#tw: character death

[dailyflicks]

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 2014, dir. Marc Webb

[tarrynightss]

Thinking about poor Ghost losing his love…

Tw: major character death, blood

The apartment was completely quiet as Simon stepped in, relocking the door behind himself as he always did, pushing down the hood covering his face.

“Love? I’m home.”

He arched an eyebrow as he got no response. Usually you would run up to him, or at the very least call out to him from wherever you were. He called out your name as he stomped through the hallway, not bothering to take off his shoes as his heart started racing. Had you gone out without telling him? Had you fallen asleep? He opened the door to the living room, and all those thoughts turned into mere optimistic dreams.

You sat slumped on the couch, your hands laying flat beside you and your head hanging back at an uncomfortable angle. He didn’t even need to glance downwards at the blood spray or the dark puddle leaking out from under the couch. You were dead.

Simon stood frozen, staring at you, the reality not sinking in. It wasn’t you. It was just another corpse, like many he had seen before. It wasn’t you. Yet even as he repeated that mantra over and over again, his eyes watered up, light catching on the ring around your finger. The one he had used to propose to you to two months ago.

Your name left his throat in a strangled sob as he stumbled forward, crashing to his knee on the couch next to you. He gently cradled the back of your head, feeling his stomach churn at the sickening feeling of the blood and small yet noticeable hole under his fingers. He held you in his arms, taking in the almost peaceful look on your face as you blankly stared forward.

The sob that had been building up finally came out, and despite knowing he shouldn’t move you, he couldn’t find it in himself to care, crushing your motionless form against himself.

“No! No! God!”

He screamed as he pressed your bloodied head against his hoodie, stroking your hair from your face like it might bother you. This was because of him. There was no note, but he was certain of it. Someone had sniped you, clean and from afar, right through the large apartment window. It could’ve been Simon’s job, expertly done.

The sobs he let out wrecked his whole body, hugging you tighter and tighter against himself. The hard reality was right in front of him, yet he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. Just seven hours ago he had seen you, smiling brightly and kissing his cheek as he left. He should’ve stayed, should’ve been the one to take the bullet, but instead he had left as he always did. ‘I’m worried this job will one day cost you your life, Simon.’ He remembered your words, how you had frowned in sorrow at the thought. You were right. He had lost his life, his light, his everything.

Your skin was already cold as he pressed a weeping kiss to your forehead, fingers swiping gently over your eyelids to close them forever.

“I’m sorry, god, I’m so sorry.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, whispering apologies over and over again like it would change anything. As god knows how long passed, his grief started to get laced with anger, which grew and grew until he was gritting his teeth. Whoever did this would pay. They would suffer, over and over again till it was no longer possible to keep them alive. It would be a small comfort to the pain he felt, but he owed you this much. He owed you revenge.

Slowly, he put your body down on the couch, laying you flat like you were sleeping. It pained him greatly to leave you here, but he had to act fast. He would make sure someone picked up your body and had it taken care of. Before he left, he took your ring from your finger, stuffing it in the pocket over his heart.

“I’m sorry, love, don’t be sad, I won’t be long.”

With that promise, he left, rage and a burning need for revenge making his rattled body move. One step at a time, and then one stab at the time.

[quackity-rp-blog]

Everything had been set in place.

Today, the casino was closed, long enough for the guests to be gone, but for Quackity to still be in his office making up paperwork, so the Dogs stepped outside.

Rotty and Bull had begrudgingly gone along with the plan as Shepherd led them through it. Each stood just outside the property line, their shadows casting long black forms of themselves onto the tall casino walls. Today it would crumble. The boys pushed and shoved each other, playfully. The weight of the situation not creeping in until a text came through. With a breath, the boys looked around. Shepherd stepped forward.

Basset stood outside Quackity's house. He'd ran Cone to Rev's so he would be safe. Alaska was supposed to be here, he was supposed to be the one to blow the lid. But Basset didn't see him. He stood outside Quackity's yard, looking down at the control to his hand. As his phone buzzed, he pushed the button with a small click.

The sand shifted as thousands of pounds of materials were sent sky high. The boys at the casino running from the aftermath towards Shepherd's truck as chunks crashed into neighboring buildings, hooting and hollering at a job well done. Gunpowder and smoke clouded the sky like it had suddenly become night.

Quackity's house crumbled. Glass shot in every direction and a fire screamed out of the rubble. Chunks of foundation and beaten ground, covered the area as Basset tried. To run. He tried. He wasn't ready. The remnants of a family home, shattered into the ground. Basset took cover in a neighboring storm shelter, crying as he heard crashes of the fire spreading.

Under thousands if not millions of pounds of rubble, a heartbeat fell still.

@clinging-to-a-dream

[shanalikeanna]

"....What have you done?" Fic (Bad Ending) Author: @pluck-heartstrings Read the full fic here I'm BEGGING YOU it's really good I promise TW:Blood under the cut

[tamdoesart]

Coming back to a world where your loved one is no more.. it’s cruel.

I joined a wonderful lil discord server recently & took part in an event to create something inspired by the season 2 teasers we got. Since I missed the hayday, I had to squeeze in some Vanco somehow.

Anyway, enjoy the angst! I’m sorry :’D

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 6 - "Who did this?" Childhood friends Steddie, delayed because I'm still sick and sleeping most of the time, sorry. I will catch up eventually.

When he was eight years old, someone up there sent Steve Harrington a miracle. It was't flashy, shiny or anything, so it took him a while to recognize that it was indeed a miracle. It came in form of a boy about a year older than him, with a mop of wavy dark hair, large brown eyes and even larger smile - Eddie Munson.

Steve was doing well at that time, or so everyone kept telling him. His parents had the money to buy a big house, get him a babysitter when needed, send him to all the activities he wanted - only they were rarely with him. But that was fine. When you have everything that so many others don't, you can hardly complain about something as mundane as feeling lonely.

God, Steve felt lonely.

He was the rich kid, the one with the "nothing is ever good enough" parents, and that rarely won him any friends. They all expected him to organize parties, to get a bouncy castle for the afternoon, to bring a cake whenever they asked, but it felt like they never really wanted him. Steve found the feeling painfully familiar.

It took one gentle rejection of another set of requests and demands, a suggestion that maybe they could just go and check out the fair that was just unpacking nearby, and everyone lost interest in him, called him cheap. Unpacking meant that it wasn't open yet, and that Steve wouldn't pay for the rides. He was just leaving the playground when he heard a high, loud voice call out to him. "Hey, hey you! Yellow t-shirt! Wait!"

Steve stopped and turned around, glaring at the skinny kid rushing to him. "Yellow t-shirt?" he asked, wondering if he should be insulted.

"Well, duh. I don't know your name yet. I'm new here." The boy stopped in front of him with a wide smile plastered on his face. "But now I will. I'm Eddie, I moved in with my uncle a week ago. You are?"

Steve offered him his hand. "Steve. So, uh..."

Eddie laughed and shook his hand. "Hi, Steve. Now, did these sharp ears hear something about a fair?"

Something lifted in Steve's chest, something he never knew weighed so heavily on him. "Sure did!"

His new friend - only friend - beamed at him. "Then lead the way! "

..

It was after they properly inspected all the attractions that the fair had to offer that Steve noticed a bruise on Eddie's arm. It was pure chance - he and Eddie were swinging on a tree branch and Eddie's sleeve fell back, revealing a nasty bruise. It must have been older, but the size and discoloration were still enough to make Steve concerned.

"Who did this?" he asked, pointing at Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie seemed to freeze mid-swing. He dropped to the ground and pulled the sleeve back. "No one. I fell, I'm clumsy like that." He spoke fast and with that carefree smile, but Steve's gut had a mind of its own.

"Eddie. You don't get bruises like that from falling," he said and despite Eddie's protests, leaned in to examine the injury. He'd seen some like that, on kids whose parents tended to fight a lot, or at least according to his parents, "had a nasty violent streak". He always tried not to stare, but he knew what they meant. "It looks...looks like a punch. Did someone do that to you?"

The smile faltered and Eddie dropped his gaze to the ground. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, as if he was deciding whether to run. "Uh...yeah. I mean. It's probably not a secret, it's just that it used to? I mean," he added, noticing the confused look on Steve's face, "my dad tends to get angry a lot when things don't go well. He lost his job, mom left us...so yeah. That's also why I'm here, in a new town, new school...my uncle lives here. I'm staying with him."

"Is he..." wavered Steve, "...is he angry too? Will you be OK?"

If there were any tears in Eddie's eyes, they were gone in an instant. "Wayne? Oh no. He's great. He's a bit scary, but he's so nice. You know, he gave me his own bed. I told him I don't need it, but he didn't care. And he gave me some really cool books! You'll never have to worry about Wayne. Or me. That's a promise."

..

Steve didn't think Eddie meant to lie. "You'll never have to worry about me" sounded wonderful, but it never worked that way with them. And Steve found himself asking Eddie the same question over and over.

"Who did this?" he asked as Eddie came to the school with his head shaved, gently coaxing an answer from Eddie that his classmates thought cutting his hair would be a great prank. "It'll grow back even thicker, just you wait," he snickered, but Steve could see his restless fingers reaching out for the strands that were no longer there.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was helping Eddie fish out his school supplies from the pool. Eddie just laughed it off, saying he'd pissed of a bunch of seniors by not lying to their girlfriends about cheating.

"Who did this?" he asked as he saw Eddie with a black eye and his locker painted over with the word FAGGOT. Eddie shrugged and slammed the locker shut. "It's not like they're wrong," he whispered to Steve. When Steve turned up at his and Wayne's trailer in the evening, Eddie hugged him tight, as if he thought he'd never see Steve again over that admission. As if.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was picking Eddie up after his roleplaying club, Hellfire, and seeing that someone cut Eddie's tires. Eddie just laughed and explained that apparently dragons and adventures were the work of Satan now.

"Who did this?" he asked in marvel as he saw Eddie's first tattoo. It was so crooked and imperfect, but so much like Eddie. When he admitted it was his own work, Steve asked for one of his own.

"Who did this?" he laughed as he kissed Eddie for the first time and found a small braid hidden in his mane of hair. When Eddie admitted he made that one himself, that he gets restless sometimes, Steve asked to teach him. So he could always braid Eddie's hair for him when they eventually moved away together.

But maybe the answers didn't matter.

The answer to "who did this?" didn't matter to the mob that gathered after Chrissy Cunningham's death. They decided they knew already.

"Who did this?" didn't matter when Steve raced to the hospital with badly injured Eddie in his car, the wound on his head bleeding onto Steve's pristine window.

"Who did this?" lost its importance when Wayne and Steve waited for the dreaded news.

And knowing who did it certainly doesn't help Steve now, as he and Wayne are picking up a headstone for Eddie's final resting place.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1362

CW: character death.

Blood dripped past Hero’s fingers, mixing with the rain and escaping down the road. Their sidekick lay motionless in their arms, slowly growing cold.

The villain’s laughter rang out through the streets, echoing in Hero’s head. Soon, they saw a different kind of red.

[the-elusive-soleil]

Silm AU with the Feanorian death order reversed

I apologize in advance, but:

Maglor regrets the Oath and kinslaying on the voyage over. He stays aboard the ships, meaning to stow away back, but falls asleep (it's been a long day) and wakes up on fire. His brothers and father become aware of the situation when they hear the screams. Maglor's cries become a permanent echo in that area, much like Morgoth's at Lammoth.

Maedhros does not have the clearest head in the ensuing battle. He gets separated from the others and is beaten into the dust by balrogs. His family isn't even able to retrieve a body.

Feanor is very shaken and very mad. He doesn't parlay with Morgoth, not even for the Silmarils. He and his remaining people spread out across Beleriand and establish fortresses.

Things are chilly at best when the Helcaraxe group arrives thirty years later. Feanor does not yield the crown. The two groups don't fight, because Morgoth's a bigger problem, but they're not working together. Partially because Fingon refuses to speak to the Feanorians after he hears what happened to Maedhros, and Finrod won't even be near them after what they did to Maglor.

Feanor is very careful with his remaining sons.

Time goes on, the Bragollach occurs on schedule, and so does the Silmaril quest, except that C&C aren't in Nargothrond because of the Finrod-hating-them thing, so Celegorm never meets Luthien. She doesn't get Huan, but still manages just fine.

We do still eventually get to the point of "Silmaril at Doriath" + "no Girdle" + "stubborn Dior" = Second Kinslaying. But this time Celegorm's not grudge-fueled and Curufin's not having to cover for Huan and watch his back, and... Amrod and Amras die instead.

Elwing escapes to the Havens. Elured and Elurin aren't left to die, but Feanor has no interest in keeping around Sindar reminders of his dead sons. He has them sent away. (They don't know where Elwing and the Silmaril are, so ransom isn't an option.)

Then they do learn where the Silmaril is, at Sirion. They attack. Caranthir dies.

Curufin has been doing increasingly badly since Celebrimbor forswore him right before Doriath. Celegorm decides the solution is to pick up Elwing's twin sons and get Curufin to help parent them.

Feanor isn't thrilled, but he can't say no when he sees how Curufin latches on.

Love grows after between them, as little might be thought.

War of Wrath happens. Feanor keeps his tattered family out of it, but contributes weapon designs via courier. The Host uses said designs, because even if he's problematic they need this stuff.

Afterward, the claiming and theft of the Silmarils proceeds. Curufin sends the twins to Celebrimbor to preempt another rejection.

He's hollow, disillusioned, attacking the camp. The guards don't have to work very hard to kill him.

Feanor and Celegorm escape. The Silmarils burn them. Celegorm starts laughing and laughing and can't stop, and backs away...right into a chasm of fire.

Feanor flings the Silmarils after him, hating the things he chased so long at the cost of his sons, and staggers to the shore as the sea encroaches.

No one knows what happens to him.

[the-faceless-bride]

Yandere Oc (Valarie) × Reader ⚰️🕊

This series is A DARK ROMANCE/HORROR and may have content that some readers may find disturbing. Triggering. Or harmful. I strongly suggest that if you don't enjoy Dead Doves content this story isn't for you. @pricegouge had inspired me to get into writing like this again for their AMAZING slasher 141 stuff. So thank you for the inspiration to continue this.

Proluge: "Stranger..."

As most times in your life. You're bad decisions came from your friends and their wild ideas. Your boyfriend Mike, your friends, Jessica and Ashley had all decided that this week would be a party week! No rules, no responsibility, no consequences for anything! It was part time.

And it was draining your social battery...

Before your boyfriend you were a homebody. You liked being alone with your music, your fantasies, and your cat... well...

You tried to stay positive, this trip was for you after all. You'd been so sad when your cat Gizzmo passed away, they thought this would cheer you right up. Apparently, they don't know you very well. Not like you thought anyway...

At the moment you were at a bar/club; drained, a bit tipsy, and a bit jealous at the sight of Mike dancing a bit too close on Jessica. Ashley had tried an chatt a bit, you'd always liked her a little more than Jess. She at least checked up on you here and there. Jessica seemed more interested in just coming around for Mike.

"Not having fun?" - a voice calls to you over the music, turning your head you see a handsome man. Shoulder length hair pulled into a low ponytail, his bands and strands falling to Frame his gorgeous face. His voice sweet and seductive like honey. - "not really, and not looking forward to the future either!" - You yell over the booming base of the speakers, - he raises his brow confused on what you mean, - "my friends found some pond they want to skinny dip in after this! My friend Jessica suggested it! I'm not to thrilled to go swimming in a random pond!" - "ah, I see. Not alone then! That's good, i wouldn't wanna go to 'Dead Hookers Lake' alone either!" - Dead... what? - "w-What does that mean?" - You ask scooting over in your barstool to get closer to the tall man. - "Well, It's kinda a rumor y'know? Just something this small town says! Apparently with all the passers-byes some folks end up missing! But they can never really say for sure. This town is almost a ghost town by now! So really, it's just something scary people say to keep pretty girls from wandering out too late at night!" - oh, great. Just what you need. A story that's gonna fuck with your tipsy brain and make you paranoid all night long. Thanks random stranger at the bar. Just what you needed. - "you staying here long?"- you were about to answer but then that paranoia set in, - "I can't tell you." - "...why?" - "cuz you're a stranger."- that just made the man pause. Just... staring at you...

"BABE!!" Mike yelled across the bar, - "LETS GO!!"- he called with the wave of his hand Ashley and Jessica already making their way out. Giving the stranger a short good bye you lightly jogged to Mike before looking back at the strange man once more...

"Are you sure about this?"

You call to your friends and boyfriend, who had already stripped down and gone into the cool muddy water. "Ugh! Stop being a Debbie Downer!! Get in, it's fine!" Jessica called back, making a face to Mike before giggling.

"MHmm," - you make a noise of uncertainty and slight disgust, "the water looks questionable to me!" You respond, "It's fine Babe just drop the tee-shirt already"- Mike said, a bit uninterested. You knew why, he was busy staring down Jess.

Then again, you couldn't blame him, she was very pretty.

Dusty blonde hair, honey brown eyes, plump lips, a full curvy body with great legs and very nice breasts, hell even you looked.

But now, it made you all the more self conscious.

But taking a deep breath, you slowly dropped your boyfriends shirt you had been holding infront of you to hide yourself for a bit longer before the inevitable.

Dead hookers lake. Huh. If you felt anything touch your leg you were gonna flip.

Getting into the water, after many little pep talks you slowly tip-toed through the water to reach your Boyfriend. Every now and again anxiously looking around the water, looking for nothing and everything. Ripples in the water distorting the shadows of the pond, making shapes of horrors just below the surface. Your eyes looking around picturing what could be right there and you wouldn't even know it till something touched you. A fish, a plant, a body, HELL even a crocodile or something! Finally making it to Mike, you pull and cling on to him like a baby koala. Refusing to let go, and slowly the paranoia and anxiety started to disappear.

"What the hell was that-"

Until it came rushing back, "what's what?" Jessica asked a confused and disgusted Ashley, "I think I just stepped in something?" Ashley reaches under, her lip curling up in a grossed out face before starting to rise whatever it was she stepped on out of the water.

"I think it's like a dead fish or something-"

A Hand.

A Mushy. bloated. Discolored. Rotted. Hand.

And everything begins happening all at once.

Ashley is screaming, dropping the hand back into the water, watching the loose skin stretch and wrinkle as it sinks back to the bottom where it once laid. Jessica is rushing out of the water, a never ending stream of- "oh my God. oh my God. Oh My God." 's leaving her soft pleading lips, Mike rushing to get you all out of the water and to your phones to call the cops.

This can not be happening. It just can't. You feel your chest tighten as it gets harder and harder to take a steady breath. You fight the urge to gag as you too begin to rush out of the water.

"They're gone."

Huh?

"What do you mean "'they're gone.'" Mike?!"

"Our phones! THEYRE ALL GONE!"

Everyone is in full panic mode now. Mike and Ashley looking feverishly on the ground to see if maybe they had fallen, Jessica is now telling herself this isn't read. And you're vision is getting Hazy.

Then a Scream.

an ear bleeding, gut wrenching. Scream.

The scream turns to a gurgle, and Jessica holds her neck as she bleeds freely from the new wound. Eventually falling as the tries to press the hole in her neck. Twitching as the dirt and mud covers her naked body, ruining her perfect skin as the rocks under her leave cuts and scrapes against her backside.

"JESSICA!" Mike screams; a mix of fear, horror and anger.

And within a fraction of a second, Mike and Ashley take off running.

Not bothering to fully get dressed. Ashley tossing on her long sweater and Mike is boxers, you clumsily pulling on Mike's tee-shirt and panties as you try and keep up, "wait! Please! Wait for me! Please don't leave me!" You scream out to them, trying to navigate the way out of the thickly packed wood that over casted the dirt trail. And then as you tumble from a tree root a large hard hand grabs you, pulling you to a strong chest and holding you down.

In a panic, unable to use your hands and the large hand comes close to your nose and mouth with a cloth you toss your head back hoping to hit something to make the attacker let go, a man gasps but ultimately it only seems to hurt you more than him... and in that moment a sweet smell hits you, the soft cloth over your face being the only comfort in that moment.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them. You just rest for now. Goodnight Darling." The voice slowly fades away.

A/n: here is what "Stranger" looks like, you'll get his name in the first chapter.

And here is voice claim. (Let me know if it doesn't work. It's been weird. And dont mind the capcut 🤓💀)

[anticidic]

"Domestic" Soukoku AU where they've been living together for a while (Dazai was the one who had to move in, no way Chuuya was budging in this agreement) and everything's all nice and dandy. They still have their silly banter and Dazai's probably set the kitchen on fire a couple of times by leaving things in the oven and forgetting. They fight over the thermostat. Dazai likes it ice cold and Chuuya wants it warm, reasonable.

It took some getting used to sleeping in the same bed because Dazai likes to thrash in his sleep and kicks blankets off of him a lot. He also rolls over and sometimes Chuuya wakes up being clung to for dear life.

But lately Chuuya doesn't remember the room and the bed being so cold. It's even summer, so it's not the temperature. He still has all those blankets to bundle himself in.

But Dazai isn't there. He hasn't been there for a while. Months. But his ghost has been. Watching. Mourning the loss of touch.

Chuuya hasn't gotten over grieving that loss. Dazai's always there. In spirit.

[bothoutsiders]

pls i recommend listening to this song on repeat while reading. ( this is part two from a previous ficlet. )

--

The cold, wet concrete beneath him felt oddly comforting, even as his chest tightened with every shallow gasp. It was difficult to pull air into his lungs, and whenever he managed to do it, it burned with each breath. The metallic, sharp scent of his own blood lingered in the air. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not now.

He had been alone for too long, and when things changed, when he became the monster he was now– he found someone who accepted him. Tim. Jason’s mind brought back memories of him. His warm, small hand petting his fur. His forehead pressing against Jason’s, as he whispered encouraging, kind words. Things were going to be alright, he only needed to focus on his voice.

The thought of opening his eyes never crossed his mind. Let alone the thought of even getting on his feet to look for shelter and heal his wounds. Even with the struggle of breathing, he was feeling strangely comfortable. Enough to want to take a well deserved nap.

“Jason!”

His ears twitched, tuning to the new sound, ignoring the one of his lungs slowly collapsing. The voice sounded real, but it could’ve been one of his many hallucinations. It happened occasionally, after all, his mind had been broken a few times. By now, he was barely aware of the state of his own body, not even noticing he had been lying on a puddle of blood for a while now.

“Jason! Jay!”

The voice was so familiar. He almost could tell who it was… But he couldn’t put a name to them. He could only see the image in his head of a pretty young man smiling up at him. It was a sweet, nice smile. 

Tim. Timothy was his name.

A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, his body fighting, refusing to surrender, because that was what he did best. To resist. To come back from death… But it felt so cold now.

With great effort, Jason opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred. The voice calling his name, and the sound of feet running on puddles of rain in the distance, grew muffled. His pulse thundered in his ears, louder than his breaths.

“Stay with me, Jason. You’ll be alright!”

With some difficulty, his exhausted eyes tried to focus on the thin figure kneeling in front of him. He felt small hands inspecting his body with practiced ease, and somehow, he felt safe. He felt he was back home.

When he looked up at Tim’s face, he saw his disbelief, the desperation as tears rolled down his pretty face. He could smell Tim’s fear in the night breeze. Jason didn’t need to see to know this was the end.

“Jason, look at me,” it took some effort to pull away his gaze from Tim’s hands. They were covered with blood. “You need to help me, I need you to stand up– we will take out the bullets, then you’ll be able to heal– Jason, listen to my voice!” 

He could hear Tim’s voice breaking as he closed his eyes again. He knew he couldn’t fight this now. 

Tim's trembling hands reached out, brushing against the black fur of his head. Some parts of his body were already matted with dried blood, making it impossible for Tim’s thin fingers to brush him as he used to. He tried to cup his face and lean against him as his boyfriend’s head rested on his lap, and his blood stained his legs completely.

“Stay with me, Jason. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with– Jason, please.” A broken sob. 

Jason nuzzled against him, seeking comfort in the only person who had accepted him, who had offered affection. The motion was slow, tender, despite the growing weight of death pulling him down. He was trying to imprint Tim’s scent in his fading senses.

Maybe it should’ve been better if Tim hadn’t seen him in this state.

His head dipped against Tim, whose sobbing filled the silence. He mustered up energy to look at him one last time. Jason’s eyes, now dull and fading, locked onto his as he tried to memorize every detail of his face, before darkness slowly swallowed his world, stealing the last bit of light.

He could rest now.

[triforceluna]

You guessed it

MORE SAMGUMG NOTE SKETCHES (I finished the last one on my pc)

[maevelin]

I just realized...

Edmund Bridgerton: I can't- Violet Bridgerton: You must breathe! Penelope Featherington: Colin... I can't breathe! Colin Bridgerton: Absolute panic! Violet Bridgerton: MISS WILSON! Antony Bridgerton: Get some water! Eloise Bridgerton: Give her some air! Me:

[andromedaspark]

My analysis / headcannons as to what happened to some of the gang. I can go deeper into the actual conditions if yall want me to

Arthur : Pulmonary Tuberculosis

Dutch : Vascular Dementia

Sadie : Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Reverend Swanson : Progressive Supranuclear Palsy

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

In Search of Kindred Spirits - Chapter 2

This has been fun to write so far, this chapter will have the warning for character death though, but it's canon character death so take it with a grain of salt. Hope you enjoy and as always feedback is welcome!

Prev | Next

June 2nd, 200X

Dear Jason,

Gotham sounds just as crazy as ever. I can’t believe you managed to talk yourself out of getting caught sneaking into a fancy restaurant. Do you always think so fast on your feet? Or is this just another one of your weird Gotham superpowers? Either way, you’ve got me beat. Last week, I tripped over my own shoelaces in front of my whole science class. Not my proudest moment.

Things are… weird here. Ever since we got back from Gotham, my parents have been even more obsessed with ghosts. The ghost portal they’ve been working on in the lab almost turned on the other day. It kind of exploded instead. Pretty sure I’m still picking bits of ectoplasm out of my hair. But hey, at least my parents didn’t notice when I accidentally melted their toaster while trying to make waffles. Long story.

Write back soon, okay? And don’t get into too much trouble. (I know, I know—that’s basically asking Gotham not to rain.)

Your sidekick,

Danny

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason chuckled as he folded up Danny’s letter, slipping it back into the shoebox under his bed. The kid had a way of brightening up even the darkest days. No matter how bad things got in Gotham—or how heavy Bruce’s expectations felt—Jason always knew he could count on Danny’s letters to pull him back from the edge.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

July 15th, 200X

Hey Danny,

Tripping over your shoelaces in class? Rookie move. Next time, at least do it somewhere less embarrassing. Like, I dunno, a haunted house or something. Bonus points if it involves ghosts, since you’ve got your mad scientist parents to back you up.

Things here are… well, it’s Gotham. You know how it is. Same old, same old. There was a fire at one of the warehouses by the docks last week. I didn’t see what happened, but there were rumors it was tied to some gang fight. Sometimes it feels like this city’s falling apart, y’know? Anyway, enough depressing stuff.

Bruce—uh, my new guardian—keeps dragging me to these fancy events. You’d laugh if you saw me in a suit. Don’t even ask about the food. It’s all weird, tiny stuff, like caviar and quail eggs. I snuck a slice of pizza in my jacket once, and Bruce nearly had a heart attack when I pulled it out at the dinner table. Worth it.

Stay outta trouble, Sidekick. (But if you do get into trouble, at least make it a good story.)

Your favorite hero,

Jason

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The months passed, but their bond remained as strong as ever. Each letter carried snapshots of their lives, written in messy handwriting, and peppered with inside jokes and ghost puns. Jason didn’t tell Danny he was Robin, but he dropped subtle hints about his nighttime escapades: vague mentions of “training” and “helping someone out.” Danny, in turn, never told Jason about the accident that had turned him into half a ghost.

But the things they couldn’t say didn’t matter. The letters, though slow and sporadic sometimes, were enough.

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October 10th, 200X

Dear Jason,

Okay, I laughed so hard at the pizza story that I snorted milk out of my nose. Thanks for that.

Things here have been… kinda crazy. My parents finally got the ghost portal to turn on (no explosions this time), but it’s still not working right. I swear, one of these days they’re going to accidentally summon some giant ghost monster and blame me for it.

School’s been weird too. There’s this kid, Dash, who keeps trying to pick fights with me. You’d totally kick his butt if you were here. Don’t worry, though—I’m handling it. Well… mostly.

Anyway, I gotta go before Mom and Dad notice I’m writing this instead of “helping” in the lab. They just started yelling about “ectoplasmic anomalies,” which probably means something’s about to explode. Again.

Write back soon, okay? I miss you.

Your sidekick,

Danny

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December 3rd, 200X

Dear Danny,

This Dash kid sounds like a loser. Tell him that if he messes with you again, he’s gonna have to deal with me. Not that he’d stand a chance, but still. You’ve got this, Sidekick.

Things are… well, you know how I said Gotham’s a mess? That hasn’t changed. Bruce has been working late a lot, and I’ve been “helping out” more. (Don’t ask—it’s boring, trust me.) But it’s not all bad. I got to sneak out for a while last week and saw this kid giving out sandwiches to homeless folks in the Narrows. It made me think of you. He kinda reminded me of the way you’re always trying to help people, even when it’s risky.

Anyway, enough of the sappy stuff. Have your parents blown anything up lately? And are they still wearing those crazy jumpsuits? You’ve gotta get me a picture someday. I need to see this for myself.

Stay outta trouble, Danny. And remember, you’re tougher than you think.

Your hero,

Jason

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February 14th, 200X

Dear Jason,

First of all, I’ve gotta see this pizza stunt you keep mentioning. Next time, record it or something, okay?

Second, yeah, my parents are still walking around in those ridiculous jumpsuits. It’s like they’re allergic to normal clothes. I’ll try to sneak a photo for you, but if they catch me, it’s your fault.

Things have been… weird here. Again. There’s this creepy ghost lady who keeps showing up in the middle of the night. She keeps calling me “child of both worlds,” whatever that means. I think she’s just trying to mess with me, but it’s still super freaky. Anyway, I’ll figure it out. I always do, right? Oh and I sent some drawings with the letter, have fun.

Write back soon. And try not to fall off any rooftops or whatever it is you do in Gotham.

Your sidekick,

Danny

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Jason stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Danny had scrawled a diagram of something called a “ghost thermos” on the bottom half of his latest letter, complete with doodles of stick figures fighting over what appeared to be glowing green blobs.

"Figures," Jason muttered, smirking. Danny hadn’t changed much, even after all these years. His friend’s goofiness was one of the few constants in Jason’s life, a lifeline that kept him grounded when Gotham’s darkness threatened to pull him under.

But some things had changed. Jason could feel it.

Danny’s letters were different lately. There were hints—small, almost imperceptible cracks in the cheerful façade Danny always wore. Jason knew the signs. He’d seen them in the mirror.

The truth was, Danny had changed. His accident had transformed him into something he didn’t fully understand. Being half-ghost came with powers he was still learning to control and a sense of responsibility that weighed heavier every day.

It wasn’t that Danny didn’t trust Jason—he just didn’t know how to explain it. How do you tell your best friend that you’re half-dead?

When Jason wrote about his “training,” Danny sensed that he, too, was keeping secrets. But he didn’t press. They were still kids, after all. Everyone had their demons.

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The stars seemed to align, however, when Jason’s "training" brought him to a city near Amity Park. For the first time in years, they had a chance to meet face-to-face.

Danny sprinted toward the abandoned park they’d chosen as a meeting spot, his breath visible in the cold winter air. He spotted Jason leaning against a rusty jungle gym, a cocky grin on his face.

“Hey, Sidekick,” Jason called.

Danny laughed, tackling Jason in a hug. “Takes one to know one.”

They pulled back, grinning at each other. Jason had grown taller, his frame more solid. But his eyes carried something darker, a sharpness Danny didn’t remember.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Danny said, feigning jealousy.

“And you’re still short,” Jason shot back. “Some things never change.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, catching up like no time had passed. Jason didn’t miss how Danny seemed… different. He moved like he was always on edge, like he was ready to disappear at any moment.

Danny noticed things about Jason, too—the reckless way he joked, like he didn’t care if he got hurt. There was a bitterness in his voice sometimes, a chip on his shoulder that hadn’t been there before.

Neither of them brought it up. They were too happy to see each other to ruin it with questions.

As they sat on a bench, watching the city lights in the distance, Danny nudged Jason’s shoulder. “You ever think about… y’know, what’s next? Like, after all this training stuff?”

Jason tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve gotten that far. Gotham doesn’t exactly let you plan for the future.”

Danny frowned. “That’s not fair.”

Jason shrugged. “Fair’s got nothing to do with it.”

Danny bit his lip, hesitating. “Well, if you ever want to get out of Gotham… come visit me in Amity Park. My parents will probably try to feed you ectoplasm, but at least it’s quieter there.”

Jason laughed, the sound softer than Danny expected. “I’ll think about it, Sidekick.”

The night ended too soon. Jason vanished into the shadows, leaving Danny with a nagging sense of unease. Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what. At least he could look forward to Jason's next letter.

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Except, Jason’s next letter never came.

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Two months later, Danny sat in his room, staring at the envelope in his hands. The handwriting wasn’t Jason’s.

Inside was a letter from Alfred.

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May 6th, 200X

Dear Mr. Fenton,

It is with great sorrow that I must inform you of Master Jason’s passing. He spoke of you often, and I believe he would have wanted you to know how much your friendship meant to him. Jason was a remarkable young man—brave, compassionate, and fiercely loyal. He will be missed dearly.

Yours sincerely,

Alfred Pennyworth

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Danny’s vision blurred as he read the letter again and again, the words refusing to sink in. Jason was gone.

How could someone like Jason—so alive, so stubborn—be gone?

Grief twisted into determination. Danny clenched his fists, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Jason wasn’t just “gone.” He couldn’t be. Not entirely.

If there was even a chance Jason’s soul was out there, Danny would find him. No matter how long it took, no matter where he had to go—he would bring Jason back. The portal swirls to life with it's bright green before a shout of 'going ghost' echoed through the basement. The ghost zone awaits.

[sleepytroll]