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#cw: death blood grief

scatterbrainedbot · 5 months

Note

Hello :D

You're so cool

Anyway have you thought that in your rat sons au Splinter might outlive the boys?

You're very cool :D love your stuff dude

(tw for some blood, light gore, implied overdose (kinda??))

hi copper!!! this is a fantastic question!

so obviously typical irl rats have far shorter lifespans than the average irl tortoise. according to google (yes, be awed by my spectacularly in-depth wealth of research) the average pet rat lives between 2-4 years ish, and the oldest on record lived to be about 7. meanwhile, an African spurred tortoise (Splinter's species) averages more around a 50ish year lifespan in captivity, tho is suspected to possibly exceed 75 or more in the wild.

Now, the mutation does give us a lot of wiggle room for playing with these numbers. For the rat sons boys, id say their natural lifespan probably clocks in at about 45-55 years old? definitely not old by human standards, but not young young either. (though, its also important to note that the boys were exposed to the mutagen just days after being born.)

For Splinter, meanwhile, aging is slightly more complicated. He lived the vast majority of his life as a regular normal African spurred tortoise (well, non-mutated at least. there were perhaps some shenanigans of a more mystical variety going on before he was mutated, but thats a separate matter) He was about 70ish i think? when the boys were born and they were all exposed to the mutagen. so he is already distinctly an old man turtle papa. id guess he'd probably still have another eh lets say 25-30 years after his mutation. he could probably push it a little farther even with some mystic nonsense, but when push comes to shove id say his 'natural' post-mutation lifespan would put his death like a solid decade or two before his sons.

of course, the tricky part of the matter is that theres no way for Splinter to know any of this. theres no way for him to know how the mutation affected them all, or if it even affected them all in the same way. especially since the boys dont show many physical signs of mutation for the first few years, and just kinda look like normal rats, (albeit with a more human sort of intelligence) — what sort of health standard do you hold them to? what if they simply dont show external signs of sickness or old age anymore? how do you actually know if something is wrong?

for a while there Splinter is very worried that one of his babies will just essentially reach the end of their normal rat lifespan, fall and not get up again.

so mostly, he just tries to live in the moment, enjoying whatever time he does have with his little ones, taking each day as a gift <3

still,

that fear

never

really

goes

away.....

#cue the 2003 tmnt dramatic Shredder sound effect TM #my art #rat sons #tmnt au #ask reply #TOOK ME A FULL MONTH TO ANSWER AND IM STILL NOT SUPER PLEASED WITH THE RESULTS BUT #also apologies if shits incohierent im v sick rn #but thank you so much for the question copper!!#a parents grief and terror at the thought of outliving their children #always gets me #and boy howdy these rat babies do Not make that shit easy for ol Splinter #all of them have brushed too close to death too many times #tbh thats probably why he started teaching them ninjutsu etc #like yeah yeah discpline and routine and practice all excellent lessons #but also #yall squishy babies and ur father is Stressed please learn to fight good so its one less thing he has to worry about #sorry splints theyre hamatos now theyre destined for danger #cw blood #cw gore

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sznofthesticks · 30 days

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thanks for the tags @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @nancygillianmvp @terramous you’re all queued 🧡

He slowly stood up from the flimsy plastic chair and left the room. He took the five flights of stairs to avoid the crowds of people leaving the meeting, when in actuality there were only about six of them. He couldn't face them, even if they were strangers. He walked out to his car and slumped into the driver’s seat and let out a guttural sob.

Everywhere he went, he saw his dad. He saw him at the grocery store. He saw him at the dinner table when he visited his mother. He saw him on the street. He saw him at the farmer’s market. He even saw his blood in the entryway of their house, even though that had to be impossible right? They replaced the floorboards. He was losing it, he thought to himself as the burning tears ran down his cheeks.

He looked down at his hands, which were turning stark white from gripping the steering wheel with immense force, stopping at the reflection of light on his ring. TK. That’s why he’s doing this, and he’s all he wants right now. He should have let him come. He hated being alone right now.

He started the car and made the drive home that felt agonizingly long.

no pressure tagging: @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @reyesstrand @literateowl @chicgeekgirl89 @alidravana

@lemonlyman-dotcom @kiwichaeng @strandnreyes @safeaswrites @zitasempri

@honeybee-taskforce @bonheur-cafe @welcometololaland @alrightbuckaroo @whatsintheboxmh

@herefortarlos @my-little-tilly @fallout-mars @carlos-tk @jeysbvck

@sugdenlovesdingle

@firstprince-history-huh @your-catfish-friend @vineofroses @mikibwrites @paperstorm

@lightningboltreader @ladytessa74 @sanjuwrites @thisbuildinghasfeelings and open tag :)

#wip wednesday #carlos reyes #911 lone star #my writing #cw grief #cw death #cw blood

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galehive · 4 months

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this is one of my favorite short films and the kind of content aware scale thing that they do with her face in this moment is just. obscenely, grievously effective to me

#vewn #twins in paradise #cw blood #cw overdose #cw death #cw grief

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stickynotelovers-art · 1 year

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My brain thinking of the boys ever having to explain why Cass isn't coming home from a mission (my angst brain won't leave me in peace ;-;)

LISTEN.

I am planning to make angst, but I don't have it ready yet and then you throw this my way? I started drawing almost immediately with a vague idea of a scenario and it escalated very quickly!

I actually hurt my own feelings with this, but first I want share my brain's process on trying to figure this out.

First off I had to think of who's alive/dead in this concept and Casey Jr.'s age range.

Raph is dead

Donnie is alive

Casey Jr. is old enough to remember his mom

Next, and what has a bigger impact, is Cassandra's mindset. They're all trying to survive the apocalypse and unfortunately that means a lot of unavoidable death.

Cassandra, while a being of chaos all on her own, is also extremely practical in her way of thinking. She could of easily taken over the world with her brownie business if she decided she had wanted to spend the rest of her life doing that.

Therefore, she would very openly make sure her son is aware of what type of world they live in. Death is an inevitable thing that she doesn't shy away from making certain Casey Jr. understands this.

I'm thinking that Cassandra is probably Casey's first real experience with the death of someone close. I know in my little nerdy heart that Cassandra made Leo, as designated surrogate Dad (decreed by baby Casey), promise he would not sugarcoat telling her son that she died and she would do the same for Leo.

Now, on to the actual scenario. I will say that I don't know how she died just that Leo discovers her and tries to save her.

WARNINGS FOR BLOOD AND EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #cw: death #cw: grief #cw: blood #my art #rottmnt comic #all the emotions #rottmnt movie spoilers #rottmnt leo #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donatello #fanart #cartoon #nickelodeon

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eliklin · 12 days

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♡La Fleur qui Sanguine♡

(Original)

Hiii! Im new here hehe, hope you'll like my short story!!

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, kidnapping and dark romance

A love of lost and found of a boy who never knew where he was bound,

For all his life, he had been alone, No warmth or love to call his own.

But then he met a boy,

so fair and bright, He admired the boy for who he was,

instantly,

his heart took flight, as he fell deeply in the pit of his heart, His heart beat for him,

a love so pure and joy.

like a light in the darkness, filling his hollow soul with feelings unmentionable.

But sadly, his love was not returned,

For the boy's heart beat for someone else, So his heart only broke,

like glass that shattered and burned.

In a rage of passion, he stole the one he held dear, a captive in a cage of gold, but a cage nonetheless.

And though his love was sincere, the light he once held,

it was gone like a withered flower, and he was left in the darkness, with nothing left to hold.

For the boy he loved was only a corpse, Locked in a cage,

with no escape,

His legs in defeat and his heart didn't beat,

For in a pool of blood, he lay in defeat.

But his love still soared,

a bird of fire, a flame of desire, and so he was content,

in the cage of his heart's desire.

For in the end,

all he had left was the memory of his love,

all that was left was a sorrow's lament,

locked in the cage that he built,

he slept eternally adorned with lily's throne.....

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ash-isnt-writing · 2 months

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<#> Untimely Demise <#>

Character(s) used/Mentioned: Christian Ramirez

Author’s note: the boi!! i might make this a series if people like it. idk. not that anyone reads this stuff.

STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY. I WILL TRY TO TAG EVERYTHING THAT I CAN IN TERMS OF CONTENT WARNINGS. I DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR IGNORANCE OF THIS WARNING.

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Christian remembered it like it was yesterday. The way he’d felt when he’d been handed his scythe for the first time, when he was 19, feeling so uncertain after signing himself away for a job he wasn’t even fucking sure he wanted to uptake.

He wished he could go back. He wished he’d known how to say no, back then. The things he saw, every single day. The blood. The grief. The tears. No amount of money was worth the sheer trauma this job produced for someone so young.

It wasn’t easy, guiding souls through the Midnight. The shit that resided in there… it was what made most reapers quit, in the past. He wasn’t even sure if there were any other reapers left aside from himself. Not that he wanted to talk to any of them anyway.

The hardest was the walk to Limbo. All those children…. God. It hurt.

He found, though, that old age was the easiest deaths to handle. It sounded a little morbid, of course, but it was the truth. There was no struggle, no denial of death. He didn’t have to get cursed out, or insulted. If anything, they always seemed blissfully peaceful.

They also always had the best stories to tell. It made the Midnight more bearable. All of the souls that got tricked and bought out were stored there. Having a distraction made it easier to ignore, and in turn, easier to navigate.

Sometimes he wished, though, that he could save those souls. Return them to their rightful hosts. But he couldn’t. Not with the Guardians watching.

He couldn’t risk one of them telling his father. Even though he knew they would probably agree… he wasn’t a gambling man.

He was drawn from his thoughts and back into reality at a hand on his shoulder, looking up to meet the eyes of a concerned passerby.

“Hey,” they said, “are you alright? You’ve just sort of been sitting there for a while now.”

“Ah.. yeah, i’m fine” He responded with a meek smile. He’d gotten so lost in memory he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t down there anymore. Although he didn’t doubt that if he were to return it would be no different. “Thank you, though. Just get lost in thought sometimes, y’know?”

“Oh, all too well” They chuckled. “Anyway, i’m in kind of a hurry, i’ve gotta go. Hope you have a good day, though!”

Chris nodded as they walked away, letting out a heavy sigh. He always forgot his scythe was cloaked. He swore some people could almost see through it, sometimes.

Picking up the heavy, bladed staff, he got to his feet, and continued on his way. He was gonna be late, at this rate.

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#oc #christian ramirez #cw death mention #cw blades #<- ?#cw blood mention #cw grief #cw cursing

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theferricfox · 2 years

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[[A/N: it's another fic inspired by a convo on Discord: Levi dies AU. Full on angst; there's no happiness here.

Content warnings: death, blood, grief, alcohol consumption

ME WITHOUT YOU

Erwin stood in a small huddle of soldiers, overlooking maps. Based on the speed they’d been traveling for the last few hours and, given the relatively few Titan spottings since leaving the Walls, they were on track to make their target; a small grouping of tall trees as yet unexplored and uncharted, by mid-afternoon. It was good news. If they could map out the size of that forest, seen only from a distance on previous expeditions, it could potentially give them a huge advantage. A whisper in the back of Erwin’s mind told him that he was getting closer to the truth with this small step.

He was so engrossed in the conversation and planning that he only hardly registered that Levi hadn’t joined the group yet. He knew that there had been a Titan sighting in that area of the formation; it was entirely possible that his squad was still working on eliminating the threat.

Route decided and everyone in agreement, the huddle broke and Erwin ordered a halt until the remaining soldiers could be accounted for.

He walked to his horse and took a sip from his canteen. Something in his chest felt off. Levi should be back by now, shouldn’t he? Surely his squad wouldn’t take so long to dispatch a few Titans, even if abnormals had been among them. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud call and the thundering of horse hoofs.

“Commander!” came the shout, and he turned to see Gunther racing towards him. “It’s Captain Levi, Sir!”

Erwin was on his horse in seconds, ordering Hange to keep everyone in place until his return. He followed Gunther back the way he came.

“I’m sorry, Sir!” Gunther called as the wind whipped their faces. “The Captain’s wire got grabbed mid-flight by an abnormal. It slammed him into the ground. He’s got a really bad head wound and probably internal bleeding. He keeps asking for you, Sir.”

Erwin tried not to let the fear that was threatening to liquefy his heart show on his face. In his head, he begged his horse to gain just a little more speed.

“Are medics on site already?” he asked, hoping that the trembling in his voice could be attributed to the pace of their riding.

“Yes, Sir.” Gunther leveled a grave look in his direction, which Erwin did his best not to look directly into. “They don’t think he’ll make it.”

Erwin didn’t respond. He grit his teeth as he spotted a cluster of people and horses slide into view in front of him and he urged his horse onward. Just a little faster.

Coming up on the cluster of people, Erwin could see Levi’s squad standing together, in various stages of hugging each other and holding back tears. Miche loomed over the medics, who knelt on the ground around a crumpled body. He could already tell there was too much blood.

His horse had barely trotted to a stop before Erwin leapt off and jogged the rest of the way. Miche turned to him, a deep frown on his face. He placed a hand on Erwin’s shoulder, halting him for the barest of moments.

“We took down the abnormal. Levi was the only one it got.”

Erwin fixed him with a stare that he knew betrayed his fear. He couldn’t hide it anyway, not from his best friend.

“He doesn’t have long, Erwin. I’ll get people out of the way, leave you two to it.”

Erwin managed a whispered ‘thanks’ before breaking through the group of medics and kneeling by Levi’s broken form. He held out his arms and the medic holding the man passed him over, their entire lower body soaked red when they pulled away. Erwin distantly heard Miche order everyone to form a perimeter around the area and give some space.

Erwin could hardly breathe as he stared down at Levi. It was clear that he had suffered a skull fracture, and blood coated his face. Every quivering breath that Levi took caused a sickening crunch of shattered bones that Erwin felt under his fingertips. His mouth hung open, teeth crimson, wheezing bubbles gurgling past his lips. Blood freely flowed from his nose. Erwin felt nauseated, the sting of loss already seizing his heart as he bent down to whisper to the man dying in his arms.

“Levi?” He was afraid of saying it too loud, as though death would hear him and snatch him away more quickly.

“E-er-e-” came the reply as Levi struggled for air.

“Ssshh,” Erwin stroked a hand through sticky hair. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I-I’m sssso-sorry,” Levi gasped. His chest heaved and ragged coughs tore through him, spraying blood on Erwin’s chest.

“Don’t try to talk,” Erwin urged. His free hand moved from Levi’s hair to grab a limp hand laying in the grass. “Just stay with me a little longer, okay?”

Erwin squeezed the hand he had wrapped in his own, but he didn’t feel a response. Levi fixed him with a stare, drifting as the light fell from them. Erwin though he saw tears mix into the blood on the man’s face. Levi’s mouth moved without sound, and with a final cough, he was gone.

***

Levi’s funeral was meant to be small and private, but the news of the death of Humanity’s Strongest drew people from the smallest villages all the way to the capitol to observe the procession and service. Newspapers throughout the cities questioned how much hope Humanity had of regaining territory if even Captain Levi could not avoid death at the hands of Titans.

Some argued that Erwin should resign, saying that it was the recklessness of the Long Distance Scouting Formation that killed a man who could otherwise have been protected by others had the ranks been tighter. Dozens of soldiers transferred to the Garrison or left the military altogether. The Special Operations Squad was handed over to Miche, who initially offered them a leave of absence but ultimately, per their insistence, drilled them harder than they had in months on the training grounds. The whole squad seemed determined to sweat away their grief.

Erwin stayed in his office for days after the funeral. Officially, he was signing death notices, coordinating with squad leaders to deliver said notices, and reading and writing reports from the expedition. Unofficially, he was drinking a half bottle of scotch every night. He struggled to fall asleep at night and struggled to find the will to wake up in the morning.

Miche brought him food, but it wasn’t until his normally quiet friend scolded him for ignoring his last three meals that he ate anything. Even then, it was a struggle to keep it down. Miche asked him one morning, as he supervised Erwin eating breakfast and drinking a cup of coffee, if he wanted to talk about Levi’s death. The only reply he received was the slamming of the bathroom door and the sound of retching.

Erwin lost count of how many days he’d been in his office. Something in the back of his mind said it was two weeks, but the concept of time had been lost to him. He sat at the window, staring out over the training grounds. The Special Operations Squad was training again, and Ouro skidded to a stop in the grass and sank to his knees. It was quick to see he was crying. He was followed quickly by Petra and then Eld and Gunther, the four of them huddled together. Erwin couldn’t hear their wails, but the shaking of their bodies told him enough. He finished his third glass of scotch for the day.

A knock brought him hazily back into his office and he grunted to allow entry. Hange carefully opened the door and peered in. They quickly entered and shut the door behind them. Hange crossed the distance to where Erwin sat and looked at the emptied glass in his hand. They snatched the glass and the bottle of scotch and opened the window and tossed them out. Erwin could only watch with a distant apathy that he couldn’t connect between the front and back of his mind. A glass of water was shoved into his hand.

“Drink up, Erwin.” Hange resolutely leaned against the wall near the window. “Time to sober up and move forward.”

Erwin watched Hange’s face for a long time before turning to look back outside. Miche stood below the window, in front of the mess of glass and spilled liquor, looking up. Hange gave a thumbs up. Miche returned the gesture and returned to his squad.

Erwin sipped from the glass and stared blankly forward, through Hange and into some dark space he couldn’t identify.

“Levi’s dead,” he whispered. They were the first words he’d said in days.

“Yes. He is.” Hange’s tone turned soft.

“It’s my fault,” Erwin said. “He trusted me and I killed him.”

“Everyone in the Corps trusts you, Erwin.” Hange pressed a hand to his cheek and rubbed a thumb against the stubble. “And many of them die in the field. But you don’t drink this much scotch for all of them.”

“Levi was special.” Erwin was surprised by the challenging tone of his voice, like he expected Hange to argue with him on that fact. He became aware of a voice in his head supply, to me. He was special to me.

“He was,” Hange agreed. “He was incredible in so many ways. But he was also human, just like the rest of us.”

Erwin didn’t have a response for that. He drank the rest of the water and felt his stomach flip. He willed his body to hold it down. Hange went to the bathroom and poured another glass. Within two hours, filled mostly with silence, he had drank five glasses of water, pissed three times, and sobered up completely.

“Erwin, I actually came to ask you a favour,” Hange said after he emerged from the bathroom again.

“What is it?” Erwin didn’t like the apologetic look on their face.

“I was going to start cleaning out Levi’s office and, well. He left something for you on his desk. It’s a note.”

***

Sitting neatly in the centre of the desk was a small envelope. Written in thin lettering was, E.S. and Erwin picked it up, running a hand through his hair before opening it. He was expecting a long letter or a will, but instead was written simply,

Third drawer left. Underside.

-L

Erwin reread the note several times before looking around the room. Hange was busying themselves with the small bookshelf across the room, muttering quietly to no one in particular.

Glancing down at Levi’s desk, he furrowed brow with deeper confusion. Levi’s desk had two drawers on each side, not three. His bedroom didn't have a desk, and the small dresser had a single row of drawers.

The realization hit Erwin like a horse at full speed. He left the room, only vaguely aware of how abrupt his actions were by the confused noise Hange made. They did not follow him.

Just a minute later, Erwin was standing in front of his own desk, looking at the third drawer down on the left side. He glanced at the note again and something in his chest churned. He set the paper on his desk and pulled the drawer out and away from base, lifting it above his head, but he didn't find a note stuck to the underside. He set it down on top of the desk and stared at the contents; shoe polish and a rag and brush, a spare comb, a cluster of documents, a tin of sweets he kept for late nights. Nothing he hadn't seen hundreds of times, and nothing out of the ordinary. Slowly, he pushed at the bottom of the drawer, overhanging the edge of the desk. He did not expect it to lift, nor did he expect it to keep lifting as he continued to push upwards.

The bottom plank of the drawer peaked out over the top, followed almost immediately by a second plank. Curious, Erwin pressed the index finger of his free hand to hold the upper plank and slowly allowed the lower one to settle back down into position. In the space between the two planks sat a larger envelope, Erwin’s name written out in Levi’s unmistakable penmanship. Erwin slid the envelope out and let the upper plank drop unceremoniously back into place.

This envelope felt a good deal heavier than the one that contained the cryptic note. Erwin leaned back in his chair, breath caught in his throat, unsure he could handle whatever was contained within. Slowly, he spun the envelope around and pulled the flap away from the wax seal keeping it closed. He pulled out the sheets lying inside and unfolded them and read.

Erwin-

If you're reading this, that means I've died during an expedition. I've been leaving the note with the clue to finding this letter on my desk just before we've left for expeditions for years now. This letter has changed over time; I've written new ones as necessary, but the intention has always been the same.

I hope you didn't have to see me die. I hope I was already gone when you found out. I know all too well what it's like to watch the light fade from someone's eyes, to feel their heartbeat stop, to feel the warmth leave their body. I desperately hope you didn't have to endure that for me. If you did, I'm sorry. I hope it was quick.

I hope you don't mind that I modified your desk drawer to hide this note. I didn't want to risk someone else finding it when they were cleaning out my office. At least this way, I have more hope that you will be the only one to read this. (By the way, I did it when you were in a meeting at the capitol one day. Yes, I learned how to do it in the Underground. No, none of my own drawers have a false bottom.)

Do me a favour, and do not blame yourself for my death. Whatever the circumstances were, just know it wasn't your fault. I know you'll probably still blame yourself, but I want to say it anyway.

Just know that everything I did, I did for you, and your dream. I know that sounds hopelessly subservient and like I'm just trying to make you feel good, but it’s true. I don't know that I've ever been able to explain it, but ever since we met, I've felt this draw to you. Like I waited my whole life to find you so I could follow you and be the strength you needed to accomplish anything.

Erwin, I hope you know that I have no regrets about following you. Just the opposite in fact. You may not have realized it – or maybe you did, you're always so damned perceptive – but you gave me a freedom I could not have achieved on my own. You gave me the wings I used to fly – literally and figuratively. With you, I had something to live for beyond just surviving through the day so I could survive through the next. I could never have enough words to tell you how grateful I am for that. You looked beyond the street thug with bad manners and saw something more, something that you thought was worth giving a chance. My whole life, no one had ever been willing to do that. Maybe all you saw that day was my strength and maybe that's all you wanted, and that's okay. I hope it was more than that. I hope what I've been sensing from you means it was more than that.

There's something you should know, and I've been too scared to tell you. Even now, I'm hesitating to write it out.

I love you, Erwin.

I'm so sorry I never told you. I've loved you for so long, and I was too much of a damned coward to say it. I hate that this is the way you'll find out. I hate that I'll never know if you feel the same way.

I love you.

Erwin, please keep living, for me. Get your answers, fulfill your dream. Learn what really lies beyond the walls. See the world, however large or small it may be. I'll be with you, standing by your side. Even if you can't see me, or feel my hand wrap around yours, I'll be there. I promise.

I love you in every lifetime, in this world, and the next, and all the others after that. I'll wait for you at the end of time.

-Levi

Erwin held the sheet of paper in his hands and stared at the words for a long time, tears streaming down his cheeks. He placed the papers on his desk and held his head in his hands as sobs wracked through his body, heaving his chest and shaking him from head to toe.

“God, Levi,” he said to the room. “I love you too. I’m sorry I never told you. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He let himself cry until there was nothing left, being only distantly aware of Miche and Hange taking turns to poke their heads into the room to check on him. When only miserable groans fell from his lips and his head ached with grief, he allowed himself at last to pick up the papers and turn beyond Levi’s letter. Behind it sat a much shorter one.

Erwin-

I’m leaving everything I have to you. I know up on the Surface, people would call it “my estate,” but I don’t really have anything that would amount to an actual estate. So just, my stuff. I’m leaving you my stuff. All the shit in my office can go wherever; you can even leave it for whoever takes it next for all I care. What I actually want you to have is in a small chest under my bed. It’s not locked. There isn’t a lot in there. Just my other cravats (did you know I made them from one of my mother’s old dresses? It’s the only thing I have left of her. I promise they’re clean), the Survey Corps patches I took from Furlan’s uniform after he and Isabel died (I couldn’t find the rest of Izzy’s body to take hers), and that history book you gave me for my birthday that one year. I know I made fun of you for giving me a gift of something you like, but I did read it. I read it over and over and over. It was a part of you that you gave to me. And I have cherished it so much. I hope it’s okay for me to give it back to you now.

-Levi

Erwin walked into Levi’s bedroom and found the chest under the bed. He slowly pulled the contents from it, pausing to smell one of the cravats. It still had a hint of Levi’s scent underneath the smell of soap. When he pulled the book out, he found that the cover was held up slightly by something. Pulling it open, he felt another sob catch in his throat. A thin golden ring sat pressed into the first few pages, with a twist of paper wrapped around it.

Erwin pulled the ring out and unraveled the paper. It read simply:

Even after death do us part.

I do.

Erwin slid the ring onto his finger and whispered through his sobs, “I do.”

In the darkness of the room, he had the distant sense of a kiss pressed to his lips.

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #ferricfox writes #eruri #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: grief #cw: blood #cw: death

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mkaugust · 1 year

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22 for moonchaser pleaseeeee

Hi, thank you!!

22 is drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo. So, sorry. CW: blood mention, implied death.

***********

Remus got in his car, alone, desperately trying not to picture driving home to James. Instead, Remus’ thoughts were all red. Red lights, stop signs, blood running down his face, just after that last ever smile.

Remus turned the car around, unable to drive to an empty home just now.

Send me a number 1-101 and I'll write a microfic using that spotify wrapped song!

#microfic #hp microfic #spotify wrapped prompts #moonchaser #remus lupin/james potter #remus lupin #james potter #cw: blood mentions #cw: implied main character death #grief and loss #thank you for the prompt i loved writing it!!!

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thotforcsy · 2 years

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beautiful nightmare

(♡) fandom: skz (♡) pairing: jisung/felix (♡) rating: explicit (♡) 16769 words (♡) complete (1/1)

Two weeks after he dies, Felix walks into Jisung’s dream for the very first time. A couple of months after that, Jisung is on his knees in a graveyard at midnight, cradling the body of his boyfriend once again – now very much alive and not just in his head. Not everything is as it seems, however, and soon Jisung learns how even the sweetest of dreams can quickly turn into a living nightmare.

Be careful with who you let into your heart and head.

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cw: character death, blood and violence, non-consensual kissing, dubcon, sacrificial rituals, emotional manipulation

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urdamage · 2 years

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✧ the fact that it was fall was not a fact of importance to hen wen . the events that happened in the season were recognised and felt , of course , but whether it was fall , winter , spring or summer , it didn’t matter to them . if any kind of season mattered to hen wen in these months , it was the fact that it was scorpio season , though truthfully they avoided talking about it as so many reasons for heartbreak came with the stars aligning in that way .

hen wen used to love this time of year . they didn’t come from much , but they had their brother , and he was always more than enough . he was only a child when hen wen came to be in his care , but he never made her feel like she was robbing him of his youth . each halloween , even when he was in his prime trick-or-treating years , he would make sure hen wen felt celebrated , and even more special than halloween . he took her birthday seriously ; he made her feel like the entire world celebrated her birthday first , and halloween second .

her brother did so many things like that for her , from the first day of her life to the last day of his . the best moments of her life were the moments spent with him , and a lot of the moments that made it to the top of her list happened to take place in fall . as each fall came around , hen wen couldn’t have cared less about the changing colours of the leaves , or even the creativity seen in the carved jack-o-lanterns lining the streets and the costumes worn by those who walked them ; even in the years where the siblings grew naturally more apart , each fall , hen wen found herself excited for the traditions she had with her brother , and nothing else mattered to her .

what once was the best part of her year , is now the very worst . hen wen suffers with intense loneliness ; she’s lost without her brother , her best friend , her other half , her protector . he was the only one who truly got hen wen , who truly saw hen wen . he proved the fact every day , but on her birthday , he did the very most , and that made every one that came after his death feel especially barren .

instead of excitement , hen wen only feels dread leading up to halloween ; she no longer feels as though time is leading up to her birthday , as when she lost her brother , she also lost any sense that she might have been special or important , even in the slightest . she tries to recreate the magic he once created for her , but it can’t be done ; she tries to reach out to him , she tries to feel his presence , his love , but that is also an impossible task . she weeps and she weeps , for all that she lost , for all that she will never experience again . she weeps over her devastation and her pain ; why do things only grow worse for her ? and she weeps over her anger .

her anger is a tricky feeling , but perhaps it’s the very strongest of them all . hen wen is so unbelievably angry over experiencing such loss , so angry that they defied odds and made the very best of their situation , only to have everything good ripped from them . they’re angry that their pain only worsens , angry that events such as the attacks only further traumatise them . they’re so angry at their brother , for putting his all into his sibling , neglecting himself to the point of death , but most of all , hen wen is so incredibly angry that they’re angry at their brother . so they continue to weep .

halloween tricks don’t scare them , but all that they continue to feel certainly does .

✧ hen wen szeto moodboard 05/?? ✧ freddie’s thirteen days of moodboards 09/13

#blood cw #loss cw #death cw #trauma cw #abuse cw #neglect cw #grief cw #abandonment cw #this is sad cw #∘₊✧────── hen wen szeto ; moodboard #∘₊✧────── hen wen szeto ; musing #∘₊✧────── hen wen szeto ; visage #moodboard #musing #visage

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sulky-valkyrie · 2 years

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ok. potential merrill prompt. merrihawke after leandra's death? specifically, a conversation around merrill's use of blood magic. hopefully with a supportive hawke (still) but! feel free to run with it however. i shall brainstorm some more as well >:)

Angst and also Isabela joined the party. #sorrynotsorry for @dadrunkwriting ~~~

Everything was too hard. Lighting a fire was too much work, so the room was chilly. Pulling the curtains open was too complicated, so the room was too dark. Everything was too quiet or too loud, from the beating of their heart to the people in the streets below. Didn’t all those damn idiots down there understand that their mother was dead? That they should be shut up in their bedrooms wishing they could weep just like Emjee was?

Isabela sat down on the bed and tugged at their blankets. “Hawke, babe, you should eat.”

They rolled over. It hurt enough to grieve alone, but seeing the worry on their friends and lovers’ faces was just another too much. “Not hungry, Bels.”

“I know, but you still need to eat something.” Her hands were warm and soft, nothing like their mother’s in those last moments when she was already gone but hadn’t quite stopped. “Kitten tried to bake something for you.”

Thinking about Merrill made Emjee’s heart sink. The poor thing had been nearly as devastated when they’d found everything Quentin had been up to as Emjee had. They both knew the perils of blood magic, but to see it used like that, carved up flesh stitched together for -

They bolted from the bed and barely made it to the bucket. Sad, wheezing dry heaves wracked Emjee’s body as Bels slid down to the floor next to them. “Let it out, honey.” She stroked their back gently, hands still warm, so warm, reminding them that there were people who were alive who cared for them far more than - No, we’re not going down that road. She loved me, she was shit at saying it, but she loved me.

“There’s nothing left to let out,” they whispered, still hanging over the bucket. It was a lie. They still hadn’t cried. Crying just . . . felt useless. And they hadn’t been able to anyway. Maybe all those tears had dried up after Bethany.

“Lethallen?” Merrill’s voice called quietly from the hallway. “I heard you vom - moving around, do you need me to change the bucket again?” Emjee shook their head. Had they even talked to her since Anders had helped Varric put them to bed? The past day or three was a blur of too fast and too slow and too much and too little and never enough and their mother was dead and they were supposed to just . . . keep going?

Bels pulled them into her arms. “Down here, Kitten.”

The door creaked open and the elf padded around the bed with a tray of muffins. “I baked.” She smiled shakily. “Not these though, mine were - well, not even the dog wanted them, so Orana did the same recipe, but . . .” she trailed off and bit her lip as she sat down on the floor, not quite within arm’s reach. “I’m these muffins’ godmother.”

Andraste’s flaming ass, they had missed her and her nonsense that always made perfect sense. She and Bels just fit together, and Emjee didn’t know how they’d ended up part of it too, but they thanked the Maker every day for two women as devoted to them as each other. They tugged the tray out of the way and scooted out of Bels’ arms to lie with their head in Merrill’s lap. “I’m sorry,” they whispered, burying their face in her belly.”

“Whatever for?” Merrill asked.

“I said all those awful things about blood magic when -”

Merrill put a gentle hand over their mouth. “Lethallen, everything you said was true. Not just true, but likely.” She paused. “It’s why I only ever use my own blood. If I’m not willing to pay the price, how can I expect someone else to?”

“Could you have done it?” They regretted the question immediately, but now that it was out there, the only way through was forward. “Not that you would, but . . . could you?”

Merrill stroked their hair tenderly. “Probably.”

“But you won’t.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a demand, either. It was an observation.

“Never.” Her voice was firm.

“Not even to fix the mirror?” Why were they pushing so hard?

Merrill tugged Emjee up to her chest. “A demon could manifest tomorrow and tell me I would have full access to the Eluvian if I killed Meredith and used her blood, and I still wouldn’t do it. Not because she doesn’t deserve to die, but because I wouldn’t use her like that.” She leaned down and kissed their forehead, politely ignoring how pitiful and unwashed they no doubt smelled. “Nothing is worth stealing another’s life for it. Quentin said he did it for love, but he did it for arrogance. He did it because he thought he was more important than the rest of Thedas. Blood magic was his tool, but it was Quentin who wielded it.” The elf’s words eased something in their chest that had been strung tighter than Bianca since the white lilies had arrived. They yawned, suddenly feeling sleepy instead of just exhausted beyond reason, and closed their eyes.

Bels scooted over to Emjee’s other side. “There’s a perfectly serviceable bed right behind us, you know.”

“Too tired,” they protested. “Sleep here.”

Bels slipped her arms under them. “C’mon, I’ll pick you up, all you have to do is eat a godmuffin.”

It wasn’t really worth the fight, not when Emjee was so tired. “Fine.” Bels scooped them up and dumped them on the bed as Merrill picked up the muffin tray and crawled in after them. They ate muffins until Emjee’s eyes couldn’t stay open, then Bels took the tray downstairs. As they settled into the middle of the covers, head tucked into Merrill’s shoulder, they reached up to tilt her to look at them. “Mer? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, lethallen.”

They took a deep breath. “Will you teach me?”

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #fanfic writing #hawke #all that remains #merrill #isabela #hawke x isabela x merrill #NB Hawke #emjee hawke #Emjee like the initials M.G.#cw parent death #cw grief #blood magic #prompt fills

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