shut up!” he shouts, but at least the gun is back on Peter. 
The bell above the door jingles again, and the robber turns towards it. Peter dives towards him, but his spidey sense screams as the gun is pointed again in his direction. 
He doesn’t have time to move. His body is too slow, too tired. He hears the bang and feels himself collapse. The door slams open, and distantly Peter is aware that the man is getting away. But he can’t move. He’s on his back. He looks down at himself. His chest is red, but he can’t feel anything. He lets his head flop down on the ground.
There is suddenly a face above him. A boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Peter can see his mouth moving, but there is a ringing in Peter’s ears. 
Is this how Ben felt? 
At least there will be no one to mourn Peter. And New York has new heroes. They don’t need Spiderman anymore.
He can go, see May again, see Ben, see Mr. Stark. 
He lets his eyes close, distantly he’s aware of someone pressing on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He wants to tell them it’s going to be okay. The world doesn’t need Peter Parker anymore.
Peter can rest.
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naomijameston · 30 days ago
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I wish you would write a fic where Hermione stands at Severus's grave and weeps (all the angst please!)
It was raining. Hermione hated the rain. It was cold and numbing and often came with hail, leaving her with bruises whenever she got caught outside. 
But today she didn’t mind it. She didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel anything.
No. She felt everything.
She felt the dampness of the earth seeping into her shoes. She felt the stares of the people around her. Their confusion and uncertainty.
She felt the child move in her belly.
She felt the roughness of his father’s gravestone. 
She wished she felt nothing. Grief was supposed to be numbing, wasn’t it? Molly had assured her that she’d feel numb soon, and that Mother Molly would be there to help her through it. She’d gone through it plenty of times, after all.
But Hermione didn’t feel numb. She felt the rain and the tears and the baby and the *rage*.
“Damn you,” she whispered to the stone. “Damn you to hell, Severus Snape.”
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. “Hermione, surely you don’t mean–”
“Shut up, Harry,” she said. “You don’t understand. He betrayed me.”
“Hermione, I’m sure he didn’t mean to die–”
She shrugged his hand off. “Go be with your family. Let me be with mine for a while.”
She felt Harry’s eyes on her as he backed away before finally turning to rejoin the Weasley clan. She saw them turn as one to look at her before being shooed away by Molly. The sympathy in her eyes only fueled the rage in Hermione’s heart.
“Damn you,” she said again. She curled her hand into a fist and slammed it onto the stone, ignoring the pain. “DAMN YOU!”
Her knees trembled but she refused to collapse.
“I would have followed you,” she snarled. “To Hell and beyond, Severus. Through the cosmos and time itself! We swore to never be parted. Not through distance nor time nor even death, we said. But you didn’t mean it, did you? No, you just *had* to make one final point, didn’t you?”
She wiped her face, but her sodden cloak did more harm than good. Their son kicked her hard, displeased that she’d been still for so long. Hermione sneered at her large belly but her words were for the stone.
“You’ve tethered me here, you rat bastard. I hate you.”
She walked away, ignoring the cold rain, the hot tears, and the first contraction.
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bluestrawberrybunny · 7 months ago
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To start this post off: I know this seems like a weird crossover fic; HOWEVER, warning before people begin reading: this fic contains major character death, mentions of su*c*de, SA, s*x and s*x work, murder, blood, abandonment, child neglect, child ab*se, and emotional ab*se. If any of these make you uncomfortable, I would suggest finding another fic to read.
While this crossover seems really weird to some readers at a glance, this is a very serious fic that covers the topics mentioned above.
Ok… I am having some issues with the Apprenticeship AU (specifically dealing with writer’s block), but this is an AU and crossover fic I have not been able to stop thinking about. There are planned to be 15 chapters in total. First chapter is out now. It’s something that I really like, and I can’t wait to work on this story moving forward while I figure out how to tell the story I am wanting to with the SMG4 Apprenticeship AU.
So in the meantime, I’m going to be updating this one a lot more frequently during my recovery time from eye surgery, so… yeah.
No, I have no abandoned the Apprenticeship AU (and I am also planning on posting both fics on AO3 eventually, but I was writing them originally on WattPad so… yeah. Give me time to put those on AO3 for those who don’t have WattPad).
Basic rundown of this Space Pirates AU:
Crossover between SMG4, TMNT 2012, BABQFTIM (only Quest!Cuphead and Quest!Mugman are in this fic tho and no I do not support the original AU’s creator), Cry of Fear, Borderlands, and my OCs in a scenario inspired by the show Firefly.
This takes place during TMNT 2012 Season 4, when the group is in space (duh). This AU deals with very difficult topics, especially when regarding how I feel about a certain character from the 2012 series *cough* April *cough* and how she was handled, especially with her relationship to other characters, especially when one of the characters canonically died on screen from her hand.
Basically, this is a “What-If” scenario with a lot of angst, but also a fun found family story surrounding our lovely pirate crew, as well as a fun twist that is revealed at the end of the first chapter and will be explained more throughout the fic.
Again, I know this seems like it would be a crack fic, but it is taken seriously and I am actually taking this story seriously. To be honest, if this story wasn’t so rooted in the story of TMNT 2012 season 4, I would likely take this and make it its own thing. However, I do hope people do give this fic a shot (unless any of the topics I mentioned at the very top of this post make you uncomfortable, in which case I am perfectly fine with you skipping this one for your own mental health).
So… yeah. This is not a crack fic. It’s just me telling a story with a bunch of different characters from different continuities as if they’re all from the same one.
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sotvtaughtmehowtofeel · 11 months ago
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Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless
Fandom: Prospect (2018)
Relationship: Cee and Ezra
WC: 447
Summary: Cee and Ezra fight for their lives on a spaceship.
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