Tw.death - Tumblr Posts

Not me over here crying at this

Can you write about a Hero with a terminal illness and a Villain who didn't know about that before, idk, trying to help hero accomplish all their goals before their sickness gets the best of them? Also how about Villain finally deciding to confessing their love to Hero but chickening out last minute because they don't want to put stress from that onto Hero and regretting it when it's too late anyways, angst.

TW// Main character death, long term illnesses (sort of)

One of the greatest illusions in life is continuity. The idea of the consistent existence of something over a period of time. For humans, the greatest continuity is the consistent growth of their civilization. For individuals, it may be the day to day living. The routine stops at someplace for breakfast, the usual hours of work, and the eventual release back home. For Villain, it was the reassurance that they'd see Hero after their civilian part-time job that never paid enough. As the daytime was deemed over with the setting sun, Villain once again reunited with their typical dark-colored suit; and once again blended into the night, the Villain began the nightly show off their villainous works.

As Villain hopped up to the rooftop overlooking the bank, a familiar silhouette greeted them. They grinned, seeing the familiar billow of the dark cape against the wind. Villain could tell that Hero was tired, his shoulders slumped forwards into himself, and his head hung low, looking at the streets below. "Look who's here early? Hm? Breaking the chain today?" Villain's voice came out as a purr, as they hopped off the railing, approaching Hero.

He didn't say anything. It might've caught Villain off guard if it wasn't for the Hero slowly going quieter over the past few weeks. At first, Villain wasn't sure why, was it them? Had they done something to hurt Hero bad? Later on, Hero had reassured them that he was just dealing through a rough patch, it'll sort itself out fine. They had begun fighting less since then. If it made Hero feel better, Villain didn't mind sacrificing their oh-so-evil plans to chit-chat with their nemesis for a while after giving a few lousy punches and kicks. Those, what, half an hour of talking? had highlighted their day. After a back-breaking day at work, Hero's voice was nothing less than soothing to listen to, even if things had gotten quieter and Villain led the conversations.

Hero took a seat on the concrete railing, patting beside him for the other to take a seat. The criminal raised a brow, finding it strange. "You don't feel like exchanging hits today?" Villain joked, trying to ease the tension they sensed coming. Something was up with Hero, even a fool would notice. Hero didn't reply, looking down at the bank ahead of them. "Hero?" Villain's voice was the only thing in the quiet night for a moment, the concern in their voice had silenced any sounds that came with the night.

"I'm retiring."

The words almost felt like a joke at first. Perhaps a blooper of someone reading the wrong line, and apologizing and laughing it off. Hero didn't laugh. Villain didn't either. Their throat was too dry to do so. "Why?" Their beloved Hero didn't respond, the air around them was only filled with silence. Hero's lips pressed to a thin line, refusing to answer Villain. The criminal's voice was thick with guilt, as if they were already close to crying, "Hero, why? Did I do something? Was it your colleagues? Did they say something to you? I swear I'll-"

"I'm sick. I have been for a while and will be for however long I have left."

"That's- that's ok, I'll pay for everything. I'll give you my savings. You can't- I'm not letting you go just like this. We can get you to some good hospital in-in the states, or in England or something, I don't mind. I'll make sure you're alright."

The insistence in Villain wouldn't let up. Hero took in a sharp breath, almost sounding like a struggled wheeze, and turned to the other. There was a new look in his eyes, one that Villain hoped would always remain unfamiliar. Villain's words died in their throat, seeing the sorrow in his eyes.

"It's my last night, at work. There's nothing else you can do. I've been looking for alternatives for a while."

The Villain didn't say anything, any words of denials died in their throat, coming up as a small gasp. They knew what Hero had meant. They knew what it meant for them. The air was chillingly cold, and it stung the trail of tears down Villain's cheeks. That didn't bother them, what hurt more was the acceptance in Hero's voice. The villain was almost angry for a minute, not at Hero, but at the world at first, of how it had decided to take away someone so close to their heart. The anger towards the world dissolved as quickly as it came, and instead directed itself toward Villain. How had they not noticed how Hero was struggling the past few weeks? They thought they cared for him so much, but it didn't feel like it when Hero was slipping between their fingers, taken by whoever decided his fate for him.

"It's alright," Hero's quiet voice rose over their stormy thoughts. Villain blinked past their blurry tears, focusing on Hero again. They could make out his form trembling ever so slightly underneath his cape. Villain unclasped their own cape and draped it over him. Hero leaned into the other, resting his head on their shoulder. "You're strong, Villain. Don't linger back. I'm fine giving up my work, as long as I can spend the rest of my time with you. Just keep going."

The confession had squeezed Villain's heart, and they couldn't help but let out a small sob as they embraced Hero, burying their face into his hair. "I know. I'll stay then," they muttered, ever so softly. It almost went unheard in the night.

True to their words, Villain had stuck with Hero, even after they retired. The two spent their time going to parks, enjoying the gentle breeze, and watching parents play with their children and friends talk. The peaceful days almost felt like the calm before the storm, and the Villain should've known better. They should've known better than to wait longer to confess how much Hero truly meant to them. They regretted that they couldn't spend any more time with them. It felt like a sledgehammer to their chest, when they found the hospital room devoid of any Hero. The flowers that were once held against their chest dropped to their side.

Snippet #4.02

Part 1

Tw: use of medical equipment, death mentioned, burns mentioned, car accident mentioned,

(all mentioneds’ are marked as tw.death, tw.burns, ect. ect.)

When the door clicked shut behind Civilain, they all but collapsed into a heap. Their bag slipped from between their fingers and to the ground with a heavy thunk. A breath they didn’t know they’d been holding escaped them as they dragged a hand through their hair. They let the silence stretch around them, as if it could say ‘there is peace in the city, it’s okay, it’s all okay now’. They dropped to a crouch beside the bag they had dropped.

*Cough*

Civilian shot their feet, their eyes darting across the apartment. “Who’s there?” Their eyes landed on a shape at their kitchen table. “Show yourself.” They growled as they groped for something, anything on their belt. Anything they could use as a weapon. The shadow in return, put their hands up in surrender. “Calm yourself. I have no interest in a fight.” Yeah right. Why else would they be here? A thief wouldn’t stick around so whoever this was wanted to be seen. So what did they want?

“I’m only here because the boss wants to talk to you, something about two weeks being up? Said you’d know what that means.”

Two weeks? What did that m- oh. Something close to relief bubbled in Civilian’s chest. Supervillain wanted them. That really shouldn’t have been reassuring, but— hold on, why did they want them?

“I… I told them-“

“Look, I don’t care what your excuse is, you’re going to their base. Grab whatever things you need, you’re coming with me.” The person stood, then crossed the room to stand in front of Civilian. Wow, this henchman-person is short.

“I am not short! I am Supervillain’s right hand, and I am not some lowly henchman.” But okay, they weren’t that short, but then again they only came to Civilian’s shoulder! What were they supposed to say?

“You’re not supposed to say anything. And I am a normal height, I’ll have you know.” They growled before not-so-subtly changing the topic to what supplies Civilian might need and basically dragging them back out of their apartment.

It was a quick ride to Supervillain’s base. At least, from what Civilian could tell with a blindfold on. They’d handed off some of the equipment— a set of tweezers and their trauma shears— to be sterilized, and after had been whisked through corridor after corridor until their guide shoved them towards a door and sped off.

But now here they were, in the presence of Supervillain. Answer the questions thoroughly, answer all of them, the right hand had instructed on the way over. Answer the questions thoroughly, answer a-

“I’ll admit, it took me a minute or two after I left before I realized I wasn’t in pain,” the super swiveled in their chair, now facing the poor civilian. “Care to clarify?” They didn’t hesitate with their answer.

“My jump bag has morphine in it. I took a chance you weren’t allergic to it and administered. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.” The civilian set the bag down and began to fidget with the bagged supplies. “Where and how many stitches, again?”

“You don’t remember?” The supervillain had the audacity to sound surprised.

“I’ve been busy.” Their mind whirred through the scenes, one after another. The flashing sirens and radio calls. The chaos and the screams. The anguish and flat-lines.

“Surely you’d remember stitching up someone in your living room.” The supervillain sounded both smug and incredulous in a way that made Civilian’s blood boil. They didn’t dare look at them, else they might get the urge to throw something at their face.

“Look, in the past few days I’ve been in countless living rooms. I’ve been to three different fire scenes and treated numerous burn victims. I’ve been transport and lifeline for six heart attack victims. I have been to over twenty car accidents and encountered far too many DOAs than I’d care to count.” The images flashed through their mind, one haunting face after another. “So many people, too dead, too soon. So forgive me if I don’t remember the one instance that involved you.”

It was only after that they remembered who they were snapping at.

Their hand flew over their mouth— they didn’t mean to say that! Civilian couldn’t help but look at the supervillain, to survey their reaction or out of pure shock, they couldn’t tell.

The supervillain laughed— they were laughing?! What did that mean? Civilian was going to die weren’t they? And even after their laughter died down until it was nothing more than a sly smirk, Civilian knew there would be trouble for their outburst.

“Two on the left arm and one across the ribs. And the last one is here.” They gestured to a spot just above their hip.

Civilian nodded but didn’t move towards them. Where was Right Hand? Where was their equipment? Surely it had been long enough, right? Between the time they had been separated from Right Hand and now, it had easily been a half hour, probably longer. It didn’t take that long to sterilize equipment. Civilian stared at the door, before glancing back to the supervillain. They grimaced. Supervillain seemed a bit annoyed with having to wait. And they were not known as a patient person.

Civilian had the feeling that if Right Hand took too much longer, Civilian would surely pay for it.

Pain, literal pain. Literally had to go over the 5 stages of grief because of that

SPOILERS FOR PENGUINRONPA!

So fellas, how we feeling after that?

'Please Wait For Me A Little Longer'

>Warnings: death, blood, description of wounds, character death(reader dies), angst, not really proof read, written before I even played the game so it may be a bit ooc

Characters: Zhongli/Morax x f/Reader

Words: 1,414

The field was littered with bodies and discarded weapons; the stench of blood billowed and blew all around through the blades of grass that swayed in the gusts of wind. It was disgusting, grotesque as the new colors of the once green and colorful field became steel and crimson. Trees laid broken in half from the massive strength of the stampede of the armies that galloped the whole place to the ground. Alas, over the centuries of life, Zhongli did not find that disturbing anymore, but in any other circumstances he wouldn't be as panicked as he was now. One person was missing, and he couldn't find her among the living. He wanted to scream his head off with your name on his lips but his throat closed tight and he hardly breathed as he ran through the field, looking over the many faces of the dead, twisted and gray. He ran like never before, his mind running ahead of his movements as he tried remembering if he ever even saw you after the battle began, he wished this was some cruel joke and that you were in the medical wing- a hand suddenly sprouted from the ground and grabbed him by the ankle.

Zhongli stumbles but catches himself, and before even he knows it, his spear digs itself into the head of the person; crunch of bones and squish of the man's insides go flying by Zhongli's ears as his eyes stare widely at the corpse. For a moment your face flashes before his eyes, thinking he had accidentally struck you, but he breathes a silent sigh of relief before another sound reaches his ears. This time he's frozen. Like a battle horn that had sung the death song today, your silent, pain filled moan of his name howls into his eardrum as if you were screaming. He has no time to even pull his spear away before he's spinning to the direction the sound came from- and there he sees you. Your limp body laying among the dead, barely moving, your back turned to him but you knew- you knew the feel of his presence, the smell he carried with him, you knew him.

His weight dropped beside you, and it was like he suddenly turned limp himself, as his eyes glued themselves on the awfully large gash below your ribs, metal shards and a blade sticking from it. Your hands were clutching on it previously, as evident by the cuts on your fingers. Zhongli's breath hitched, but his mind seemed to clear suddenly, an awful and scary realization dawned on him. The calm he found himself in was terrifying. His arms folded underneath you, and as if you were made of the most fragile glass, he brought you into his lap.

"Y/n.. darling.." he called softly, seeing how your lashes barely fluttered, how your eyes stared aimlessly, your pupils blown and tired.

"Zh... Zhongli.." it was death's whisper on your lips, words you managed to get out with the little breath you had in your damaged lungs. The taste of copper and iron stung your tongue and swallowing made it further worse, the sting in your body made it hard to do even the simplest thing as breathing; it was then when you realized your legs had gone completely numb. You could feel nothing but the biting cold.

"What happened to you my dear..? Hey... speak to.. me" he spoke, yet his voice seemed to stammer with the tightness of his throat, almost broken with sadness he felt take hold of his heart. His hand cupped beneath your cheek and his thumb tried to wipe away all the blood that bubbled and poured out of your mouth.

"I don't-.. i don... want to die.." you croaked out suddenly, voice breaking like his heart as you found strength to take hold of his hand. "Please..."

He held you closer, sharing all the warmth he could offer, arm wrapping around you and bringing you further into him. As your figure shivered he tucked your head beneath the crevice of his shoulder and neck. Your pleas echoed in his head, bringing tightness to his chest.

"Hush now... It will be alright. Just stay calm, the healers are already on their way.." he hushed softly to you as his tears threatened to spill with the lie he told. He knew no healers was close by, and he knew even if they were close that no one would be able to save you, not even a god would be... his heart was shattering at your sad flicker of a smile.

"I'll stay here with you, just relax...don't strain yourself" he said as he caressed your cheek. The hairs at the back of his neck rose at their ends at the way you stared through him, even if your eyes searched for him they didn't seem to find him. More rivulets of blood poured down your chin.

"Please... don't let.." he nodded swiftly, holding your head close to his chest as he knew you liked. Remembering all the time you had placed your head over his heart to listen to the steady rhythm he never seemed to lose. Only difference was that you carried your own steady rhythm back then, your own warmth and happiness and hope.

Celestia, he wanted to weep with you. But he didn't dare make your last moments more sorrowful than they already were.

"I will not. I'm staying right here.. How about I tell you a story while we wait..hm?" he felt you weakly nod, eagerly so, and he tried to get his throat to let him breathe, his adam's apple bobbing with anxiety he attempted to refuse to feel.

"I never told you about this story.. It is about a man; who was quite different from the standards his residency had written out. He didn't like change much and did everything to keep things running smoothly, his heart laid where his business and career were, duty and work were his girl and wife. He became rejected from the others due to this, as he grew quite detached.. yet there was reasoning to all his hard work, my dear. All the time he spent building his work, all the countless hours he had spent working were so his beloved could be happy.. a girl he had met not too long ago- you hear?- he.. he fell for her. Like a meteor from the sky.. He loved her so much. He loved her like the oceans loved the moon, and the way flowers loved the sun. And he would have done everything to see her smile and laugh, to see her safe and looked after-"

Your skin felt cold beneath his fingertips, and your eyes were fixated on his face suddenly. His thumb continued to caress your cheek, the softest of smiles stretched on his face. No.

No-

"-and he had her for a while. Those times were the happiest moments the man had ever lived through. He never wanted to leave them. He never did. The woman was so kind to him, so sweet and gentle and she knew all his weakest and softest spots, and she was the person he could rely on with even his darkest secrets he had kept buried for years long. He loved her, my dear, do you hear me..?"

No...

Your breathing had stopped with a shudder, your body becoming even heavier in his arms.

"He did everything for her, everything to see her smile- Oh, how he loved her smile..... Before that, before he met her, no one loved him. But with her, he knew- he was loved, she loved him like he loved her and more...Yet.. soon came fate, knocking on the door of their happy lives, and it took her away. The woman he loved so much so, even more than his duty and work. Fate took her away.... it took her away.. you hear..? they...took you away, my darling-" his tears finally spilled from his eyes, and he doubled over your body that had gone cold minutes ago.

Zhongli would have done anything to turn back time, and be with you again. To feel your warmth, see your smile, hear your laugh and to feel your lips on his. But like the ocean can't have the moon, he couldn't reach you anymore - no matter how much he wanted to.

My biggest fear with Tommy’s recent lore streams, is that in the next few days/weeks we are going to find out that the price of the revive book is that it isn’t actually permanent and can’t be properly sustained for long. My next big fear is that c!Tommy is actually aware of this, and that is why he has been running around the SMP tying up a bunch of his loose ends and unresolved traumas, so that when he enevitably dies this time he won’t end up in limbo like Wilbur and Schlatt who still have unfinished business.

But that’s just a fear... right?

Because I think it’s also important to look at the would-have-been casualties of the festival. When c!Wilbur was intending to press the button, the only person still on the podium was c!Tommy, because he was trying to get to c!Tubbo who had just respawned elsewhere, c!Techno had fucked off as soon as he completed his mini-genocide run and c!Schlatt and c!Quackity as a result had also respawned further back(which we know from November 16th, would have been the least fatal spot to stand). Basically what I’m saying is, at the time when c!Wilbur pressed the button, the ONLY person who would have been killed by the explosion, would be, ironically, c!Tommy. Even if anyone else was caught up in the explosion, only c!Tommy, c!Wilbur and just recently c!Tubbo(who had respawned far enough away)were on one life. But as we learned from November 16th, c!Wilbur would not have died, as evidenced by the button room actually protecting c!Wilbur and c!Phil from the explosion via the stone. Although I can’t actually remember if the button room was actually created before the festival, and c!Wilbur couldn’t find the opening, or if he had just hooked up the button to the hill behind the podium. But either way would have yielded the same result. C!Wilbur would have lived, c!Techno would have lived, c!Quackity, c!Tubbo and c!Schlatt would have lived. But C!Tommy, would have died.

*Steps up to the mic and clears throat for this one* C!Tommy was supposed to die at the Manburg festival but c!Karl messed with the timeline by breaking the button. Now the universe has been trying to kill c!Tommy and restore the balance but he just can’t seem to die.

“he couldn’t seem to die” hamilton references in my askbox how dare /j /nm

tommy ironically directly cotntradicting the universe itself by saying “it’s never my time to die” when it’s been his time to die for a very long time

Moon 1 / Part 2.

Mudpaw and Quietstep find the body of a cooling queen...Mudpaw and Quietstep seems to disagree on how to approach.

Previous page / Next page.

Her hands were red and she was angry. So very, very angry. Aerie’s pale skin, beautiful and freckled, was even paler now, nearly translucent. The woman’s hands, chopped off raggedly at the wrists, were in the corner. A wound in her upper abdomen kept her from speaking clearly or for long. 

 Long ago, Suzie’s father had taught her how to deal with their foes. Disable the hands. Cut out the tongue if you can, otherwise fill their chest with blood, make them gasp out their words. Don’t let them cast their spells, summon their demons. 

“You lied to me.” The words Suzie ground out felt like broken glass on her tongue. This woman had cared for her, laid with her, laughed with her. All while secretly being the thing Suzie hated most. 

 “I…didn’t…know,” Aerie gasped, her lips stained red as her blood bubbled back up her throat. “P-please. You don’t have to do this. Please Suzie–” 

“That’s not my name,” she said, each word low and deliberate. “And I won’t be deceived by your lies. You act so sweet, like you want to do good.” In a flash of movement, Suzie was kneeling at Aerie’s side again, knife pressed to her throat. Watching the girl tremble and arch to get away was almost satisfying. “But I know about necromancy. It corrupts even the purest heart.” She shook her head. “This was always how it was going to end. But if you’d been honest about it, I would have made it quick.” 

 “No…” Aerie moaned, but Suzie was already striding around the room, cleaning her hands and blades. She pulled a small device from her pack and wound it, setting it near the fireplace. 

“It shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to bleed to death.” She told Aerie. “If you live longer than that, consider the bomb my mercy.” 

Suzie walked out of the small cabin at the top of the hill. Someone would come from the camp at the bottom when the explosion happened, but likely not before. She set out east. 

 Her abdomen ached still. The necromancer’s traitorous magic had not left her fully recovered. She couldn’t return to Maguuma, where the easiest hunting lay, at least not yet. And if she could find the group who shared her views in Kryta, the people her father had told her were trustworthy, then that would be enough. 

There was another ache, this one in her heart. Betrayal. It would be hard to get over.