Character Death - Blog Posts

Ghost Train - a ZoLu fic

Summary:  "This isn't happening, right? I'm going crazy." Zoro panicked. "I thought you wanted this?" - Supernatural/Modern ZoLu AU where Luffy is a rockstar and Zoro is just hopelessly in love.  [mature in later chapters // crossposted on ff.net, wattpad, ao3, and quotev]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first story in a while, I saw this prompt on tumblr that seemed very interesting but of course it won't be exact. I don't know how long this story will be to be honest. The prompt that this story is mostly based on was made by @cupofwri-tea​. Hope you enjoy !

[--♥--♥ 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 --♥--♥]

𝟣. 𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝟤. 𝒪𝓃 𝑀𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝓎 𝐻𝒾𝓁𝓁

𝟥. 𝑀𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓈

𝟦. 𝒜𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒶

𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭...

Next Chapter: On Melancholy Hill

Chapter 1 : The Tiger Left First

It might have seemed impossible for the man who had arrogantly defied Death so many times. But it couldn't have been otherwise. The loyal Zoro could never have let any of his nakama die before him.

As promised, here is the first real chapter of "Until Death Do Us Part". This story makes me feel so bad, I hate killing my favorite characters but it's also super interesting to write. I also realized that in many of my Straw Hats-centric stories that I'm writing, I always start with Zoro's chapter. And this time is no exception. There's just something comforting about starting with Zoro. Words Count: 1,519 Trigger Warnings: - Character Death - Blood and Injuries Enjoy reading?

Zoro was the first to die.

“I intend to become the Greatest Swordsman in the World! No matter how I achieve this, whether it's good or bad, my name will resound throughout the world. If you stand in my way, you will pay dearly.”

“The Greatest Swordsman, that sounds pretty damn good! It takes at least that to be part of the Pirate King's crew.”

.

.

.

They were so close to Laugh Tale and yet so far away. With all four Road Poneglyphs in their possession, Robin had had no trouble finding the location of the Forgotten Island. Zoro had never doubted for a second that she was capable of it. Nami had mapped out a course; Franky had filled their Cola reserves; Usopp had settled into the crow's nest to keep watch.

It was only his newly awakened Observation Haki that saved Usopp from the sniper bullet that shattered the window behind him. Usopp let out a scream and quickly moved away from the impact of the bullet. Zoro put his hand on Wado's handle as Jinbei maneuvered the Sunny to prepare to meet the coming battle head on.

In Jaya, the crew had been taken by surprise but this time they were ready to face Blackbeard's crew. 

(Never again would Zoro let his crew down.)

Luffy stood on the figurehead, the black cloak draped over his shoulders billowing in the wind, his straw hat casting a shadow over his eyes. The crew gathered behind him, watching the darkness engulf the sea around them. The sky slowly darkened, turning crimson in the middle of the afternoon.

Zoro drew his sword, the cursed metal catching the last rays of the dying sun. Lightning streaked the skies as Nami rose up on Zeus’s back, her clima-tact clutched in his hand. Usopp’s fingers on Kabuto’s handle were unwavering, vines curling at his feet like snakes.

Cigarette smoke wrapped around the cook, flames dancing at his feet. Chopper’s horns elongated, his bones breaking and reforming as he changed form. Robin crossed her arms in front of her, the devil's soul shining in her eyes.

Franky pushed his sunglasses up his nose, steel shifting and settling beneath his skin. Ice formed on the ground around Brook as he hummed softly under his breath. Jinbe's grip on the rudder tightened, the waves crashing hard against the hull of the ship at his will.

Luffy's eyes didn't leave the horizon as he cracked his knuckles, the sun forming a halo around him.

The battle began.

The crew scattered, the fight spreading across both ships and an abandoned islet. But even as he fought the invisible bastard (the cook had cried tears of blood upon realizing what devil fruit Shiryu had eaten), Zoro kept his crew in his sights as much as he could.

Luffy was furious, and seeing him up close was like watching a supernova explode. Dangerous and yet beautiful.

Zoro parried an invisible blow, hating the way Shiryu fought. It had nothing to do with the art of sword fighting, it was cowardly and dirty. But Zoro would have his duel, his fight with Mihawk was coming, and soon his name would echo all the way to Heaven.

The Greatest Swordsman.

So Zoro treated this fight as what it was, a training in observation haki. The loss of his eye didn't matter here since neither of his eyes could see Shiryu. But he could sense him.

Attacking just behind him from the right. 

A spot that Zoro would have had a hard time reaching if he hadn't turned around in time. Zoro blocked and counterattacked in one motion, his opponent's blood clearly visible on his blades.

Zoro might not be able to see his opponent, but he could see the signs of his victory. Grinning to himself, Wado between his teeth, Zoro stopped playing with his food. Shiryu couldn't teleport, he was only invisible. His movements were predictable. And Zoro didn't give him a chance.

Zoro attacked relentlessly, not letting Shiryu get away from him. His long-range attacks were useless here, and would allow Shiryu to escape and potentially harm the rest of the crew. Not all of them knew haki, a mistake on their part that they had begun to correct, but he was sure that at this point, only Luffy, Jinbei, the cook, and Usopp could sense Shiryu coming.

A wave of haki hit the landscape, brutal and angry. The sun was exploding and no one could look away even though it burned . But it didn't burn, not for Zoro, not for the crew. It was both the first light of dawn after a nightmare and the corrosion of a solar flare.

It was everything . 

It was all it took for Shiryu to escape.

Zoro rushed after him, but the few seconds Shiryu had on him were enough. Shiryu left bloody footprints in the sand, flickering in and out of existence. He was on his last breath, but dying animals were the most desperate, the most dangerous.

Zoro saw clearly what Usopp would see too late, also distracted by Luffy.

Shiryu's blade sinking into Usopp's back, cutting right through him. Usopp spitting blood on the wet sand and missing his shot, letting Van Augur get Luffy.

Zoro stepped in, taking the blow head on.

(Always from the front, a back wound was a shame for a swordsman.)

Metal dug into his flesh, lodging in his ribcage just below his heart. Blood leaked from the corners of Zoro's lips as he smirked at Shiryu. Usopp gasped, Teach laughed, and Luffy screamed .

“ZORO!!!”

(two people on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean; sea salt, sand, and sun on his skin; elastic limbs wrapped around him in his sleep as the sun rose over the horizon)

Shiryu collapsed onto the scarlet sand, foam at the corners of his mouth and blood streaming from his eyes, ears, and nose. Shiryu had died before Zoro, Zoro had won. The darkness retreated as Teach's laughter still echoed on the horizon, haunting his final moments.

Zoro collapsed into Usopp's arms, choking on blood and seawater. Zoro was trapped in his own body, unable to move or breathe. He couldn't speak, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear.

He was going to die.

(He would never get the chance to beat Mihawk.)

(He wouldn't see Luffy become Pirate King.)

(He wouldn't be by his friends' side when they realized their dreams.)

But he knew they would, with or without him.

He could die knowing at least that.

A familiar weight settled on his head—a crown made of straw, the Pirate King’s greatest treasure—and his consciousness was brought back to his dying body one last time. His friends were around him—Nami holding his hand while shaking, his head on Usopp's lap, Robin's hand on his scarred ankle, Brook placing Wado in his other hand, hiding his tears—and the sun above his head. He squinted at the harsh, unforgiving rays of light.

Luffy rested his forehead on Zoro’s, eclipsing the sun for a moment—for ever—as his tears fell down Zoro’s cheeks.

“Stay with us, Chopper will heal you and everything will be fine,” Luffy pleaded.

Chopper worked tirelessly, desperately trying to stop the endless flow of blood by begging him to keep breathing. But Zoro had defied Death enough times to know that it was over. He had fought his whole life, to prove that he was the Best, but now that it was all coming to an end, he just wanted to enjoy the warmth of Sanji's hand around his elbow, Jinbei's on his shoulder, Franky's knee against his.

(He didn’t want to die.)

“Hey Luffy,” Zoro called softly, his lungs burning with the effort. “Remember when I told you I’d kill you if you got in my way.”

Each word was labored, barely audible over the sound of the waves but Luffy nodded, holding back a broken sob. Around him, everyone bowed their heads in grief, realizing the truth before Luffy could admit it. Zoro would have laughed at the tears shining in the cook's eyes if he had the strength.

“Guess I was wrong.”

“Zoro,” Luffy whispered. “Stay with me. Please.”

“Give them hell, Pirate King,” Zoro smirked.

.

.

.

They buried Zoro in Laugh Tale, his grave blooming with the tears of the Pirate King. Wado Ichimonji was laid to rest at his side, clasped in his hands and entwined with a rosary of 108 white and black beads. The two golden tears in his ears would serve as a passage to the afterlife and the third in his captain's ear as a memory of the deceased.

Far away on the ocean, Blackbeard's ship burned for three days in black flames, the celebration of a Pyrrhic victory. Legend has it that the waters around Laugh Tale remained red until the next King arrived.

And the name of Roronoa Zoro echoed to the heavens.

One down, nine more to go. I don't think I'll post the rest of this story on Tumblr, I don't find it very practical, but if you want it will be on AO3.

DAY 13: Till Death Do Us Part

The end of a crew. The end of a legend.

If you haven't seen the "Character Death" tag and you don't like when your favorite characters die, there's still time to turn around. The entire crew dies in this story, it's not a spoiler to say that. (And, the warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter, in more or less gruesome ways.) I was looking for a poem to be the story's guideline but I couldn't find one that fit what I was looking for. And even though I don't really need it anymore, I decided to write it myself. The first real chapter will be coming tomorrow or in the next few days but in the meantime I left some clues on how each character dies if you want to decipher them. I originally wrote the poem in French and was unable to make it rhyme in English, to my great disappointment. So I left it for you in French with the translation for each line just below. Fandom : One Piece Character(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Relationship(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Words Count : 629 No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

À bord du navire des rêves,

(On board the ship of dreams,)

vivaient dix animaux

(lived ten animals)

Tous suivaient leur capitaine,

(All followed their captain,)

un singe avec comme couronne un chapeau.

(a monkey with a hat as a crown.)

Le tigre partit le premier, 

(The tiger left first,)

protégeant jusqu’au bout ses camarades.

(protecting his comrades until the end.)

Mais son dos resta intouché, 

(But his back remained untouched,)

marquant l'ultime preuve de sa bravade.

(marking the ultimate proof of his bravado.)

Le cheval solitaire fût le suivant,

(The lonely horse was next,)

son vieux squelette ne tenant plus le coup

(his old skeleton no longer holding up)

Ses amis ne le laissèrent pas seul un instant, 

(His friends did not leave him alone for a moment,)

tenant sa main jusqu’à son dernier pouls.

(holding his hand until his last pulse.)

La fin commença avec celle du caméléon,

(The end began with that of the chameleon,)

son courage inspirant le monde entier

(his courage inspiring the whole world)

Même devant la Mort il ne baissa pas le front,

(Even in the face of Death he did not lower his head,)

lançant sur la mer les navires par milliers.

(launching ships by the thousands into the sea.)

L’ironie n’échappa pas au canard,

(The irony did not escape the duck,)

quand ses yeux se fermèrent de leur plein gré.

(when his eyes closed of their own accord.)

Il aurait aimé que cela arrive un peu plus tard,

(He would have liked it to happen a little later,)

sombrer dans les bras de la mer dont il avait toujours rêvé. 

(to sink into the arms of the sea he had always dreamed of.)

Le taureau résista sans jamais faillir,

(The bull resisted without ever failing,)

quand se déchainèrent les sévices des enfers

(when the torments of hell were unleashed)

Il accueillit la fin avec un sourire,

(He greeted the end with a smile,)

tel était l’adage de l’homme de fer.

(such was the adage of the iron man.)

La chatte affronta sa fin sans ruser,

(The cat faced her end without guile,)

maîtrisant une dernière fois les éléments

(mastering the elements one last time)

Elle ne s’enfuit pas même si elle était effrayée,

(She did not run away even though she was frightened,)

libérant un pays entier du tourment.

(freeing an entire country from torment.)

Le petit renne choisit de rester,

(The little reindeer chose to stay,)

refusant de tourner son dos à ceux dans le besoin

(refusing to turn his back on those in need)

Face à la maladie il ne cessa d’essayer

(Faced with illness he never stopped trying)

et sa compassion causa sa fin.

(and his compassion caused his end.)

La seule grue qui avait réussi à fuir,

(The only crane that had managed to escape,)

finit par retourner à la maison

(ended up returning home)

Pour une fois elle ne pût pas courir,

(For once she could not run,)

et enfermée, elle se plia à la raison.

(and locked up, she bowed to reason.)

L’ours fût là quand personne ne pouvait plus l’être,

(The bear was there when no one could anymore,)

Guidant son capitaine jusqu’à la dernière minute

(Guiding his captain until the last minute)

Il ne laissa jamais sa peur paraître, 

(He never let his fear show,)

Continuant jusqu’au bout pour lui, la lutte.

(Continuing the fight to the end for him.)

Le singe resta le dernier,

(The monkey was the last to remain,)

Seul et froid au milieu de la nuit

(Alone and cold in the middle of the night)

Quand il partit, personne n'était là pour l’en empêcher,

(When he left, no one was there to stop him,)

et il prit le soleil avec lui.

(and he took the sun with him.)

DAY 13: Till Death Do Us Part

The end of a crew. The end of a legend.

If you haven't seen the "Character Death" tag and you don't like when your favorite characters die, there's still time to turn around. The entire crew dies in this story, it's not a spoiler to say that. (And, the warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter, in more or less gruesome ways.) I was looking for a poem to be the story's guideline but I couldn't find one that fit what I was looking for. And even though I don't really need it anymore, I decided to write it myself. The first real chapter will be coming tomorrow or in the next few days but in the meantime I left some clues on how each character dies if you want to decipher them. I originally wrote the poem in French and was unable to make it rhyme in English, to my great disappointment. So I left it for you in French with the translation for each line just below. Fandom : One Piece Character(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Relationship(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Words Count : 629 No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

À bord du navire des rêves,

(On board the ship of dreams,)

vivaient dix animaux

(lived ten animals)

Tous suivaient leur capitaine,

(All followed their captain,)

un singe avec comme couronne un chapeau.

(a monkey with a hat as a crown.)

Le tigre partit le premier, 

(The tiger left first,)

protégeant jusqu’au bout ses camarades.

(protecting his comrades until the end.)

Mais son dos resta intouché, 

(But his back remained untouched,)

marquant l'ultime preuve de sa bravade.

(marking the ultimate proof of his bravado.)

Le cheval solitaire fût le suivant,

(The lonely horse was next,)

son vieux squelette ne tenant plus le coup

(his old skeleton no longer holding up)

Ses amis ne le laissèrent pas seul un instant, 

(His friends did not leave him alone for a moment,)

tenant sa main jusqu’à son dernier pouls.

(holding his hand until his last pulse.)

La fin commença avec celle du caméléon,

(The end began with that of the chameleon,)

son courage inspirant le monde entier

(his courage inspiring the whole world)

Même devant la Mort il ne baissa pas le front,

(Even in the face of Death he did not lower his head,)

lançant sur la mer les navires par milliers.

(launching ships by the thousands into the sea.)

L’ironie n’échappa pas au canard,

(The irony did not escape the duck,)

quand ses yeux se fermèrent de leur plein gré.

(when his eyes closed of their own accord.)

Il aurait aimé que cela arrive un peu plus tard,

(He would have liked it to happen a little later,)

sombrer dans les bras de la mer dont il avait toujours rêvé. 

(to sink into the arms of the sea he had always dreamed of.)

Le taureau résista sans jamais faillir,

(The bull resisted without ever failing,)

quand se déchainèrent les sévices des enfers

(when the torments of hell were unleashed)

Il accueillit la fin avec un sourire,

(He greeted the end with a smile,)

tel était l’adage de l’homme de fer.

(such was the adage of the iron man.)

La chatte affronta sa fin sans ruser,

(The cat faced her end without guile,)

maîtrisant une dernière fois les éléments

(mastering the elements one last time)

Elle ne s’enfuit pas même si elle était effrayée,

(She did not run away even though she was frightened,)

libérant un pays entier du tourment.

(freeing an entire country from torment.)

Le petit renne choisit de rester,

(The little reindeer chose to stay,)

refusant de tourner son dos à ceux dans le besoin

(refusing to turn his back on those in need)

Face à la maladie il ne cessa d’essayer

(Faced with illness he never stopped trying)

et sa compassion causa sa fin.

(and his compassion caused his end.)

La seule grue qui avait réussi à fuir,

(The only crane that had managed to escape,)

finit par retourner à la maison

(ended up returning home)

Pour une fois elle ne pût pas courir,

(For once she could not run,)

et enfermée, elle se plia à la raison.

(and locked up, she bowed to reason.)

L’ours fût là quand personne ne pouvait plus l’être,

(The bear was there when no one could anymore,)

Guidant son capitaine jusqu’à la dernière minute

(Guiding his captain until the last minute)

Il ne laissa jamais sa peur paraître, 

(He never let his fear show,)

Continuant jusqu’au bout pour lui, la lutte.

(Continuing the fight to the end for him.)

Le singe resta le dernier,

(The monkey was the last to remain,)

Seul et froid au milieu de la nuit

(Alone and cold in the middle of the night)

Quand il partit, personne n'était là pour l’en empêcher,

(When he left, no one was there to stop him,)

et il prit le soleil avec lui.

(and he took the sun with him.)

DAY 3: Did You Get Me Some Pie?

Dean is going to die, Sam doesn't know what to think about it.

I think this story is one of my favorites, it was just so interesting to write. It was also a bit complicated, I wanted Sam to have an asshole vibe at the beginning but I'm not sure I succeeded. I also know nothing about the American justice system and capital punishment, I tried to do some research but it wasn't very conclusive. A bit of context for this story, it takes place in the Lebanonverse (I think that's the name) where John disappears in 2003 to go to the future. As a result, Sam becomes Kale!Sam and Dean is, we don't really know, a criminal, a hunter? Trigger Warnings : - Discussion of Capital Punishment - Major Character Death - Heavy Angst (That Shit Is Sad As Fuck) - That's It? Fandom : Supernatural (TV 2005) Character(s) : Sam Winchester Relationship(s) : Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Words Count : 3,624 No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

And this is hard to hear – performing at your best requires all of your mental energy. Every last drop. You see, it’s just not compatible with something like, uh… hobbies or, uh – or even having a family.

Sam slammed the car door behind him hard, drops of water falling from his hair onto the leather seat. He gripped the steering wheel in his hands, exhaling loudly. The rain fell heavily outside, hitting the roof of his car in a steady melody. It reminded him of nights on the road in the Impala, Dean humming in harmony with the rain, lulling him to sleep.

Back then, he felt like nothing and no one could touch him as long as he was with his family. Now, Sam knew it was his family that brought danger. It had been over fifteen years since Sam had last spoken to Dean, since he had refused to go with him to search for John. They didn’t even share the same last name anymore.

(It wouldn’t have been great publicity for a renowned lawyer like him to have such an obvious connection to a wanted criminal.)

Sam tugged at his turtleneck uncomfortably, pushing all nostalgic thoughts from his mind. Leaving Dean and John behind had been the right decision. Every wanted poster plastered with the face of the man Sam had once called his brother reminded him of that. He could never have accomplished what he had done today, his family would have slowed him down, prevented him from succeeding.

Sam meant every word he said during his conventions, performance, the pleasure of a job well done, nothing was more important. Everything else was secondary. And Jess had once agreed with him.

That didn't mean it was easy . But all the sacrifices Sam had made to get to where he was in his life had been worth it. He had the life he had always wanted as a child, the recognition of his peers, the pursuit of knowledge, the stability of a job.

Sam had no regrets about the choices he had made.

Sam ran his hand through his damp hair, brushing it away from his face, and turned on the engine. The radio automatically started, and Sam froze as he heard the last words of the news bulletin.

“The death penalty has been handed down for serial killer Dean Winchester, known for the mass murder of a dozen FBI agents in Monument, Colorado–”

Sam didn't hear the radio host finish their sentence, the blood pounding in his ears drowning out their words. He couldn't have said Dean . Sam would have known if he had been arrested, the whole country would have known. Dean had terrorized the United States for years. And it shouldn't have affected Sam, because he didn't know this Dean Winchester. He wasn't the same person who took care of him and protected him from monsters in the dark.

Really, he had no reason to change his perfectly established routine for a stranger, a criminal .

Dean and Sam Winchester didn’t know each other anymore.

Sam turned off the radio, the silence more brutal than he could have imagined. Sam was used to silence when the day ended, even welcoming it. It was synonymous with efficiency, tranquility, and security. He turned the radio back on, selecting a classical music program.

Starting the windshield wipers, Sam headed for his apartment.

Arriving home, Sam did something he hadn’t done since his divorce from Jess a few years ago. He pulled out a bottle of wine that a client had given him and poured himself a large glass. If anyone asked, he’d blame Dean. He sat on his couch, ignoring the urgent files waiting for him on his desk. If he was entitled to a night off, it was tonight.

Even after years, Dean was disrupting the life he had created for himself. Sam had fought so hard to get away from his family, but he felt like he could never completely escape them. But he had been right to do so. Where would he be if he had followed Dean? Probably in a nearby cell, also waiting to be executed.

In the distance, he could picture Dean behind bars—the one from the wanted posters, not the one from his childhood—his face blurred like an ancient memory, covered in scars, with a sharp smile and a glint of madness  in his eyes. Sam never could imagine himself being by his side. Whether they were face to face or thousands of miles away, those bars always separated them.

And now, they were going to be separated forever. Because Dean was going to die .

Logically, from the perspective of the frightened child who wanted to escape the monsters and his family and the monsters that were his family, this should have been a good thing. 

Sam wasn’t so sure.

Could he let Dean die? Could he let Dean live ?

Dean was a killer.

Years ago, Sam could have assuredly said that what Dean, John, and he were doing was a good thing. Now, he no longer saw the brother he had loved in the hardened features of the man on television. And a part of him thought it was possible that Dean had lost his way so much that he had actually committed the crimes he was accused of.

Blood was blood, and Dean had never known when to stop while there was still time.

Sam got up, unable to stand still when his mind couldn’t seem to stop meandering, and stood in front of the clear window. Below, darkness stretched over the city, hiding monsters and those who hunted them. Droplets of rain trickled down the glass, distorting the red and white lights of the city traffic.

Under the moonlight, the wine swirling in his glass looked like blood. Sam had been a killer too. And Dean had once been the one to wash the blood off his hands with all the devotion of a brother. Sam finished his glass in one go, red staining his lips and teeth.

Ignoring the late hour, he called his assistant. “Cancel my appointments on Monday and Tuesday, I have a… family emergency.”

XXX

Getting a last-minute visit shouldn’t have been this easy, but it had been for him . His name was synonymous with power, not the kind John would have wanted, but powerful nonetheless. Sam was capable of changing things, of making the world a better place.

A car with tinted windows came to pick him up and escort him to the prison, and after a pat-down that Sam submitted to without issue, he was issued a visitor’s pass. He left his black umbrella in the hallway and tightened his tie.

(It had been Jess—not John or Dean—who had taught him how to tie his tie. They were still just friends at the time; she had found him in the bathroom at the university, panicking before a meeting with his advisor. Gently, she had taken his hands and tied the knot for him, patiently explaining each step.)

(Jess and he were no longer friends.)

Fiddling with the two rings on his left hand—both for people he had loved, both now obsolete—Sam followed a guard through the unknown but familiar hallways. This wasn’t the first time Sam had gone to a prison to visit a prisoner. It was the first time he went for a personal reason.

It was the first time he went without the intention of getting the person he was visiting released.

The guard glanced at him every now and then, his face hesitant as if he wanted to question Sam. Sam’s commanding gaze made him turn back each time. Sam encouraged curious and eager minds, but not tonight . Not on this subject.

(This part of his life – the darkest part – was his. (Dean’s. John’s.) And if he wanted to forget it, to consign it to the furthest part of his mind and never think about it again… that was his right.)

(There was still time to turn back.)

They stopped in front of an armoured door, accessible only with one of the keycards the guard held in his hand. Behind the door was an airlock and yet another door, one that Sam could open freely this time.

Behind it was Dean.

(There was still time to turn around.)

"At your request, your conversation will not be recorded," the guard recited. "However, given the prisoner's security level, we ask that you respect the security instructions you have been given. Do you need them repeated to you?"

(There was still time to turn around.)

"That won't be necessary," Sam replied.

"Very well," the guard said, unlocking the door. "You have one hour, knock if you want to get out before the time limit."

(There was still time to turn around.)

"Thank you," Sam said politely, crossing the threshold of the door.

The door slammed shut behind him. It was a step, maybe two, to the next door. Sam forced his body forward, his hand hesitating over the handle.

(There was still time to turn around.)

"It's a little late for a lawyer, don't you think?" Dean scoffed as Sam opened the door, not even looking at who was entering the room.

(There was still time to turn around.)

"Sammy?"

Dean’s green eyes locked on him, a whirlwind of emotion—overwhelming and vivid—that Sam didn’t dare comprehend. But above all, hope . Dean laughed hysterically at the sight of Sam, as mad as the media portrayed him, but Sam couldn’t ignore the relief in his voice.

(It was time.)

Sam closed the door behind him.

“Don’t call me Sammy.”

The defense mechanism was automatic—forgotten but never gone, like the silt of a pond rising to the surface after someone threw a rock in it—and only made Dean laugh harder.

“Oh man,” Dean sighed, happy tears welling in his eyes. “I didn’t expect this.”

Dean had wrinkles now, and scars too. Sam knew that, he had seen them in pictures, but he never thought that time could have an effect on Dean.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Campbell ?" Dean asked when Sam remained silent. "For someone trying to run away from his family, you're pretty bad at it. I didn't take you for a sentimentalist."

As he always did, Dean struck first. He had never known how to leave Sam alone. Always reaching out to him, dragging him along, forcing him to move on.

"Death row inmates get one last meal," Sam replied, putting a white plastic bag on the table.

But Sam had never let himself be pushed around, had always hit back, blow for blow - just like Dean had taught him - and his favorite pastime had always been wiping the arrogant smile off Dean's face. 

Dean's face darkened at that, the shadows on his face harsh under the industrial light of the prison. Sam wondered if he'd made a mistake. This wasn't the Dean he knew, his big brother, this was a stranger who shared the same blood as him.

(Dean was a killer.)

“So what? You’re here to get me out of here?” Dean’s tone was sharp, like he’d never stopped fighting, like he didn’t know how. “Because I’m afraid it’s impossible, even for you, Sammy.”

“No,” Sam sighed, pulling the chair in front of Dean, the metal scraping against the floor with a shrill thud. “No. I just wanted to… It’s been a long time.”

Sam was a brilliant lawyer and orator. He wielded words the way he once wielded blades, coldly, precisely, never missing his mark. People feared and respected him.

In front of Dean, he was a scared little boy.

(Leaving had been the right choice.)

"Sixteen years," Dean retorted with just a hint of reproach in his voice. "I see you've done well. Lawyer, that suits you well."

"And what about you?" Sam asked, not knowing how to behave around his estranged brother.

"Still in the family business," Dean grinned roughly. " Someone needed to take care of it after Dad disappeared."

"You didn't find him?" Sam asked surprised.

If anyone could find John, it was Dean.

A second later, it hit him. John was probably dead. Sam waited for his heart to clench at the news, for a weight to lift from his shoulders, for a tear to roll down his cheek. Nothing happened.

John was dead. Sam wasn’t sad, or relieved, or angry.

“ Oh .”

“Yes, oh!” Dean bit out, the anger unmistakable in his voice this time.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, his words sounding more like a question.

Dean sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, the immeasurable weight of the years seeming to fall on his shoulders mercilessly. For the first time since he had entered the room, Sam looked at Dean.

Dean had hunted alone for a long time, without someone to cover his back, and it showed. His face was covered in scars, some still fresh, red-purple and blistered. A cut peeked out of his t-shirt along his windpipe, bloody and raw, and bruises dotted his arms under the tattoos and burns.

He looked tired. He looked ready to fight.

"What are you doing here, Sammy?" Dean asked. "Have you come to absolve me of my crimes? Have you come to beg for forgiveness?"

"I… I don't know," Sam confessed. "I just wanted to see you one last time."

“It's a little late for this, don't you think?” Dean laughed cruelly. “But it's not like you had sixteen years to do it.”

“Dean, please–”

Some truths were universal: Sam Campbell always won in court. There were creatures from your worst nightmares lurking in the shadows. Dean Winchester would do anything for his little brother.

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean agreed. His tone was kind but rough, as if without Sam by his side he’d forgotten how to be. “One last time for the road. I hope you got me some pie!”

Sam’s eyes flashed almost gold with mirth, coming to life for the first time in years. “See for yourself,” he suggested mischievously, pushing the plastic bag toward Dean.

Dean laughed again, with joy for the first time, and oh how he’d missed that sound. If Sam could live in one moment forever, this would be it, Sam decided. His big brother excitedly ripping open the plastic to reveal a supermarket pie, his smile aligning with his facial features in harmony, as it always should have.

“This is awesome ,” Dean said. “I haven’t had pie in months.”

Dean grabbed one of the plastic forks, the chains of his handcuffs clicking loudly against the table, and took a comically gargantuan bite.

“As delicious as always,” Dean said through his mouth full. “Would you like some?”

“No thanks, it’s—” Sam cut himself off, ‘ it’s too much sugar’, so what? “You know what, why not?”

Sam grabbed the second plastic fork and cut off a more reasonable portion before bringing it to his mouth. It was sweet , disgustingly sweet. Sam could feel the cavities attacking his teeth. He took a second bite. 

It tasted like his childhood. Sam ignored the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m not brushing my teeth and I’m going to die tasting pie,” Dean exclaimed with conviction.

“What?”

Sam’s hand froze in mid-air. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I thought you knew. It’s today,” Dean said gently, like he used to talk to Sam when they were kids. Dean cleared his throat, forcing all emotion out of his voice. “Today is the day Dean Winchester dies. For real this time.”

Sam put his fork down on the table, a knot tightening painfully around his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up his heart. Sam knew Dean was going to die. But not now .

(He thought he still had time.)

“It’s too soon,” Sam said, unable to keep the whining tone from his voice.

“I’ve been incarcerated here for almost a year,” Dean said. “It was a long time coming. There’s not a person here who doesn’t want me dead.”

( Me ! Sam wanted to scream. I don’t want you to die. But his words stuck in his chest along with his bleeding heart.)

“Escape then!” Sam exclaimed, slapping the table with the flat of his hand. “You’re a hunter, we’re trained to get out of situations like this.”

“You think I didn’t try?” Dean retorted. “They won’t let me escape this time. I’ve had about ten tracers injected under my skin since I set foot here. But I guess that’s what you get when you blow up a police station.”

Sam’s blood froze painfully in his veins. For someone who had desperately clung to the certainty that Dean was a killer, he had forgotten it pathetically quickly.

(The eyes Dean looked at him with—bright green and more alive than Sam’s could ever be—were nothing like the man on the television. Sam didn’t know which ones were real.)

“But you didn’t do it, did you?” Sam asked.

“If even you doubt me,” Dean laughed bitterly, “how do you expect me to tell the people outside that it was Lilith, the first demon who was trying to free Lucifer?”

“What?”

Sam was repeating himself tonight. The situation was slipping out of his hands at breakneck speed, the rope burning his fingers as he tried to cling to it with no results.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Dean replied sadly. “But I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me about your new life, about Jess.”

Sam forced a smile as he watched Dean wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“We got divorced a few years ago,” Sam replied, swallowing painfully.

(His vision was still blurry through the tears.)

“Oh, shit, I didn’t know. Sorry Sammy,” Dean apologized.

“That’s… You couldn’t have known,” Sam stumbled over his words in frustration, hiding his face in his hand. How could Dean apologize for something as ridiculous as his divorce? Dean was going to die .“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

(He thought they still had time.)

Sixteen years of hard work and sacrifice were crumbling like a precariously erected house of cards in less than an hour in his brother’s presence. How weak he was, the powerful lawyer.

“Sammy,” Dean said, reaching his chained hand across the table to rest on Sam’s. “Everything’s going to be okay. It should be easy for you, you don’t even love me anymore.”

Dean’s joke—if it was one—fell flat in the dead silence of the room. Sam’s eyes filled with tears, silently streaming down his cheeks, burning like acid rain.

“I’m sorry I wasted so much time,” Sam whispered, biting back a sob. “I should have come with you.”

Dean stood, spreading his arms as wide as his chains would allow.

“Come here.”

Sam rushed to his brother, clinging to him like a lifeline in the raging ocean, a thousand-year-old, unbreakable rock. Dean closed his arms around him and Sam thought – selfishly perhaps – that Dean needed that embrace too.

“I’m proud of you, Sammy. For going and fulfilling your dreams. You have the life you always wanted, the one you fought for,” Dean whispered, a secret between him and Sam, the last one. “Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t do this alone,” Sam said, shaking his head negatively.

“Yes you can,” Dean replied, smiling sadly.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Sam refused.

Why was he realizing all this now? When it was too late to make a difference. If only he had done something sooner. If only he had left with Dean 16 years ago.

If only—

(He thought they still had time.)

Before Sam was ready to let Dean go, someone knocked on the door twice in quick succession. The knell tolled.

“Time’s up.”

Dean let go of Sam first, pushing him toward the door, the freedom and life that had been stolen from him—

It was Dean who had driven Sam to the bus stop when he left for Stanford. The ride had been in tense silence, neither of them knowing that they wouldn’t see each other again for a long time, for their entire lives. (Sam wondered if it would have made any difference.) But Dean had come.

– with his big brother watching him leave once again, Sam walked away, as scared as when he was eighteen.

“Sammy!”

Sam turned around (this time). He knew it was the last time.

“Can you come?” Dean asked. It was the first time he asked Sam something. Sam wished he had never asked. “I don't want to die alone.”

The tears on Sam's cheeks hadn't had time to dry before the guard closed the door, leaving Dean alone in the room, leaving Sam alone in the one next door.

XXX

Sam Winchester watched his brother die. He looked him straight in the eyes—bright green and full of life for the last time—never failing.

This was something the world would never know. Something that would haunt Sam until he died. Dean Winchester died with tears in his eyes, sugar on his cheek, and three words on his lips, spoken to his little brother through the window.

"I love you."

When Sam walked out of the jail, a few hours and a lifetime later, it had stopped raining. The sun was peeking through the clouds, a rainbow bridging the road as he started the Impala. A ghost settled into the passenger seat and the radio started.

Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Sam could make an exception this time.

Carry on, my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

They make me physically ill, why is it so sad? They haven't seen each other for sixteen years. Sixteen years! And when Sam finally realizes that he needs and loves his brother, it's too late. And if Dean hadn't told him it was today, Sam would have left without knowing that it was the last time he spoke to his brother. Like the two times before! They had so many chances and they didn't take any of them. And Dean. He watched his little brother leave him twice (three times if you count the time after John disappeared) because he knew that ultimately it was the best decision for Sam. Argh. I break my own heart.

DAY 2 : Again.

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .

Do not reblog or repost this. (Warnings: kidnapping and character death.)

He didn't know why he needed you.

Maybe it was because you were nice to him.

Maybe it was because you treated him like a person.

Maybe it was because he liked your touch.

Maybe it was because you reminded him that none of what happened to him was his fault.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed cuddling with you.

Any of those things could be true for Tomura.

Maybe thats why it hurt so much when you died. Maybe thats why he felt his whole world crumble when Endeavour killed you.

Your eyes didn't have that same color they used too. That same spark, that same hope.

When you died, no one knew what to do. Not only because you had a winning quirk, but because you were always that little spark of hope in the villains lives. Even Dabi missed you.

Tomura hid in his room, scratching furiously at his neck as tears fell from his eyes. If anyone saw him like this, he would turn them to dust. Except for you, but only because he actually enjoyed your company.

Only, you weren't there anymore. But that wasn't true, right? Surely this was all just a dream. Then he would wake up and you'd be next to him, and you'd stroke his hair and tell him how much he means to you. He eventually noticed all of his denial.

Tomura hated you for dying. Why would you leave him? Didn't you know he needed you? He hated how he would dream about you being with him, and he hated that it couldn't be a reality. Sometimes he would take his anger out on the League. Sometimes he would turn random glasses to dust.

Kurogiri was good at stopping his rage fits. Almost as good as you were. All Kurogiri had to do was remind Tomura that you didn't like when he was upset. Then he would stop and storm back to his room.

Tomura began to try find ways to bring you back. Which ment stealing enough money to try and get you a new body, or trading information for a vital organ, but nothing worked. Kurogiri began to grow worried for him. He kept bargaining with people to try and bring someone back, but it wasn't going to work. So he moved on from that state.

Tomura didn't eat for two days. He locked himself in his room, and laid on the floor all day. If he stayed in the bed, all that would do is remind him of how you used to cuddle with him. He loved you. He just didn't realize he did until you were gone. He hated himself for it. He remembered how everyday you would remind him that you loved him, and sometimes, he would say it back because he wanted to love you. His depression lingered for a week or three.

Eventually, Tomura accepted your death.

He did that by rebuilding you. You wouldn't remember anything, so he could start fresh. He could start everything over without you remembering all those terrible times. He rebuilt you with an excited smile. After all, he couldn't wait to see you again.

Tomura had to make a few of these androids. They weren't good enough. They didn't look like you, or they didn't have your voice, or they ended up not working. He was growing frustrated. That was until he remembered a girl in the support course of U.A.

Mei Hatsume.

So naturally, Tomura had to kidnap her. He promised that he wouldn't kill her if she rebuilt you. He, unfortunately, had to wait a few days. Those were some of his least favorite days.

Eventually, Mei finished you, and she was allowed to go back home. But if she told anyone, Tomura would kill everyone in her family. So she didn't.

Tomura was ecstatic. He finally had you back.

And no one was going to take you away from him ever again.

Love and Nature

Osdea, the god of love, fell hopelessly in love with the god of nature, Ezella. Osdea tried everything she could to have the indifferent god acknowledge her, but Ezella never gave her the time of day. Osdea tried helping the flora and fauna, hoping to appeal to the god of nature through kindness. She tried befriending the different nature spirits, attempting to learn anything about Ezella. She tried just being in the same area as Ezella often, so maybe they'd take an interest in her, like she had in them.

Finally, when Osdea had given up hope in all else, she brought Ezella a small bouquet of flowers, ones she had seen them care for, and tried talking to the god. Ezella curtly turned Osdea down, but Osdea saw this as progress, for she had finally gotten Ezella to acknowledge her! And so Osdea brought another bouquet of flowers the next day, with the same result. She continued bringing flowers every day, each time with the same result.

On the fourth day, Ezella, growing steadily losing what little patience they had left from the frequent irritations said, "Every day you cut and bring me flowers that I have grown. Every day I turn you down, but that still does not seem to dissuade you. Your young naivety seems to know no bounds, so let me put this as plainly as possible. For as long as you continue bothering me and cutting the flowers I have grown and calling it a gift, I will never return your affections."

Osdea, stunned, watched as the god of nature swiftly turned and walked away, her eyes never lingering from their back, not even when her face grew warm or when the world in front of her clouded too an unrecognizable blur of colours. Only when Ezella was long out of sight was Osdea able to move, collapsing to her knees, and crushing the flowers.

She didn't even remember dropping them.

Hastily, she tried straightening the broken stems and rightening the misplaced petals, but the tears and her shaking hands only worsened the damage until her lap was covered in flower petals and leaves. She held the broken and baren flower stems to her chest, head in her lap and arms wrapped around her trembling body.

Gradually, slowly, her tears sprouted new flowers, wrapping first around the edges of her feet, then her dress and legs, her torso, her arms, her neck, her hair, her head. Oh so gradually, the suffocating pain in her chest took on a new shape; a shape that made more sense. Oh so slowly, her tears did dry, and the flowers clinging to her form began to bloom.

The forest nymphs were the first to find her. The rising sun painted her skin a brilliant golden colour through the shadows of towering trees and their vibrant green leaves. The delicate white of fresh blooms sparsely covering her form seemed to sing at their first sight of light. The god's chest rose and fell slowly as she laid sprawled across the forest floor, as if asleep. The nymphs, simply relieved that the poor god was no longer weeping, left her to sleep.

Osdea was not asleep. How could she sleep with the ceaseless, creeping pain inside her chest?

As the nymphs left, tears escaped and trickled down their familiar path over her skin and in between the delicate flowers.

The nymphs returned at sundown, the god's chest still steadily rising and falling, eyes closed to the world. The white flowers from before now more thoroughly covering her, and new flowers blooming at the edges of her face, there was very little of the god that was left untouched now. Small pin-pricks of blood scattered across her body where the flowers weaved their way through her skin.

Still, the nymphs left Osdea to her slumber. Still, Osdea was not asleep. She was paralyzed, as if the flowers had taken root in her muscles, rendering them completely useless. If nothing else, the whites and greens of the flowers and their stems, set against the dimming light of the falling sun brought some small glimmer of happiness to the sorrowful god.

'Perhaps,' thought the god 'this is the true nature of life; holding onto the smallest glimmer of hope and joy, no matter the cost.' Tears welled along her eyes once again, now hidden beneath a thin layer of foliage.

The petite white flowers weaving and sprouting through her skin were not what troubled Osdea. What troubled her was the feeling of small, sharp barbs being dragged through the inner linings of her being. Treacherously slowly, the talons clawed their way up her chest and into her throat. Every tentative rise and fall of her chest, every movement, no matter how small, pressed the stabbing blades in further.

Osdea learned what she could and could not do quite quicky. Movement was strictly forbidden. The god was still allowed to breathe, but gradually even that privileged had been restricted until her breaths were slow and shallow and her head grew light. She was not allowed to speak. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to croak out even a single word. But she was fine with that. She had no one to listen to her words anyways.

The stars above shone so brightly. Somehow, they seemed brighter than usual, almost as if they wept for the god, their small lights ever so slightly growing before trembling and shrinking again. The stars and their weeping slowly began to fade away as dawn drew near, and clouds covered the sky like a heavy blanket. Osdea could feel the plants blanketing her body still in anticipation. The world around her seemed to hold it's breath as she swam in and out of consciousness. She could still breathe. She didn't know why she was struggling. Her head felt so heavy.

The clouds were painted a brilliant ruby red, painting the forest in hues of pink. Osdea had never seen a sky quite like that, and she knew she never would again. A faint smile spread across her lips. This much she was still allowed.

She couldn't breathe.

The world fluttered in and out of existence, as if a butterfly were sat on her nose.

She was okay.

The sun began to crest its head over the horizon, vibrant scarlet to match the clouds above. The birds did not sing, nor did the deer begin to stir. The nymphs would not visit this morning.

She would be okay.

In and out, the world faded and re-ignited repeatedly. Dark crimson shadows fell over the forest. White flowers were painted pink.

It would be okay.

The world of reds and dark shadows swam in front of Osdea's eyes. From the darkness, her eyes landed on one figure, slowly approaching. The darkness encroached and consumed her vision. She pried her eyelids open, even if only once more. She would not let herself be robbed of her sight. Not yet.

She was out of time. She was not okay. She didn't want to die.

Light returned to the god. A soft face filled with love and sorrow stared down at her. For a moment, Osdea forgot about the tearing thorns in her chest, about the flowers covering her body, about the air missing from her lungs. For a moment, Osdea felt like she was dancing through the forest again, wanting nothing more than for Ezella to turn their attention to her.

Osdea watched as Ezella's lips moved, but no sound ever reached her ears. Why couldn't she hear the god? Why couldn't she hear the one person who's voice had rung through her head for days now?

Osdea opened her mouth, but the words she wanted to say were torn apart by the thorns within before they ever knew the breath of life. The scene before her clouded to a blur of reds again with only Ezella remaining in focus.

Ezella leaned down, filling Osdea's vision. Soft lips found her forehead, as if the flowers had parted specially for them. A drop of water rolled down her temple. It was warm. It was cold.

The clouds faded from her vision, and the thorns in her lungs disappeared. The god of love no longer felt the pinpricks of flowers weaving through her skin.

The god of nature rose with the rising sun, and began their daily care for the earth and its creatures.

The sun rose on the second morning. Where had previously laid Osdea, the god of love, now laid a beautiful flower bed, alive with dusty blues and pure whites. Sat in the center of the bed was a bush of roses, petals and thorns dyed the same blood-red colour.

Alt Zadr day 3: angst  wherin Zim causes himself irreparable PAK damage and leaves Dib all alone  @alt-zadr-b1tch3z

Oneshot -Perhaps in another life. In another time

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

TW: mental health problems, suicide, struggling reader, struggling dazai, character death, reader death, angst, no comfort

A/N: I saw this post and felt compelled to write because mood, I honestly feel the same, so uh, this is for you, @r3stingangel

You had met Dazai at a quant cafe below where he worked. You had found your gaze drawn to him. Something about him stood out.

Familiar.

He had caught you staring at him, but he didn't seem mad. He put on a flirtatious mask and walked over to you confronting you about staring. When he drew closer and looked into your eyes, something changed, his mask cracking.

Like he had realized the same thing you had.

Familiarity.

You began visiting that quant cafe more often, letting yourself relax in the presence of someone who understood you.

You came to learn more about each other with each visit, compelling you to continue going. It let you escape from reality for a little while.

The familiarity turned out to be a shared feeling of hopelessness. A shared feeling of purposelessness. Of inadequacy.

Nihilism.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was under the bandages covering his neck and arms, perhaps even other parts of his body as well. And while you weren't covered in any bandages, you figured he knew you had your own personal scars as well.

Perhaps the biggest difference between you two was his flawless ability to hide behind well-crafted masks. It was something you faintly recall being capable of doing as a child, but now you were simply too exhausted to bother hiding your apathetic nature.

Dazai didn't seem to mind.

After some time of getting to know each other, he invited you to join him at a bar. A place he said held many memories of a time long gone. A time in which he was happy, even if fleeting.

He told you of his two friends, one turned traitor, the other dead.

You remember that night.

Odasaku was the man's name. He took you to his grave that night.

Though no tears were shed you could feel the melancholy surrounding him like an intoxicating aura. Coiling around the two of you like the fog did, seeping into your skin, your bones.

Currently, you were returning his gesture, bringing him to a place that held your happiest memories.

Fleeting as they were.

Before everything in your already difficult life went to absolute shit.

Bills were scattered on your kitchen table, and copies of a resume were among them.

And yet you were currently leading Dazai to a bridge. A beautiful river surrounded on both sides by flowers of all kinds.

It had been your happy place away from your home life where you hung out with your only friend.

You couldn't remember his name. Faint memories of hair so blonde the sun created a halo on his hair. A smile, innocent and youthful. An angel running through flowers in the middle of spring.

Red. Everywhere.

The platinum blonde hair was stained with a garish color.

A warm breeze, telling of the nearing summer shook you from your thoughts as you and Dazai made it to the bridge.

Even at night was it beautiful.

You looked at the man next to you.

He was no angel, far from it.

But perhaps that was why you got along, for you were no angel yourself.

Your hands would forever be stained in the red that seeped through platinum locks of hair.

"It's beautiful." He spoke softly as if to not disturb the calmness of their surroundings.

You smiled looking from Dazai down to the water, to the moon reflecting across in streaks of white. "It is, isn't it?"

Words were meaningless.

Speaking for the sake of speaking.

"My dear belladonna." His sentence left unfinished.

Belladonna's were a beautiful flower.

Poisonous.

"Would you be willing to end our suffering with me, love?" He finished. Words unneeded.

Lovers.

Something you were not.

Perhaps in another life. In another time.

You took his hand.

Moving to sit on the railing of the bridge with him, you looked up at the moon as it stared down, always watching.

You looked at where your hand was intertwined with his then up at his face.

Soft brown curls framed his face in an almost endearing way. Eyes a beautiful brownish burgundy color.

You smiled, genuinely.

He looked at you.

His lips pulled into a genuine smile. He looked tired.

Perhaps you looked the same.

You both closed what little space was left between you.

The kiss was soft. It would've been sweet if not laced with your shared melancholy.

Without breaking the kiss you both slipped off the railing.

"It wasn’t supposed to go like this," They said. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Sorder, aka Riley Cowel, spoke to your grave.

The sun was shining. Your grave had bundles of flowers from your loved ones. And your villain, your archnemesis, who very much was not supposed to know your real identity, was standing there, with a bouquet of purple and black irises.

It had been a freak accident. A car crash, the kind of thing that happened every day. You knew, now, that the other driver's brakes had malfunctioned and their wheels had skidded on the ice. It was no one's fault, not even your own, that you died.

Warren, the Earthen Hero, protector of the city, dead in a car accident.

And no one to know. You'd never told anyone your identity. Not your friends, not your family, no civilians through a slip of the mask, no one. No one to know Warren was dead the same moment Owen Trayton flatlined in the hospital. No one.

Except, somehow, Sorder.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this," They said. "God, couldn't it have been a blaze of glory? If front of the whole world, for everyone to see. For everyone to mourn. Bet there'd be a statue," Sorder grinned. "And you wouldn't even want it. When I want a statue, I'm a megalomaniac, but you-," Sorder's smile fell and they sighed.

"You could've had everything. Fame and recognition. Support. And yet you told no one. I searched for you, you know. Or, well, you didn't know as Iong as I did the whole stalking thing right. And you know what I found?"

Sorder crouched down, staring at your name on the gravestone. "Owen Trayton, working two minimum wage jobs because you can't hold down anything else down while still being a hero. Warren, getting shouted at when he's late delivering a pizza because he had been thwarting me. The Earthen hero, tired and still smiling that stupid, heroic smile working retail,"

For a moment, Sorder said nothing. The wind ruffled their hair and brushed through the flowers they were holding. They placed their purple and black bouquet among the other flowers given by your friends and family, and sighed. "'Not with a bang, but a whimper'," They whispered. "No one will know what happened to Warren. Did you think of that? The mystery you could leave behind? Or did you not care? Abandoning fame and fortune, even in death. Leaving me behind too,"

A pause. "I'm the only one who knows. I could expose you, of course. They wouldn't listen at first, assume I had faked your death. The populace always wants to hope. To keep faith. But then you'd never show up. I could make them listen," Sorder sighed again and sat on the ground.

"But I won't. I'll keep your secret, just as I have ever since I learned your name. And just to keep things even, I'll tell you my own secret. You already know my legal name, that's the nature of things when you've been arrested a dozen times. But no one but myself has ever learned the meaning behind Sorder.

"It's a combination of two words. Sordid, because what kind if villain would I be if I didn't have evil in my name?" They smirked. "But it's also another word. Sonder. The feeling you get when you realize everyone's lives are just as complicated as yours. Each person, unique in their lives and homes and tastes, seeing everything through their own eyes. I may be a villain, but I do have standards. Limits. I wanted to be reminded of those limits everytime you shouted my name.

"People could die, during my crusade. On accident, on purpose, it could happen. There's very limits I have, to achieving the world I want to see. But I have to remember, that people aren't stepping stones to get there. They're people. The road I pave is in blood and bones and broken dreams and broken hearts and broken people. I can never forget that. Even you,"

Sorder smiled faintly, bitterness twinging at the corners of their lips. "You were my obstacle, my nemesis, my enemy. And you worked minimum wage and lived in a shitty apartment and didn't want anyone to know about your alternate life, on either end. So,"

Sorder stood up, brushing the dried grass off on their pants, "I won't tell anyone. Your name will be a memory, both names. The end of the hero Warren will remain a mystery, and the fate of Owen Trayton a common tragedy. You're welcome," They sighed. "You probably aren't even hearing me. I don't really belive in life after death. Maybe my secret remains entirely my own. But I don't know that, so I'll believe you do,"

They sigh again, frowning at your gravestone. "I'm not going to retire. I'm not going to stop. I have a goal, Warren, and I'm going to do my best to achieve it. Maybe some little hero wannabe will show up and stop me. Maybe they won't. Maybe I win, Warren," Sorder smiled bitterly at the ground. "You'd argue with me, if you could. Say an ideal could never be defeated, I'd never win, as long as hope persists. I disagree. But I'll be nice. It's a draw, Warren. In the end, I never defeated you. Spiting me, even in death. How... you,"

Sorder smiled softly and put their hand on your gravestone. The sun was shining. There was an extra bouquet of flowers on your grave. And Sorder, Riley Cowel, slipped their hand off your gravestone and walked away.

They didn't look back.

You die in a freak accident and watch your funeral as a spirit. You’re shocked to see who comes to pay their last respects to you.

Ghost Aaron Hotchner

a small writing that I was working on, after thinking about the idea of ​​hotch dying when foyet attacked him in his apartment, now he is a ghost trapped in the world of the living, Please note that my first language is not English and that this was largely translated with Google Translate

hope you like!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaron felt great, there was no pain, it was as if all the abuse his body had suffered over the years had never happened in the first place.

- Aaron Hotchner ...

Aaron forced himself to open his eyes when he heard that gloomy voice, what he saw was not what he expected. A person dressed in a completely black suit was sitting cross-legged in the middle of what appeared to be a completely white room. A large book resting on his legs. Hotch dared to say that even Reid would take hours to read that book in its entirety.

"You know, you weren't supposed to get there until you were eighty-seven, apparently you were a little ahead of time."

- Who are you? - Aaron asked, as he approached the suit figure.

- Who do you think I am? - Asked the figure, dodging Aaron's question.

Aaron, he analyzed the room and the figure for a moment, Foyet had attacked him in his apartment, he remembered fainting from the pain. A thought, that in another situation he would have discarded, crossed his mind, could it be possible ...?

- I'm dead, no

- Bingo! I already said that you were too smart, not to realize it - said the figure as he put the book aside and got up - I don't think introductions are necessary, we both know who the other is.

-Foyet killed me - Aaron said, it wasn't a question, he remembered what had happened in his apartment, he could probably never forget it. Even so, he didn't feel bad about it, it was as if he hadn't happened to him, as if someone else had told him what happened.

- To be exact I stab you nine times and then I take you to a hospital, but they couldn't stabilize you, you died in the operating room - I specify death. Aaron knew that this information should be shocking, but he did not care he felt as if he had not understood the seriousness of the situation, but Aaron if he had understood, he was simply indifferent? He did not know how to describe it, it was nothing like how he had felt in life.

- So is this really death?

- Did you expect something else? - Death asked sarcastically.

- Well ... Not exactly, I never asked myself what was after death, but I guess I just hoped there was nothing, as if you fell asleep and did not dream.

- For many people it is like that, but you are special Aaron Hotchner, nobody had ever anticipated his own death, you are the first person to do that, and unfortunately time would kill me if I don't do something about it.

- Wait, what do you mean?

- Enjoy your extra time on earth, Aaron Hotchner - Aaron, it felt like someone was pushing him forward hard

The next thing Aaron knew, he was in the middle of a hospital corridor, he heard the familiar sound of heels, he turned to look in the direction of the sound, he smiled when he saw how Garcia was heading towards him.

"Garcia ..." Hotch called, approaching her. Aaron didn't usually initiate physical contact, but Penelope had always been the exception to that rule. Finally when she was almost in front of Garcia, she is she hastened her pace and went through him.

Wide-eyed with the shock of what had happened. Aaron turned around, Garcia hadn't even noticed what had just happened.

- I'm looking for Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, he was admitted here about six hours ago - Garcia said hurriedly, the secretary looked at her for a few seconds before starting to type quickly on her computer, she looked at the screen of this for a few seconds before letting out a sigh .

-I'm sorry, but Agent Hotchner passed away in the operating room, miss - Aaron, felt his heart break, seeing how the always cheerful Garcia, burst into a sea of ​​tears.

- Garcia! Hey! I'm still here, I haven't gone anywhere - Aaron called him, he tried to hug Garcia again but again the only thing he got was to pierce the woman

God, what kind of trouble had he gotten himself into now?

You Can run, But You Can't Hide...

Yandere!Mark Grayson x Superpowered!Reader

A/N : The reader in this has a teleportation power, not interdimensional teleportation but like regular teleportation, and they can phase through walls, obviously in this dimension Mark joined his dad and he doesn't want to kill you either

Hiding with Robot and Adam Eve's group wasn't ideal. Resources were scarce. People scared and paranoid whether they got to live another day or not; but going back and forth from one part of the planet to another wasn't sustainable either, especially since with how fast the both of them can travel; it'd only be a few minutes of resting time before you had to teleport again. So, after narrowly escaping Nolan's death grip in Honduras, you made the decision to move back up north even to settle down in the sewers to have more than thirty minutes to cool down.

But you had spotted one of the freedom fighters and followed him back to the underground base, he was clumsy and loud. It wouldn't be long until they found this place. Finding Adam and Robot telling them was the best you could do for them; they were surprised to say the least. After all a hand straight through your chest should've killed you; but with the combination of teleporting and phasing an escape was granted to you. However, not without a cost, your heart was weak, Nolan had grazed the front of your heart and thinned the muscle there. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, just pop on down to Cecil and he'd have you fixed up in no time. So, your life was on a schedule, it was a rough estimate…maybe a year? Two if you were able to properly rest without the teleporting at all.

Adam convinced you to say, sweetly said it was to treat your injuries, but Robot had made it clear it was for you to help out gathering resources and getting as many people as possible out of here in case this place was found. No matter, it was nice of them to give you a place to recover after Robot had fixed up your heart. The scar was a thin long line, from the top of your throat to the underside of your belly button. It was overkill you were sure of it, but even after waking up after the pain of being ripped open, you still were in better health, than teleporting in fear of being caught and killed.

You were inside of a subway car, practicing teleporting instantly from one side of the room to the other side, it was going to take a couple of days of practicing to build up to longer distances again. It was nicer not having a time frame of when you were going to die, or having hope for the future that wasn't under the Viltrum Empire.

It was short lived however..

There was rumbling coming from the roof of the underground train station, at first it was dismissible-just buildings crumbling to the ground, but after the screaming started to pick up and then people rushing by the car it was obvious. They had found this place, and they were going to kill everyone in this place.

Rushing out of the car, you saw that they had split themselves up, Nolan was fighting Robot and Adam Eve was fighting Mark. Omni Man had made quick work of Robot and the other people who were unlucky enough to behind him after he was rushed. Teleporting to Robot after Omni Man had delivered his last words to Robot, you had told him that you would 'take care of it and not to worry'. His voice was rasped and hard to make out with the screaming, but the message was delivered a simple Don't fail.

Looking around for the both of them wasn't hard, just follow the fear induced screams was more than enough to be pointed in the right direction.

Mark had his hand around Eve's neck, they were talking to each other. Her hands are on his wrist... and then a snap...he broke her neck. Omni man is up there now he's saying something, Mark is shaking his head not as he puts Eves' body down. They're still talking to each other.

Both of their heads snap in your direction, FUCK they saw you! Before you can think of a place to teleport to Nolan rushes you bursting the people in-between you both like bloody pimples. He lifts you in the air by your neck. Mark slowly floats his way down to you and his father.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here" Nolan grimaces slightly "especially with how keen you were to get away from the city."

His voice was monotone and short. It was hard to see where this conversation would go. You try and keep yourself levelheaded knowing that one wrong move will get you killed or captured by the of them.

"I can't stay away from home for to long."

A nervous smile came across your cracked lips, hurting but not bleeding. The grip Omni Man had on your throat was tight, keeping you suspended in the air by your throat was starting to expose the scar. A flush of air meant that Invincible had come up to interrogate you with Omni Man.

Marks soft voice rang through the silence of his and his fathers animalistic brutality just minutes ago.

"Why are you here?"

His tone had remained soft and understanding like he was talking to a child; it made would always make you wonder if Mark was choosing to do these horrible things, or he was going along with his father trying save thousands from his father.

Nolans eyes started to wonder down the slightly red line and a deep frown began to set on his mustache.

"Ah, Mark, that's a really st-"

Nolans grip had tightened suddenly as he dropped lower to the ground making sure your feet could barely scrape the rubble ridden concrete. A stern look strikes his face as he turns to Mark. A short look is shared between them before turning back to you, their eyes drift down your face and towards your pulsing scar. Nolan's thumb presses in deep enough to make Mark suck in air harshly and Nolan giving a somewhat disappointed grumble from some deep crevasse of feeling that you quite aren't sure is there.

A soft sigh came from Mark as a frown sets deep on his skin.

"What happened to you? What's with the scar? Is because of what happened in Honduras? You know if you'd just stayed still nothing would've happened. You pushed dad's buttons..., I'm not saying you deserved that, but still."

A shrug passed through him, he moved closer, Nolan's grip was starting to get harsher. Mark puts his hand on top of your head, he doesn't take heed of it. He begins to it upward slowly as you struggled to look up, a chuckle came from Nolan.

"He won't kill you, just make sure you won't be able to see straight. I've seen him practice works well enough."

You weren't able to at least get a sarcastic rebuttal out before his hand came down on, your head. It was an odd experience a slight pain, a sharp realization of being able to see in opposite directions, burning in of bile, and then not having sight in front of yourself.

Death of a Hero

2_dumb_4_dis

Summary:

Izuku finds All Might coughing up a lung in an alley and decides that he wants to save the number one hero.

Thus begins Izuku's life of sneakily moving into the number one hero's house, going to school with the number one hero, and potentially becoming the man's son? Wait, that's not part of his "Supreme Plan to Save All Might!"

Mostly fluffy interactions between Izuku and All Might, but this will end with All Might dying.

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Major Character Death

Fandom:

僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship:

Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might

Characters:

Midoriya Izuku Midoriya Inko Yagi Toshinori | All Might Tsukauchi Naomasa

Additional Tags:

Protective Midoriya Izuku Parental Yagi Toshinori | All Might All Might dies inspired by a song Death of a Hero Alec Benjamin - Freeform

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2022-04-01 Updated: 2022-09-18 Words: 11804 Chapters: 5/?

Soo... I made a little something based on my TFP AU in the Post-war Phase.

Basically everything is being rebuilt And bla bla but the cities have their own leaders And dont really Stand to each other until After a Attack against Cybertron (i aint quite sure who did it tho) And so on.

Sometimes my brain makes up random scenes in AU's where it will take ages to reach, And this is one of em.

The scene of Starscream's death.

(yes, i kill him off Post war for everything He has done including killing Skywarp. I will colour the small Comic once i got a replacement for my digital pen)

Aaaand the full scene i came up With below:

(English isnt my native language so i am sorry for any mistakes)

A battle had shaken all of Cybertron... All the leaders standing now United beneath the light of the distant Star that Gifted Cybertron it's light. The enemy was Finally slain... Leaving behind a Scar of death And destruction on the Planets once again Energon stained surface. The ones left were searching for their fallen, to wish their Sparks a Final farewell to join the Allspark.

A message reached the Airqueen of Vos, from a comm that was too familiar to her. Coordinates were the only thing written on them. She followed the lead to the Desert Mountains next to the battlefield, finding a crack that led deeper in to the Mountain. And there in the darkness, two Red eyes stared up at her, surrounded by the blue gloom of spilled Energon

"Look who.." A cough shook the Mechs Silver frame, Energon spluttering out of his mouth And on to his torn chestplate "Came..." A snarl layed in his deep And scratch voice, there was no fear in the Airprince's eyes, that reminded her of her long deceased Conjunx...

The Airqueen said nothing, looking down at the torn frame of her firstborn son, the shredded wings, the cables hanging loosely out of his frame.

"Got nothing to say, Heh..?" A laugh rose from his lips, who didnt had the strength to Form a smirk anymore. "It's for the better..." his deeply Red eyes flickered in the slowing rythm of his Spark, fading more from Minute to Minute "I've always been the Bastard of the 3.. The one that never fit in, the one who wanted..." A hiss came from his vents, his torn wings lowering And scratching against the Rock, as if they had lost any sensitivity. Nothing more than already dead weight on his back. "Power... Good old Starscream... Good for nothing then a fucking waste of fuel And time." A chocked groan escaped him, as Energon stared to drip down his chin, the streaks of blue feeling hot against his slowly cooling frame.

His mother didnt respond... The ice in her eyes hadn't melted at All, even as she was about to loose her last Child left. The Child, that had brought a And to her other two children, the one who somehow had always managed to escape And fool death in the worst ways possible. But now it seemed, Primus was done letting him astray... Stripping his soul away from this world, where He brought so much pain to many Different Sparks

His head slowly sank back against the cave wall, his eyelids closing half over his eyes as his Talons layed useless over his wounded stomach And sides. "I havent killed Thundercracker..." He whispered. "He got killed by a Bastard no longer alive... But as if this would... Change... A thing..." his sight slowly became blurry, starring up at the caves ceiling as if He would be able to See the skies again... Maybe spread his wings one more time to embrace the cool Winds of his home... But they were useless now... As useless as he had been all his life... "Dont let anyone mourn... It's not like i... Earned it anyways... To be... Forgotten... Is better... T-than..." His voice cracked, a static hiss taking it's place as his eyes moved once again to the Femme that had raised him... Raised And loved him... And He has payed it back With murder And betrayal. What a irony... With one last gaze to the light behind her, his features relaxed, letting his wings drip to the Hard floor With a loud thud. His head rollend to the side, Energon still dripping from his silvery lips, making a End to the tongue of Silver He had used all of his life..

As the Airqueen turned around, her eyes followed the last gaze of her son, seeing the bluish sky, that faded in to a purplish Red, as the dawn advanced... On this quiet, wakeless place...

loss of mein liebe | könig x f!reader angst (lowercase intended)

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, severe angst, torture, blood, weapons, mentions of sexual assault (does NOT actually occur), NOT CANON AT ALL, NOT EDITED VERY MUCH, written at 3 am so probably incoherant at some points :p

2,000 ish words

it had been two weeks since she had been taken. kidnapped by the russians after a failed mission. neither kortac nor the 141 (who ironically were working together on this mission) had any idea where she could've been. that was until they had received a small parcel (addressed to konig). inside were her bloodied dog tags. konig immediately threw the items across the room and began researching where the package came from until finally, he was zeroed in on the location. somewhere in liski, russia. immediately, he called an order to drop everything to go save his little liebe.

a few days later, he now found himself alone in the basement of the warehouse, while the 141 scouted the rest of the building. konig walked around the dark, dingy spaces, looking for anywhere his little prinzessin could be. the building was suspiciously empty, the 141 reported, but konig was too focused on finding her to notice how strange it was. after stumbling upon a multitude of empty rooms, he finally came to the last room at the end of the basement hallway. peering inside the small window, he spied his liebe.

bloodied. beaten. unconscious.

he kicked the door open, forgetting all protocol. his liebe was more important. not that it was important anyway. other than konig and his princess, the room was empty.

her wrists are bound by rope and tied to the ceiling, caked in blood as they were too tight. a fresh scar dragged from her eyebrow to her cheek, caked with blood. her feet were an inch off the ground as she dangled from her wrists. her clothes were torn and bloody and her hair matted and dirty. she was hardly breathing. a dirty, bloody cloth was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her, perhaps to muffle her screams while she was tortured. a small, broken camera was attached to the corner of the ceiling.

“nicht schlafen, meine prinzessin…” könig murmured softly in german, softly patting her cheek. he felt his whole body tense up as he came near her--but then, he relaxed. noticing her ragged breathing, he cut off the rope with his combat knife.

placing her onto her feet, he held her steady and gently wiped her scars with his gloved hand. “please. open your eyes…” he whispered.

she stirred gently, opening her eyes and seeing konig. but she didn't see konig. she saw another man - coming to torture her. perhaps kill her. from behind the gag in her mouth, she began screaming and crying, the salty tears stinging the scar on her cheek. she kicked at konig, trying to save herself from more pain.

“schatz! it’s me!” könig cried, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “it’s me! i’m here to save you!” könig loosened her gag and gently pulled it from her mouth as her screams continued. “it’s your könig, your darling, your love… I’ve come to save you--” but her screams continued.

“i’m getting you out of here,” he assured, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms. “we have to go, my love. we have to go now.” but she still was in hysterics. flailing, screaming, kicking, crying. so hard that an old stab wound on her stomach began bleeding again. so much that her wrists began to drip blood onto the cold concrete floor.

“stop,” he said calmly in german, attempting to silence her by hushing her into his chest. “sweetheart, calm down. i’m here to save you, and you know it. i know it. but i can’t get you out of here unless you keep quiet.” he took his white handkerchief and carefully covered the wound on her stomach, trying to slow the bleeding. “you have to be quiet for me, my beloved, okay? i know you’re scared, i know i’m the last person you’d ever expect to see right now.”

she tries to talk from behind the gag in her mouth but all that can be heard are muffled cries.

“shh,” he repeated in german, shushing her into his chest once more. “my love, you know i’m the only person who could rescue you. you trust me, don’t you? trust that i’ll keep us both safe and that no harm will come to you while i’m here.” könig gently traced her face with his gloved hand. he carefully removed the gag from her mouth. “i need you to be quiet,” he said one last time.

"please… please don't hurt me." she whimpered.

“shh…” he gently shushed her again, using a finger to silence her. “i haven’t come to hurt you--you know that. i would never hurt you, not on purpose. i just need you to stay quiet while i get us out of here, okay, liebeling?” könig glanced to the door of the dingy, dark, dirty cell, and began planning their exit.

"who… who are you. please i want to go home. please i dont know anything" she begged, still not in her right mind.

“ich bin könig,” he said softly in german, placing a protective arm around her as he spoke softly to reassure her of his presence. “i know you’re confused, my love. i know you’re scared, and that you want to go home. and I’m going to take you home to your safe, warm bed, i promise. i just need you to help me out and stay quiet, okay?”

könig gently caressed her cheek, running his hand through her hair before kissing the top of her forehead.

her eyebrows furrowed. no torturer would kiss her forehead. finally, she looks into his eyes.

"k-konig?" she asked, tears streaming down her face as she remembered her beloved. "how did you find me? you have to go! they'll kill you! please! leave me!"

“no,” he whispered firmly, “i’m not leaving you here. you know i’d never leave you here. ich liebe dich. i love you too much to let anything bad happen to you. and you know that.” he stroked her dirty hair. “we’re leaving together,” he continued, “just please stay quiet. i promise you— you’ll be okay.”

and suddenly, an alarm rings out. they know he's here. they knew konig would try to save her.

it was a trap all along. konig's eyes fill with fear. his little liebe begins to cry again.

“scheiße,” könig swore under his breath, hearing the alarm ring out and the clanging of men’s feet as boots rushed towards the door.

he quickly pulled her into a protective embrace, holding her close to him, trying to think of a way out. there was only one exit in the room and only one way out of the dingy basement hallway. in an attempt to quiet her sobs, he put a gentle hand around her mouth.

“just stay silent, princess,” he murmured in her ear while the soldiers rummaged around. “it’s fine… we’ll be fine.” he promised as the sound of kicked-in doors began to grow ever closer.

even with his hand silencing her, another sob rings out.

“Nnein, nein, meine liebe… du tust mir so leid,” he whispered in german. he sighed and hugged her tighter, burying his face into her shoulder. “alles wird gut sein, nur halt ruhig.” he urged, trying to calm her.

könig held her close to him, trying to reassure her that it would be okay, even if it was a lie.

"well, well, well." a voice rang out. they had been found. the leader of the russian military walked in, a smirk on his face. "we knew you'd come for your little liebe konig." he explained as eight men raised their guns towards konig and the love of his life, who was still bleeding and crying in his arms. her tears doubled after realizing they had been caught. they were gonna die. she knew it.

“tch.” könig narrowed his eyes at the smug bastard standing in his way, clutching the love of his life tightly. he wasn’t about to die here, not when so close to his princess. not when she needed him. and he damn well wasn't going to let her die. that was never an option.

“i don’t care how many men you have, you’re going to have to pry my princess from my cold, dead hands,” he sneered, standing tall and pulling the knife from his belt. Two can play that game.

"hm. so be it! MEN! bring me the girl!" he called. four huge men with even bigger guns rushed forward, ripping the girl from konigs arms, pointing their guns at him to make sure he didnt move. konig raised his arms in defeat. one man escorted her back to the russian leader.

"well. it seems you have lost again, konig. it's a shame i have to kill your little princess in front of you. she is quite delicious" the russian man says, sniffing her neck creepily. she lets out another cry. "shut up!" the russian yells and slaps her across the face, splitting her lip and causing her to fall to the floor. he drags her up and holds a knife to her throat. "any last words, konig?"

"nein! nicht meine prinzessin! take me instead!" he snarled, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. he had to get the girl out of this alive. even if he had to die in her place. the russian man simply laughed.

"oh too late, my boy. i might even keep this one for myself. she's so young and easy to break" he licked her neck, causing her to flinch. "i think i want to make this slow and painful. for both of you," he says cockily.

"nein! ich tue alles was du willst! schatz, lass mich die nehmen, bitte!" könig begged in german, looking around at the four men holding guns to him with a pleading expression. he wouldn't die for nothing, not without trying to save her. he had to try.

"maybe i'll make you watch as i take her. and then i'll make you watch as each of my men take her. only when i'm finished, will i make you watch as i slit her pretty throat and watch her bleed out like the swine she is." he spits.

“du verdammte arschgeige!” König swore in a growl, anger flashing across his face. he wouldn’t be powerless against a man who would harm an innocent girl. with his free hand, he threw his knife at the leader, aiming for the throat. the man simply sidesteps and the knife hits the concrete wall instead, clattering to the floor.

the leader laughs at konig's futile attempt. "well, have it your way. men! restrain him! he's going to watch as the life drains from her eyes." the eight men tie konig up, the same way he had found his princess. hands in the air, feet barely touching the ground. no matter how much konig tried, he could not escape.

"bitte, ich bitte dich! ich will sie nicht sterben sehen! ich liebe sie!" in his panic, könig forgot all of his english lessons and reverted back to his mother language in a desperate and emotional tone. He wouldn't let his girl die! könig struggled as the eight men tied him up, gritting his teeth and letting out frustrated growling noises as he tried to escape.

the russian leader only laughs. konig's princess lets a tear drip down her face.

"konig." she calls. he looks at her, his cerulean eyes full of tears. "it's okay konig. it'll be okay." she says with a knife against her throat. she smiles sadly. "i love you. i loev you so much. never forget that." she said trembling.

könig roared, desperately straining against the ropes that tied him up. tears streaked down his face as he watched helplessly.

“don’t talk like that!” könig cried, his voice cracking. "im going to get ou out of here!"

“ws ist nicht zu spät, schatz, ich liebe dich!” he pleaded, shaking violently and pulling desperately at the ropes. “don’t say it’s okay… ich liebe dich noch mehr!”

"say goodbye to your little liebe, konig!" the russian yells. his eight soldiers all release a booming laugh at konig's desperation.

“du verdammter arschgeige!”

könig threw his head back and thrashed wildly against his bonds, his voice growing hoarse and desperate as he yelled at the leader in a fit of rage.

“ich werde dich ficken, und deine verdammte arschgeige!” he roared, spitting as he shouted at the leader.

the russian man only laughs as he presses the blade into her throat harder and drags it swiftly across, cutting into the girl's jugular. he laughs as she holds her throat and blood spills out. he laughs as she drops to the floor, gurgling on her blood. he laughs as the life begins to drain out of her eyes. through all the blood, she looks to konig and lets out a gurgling "i love you." before she stills.

“nein! nein, meine liebe!” König pleaded desperately. "bleib bitte bei mir! ohne dich kann ich das nicht schaffen!"

but it's too late. konig's libeling is gone. the russian men laugh and walk out of the cell, locking it behind them. leaving konig alone with her lifeless body.

a dark, ominous feeling flooded the air and enveloped the room like a fog as if it were the embodiment of the very hopelessness that hung heavy in the air.

könig fell silent, tears freely flowing from his eyes as he looked down at his princess.

his mind went blank as he stood, bound and helpless, next to the body of his love. her dark brown eyes were still open and her blood ran from her mouth, filling the crevice the scar in her cheek had left.

finally, the ropes gave under konig's constant thrashing. immediately, he ran over to his little liebe.

könig held the body of his princess close to him, weeping silently as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. the loss of his love felt like a stab to the heart, piercing his chest with such an unbearable pain that he thought he was never going to feel anything again. könig's sobbing continued, drowning in grief and sorrow that was as deep as the very oceans.

suddenly, ghost and the rest of the 141 kicked the door down, guns raised only to be met with the scene in front of them. they were too late.

ghost stood in the doorway, his heart dropping at the sight in front of him. "könig." he said, stunned and hurt. könig looked over at ghost with pained, tear-filled eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around the body of his princess, who lay lifeless in his arms.

"she's gone…." konig said, a tear dripping off his chin and landing on her cheek.

ghost walked over quietly , kneeled down next to konig and reached his hand towards her face. konig, thinking he was going to hurt her, pulls out a gun and holds it to ghost's face. "mate…" ghost says sadly. ghost reaches over to the girls face and closes her gentle brown eyes. "look. now she's sleeping." he said softly. the rest of the 141 boys were quiet, faces downcast, unspeaking.

tears filled könig’s eyes as they watched ghost close the girl’s eyes.

“she looks so peaceful…” könig whispered. He continued to hold the body close to him, a part of him not wanting to let go.

“thank you….” he muttered, lowering the gun.

"mates.. we have to go," soap said to ghost and konig. "we don't want to be here when they come back to find konig."

a dark silence filled the air, the only sounds being the soft crying and sobbing of könig.

könig looked up at ghost, his face contorted with anguish and pain as he sniffled, wiping away tear trails with the sleeve of his shirt.

a nod was the only reply könig could give, and he allowed ghost and soap to lead him to the exit.

konig looked back, hoping that maybe the world was playing some cruel joke on him. hoping that his little liebe would put on her perfect smile and jump up saying "just kidding." pull another one of her silly jokes that konig rarely found funny. but she never did. and she never would.

with the weight of a mountain on his shoulders and pit the size of an ocean in his chest, könig followed ghost and soap as they walked out the door and into the night.

the weight of the world felt like it was pushing down on him, threatening to tear him apart. but the weight of the ring box in his pocket seemed infinitely heavier.

könig's world had been shattered by the loss of his princess, and a piece of him died with her. a piece he would never get back.

i am

so sorry?

for my bad writing

for the scenario :)

Arctic's death from Darkstalker, I hope you like it this is my first time trying to draw gore. Hopefully it isn't too graphic since the blood is blue

WARNING: Graphic description of a city burning down, as well as death and injury

Wrote this from the perspective of a hivewing dragonet, the post above inspired me to attempt to write a fanfic

Hornet ran through the streets of Bloodworm hive, terror flooding his veins. One moment he was eating honeydrops with his school friends, the next the entire city was one fire. Hornet flapped his wings pitifully in a desperate attempt to take flight, fighting against his underdeveloped wings. Please someone! Help me! His mind raced as the crackle of flames mixed with the screams of terror echoed through his ears. The smell of burning wood and flesh filling the air, where were his friends? Where were his parents? All he longed for was someone to save him. He just wanted someone to wake him up and tell him he had a nightmare. A bad dream to forget about and move on.

Hornet knew he’d never forget this, as the fire spread to the top floors of the hive the structure crashed down. Every step felt like he was getting closer to being crushed by the rubble. “Mom! Dad!” Hornet cried out to deaf ears. His pleading was drowned out by the rest of the commotion. His feet stung as he rushed across the flaming street, other hivewings rushing  past him. He caught sight of his mother in the distance, he took all his energy to cry out “MOM!!”

In almost an instant his mother sprinted to his side, picking him up and taking flight. “It’s ok honey, I’m here” She comforted him through tears, Hornet knew better than that. It would never be ok again. His mother’s attempt at comforting did help distract him from the carnage around him. Now in the air he finally saw the extent of the damage. He saw his entire neighborhood running for their lives. Several of his distant relatives were injured or lying dead in the flames.

Suddenly he fell out of the air, his mother had been struck by a piece of wood. Hornet watched, his eyes full of pure horror. As the flames consumed his last remaining hope of savior. “NO!! WAKE UP!! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!! MOM!!” He cried out, he rushed over to her side. Watching her thrash in agony as the flames charred her wings. He sobbed in desperation for his mom to wake up. He was quickly caught by the flames as well, screaming in pain and terror. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the ruins of his hometown.

That's probably the saddest thing I've ever wrote, Hornet does survive he just passed out at the end. He got medical help and a therapist.

Hey you guys remember how Bloodworm Hive (a giant city with potentially thousands of dragons living in it) burned down with only the SilkWings being evacuated? Potentially hundreds of deaths? Yeah. Remember how it was utterly sidelined and ignored afterwards? Yeah. Good times.

Chapter 4 because it’s my birthday!

Chapter 5 will come out on Saturday.

To the Heart of It

Pairing(s): Alternate! Cesar Torres X Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary: You try and tell yourself that you didn't lose the love of your life, you just have to keep believing that... But why is the alternate letting you believe your own lie?

A/N: Down the rabbit hole I go, I guess. I wanted to explore this idea so here, I probably won't be writing for the Mandela Catalogue again tho - I won't be taking requests.

(I also again do not have a blog for this, so I'm just posting it on my main.)

Warning(s): Angst. Mentions of Suicide and Character Death. Obsessive/Possessive Behavior. Body Horror.

When you came to see Cesar, worried about his lack of correspondence, you didn't even consider the alternates as an obstacle. There would be nothing getting in the way of you seeing him. Come hell or high water.

Bursting into the nearly empty house, you called his name over and over in search. Close to sobbing at the stabbing of anxiety every second you went on without knowing of he was okay.

Cesar's voice was low when it called to you, quiet as your name came from the end of the dark hallway.

You sprinted towards him without hesitation, arms swinging ariund his body. Enough to make him stumble and grunt in surprise.

Sobbing into his neck, you whisper, "I'm so happy..."

He was motionless before he cradled you in his arms.

You knew then that he wasn't Cesar.

Not quite anyway.

His voice would distort and shake between his sweet nothings.

His form, while sharing his face, was different depending on the day.

He'd come back smelling like blood.

But he always came back, always spent his time with you. Reciprocating your affections and "sleeping" in your arms, taking the time to run out to get supplies and make sure the house was stocked.

His laugh was the same, his voice was still gentle as it spoke to you.

He cradled you in his arms like you two were the only people in the world.

He still wasn't your Cesar Torres.

Just a monster wearing his skin.

It was nice to pretend.

But one winter night, tucked in the chest of the thing you knew killed the man you loved...

"I know you're not actually him." You whisper, staring at the swirling darkness at the edges of the room.

Still sleepy, even as the being behind you twitched.

"What do you mean?"

He almost sounded... Nervous.

"I know you're an alternate... I've known this whole time, the minute I heard you speak." You were so tired "... Why did you play along? Let me pretend?"

There was silence, oppressive and heavy. Lanky arms, that were much too powerful, curled tighter around your body.

In the whole of your heart, you couldn't call him an it.

His voice was fragmented, others interspersed between his soft tones.

"I was curious."

"Knew humans do a lot for their loved ones."

"Wanted to see why he loved you so much."

"Wanted to experience what it was like to be loved."

There was an extended silence and the whispers quieted.

"Cesar's" voice came, lips pressed to your ear. His voice was quiet, "Do you still love me?"

You peer into the shadows, your eyes welling with tears. Feeling very alone at the prospect of being left, arms like a vice around you. But he's still here.

He hasn't let go.

You would not cave to dying at your own hands.

Not when you seeked out the answer.

He knew that.

You turn.

His eyes were black as the void, dark and deep.

Your fingers curled around his cheek.

"Are you going to leave if I tell you that I do?" Your voice shook, fingers sweeping through his dark hair.

He shut his eyes, seemingly enjoying the feeling. Sighing quietly, though he is not breathing anymore. As there was no need to do it for show now thst you knew.

"No." His lashes were as dark and pretty as his hair having used photos to make sure he was close as he could be. "I don't think I can anymore."

Lips still soft as he kissed you, murmuring against your mouth. "You're mine now dearest lamb... I won't let you be taken by anything else. Other humans... My own kind... No one, not even yourself."

You whimpered against his lips but it's stamped out as he kissed you deeper, pressing you into the mattress.

"You've given... me a taste of love, made me... burn for you." He said in reverence, voice stalling occasionally "... I love you the way he did."

His face twisted a bit above you, stretching the features of the man you adored into frightening proportions. Smile stretched wide across his face.

"Will you still call me Cesar, dearest?... Can you still love me knowing I am not him?"

You peer at him.

Unafraid.

Just seeing this bastardized version of him should have broken you.

Should have driven you MAD, finally ready to run instead into the arms of death to see an afterlife with the real Cesar.

In the end, you fell in love with this creature.

All because he donned your boyfriend's face.

Cesar, the real one, might curse your name until you died and went to hell. For falling for the creature that killed him and wore his skin.

But as you lived and breathed, it was still love.

Your hands wound around his neck and you kissed his grotesque features, peppering his face.

He sunk into your affections like a cat.

You only smile.

"Do you have another name? Or will just petnames suffice?"

His cold, thin fingers stroke away your tears while his face morphed back into familiar territory.

"... Keep calling me Cesar until we'll pick a new name together."

You hummed, gently drawing him back under the covers. Body curling comfortingly around you.

Protective.

Solid.

... In the end, you still get to be with the man you loved more than anything so you were happy.

And now... So was he.

Adventure Falls- The crossover that isn’t really a crossover that nobody asked for (It makes a lot of sense trust- I have a lot of lore for this John trust- I might draw the first chapter out just cuz I can-)

Anyone interested in knowing the story behind this cuz it’s def not what your expecting I assure you-

Gnome Queen Mable AU except it’s wayyyyy more angsty and morbid than you think it might be… Maybe I like to traumatize my favorite characters cuz it makes them feel more real. Even so- There’s a lot of background information to this AU in particular that I can’t be bothered to explain at the moment lol- Teehee

First and final. (jaylos angst)

---

rating: teen and up

warning: major character death, no happy ending

summary: Jay struggling in the aftermath of Carlos's death

first and final. - Chapter 1 - viarcham - Descendants (Disney Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

---

(full work below)

It had never meant to end like this. As Jay stared down at the polished coffin, all he could think was that it wasn't meant to end like this. Not at 19, due to what the doctor had clinically lectured was ‘a sudden spike of abnormal electrical activity in the patient's brain.’ No matter how many times they would explain it to Jay, it would never make sense.

They had made it, away from the Isle: made it over countless miles, a fathomless sea and an impenetrable barrier, ran so far it no longer loomed over them like a death knell.

Jay had always thought that of the four of them, he would cross the final divide first; in his quietest moments, he had entertained childish fantasies of martyring himself in their pursuit of greatness-maybe his still warm corpse languished on the ground, the only thing that had stopped the bullet from driving into his allies’ side. Maybe Mal would declare him her greatest knight, while Evie mercifully drove the blade into his carotids, Carlos’s last desperate kiss bruising Jay’s lips, as Jay let himself sink into the welcoming grasp of oblivion.

Mal hadn't been able to stomach the funeral. Evie had scrubbed furiously at her shining eyes, then swiftly disappeared, her mascara and facade already replaced so perfectly that no outward sign of grief remained.

Jay didn't blame them.

Everyone had already left.

Despite the flood of remembrance cards that taunted Jay from his doorstop, there had been few attending the funeral. The weather had been too pleasant for the occasion, and Jay had watched as the beaming sun lowered and the mourners drifted away. Now, he was the only alive soul remaining. He hadn't been able to leave.

It was too mimetic of the way the world would keep on spinning without Carlos. The world would keep on spinning, and the boy Jay had once been intertwined with would keep on being 19, as time tore them further apart, and soon Jay would be 21, 22, 35, still reeling from the absence of his first ally, his first friend, his first love...his first and final everything, until Carlos was just a wispy shadow of a faint memory, fainter and fainter as time roared on, the ghost that jay knew would always haunt him.

Soon the boy would be nothing more than a tragic footnote in the history of Aurodan. Forgotten. Earlier that morning, Jay had opened his front door to yet another remembrance card. Gaudy saccharine kittens in bows danced along the card edge. It sickened Jay. Inside, it was stuffed with feeble, cloying blandishments that said ultimately nothing but left him even more numb.

Then it referenced ‘the three original Vks’ and Jay had promptly puked. What little breakfast he had kept down splattered all over the card and his front doorstep. Brownish orange. Dimly, as he continued to stand there, helpless, Jay had thought that Carlos would have detested its colour.

The same nausea clawed at his throat now as his eyes bored into the lacquered pine.

The funeral itself had been quiet: the shocked, detached, pall-like kind of silence that clung to its mourners. Jay hadn't been able to stop himself thinking that if Diego wasn't still trapped on the isle, maybe there would at least be a semblance of humanity. Even just a dirge. Anything to acknowledge the gaping hole left.

The coffin wood was cold and smooth and impersonal underneath Jay’s fingers. A flimsy shield.

Jay been able to shield him from gunfights, bullies- heck even Carlos’s own psycho of a mother- but had been passively unaware of that tiny, almost insubstantial electrical signal. Maybe if they had been together, Jay would have noticed something. Anything. Maybe was better than that cold certainty of a corpse.

Over a decade ago, he had pledged everything he was to give Carlos protection. Their splattered blood embodying the oath with a purposeful weight, the knife grip too oversized for younger Jay’s grasping fingers. Carlos’s small grin had electrified him. Jay then had known he would give his life to see it again. He still would now...more than anything. The corners of his mouth were involuntarily tugged up, but it didn't reach his glassy eyes.

All of Jay’s protection was rendered useless in the end.

Just another moment.

Just a bit longer.

If he stayed, he could force the world to mourn for another moment. Jay wouldn't have to face the blistering apathy of this world as his own universe laid, unresponsive and unreachable, inside the casket. Jay let his emotions fracture and engulf him in a suffocating chasm of grief.

It wasn't meant to end like this.

---

(end of work authors notes: Hi. I went to a funeral this week, and decided the best way to process that was to write a fic that hurts descendants characters (and my beta writer, sorry darling <3) I have not seen rise of red yet so may not be totally canon accurate.

Please feel free to point out any grammatical errors I missed, and constructive criticism is will always be appreciated- and even if its just a keyboard smash or emoji or kudos on ao3 :))

5+1 Scott and Alan (Carrying) Part 3

Ao3

Part 1

Part 2

-3-

“Alan!”

Silence.

“Mum!?”

No noise at all.

“Where are you?”

Nothing. Just dreadful white snow everywhere.

Scott never thought his youngest brother would ever be in danger. He was the oldest child, he protected his younger siblings.

That was how it worked, he thought frantically. That’s how it should be.

But Alan, only five years old, was missing along with his mother in the devastating aftermath of the avalanche.

Jeff was frantically looking for Lucille and Alan. John was busy irritating the rescue personnel, trying to tell them exactly how to treat Virgil. Virgil, who had been caught up in the slide downhill but was thankfully found after only two hours, cold and terrified with a broken leg. Scott was on his own. Each and every person along the slope were searching for signs of the fourteen people who’d been caught in the avalanche, but they’d been out here for well over five hours now. The instrument that scanned for life had broken ages ago, the wires inside freezing despite the manufacturing claims. Scott had been trying to ignore it, but the chances they’d find anyone else alive were steadily dwindling.

A distressed cry from behind a snow mound suddenly dragged him out of his thoughts. He sprinted over-

-to see his father hunched over, crying. A stiff, cold form was half-buried in the snow, a smaller form huddled in Jeff’s arms. His knees gave out at the sight, and he dropped beside Jeff. Scott stared at his mother, shock setting in. Her eyes were tight shut, and the life had already faded from her cheeks. Scott knew immediately that she was gone, never to come back to them.

He tore his eyes away to focus on his father. He’d only ever seen his dad cry once when Grandpa Tracy had died. This was the same, yet so much different.

Switching his gaze again to the surrounding snow, Scott blinked back his own tears. He had to be strong. For his dad. For Virgil, john, and Gordon, For his mum, For little Alan, who was still miss-

Scott’s eyes widened as he realised what was in his dad’s arms. Or rather, who. There, huddled into his dad’s chest, clad in the bright blue of his snow jacket, was Alan. His nose and cheeks were red, the skin around it deathly pale, tears and blond hair frozen his face. He didn’t move.

But even as Scott watched, a small puff of warm breath escaped from Alan’s mouth, hanging in the air or a second before dissipating.

He was alive.

Perhaps it was the shock, perhaps he had gone mad, but Scott nearly laughed out loud in relief. The world was cruel enough to take his mother from him, yet kind enough to leave his baby brother. Reaching forwards, Scott gently slid his arms under Alan’s knees and shoulders and lifted the youngest of his family from his unresponsive father, cuddling his brother tight. Alan’s lips were blue. Scott unzipped his own coats and drew then around him, wincing at the stab of frigid air. The little kid would stay warm until the rescue personnel arrived.

With a final glance at his mother and sobbing father, Scott stood and turned away to hide the scene from his youngest brother.

“I got you, Allie,” he whispered, “and I’m not letting go.”

-------

Part 4

wow :))) you really :))) love tearing :))) my heart out :))) don’t you? :)))

No, but this, for real, made me teary eyed. Like, the concept of Kariage being the only one who cared for Katsuki despite there being so many people Katsuki cares about? The way cigarettes/smoke, the color black, sneaking out reminded Katsuki of his sweetheart? How Katsuki never had win with Kariage, because he was already so good, so perfect in the eyes of his boyfriend? Catch me crying in the club, this shit hurts.

BAKUGOU HEADCANON 27

[ original content, do NOT steal, i will write this ]

Kariage dies from lung cancer due to his smoking habits during Bakugou’s 2nd year and fuck, Bakugou knew this was coming, knew that it’ll be sooner that later but he still can’t wrap his mind around loosing one of the people that cared about him. (Bakugou cares about a lot of people, though they seldom care about him too).

Sometimes when he sees a cigarette bud on the street, he can’t help think about how they’re the reason he lost the one person in his life he truly loved. When he smells smoke, they bring tears in his eyes and his throat instantly gets tight because it smells so much like Kariage, it’s like he’s there beside him again. But that’s just it right? That smoke is the reason he’s gone. Funny how that works.

He can’t bring himself to wear the color black anymore because it reminded him of their high school sweetheart days and suddenly he feels numb, feels nothing because the love of his life isn’t there to watch him grow as a hero and as a person (like Kariage said he would). Can’t bring himself to sneak out of U.A. no matter how much he wants to because that used to be their secret thing. When he becomes number one hero, sure he’s proud he’s made it, he worked and bled for this. But the one person that supported him since day one wasn’t there to watch the stars with him until sunrise that night. He thought the day he’ll reach number one will be the best day of his life, but it’s not. Not without him, the only person that mattered. He realizes after everything that his greatest goal in life wasn’t victory, because he was already a winner with Kariage. 

And now he isn’t.

[ original content, do NOT steal, i will write this ]

yA KNOW what?

*unFrequencys your hertz*

Now ya dead, ye welcome

𝘜𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 

Tw: drugs, fighting, messy relationship, injuries, car wreck, break up, death, Gojo crashes out, hurt/no comfort, insecurities. Gojo x retiredSorcerer!reader

It had been a long day. A very, very, fucking long day. For the both of you. Gojo had been running around all day fucking up some curses and being ordered around like a dog by the elders, whereas you've been dealing with people.

You'd been retired as a sorcerer for a little bit now, mainly because of a severe hip injury that makes it hard for you to be able to do sorcerer things. So you got a job at a bakery to keep yourself busy and also contribute to your and Gojo's bills, while it's not much, it's something.

It was so fucking busy. I mean there was a line around the fucking block just for a god damn muffin.

You'd gotten into a screaming match with your coworker, then some fuckass customers. And your whole day was like that. A 12 hour shift. Spent serving ungrateful assholes.

So you were ready to come home and just decompress. You were hoping to rant and smoke a joint before your boyfriend got home. You never did tell Gojo about it, he always got too concerned for your lungs.

When you finally got home, your boyfriend was already there. He was sat at the kitchen table drinking water and scrolling on his phone.

So with a sigh, you put your keys down, "hey baby, how was your day?" You murmur, looking over at him.

"Great, yours?" Gojo looked up finally, he was pretty tired looking but you had you face in the freezer.

"Let me tell you," and here came the decompressing rant.

You started with how busy it was, followed by all the shitty customers and went into detail.

However, you hadn't noticed how long you'd been talking. You just kinda let your mind lose. But it wasn't until you finally got out of the fridge did Gojo speak up.

"Ok, fuck- stop talking! Can you shut the fuck up? I mean damn! I didn't ask for all that! Just say good and move on!" He yelled, loud enough to have you jump back a little. He glared at you for a long moment before getting up and going to the bedroom.

You just kind of stood there in shock. I mean, what else could you do? Even tho your feelings were hurting like a motherfucker, you opened y'all's bedroom door, "baby? You oka-"

"No! Damn! Get the fuck out! You're not even a sorcerer anymore! All you do is work at some shop! It's not that hard! All you do is bitch and complain. I get it that you wanna be useful but you can't. You fucked up YOUR knee and now you're useless! That's your fucking problem!" He was actually screaming at you. The veins in his forehead were popping out and his face was red and everything.

You just stared at him before stepping into the room and reaching into your panty drawer to pull a box. You just silently walked out of the room, grabbed your car keys and your wallet before leaving the house. And you slammed the door behind you, and I mean you slammed that shit so hard that picture frames fell off the walls and shattered.

You got in your car, and you left.

Gojo looked at where you stood, before his head snapped up when the door slammed. "Y/n-" the sound of glass shattering had him walking into the living room. First he noticed the mess, then the sound of the car skidding out of the drive way.

Groaning, he sat on the couch, hands covering his face. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He murmured, his hands balling up in his hair.

He felt like a piece of shit. He just screamed the most unacceptable shit to his girlfriend. For just trying to tell him about her day.

The more he thought about it the heavier the guilt felt until his chest was aching. Looking at his phone, he went to Life360, only to see you weren't in the circle anymore. He couldn't see your location.

So he immediately tried to call you. No answer. He tried to text you, it went green. You'd blocked him.

"Shit..." he leaned back in the couch and sighed. His gaze moving towards the broken glass on the floor. He could at least clean up...

And he did just that. It took a little while to clean the floor, then get the pictures in new frames and while he was at it he did the cleaning chores. By the time he was done it was 9pm. You'd left at 7pm. And still weren't home. 

But without your location, and him yawning every five seconds, he just decided to give you space and lay down. The second he laid down he passed the fuck out.

You didn't come home till late. I mean late late. Like around 2am. You'd parked all wonky and shit in the driveway, and wobbled right back up inside. Your eyes were red as fuck, barely open as you opened the door to your porch before closing it. Sitting down on one of rocking chairs, you just stared out at the sky. Your face was red from crying, puffy with tear streaks running down your face.

You were hurting. You didn't know Gojo thought that poorly of you. And to call you useless? Wow. It was already hard enough going from a high grade sorcerer to basically a cripple.

Sighing, you just rested your head on the back of the rocking hair and closed your eyes. The weed already had you sleepy as fuck, so it was easy to just drift off.

Waking up in the morning was rough. You had slept in a bad position, and the metal plate in your help, along with the arthritis had flared up. Groaning, you slowly stood up, your teeth clenching as you didn't put any weight on your bad hip.

Slowly, you walked inside, grunting and grumbling quietly as you hobbled into the living room, then into the bedroom. You expected Gojo to be gone already, or at least not in the house. But no, he was just waking up.

Glaring at him, you scoffed before grabbing a towel and some clothes, and the essentials from the shared bathroom, just to hobble into the guest bathroom. And you made sure to lock that door behind you to.

And that proved to be a good decision, because as you got naked, the white haired fucker himself knocked on the door.

"Pretty? I need to talk to yo-" he tried to open the door but it was locked. Something he was not used to at all. Usually yall would shower together, or at the very least have the door wide open. The door being locked had his throat tightening, he wanted to break the fucking door so he could get to you, especially when you he heard you grunt as you got into the shower.

"Is your hip hurting you?" He asked softly through the door, his heart breaking when he heard you grab the wall with a thud. Yeah. He knew it was probably flaring up. "Let me in so I can help y-"

"I don't need your fucking help! I'm not a goddamn vegetable and I'm not that fucking useless so just fuck the hell off!" You yelled, your voice strained. You'd never snapped at him like that. But of course he'd never screamed at you like he did yesterday either.

Gojo stared at the door, his jaw clenching as he tried the doorknob one more time. "...I'll be waiting in the bedroom when you get done." He mumbled before walking back to the bedroom.

Regardless of what you'd said, you did need help. You couldn't even bend over. And it had you crying out of frustration.

You were the shower for a long time. And when you got out, you only stared at your body. You used to have some insanely strong thighs, but they'd lost the muscle and just looked pudgy and soft. Your toned torso became the same, soft to the touch.

And all while Gojo's words from yesterday repeated in your head over and over again.

The shower was a struggle, sure, but it was harder to get your underwear and shorts on. But when you were done, you finally left the bathroom. Having to use the wall for support.

Going into the bedroom, you ignored Gojo and opened your bedside drawer so you could get some pain killers. Taking three too many, you dry swallowed them.

"Y/n that is way too many! Let me at least get you some water, I mean you know what the doctor sai-" Gojo tried to help you, but you just wouldn't accept it.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your problem." You sent him a sharp glare then hobbled your way back into the living room.

"No- no. Y/n— listen, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things at all, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it." Gojo tried to reach for you, but you slapped his hands away.

"Then why would you fucking say that to me? Calling me useless? Just because your the worlds strongest or whatever bullshit the elders tell you doesn't mean you get to talk like that!" You snapped at him again, jamming your finger into his just hard enough to make him back up. "And if I was such a burden to you, then why the fuck would you date me?!" You were yelling now.

"No- baby, you're not useless, at all. You're stronger than me- so much so. Please, it had just been a long day yesterday and I just... got overwhelmed." He grabbed your hand and held it in his, his brows furrowed as he pleaded with you.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, Gojo, you will never, EVER, talk to like that." Glaring at him you snatched your hand away from him, "don't fucking touch me." You left him standing there, lips parted and the most pathetic look on his face.

You had been together for a year and a half now, and never had you ever spoken to him like that, and he never to you.

But it seemed like he was just digging a deeper grave for himself. He knew you were angry, upset and hurting but he didn't want to be on the receiving end of your anger and hurt. Even if he was the one that caused it.

Watching you have to hold onto the wall for support, face contorted into pain every time you put weight on your bad leg, his chest got tighter and his heart ached.

The entire day continued on like that. Him trying to talk to you, but you just kept pushing him away. He knew he deserved it, but he was so ready to be done with this argument. 

It wasn't until your stubbornness caused you to slip and fall did he finally put his foot down.

You'd tried to walk to the bathroom, but had slipped on the rug. The air knocked out of you as you forced yourself to sit up. The pain in your hip intensified. You wanted to cut it off.

Forcing yourself to breath, a cry slipped through your lips and Gojo came running.

Gently lifting you up, he moved you over to the couch. His eyes worried and his brows furrowed, "Enough is enough- you can't keep trying to do this on your own. You should have told me your hip was flaring up last night instead of just storming off."

You stared at the ground, before finally speaking up, "let's break up."

"What?" Gojo laughed as if you were joking, before his face turned sour. "I'm sorry, what'd you say? I misheard you." He was hoping he heard you wrong.

"Let's break up." You repeated it, same tone and everything. "Yesterday made me realize how wrong we are for each other. How wrong we've always been."

"No- no. Baby, yesterday was all my fault- i-i had just gotten frustrated and I took it out on you, I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things," Gojo was crouched in front of you now, his eyes desperate as he tried to get you to look him in the eye. "We're perfect for each other, pretty."

"But we're not. My life as a sorcerer is over. I can hardly function. You're hardly ever home, and when you are, you're exhausted. You're not happy with me, hell I don't even think you're attracted to me anymore. When's the last time we've done anything? It's been months." You just stared at him, tears rolling down your face slowly.

Gojo's heart was breaking into a billion pieces with every word you spoke. "No, no no. I'll take time off- I'll- I'll quit! I'll do anything- just don't do this to us! I'm still attracted to you! I am! I've just been really tired!"

"No you're not. I look nothing like I used to. I can't workout anymore, I've lost muscle and now my body is all pudgy and gross- and you still look amazing. I've seen the way your eyes linger on other women, you never had wandering eyes when I was a sorcerer." Your jaw clenched and bottom lips quivering, you looked away from him. "I mean- you even called me useless, and you're right."

"No! I wasn't right! About anything! Baby please- I'm an idiot! I just said shit without thinking!" Gojo was begging at this point. His knuckles white as he held onto the couch cushion.

"We'd never be able to get married, have kids, grow old with each other or even die in battle with one another." You wiped your face, having to take stuttering breaths to keep calm, "By the time we're 40 you'd hate me. I'm literally dead weight."

Gojo's eyes began to tear up and he just shook his head over and over, "no your wrong. We would grow old together and it's ok we can't have kids! I'm ok with that- baby all I want is you."

"You haven't wanted me in a long time Gojo. Hell even the dogs that people get then regret later get more love than you've shown me in months." You lightly pushed him away, "So let's break up. You don't love me anymore- that's why you felt so ok with screaming at me not once but twice. People who love one another don't do that."

"But I do love you! I love you with all my heart! I'll quit being a sorcerer- we can move away from here, I have more than enough money for the both of us to retire to some far away island!" Gojo grabbed your hands in a tight grip, his face pathetic as he cried and begged. He loved you, he honestly did. He'd just... let himself forget what he had.

"I'll come get my stuff in a few days." You murmured before forcing yourself to stand up. You managed to grab your keys and limp your way out the door. Leaving Gojo sitting there on the floor, staring at where you once sat.

He didn't hear from you for a few days. In fact, he didn't hear from you at all. Because two days later, he got a call from the nearby emergency center.

"Hello?" Gojo's voice was rough. He'd been crying and hadn't left the house since you left. He was an absolute mess.

"Hi, is this Mr. Gojo?" A woman's voice on the other line spoke.

"Yes."

"Sir, we've called to inform you that Y/n L/n has been in accident." Her voice was dry, she'd made these calls so many times, the empathy had drained from her.

"What? Is she ok? What happened?!" Immediately he was panicking. He was standing right away and rushed to grab his keys.

"She got in a car accident near Vaughn road. She was rushed to the emergency room and is now in intensive care here at the hospital."

His breath caught in his throat, his mouth went dry and his heart felt like it stopped. "I-in-intensive care?" He murmured.

"Yes sir, they are keeping on one of the ventilators for now. You're her emergency contact."

"I'm on my way." Gojo didn't bother to wait for her answer, he didn't rush to throw on better clothes than grey sweats and a hoodie. He was running out the door.

Breaking several traffic laws, he was finally at the hospital. Rushing in, he was at the counter and demanding to see you in no time. "Where is she?!"

"Who? Did you must calm down." The receptionist stood up, trying to get him to lower his voice.

"Y/b l/n! Where is she?! How is she?!" Gojo watched with wide eyes as the woman got quiet.

Slowly, she grabbed the phone and called a doctor up to the front desk. Where he was then escorted to a private room.

"Are you Gojo Satoru? The patients boyfriend?" The doctor asked.

"Yes yes, now how is she?! I need to see her!" He demanded, slamming his fist down on the table.

The doctor sighed quietly, "Sir, I'm so sorry, we did everything we could but," the doctor took a breath before continuing, "the internal bleeding was severe. She passed during surgery."

Gojo just stared at him. His ears ringing and his heart beat so loud he could hardly hear what he was saying. His whole world was crashing down on him all at once. "She's- she's dead?"

"Yes sir, I'm so sorry for your loss. We did everything we could. I'll give you the room." The doctor glanced at Gojo before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Gojo just fell back into a chair and held his head in hands. "This isn't real... this isn't real, this isn't FUCKING REAL." He immediately got his phone and began calling her number. Over and over and over again. Tears pouring down his face, his knees bouncing fast enough to cause the carpet to tear.

Slowly, reality began to settle in and he crumbled under its pressure. Sobbing into his hands, he wailed. Crying over and over again "my girl, not my girl" or "no no no".

It was heartbreaking to hear as people passed the room on the outside.

Even weeks after you'd been buried, he couldn't function. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. He couldn't do anything. He was utterly useless, like he'd said to you the last night he had with you.

The words he said to you haunted him. The way you were in pain on your last days because of your hip, because of him.

He didn't even get to hold you. He didn't even get to see your face. They had to have to a closed casket funeral. The wreck you'd gotten into was with a drunk driver, it was a head on collision and your body was mangled.

Everyday, he sat at your grave. Crying, talking or just staring at your headstone.

Weeks, months, and years later, Gojo had been rendered useless without you. He was miserable with having you to hold onto at night or to talk to in the mornings. He missed every single thing about you. He missed the way you'd laugh at his shitty jokes, or how you'd scold him if he got drunk or ate too many sweets. He even missed how you'd try to ignore him but cave in when he'd hug you from behind and press sweet kisses from your neck. He missed how you'd look at him with those adoring eyes.

And he regretted how your last days were spent. He regretted how he let you get a job even tho you were in no state to get one. He regretted how he spoke to you, or let you feel insecure. He regretted his wandering eyes and his wishes that you were normal. He regretted everything he never got to do with you, or how little time he had spent with you.

He loved you more than anything. And without you, he was just as useless.

𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝

Ok guys hope you liked it. Kinda feeling like shit rn so I’m gonna get high asf ok? Ok. Love yall.

Women I’m so terribly in love with.

 Jessica Lucas

2. Emmanuelle Beart 

3. Emeraude Toubia

It was a hit and run type thing, her apartment had been broken into.  But, as criminals go, once you become one the police don’t particularly like to help.  Alara gave a broken, raspy cough.  Panicking would do her no good now.  She wasn’t afraid of death, almost welcoming it.  But she didn’t want to leave him alone to clean up her mess.

“What kinda problem exactly?”  He sat up, swinging his legs off of the bed and rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Normally he wouldn’t be quite so concerned about why she was calling at whatever godforsaken hour this was, but this time... this time something was different.

Her breathing grew shallower, and she bit her lip trying to hold back a whine of pain before completely breaking down in sobs, curling around herself.  She pulled her hand away from her stomach and watched the drops of blood fall off of her fingers onto the floor.

“Alara?”  His voice was sharp, all of the warning lights going off at once.  “Alara what’s going on?”  He flicked the light on, wincing at the brightness as he began the search for his jacket. 

“Something happened...”

“I know that already.”  He growled.  “So help me tell me what’s wrong.”

“Someone broke into my apartment.”

He stopped dead in his tracks for one split second, before shaking himself out of it.  She lived only a mile or two away, it would be alright.  

“Are you hurt?”  He asked carefully.

She hesitated in her answer.

“Y-you’re... Evan you’re not going to make it in time.”  Her voice was soft, soothing.  As if it would help.  

Writing Prompt #124

A sat crying, finger hovering shakily over the call button. B would be asleep, and they didn’t want to wake them- they were a bad enough morning person as it was. But they needed help, and desperately. They didn’t think they had much time left.

The phone rang for a while, the tone echoing throughout the stone walls of the room they were in, before B’s croaky voice answered.

“What sorta time do you call this?”

“Hey, B…” A said, their voice small, “I’m sorry to wake you up… I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important…”

“It’s… it’s okay,” B replied groggily, “what’s up?”

“I have a slight problem…” said A, “I’m uh… in a little bit of trouble-”

“Oh…? That doesn’t sound good.”

“No…” A sobbed, looking down at the blood beginning to seep through their shirt. “It’s really not.”

What is with this season of bad batch with new characters being introduced just to meet a brutal end only a few moments later?! First Wilco and now Tao?!

You could barely see a thing. Newsies boys throwing punches and scabs swepping legs. Right now, it was war. Race was entagled in another big looking scab who definitely had too much of an ego, if anything by the way his smirk grew with every punch he landed. He pushed Race backward, scraping his back on the top of the building. He recovered by kicking him in the balls, obviously. As the scab fell down with a grunt, making no move to hop back up, Race frantically looked around for other newsies to help.

Mush and Blink were killing everyone in sight (mostly Blink), Davey was holding his own with some assistance from Jack, and Finch and Albert were gathering all the young Brooklyn Newsies and driving them away, but it looked like Romeo was in trouble. He was backed into a wall and Race's heart dropped when he caught sight of a flash of metal coming from the scabs hand. Immediately pushing of the ground, Race ran over and stepped in from of Albert, before kicking him the chest, sending him flying a few feet away. A second later, a Brooklyn newsies he didnt recognize came swinging in with a baseball bat, connecting with the scabs head. All three of them connected eyes as the Brooklyn newsies let out a breath of air, and Albert gave a twisted grin. Race himself copying Albert, he lifts his head high looking for another fight.

He partly wished they hadn't come, but there was no chance they wouldn't have. After all, if you get word that all the scabs in and near Brooklyn were going to jump the Brooklyn boys, even with Brooklyn's reputation, they needed all the help they could get. Thankfully they arrived early, and by now, it looked like they were going to win by the second. Now all Race needs to do is-

BANG.

Everything went silent. Everyone stopped moving. Soft breaths of air was the only thing Race heard, besides the ringing in his ears. It can't be. Almost everyone had a weapon, but- that sounded way too similar to a gun.

Race whipped his head around and saw one of the scabs. The boy was facing outwards with his arm stretched out, his knuckles white, holding- a gun. He was smaller, and had less muscle than the other scabs did, but his teeth were clenched in a scowl, and you could see the anger and fear in his eyes, if you couldn't tell by the shaking of his body.

Race slowly followed the trail where the bullet wouldv'e traveled and his eyes landed on a boy standing near the ledge.

A short boy. A boy with a big temper and ego. A boy with calm, dirty blonde hair, who like to grease it in the mornings, and often yelled whenever anyone were to touch it. A boy with a pimp cane that he wore at his side, that was now broken and scattered across the roof. A boy that had a stern look but a soft smile. A boy that was clutching his shoulder with blood spilling through his fingers. A boy that had the temper of a mad man, but would never get mad at Race, no matter how much Race tried to annoy or irritate him. A boy that Race loved. A boy who closed his eyes for the last time and fell off the roof.