#*TW* Death

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Tim, to Duke: Welcome to our vigilante family! Let's hope you'll have more luck on the job than I did.

Duke: What? Why? What happened?

Tim: When I was still Robin, there was a rogue we had been investigating for months and when we had finally apprehended him, he was shot right over my shoulder.

Jason: I don't know what you're talking about. Sounds like luck to me. You're still alive.

Tim: Jason... You were the shooter.

#batbros #batfam #batfamily #tw gun mention #tw death #tw death mention #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfamily incorrect quotes #incorrect batkids #incorrect batboys quotes #incorrect batbros #tim drake #duke thomas #jason todd #red robin #dc signal #signal dc #red hood #robin tim drake

[intotheelliwoods]

What is the longest amount of time the huggy leos have been apart?

Well, depends on which huggy Leos you are talking about...

#asks #2al takeover #tbh I think theres a good chunk of followers who dont actually know what happened with sprout #like started following the comic late without reading what came before #I wonder how many of you think hes the future leo from the movie... #tw family death #tw death

[royalarchivist]

Pac: It's very powerful, very powerful, it's a bad ending, clearly the bad ending. Oh damn, it hurts.

[Reading chat] "Romeo and Juliet" What do you mean? How does– how does this story have a reference to Romeo and Juliet? Of all the references... AH, I understand, it's true, Romeo and Juliet, they both died, right? I don't know if it's a spoiler. Well, I think everyone has heard of this story, right? Wait, but did Fit die?! Fit died??? [Reading chat] "Spoiler from 300 years ago–" I'm going to release a spoiler for a book from 436 years ago.

[Reading chat] "We don't know" Ok, I understand, I understand. Is this "We don't know" because you really don't know, or because you want to avoid saying something to me that you know, but you know that I can't know? [Laughs] There's always this doubt. I've spent a year with this QSMP metagaming, so I don't know.

Several times I asked you some questions and you said, "We don't know, we don't know," and I said, "Yes, they know. They just want to tell me because I can't know." Tomorrow… Will we find out tomorrow? Maybe I'll find out together with you. That's a lie, I'll never do that. So tomorrow… Tomorrow…

Will FitMC's story maybe come to an end? Hmm.... How crazy, huh? Will we find out about his boss? That cat? He was good, he was good, I can say that I knew him, he was good. Is it tomorrow or not? But no, you're saying it is tomorrow, I'm trusting you.

[Reading chat] "Fit will log in tomorrow and discover that Pac died and will die of sadness." He'll be joyful! I'm kidding—

—

(Art by @ Rhiaarrow on Twitter. Thank you again to sebbs12 for the Translation help!)

#Pactw #Hideduo #FitPac #QSMP #May 22 2024 #Pac #Fit #Tumblr took nearly three and a half frickin hours to upload this video. SMH #Anyways *SHAKES PAC* WHAT DOES THIS MEAN PAC #I would love to imagine that Pac and Fit worked on lore together but I do not have that much faith #Blood #death #tw death #blood #tw blood #ask to tag #character death

[the-flowing-river]

Hey @autistic-af figured you might like this one.

The story regarding these two is actually kind of sad, but in a funny way. You see, verzuiling was a thing in the Netherlands where everyone joined one of four groups or "pillars" the pillars were Catholic, protestant, liberal and socialist (if i recall correctly) now, a Catholic man and a protestant woman married, and everyone was outraged, after all, twee geloven op een kussen, daar slaapt de duivel tussen. (Two beliefs on one pillow, that's where the Devil sleeps. This one does not translate all too well, sadly.)so, when she died, she had to be buried on a protestant graveyard. The man picked this one, and purchased the plot behind the same wall, and when he died, got buried there. Leading to this very interesting grave. Their names escape me though.

#tw graves #tw death

[kadextra]

q!bad lore ending #1 “the sad ending” ✅

- bad fully remembers everything about the eggs but it’s too late, they are gone now... he makes the decision to leave the island, says goodbye to everything one last time and goes to the ankh (symbol of life) room in the hall of grim to sit and wait with ghosties

there he waits for an unknown amount of time until an undead brings the smackdown and takes him out 💀 afterwards he appears back at the doors to heaven, to his original home. they are still open for him

but this time? his three kids are right there to greet him, they’re all together again. even richas ended up in heaven :0

lore ending #2 “the true ending” is coming soon

(we’re getting a hollow knight / visual novel style ending experience that’s pretty cool!! meaning either can be canon it’s your personal preference)

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp spoilers #qsmp summary #tw death

[mxfortunecookie]

Tw: Death I was in the middle of drawing something …practically the exact opposite of this vibe, but my playlist decided to kill me, so yeah

Basically something happened, both them died type thing

I was gonna make it a full drawing, but I kept crying, so no

version w/out the ghosts

edit: My dumbass forgot to put credits smh 🤦

credits-

Cross: Jakei95

Nightmare: Jokublog

Killer: Rahafwabas

#undertale au #utmv #cross sans #cross!sans #nightmare sans #nightmare!sans #crossmare #killer sans #killermare #killer!sans #krossmare #I am in mental pain rn and it’s their fault #tw death

[didderd]

lil doodle dump of Nimh, my sona as a dust. (the bottom two doodles are before and after he's allowed comfort.)

they have some lore. not just your typical dust. long lore ramble under cut. (tw: murder. death. manipulation. abuse.)

i figured Gooper would take a lot to become like dust sans, and so they needed a more fucked up backstory.

so normal Gooper. who is from a Fell au. lost their parents at a young age. their parents were taken by the au's Gaster. as shapeshifters, they have a unique set of abilities, and Gaster found interest in that. and as the mad scientist that he is, took them to conduct experiments, hoping to use them for something. but they didn't survive the experiments.

in this timeline/au, some time after, Gooper was found and taken too. they survived the initial experiments, and after Gaster figured he couldn't do what he wanted/he already got that, he decided to continue to make use of them and make them a weapon, making them a royal guard's person.

Gaster made him keep a skeleton form for his neutral form. his excuse being that it's easier to explain to others that he's a relative. but really he just wanted that control over his shifting, and for his 'work' to resemble him. and even now that Nimh's not controlled by him, he has a hard time trying to shift to a different neutral form, out of fear of punishment.

instead of being scattered to the void/code, this Gaster became a fell G!Sans. i'm not sure how, since i don't know the lore behind G!Sans.. but. yeah. things only got worse for Nimh after that. and it might'v even been when G decided to turn him into a weapon.

they still have the glowing crystal necklace that Gooper wears, which i decided was infused with their parents' magic. but. G broke it. and it lost the magic. it doesn't glow anymore, and they don't wear it. but they keep it close. they also have a scrap of paper with their parents' names on it. ripped carefully from paper records of their parents' experiments. in case they forget.

so when the human came around, Nimh was put on the task of dealing with them. their memory of each reset slowly got better, from deja vu, to remembering everything. and as they started to remember every failure at killing them, and every painful death by the hands of the homicidal child, they started to lose it... more than they already had. G would'v already been feeding him LV, handing him monsters he has to kill to get stronger, and they started taking more outside of that till they were killing everyone. including G. once they realized that's an option and how to do it. which they found great satisfaction in every time. for all the things he put them through.

eventually, like dust sans, the human gives up, and Nimh is left in an empty underground.

but dw. he is eventually picked up by a goopy demigod and allowed a chance to heal. :3

#he's a very traumatized lil guy #nimh #dust gooper #monstersona #lore dump #utmv #didderd art #tw emotional distress #tw death #tw manipulation #tw abuse #the goopy demigod mentioned at th bottom is not a nm #but a kelek #kins hasn't posted about this version of himb yet i don't think #but once he does i'll prob link it in this post #the scarf is made with his magic #so it's constantly comforting nimh and helping with their anxiety #ofc. it can't keep out /all/ the anxiety #or the mania #so he still loses it sometimes

[jlwritesstories]

The eyes are the windows to the soul (Part 4 - Final)

Masterlist

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It's the final part!!!!

I know it's been a while but I've been working on lots of things at the moment.

Be warned, this is a long post, you may want to get some tea and a snack before you strap in for the ride.

Trigger Warnings: Body horror, gore, stalking, yandere (ish) behavior.

All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.

Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

You don't move. While your brain tries to process what your seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.

Not-Cameron stares.

Heavy silence blankets the hallway.

Not-Cameron remains crouched beside the body of your now-dead ex-boyfriend. Pupils dilating and shrinking, dilating and shrinking. Hands digging streaks into the carpet.

They don't look like they're going to move any time soon, so you take the opportunity to focus on the shaking in your limbs and the pounding of your heart.

You take one deep breath, slowly in, slowly out. Followed by another. And then another.

You count to 10 in your head.

Your heart starts to become less noisy. Your hands slowly unclench. The shaking slows.

Waiting.

After what feels like an age, Not-Cameron suddenly shifts. A whine bubbles up from their throat.

"I just wanted...why? Was it too much to ask." Their voice suddenly drops and distorts, the sound vibrates right down your spine.

Not-Cameron twitches, one still slightly-clawed hand reaching forward as they crawl a step torwards you. "______" Your name comes out in a distorted growl. "I thought this would work."

Another step closer.

"So many failures. So many faces. Why!? Why was his the only face you wanted."

You can't help shuffling a little back down the hallway. Your body reacting with natural fear to the uncanny valley effect sweeping over you from how their blank expression contradicts the distorted distress in their voice.

"I just wanted to love you. Now it's ruined." They appear to be spiraling, their hands have definitely sprung claws again.

It is with herculean effort that you stop your shuffle backwards and instead lean forward, speaking in an even calm tone. "Not-Cameron."

They freeze.

"That's what i've been calling you in my head." You take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to meet their predatory gaze with your own. "Since you first arrived, seven months ago. I knew you weren't Cameron."

A deep vibration begins to echo in the hallway, one you recognise as a growl. Not-Cameron's face begins to twist into a grimace.

"I didn't care."

The sound stops as their eyes widen, impossibly. You can visibly see all their muscles tense under their skin.

You slowly raise a hand, bracing against the wall to stand. Their gaze follows you up. "I..." You clear your throat, fighting the dull pain from the bruises you can feel. "I liked you more than Cameron."

You take one step forward. "I liked talking with you."

Another step. "I felt safer."

You're stood right in-front of them. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You lie!"

Your fight your body's urge to flinch when they suddenly stand. Their hands come up, the tips of their claws resting just besides your face.

"You. Are. Scared. Of. Me"

You keep your feet rooted to the spot. Focusing on the tears at the corner of their eyes to distract you from the fear bubbling behind your teeth.

A human trait, you think, to cry when overwhelmed rather than just for pain.

If the distortion in their voice is indicator enough to you that their emotional state is currently too much for them to handle.

A memory rises in your mind, unbidden. A memory of Not-Cameron comforting you when you were overwhelmed.

Not long after they arrived. Your mind was beginning to buckle under the stress and you would find yourself crying alone in the bathroom or stiffling a scream while in the middle of cooking. Eventually you found yourself crying along in your bedroom, bundled up beneath the covers, trying to muffle your sobs with a pillow. Not-Cameron found you like that, red-eyed and snotty-nosed.

They had silently sat with you, gently rubbing your back and talking about anything and everything until you calmed. They asked what you needed, ran you a bath, made you food. Reassurences and affirmations tumbled from their lips like water. They gave you space, asked before approaching you for anything, gave you anything you asked for.

Eventually, you started to feel like you wanted something certain to combat all the fear and uncertainty. So you asked for routine, for surety. And they provided. Slowly, you started to feel better. Started to feel less scared and uncertain. Started to feel safe.

Even slower than when you stood, you bring your hands up. "If I was scared." You wrap your hands around the back of their fingers. "Would I do this." You turn your head, gently manouevering their hands so you don't catch a claw to the eye and lean towards them, placing a gentle kiss to their palm.

You taste iron, internally cringing at the knowledge that his hands are still covered in the blood of Cameron. But the disgust you feel at the wet sensation on your face cannot overshadow the relief you feel as their claws retract. You aren't dying today.

Tears are now freely flowing down Not-Cameron's face. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry." They choke out the words in between sobs, dropping to their knees and burying their face in your shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He hurt you. I'm sorry."

The distorted growl in their voice sends a jolt through you, but the broken choking sound that follows after dispells all your fear.

You bury your hands in their hair. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."

Not-Cameron lets out a broken whimpers at the pet-name. Turning their watery gaze up to yours. "I'm sorry. I lied to you."

They look completely normal now. If not for the blood and the mangled corpse lying not three feet away, you would have found this position suggestive.

Suddenly Not-Cameron pulls away.

"Oh no." Their hands hover over your shirt and sides, not quite touching. "I got blood on you. I'm sorry. I'll clean it. I'll clean it all."

Their distress tugs at your heart, and you drop to your knees. "Look, it's..." You sigh. Gently resting your hands on their shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on their collar bone. "I won't say it's okay. But I will say we can work this out...I think."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You physically jump at the sound of the smoke alarm.

"The cake," you whisper. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat. "I forgot the cake."

Not-Cameron's bones audibly crack as they suddenly racket up to stand again. They gently push on your shoulders, directing you to turn. "I'll fix it."

Once you start walking towards the stairs, away from Cameron's corpse, a feeling of cold brushes over your shoulder. Suddenly, their image at the side suddenly seems to blur forward and you glance sideways to see no-one there.

The loud clatter of a pan on the worktop downstairs prompts you to quicken your pace. The smell of smoke and the grey haze in the air calls you to go faster.

The kitchen window is open. Not-Cameron is waving a tea-towel around to dispell the smoke. The charred remains of your cake sit in the pan on the side.

Another little laugh hiccups out of you. The domesticity of the sight jarrs against the shocking turn you just experienced upstairs.

You stagger forward. The cake is scrapped out into the food bin, and the pan deposited in the sink to soak. You take the opportunity to run your hands under the hot water. Scrubbing at the red staining your skin until the water runs thick with it.

Not-Cameron joins you, slowly siddling up to your side. Soap is dispensed and red foam swirls. After a few moments of harsh scrubbing your hands are looking cleaner than before, but you can't see it.

The red still fills your vision.

You keep scrubbing. Hands rubbing together again and again.

The warmth of Not-Cameron at your side is both a comfortable reminder of domestic normalcy and sets your teeth on edge.

The water runs clear but you still see red.

You grab the sponge. Drawing it over your skin like you want to scrub the flesh from bone. You think you hear something but all the sounds have gone muffled.

The image of Cameron's eyes staring at nothing in your mind, and yet somehow they glare at you accusingly in your memory. Scrub harder. Wash it away.

"_____ Stop!"

The sound of your name startles you and snaps your vision back into focus. Not-Cameron's face fills yours, concern evident in the turn of their lip and the frown pulling at their eyes. The sponge is ripped from your hands and something thick and viscous suddenly engulfs them. You go to look down but one of their hands suddenly catches your chin, stopping you from looking down.

"Look at me. Breathe." Their silver eyes hold your gaze captive. The squishy substance holding your hands hostage drags your arms up, pressing your palms to Not-Cameron's chest. Their heartbeat is steady...and strong, almost like it's beating right up against your palm.

Your mind zeros in on the steady thump-thump of their heart. Like the pitter-patter of rain, or the steady beat of footsteps on a cobbled road. The calming effect is powerful.

You take one shuddering breath after another.

"There you go, love. Breathe." Not-Cameron's voice surrounds you with its lilting, soothing undertones. A sound you had grown to like over the past seven months.

You feel the squishy substance coating your hands retract and change, until you feel the familiar weight of Not-Cameron's hand on the back of your palms.

"Come on. Come take a seat." Step by step. Beat by beat. They lead you through the doorway to the living room.

You're gently lowered to sit on the couch.

Your eyes zero in on the wet stain on the furthest cushion. Cameron's face starting to fade back into your consciousness.

There expression drops, glancing between you and the stain. A feral snarl rips through Not-Cameron as they fling the wet cushion away. Lowering themselves to kneel in the space left behind.

Their hands don't leave yours, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of your left hand. The gentle pressure serves to keep you grounded; brings you back to the present.

"It's over. You're safe. Nothing else will happen to you, I promise."

The words combine with the pressure on your hand to form a powerful spell, banishing the images of blood and death to the back of your mind to be dealt with later in the quiet of night by your subconscious.

You only register the fact that you were shaking once it stops...and Not-Cameron releases your hand. Withdrawing just slightly, giving you space. They turn their body to sit in a more relaxed stance, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

They hold out a cup to you, and you take it. You don't ask how they suddenly produce a full cup of your favourite drink from the empty space behind them; either they have more hands (or aproximate) than you know or they can levitate objects and you don't know which would be weirder and how much more weird you can handle right now.

"Thank you." You don't know if your whispered thanks are to thank them for helping you calm down, for the drink, or for stopping Cameron from suffocating you upstairs. A little bit of both you surmise.

The sound of a purr starts and then stops just as quick. Even though Not-Cameron has turned to the side, you can see their jaw shift as they clench their teeth. "I'm sorry. You need normal right now."

You almost jolt at how serious they sound.

"More normal than me."

You ponder those words.

The solid weight to them. The sadness. The regret. The bitter twinge of jealousy. The quiet easy-to-miss upward-lilt of a question.

Like coins, you count up your memories with them; the scary and unnerving are outweighed by the happy and comforting. But the most recent coin is tarnished and in need of polishing, before it can be added to the wallet and put away in your pocket.

"Upstairs. When you..." You trail off.

"Killed him." Not-Cameron finishes for you.

You take a sip to clear your throat before resting the cup on one thigh, wrapping your hands around the ceramic and focusing on the temperature to keep your grounded state. "Were you going to hurt me." The word "hurt" almost sticks in your throat.

Not-Cameron turns like they've been electrocuted. Their hands reach out for you but hover just short. "No. Never. Never hurt you." Their voice distorts again, a tinge of black creeping in around their eyes, but this time it doesn't fill you with a feeling of dread.

Their head bows forward, shoulders hunching inward. Shame overtaking their features. "I...I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." They blink rapidly. Hands shaking as they pull back. "I didn't want to..." It's their turn to take a steadying breath. "I don't want to lose you now."

"Okay. Listen to me." You put your drink on the coffee table and turn to Not-Cameron, shuffling closer until you knee almost touches theirs. You gently reach out for their shoulder, lightly brushing the flannel. "These past few months, have been like a dream. I've felt safe and happy and I finally know what it's like to love someone who loves me back just as much. But I have to know..."

Not-Cameron turns to face you again. The black has vanished from the whites of their eyes. Their posture is tense, like their set to run.

"...Why did you replace Cameron."

At your words they somehow tense up even more. Not-Cameron's gaze twists and for a split second you think they're gonna burst into tears again. But then suddenly their face relaxes, all expression dissapearing. "You didn't want anyone else."

"What do you mean?" You question.

"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close." The skin of their face ripples and for a few seconds it's like a slideshow of multiple different faces appearing and dissapearing.

You even recognise some of them; a bus driver, a homeless man, a child who sat one table over at your local cafe who you spoke to for a while while they were waiting for their mother to come back from the shop next door, a guy who stood to give you their seat on the train.

They continue talking even as their face shifts. "So many faces. I learned so much. But every time I tried, I couldn't get closer. You didn't want any of them. You chose him." Their face settles back into the visage you've grown used to seeing over the past seven months. "So I used his face."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Their face changes again, until you're looking at the cute stranger you'd met in a bar three weeks before you started dating Cameron. They speak with a drawling twang, a voice you haven't heard in months. "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink."

Their face changes again, becoming the stranger who'd lent you an umbrella last year. Speaking in a higher smooth voice. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."

You'd forgotten about those encounters until right this moment. You remember the feeling of 'something's wrong' that had struck you during them.

Their face starts to change again and you snap. "Okay, stop!"

The shifting immediately settles back into Cameron's face.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You blindly reach out, searching. When you find their hand you feel them pull back slightly before accepting the hand hold. You focus on the warmth of their hand in yours and quickly pull up your memories of cuddling on the couch and movie nights with popcorn. Once the beating of your heart has settled to a steady rhythm again, you open your eyes, meeting Not-Cameron's blank gaze with your own. "So, you became Cameron."

They nod.

"But...what I don't understand is...how did you know everything he knew."

They pull their hand out of yours, sighing before they speak. "I needed to ea-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything." Their voice cracks slightly when they correct themself. Their hand comes up to lightly brush the edge of your neck. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent."

"So you were taking his memories."

Another nod.

"He...the body upstairs. Um...will you forget, or..."

"No. i'll remember...." a sincere expression suddenly floods over their face like a wave "...and I'll take care of it. I promise."

The air grows heavy as a silence falls over you.

You sense no hostility in them but you find the silence uncomfortable.

A promise has been obtained that the immediate problem of the dead body lying in your upstairs hallway is not going to be a problem bringing police to your door and leading to a lifetime in jail.

And yet, an uncertain future hangs over your head, and the urge to set something in stone burns in your chest.

"I want you to stay." / "I promise I...."

You speak at the same time.

Not-Cameron's mouth snaps shut mid-sentence at your words.

You wait to see if they'll finish their sentence, but they seem to have frozen again like they did upstairs.

So, you continue. "I mean. Everyone would be suspicious if Cameron stopped going to work and, the neighbours love you, and as I said before...I think I might have...maybe...I love you."

Their breath hitches at the word love, but you continue.

"And well...the real Cameron can't ever come back so, it would make sense for you to stay and I would appreciate it if you would keep pretending to be him and..." You trail off.

There's something heartbreaking about the crestfallen expression making it's way onto Not-Cameron's face. He twitches each time you say the name Cameron, even as he nods along in agreement.

You switch track. "What is your name?"

"What?" Not-Cameron jolts, expression wiped clean for a second and pupils dilating.

"i can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name." You speak slowly to ensure the emphasis is clear. Keeping their eyes locked with yours.

For a few seconds, their pupils grow and shrink rapidly, like a blinker light. After a moment, they settle again and expression returns to their face. Their expression is reminiscent of a soldier, stealing themselves to face the firing squad. "Alright, love." They shuffle in their seat before suddenly holding out their hand to you again.

You take it.

"My name...my real name...is Dieter." Their voice distorts midway, becoming deeper and husky, like tv static given voice. "It was given to me. To be my own."

You repeat it. Testing the feel and flavour of their name in your mouth. You decide you like it, and say it again.

A lovestruck grin begins to spread across Dieter's face. Their teeth are slightly sharper than normal and their pupils turn into literal hearts, which they quickly blink away.

You grab their cheeks, lightly pulling their face towards yours.

Dieter follows like a sunflower seeking light, willingly shifting forward to kneel on the couch. Arms braced either side of you to not fall forward and crush you beneath them.

"If we're gonna make this work. Don't hide that."

"Hide what?"

"The hearts, they're cute."

With a single blink, the hearts return. "Okay," they breath. "Need anything else."

You take a deep breath and let go of their face. Warmth burns the corners of your eyes and tears begin to spill.

Your body has finally begun to register the finality of it all. Relief and the backflow of your emotions are all spilling from your eyes.

A distressed expression flickers across Dieter's face as you shuffle yourself back, leaning into the cushions.

"I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."

It's a lie. Well the part about needing a hug is true, but the tears were going to fall regardless of whether you recieve the physical comfort immediately or not.

Dieter complies without hesitation, regardless of the truth to your ultimatem. Immediately following you into the corner of the couch and wrapping their arms under you. They turn, lifting you and settling you on their lap with startling ease.

You cling to them like they'll dissapear any moment. Burying your face in the crook of their neck and fighting the urge to scream out your emotions.

One arm coils around your legs while the other wraps around your back. A large hand cradles the back of your head, gently massaging your skull in a soothing motion.

A familiar humming vibration starts and stops again.

"I like the...the purring...t...too." You barely choke out the words against their neck through your muted sobs.

The vibration starts up again. The purr could put any motorcyle engine to shame. The sound is damn near ethereal, like sitting in an echo chamber filled with singing bowls playing healing vibrations; a feeling like liquid gold seeps through your battered frame.

"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." Dieter's voice switches between the familiar tones of Cameron and the deeper pitch they've revealed to be their real voice, but both carry the same weight of adoration.

Exhaustion rears its head and your eyelids grow heavy.

"You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."

The sobs wracking your body begin to lose their edge as darkness creeps into the edge of your vision. Dieter shifts, their body somehow becoming softer. The pull of sleep becomes too powerful to fight.

You begin to drift, cradled in warmth and soothing vibration.

Your last thought before darkness envelops you fully surpises you. The spark of your subconscious is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.

How wonderful it is to be loved.

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#doppelganger x you #doppelganger x reader #doppelganger boyfriend #tw death #doppelganger #shapeshifter x you #shapeshifter x reader #shapeshifter #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #mimic #mimic x reader #mimic x you #monster x you #x reader #x you #tw blood #tw body horror #tw uncanny valley #yandere #soft yandere #the eyes are the windows to the soul #teatwtts

[3000-200-grains-of-salt]

want you gone

#seattlesaltsartowrk #life series #life series fanart #trafficblr #grian #grian fanart #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimeswithscar fanart #gtws #gtws fanart #desertduo #desertduo fanart #tw blood #tw gore #tw death

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Planning for Call of Duty (and guests) Kinktober 2024, with your input!

I’m going to continue polling for Kinktober prompts (to keep it fresh for me, and to involve you wonderful people too!)

The winner of each poll will be the prompt for that day, and the two runners up will return in a later poll for the chance to be featured later in the month!

“Yeah? Then prove it.” won yesterday, with “It isn’t what it looks like!”, “Am I not enough?” coming 2nd and 3rd respectively. Today we’re looking at settings! So get voting!

#kinktober #Kinktober 2024 #TheyWhoWriteAndKnowThings polls #TheyWhoWriteAndKnowThings #poll #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #cod x reader #X reader #quote prompt #dialogue prompt #writing #writing prompt #creative writing #tw funeral #tw death

[chilledstrawberrysoda]

Sometimes I think about Neil, 16 year old Neil, a literal child, watching his mother die and not realizing what is happening until it's too late. About him trying to move her body that is dried to the seat with blood. About him burning the car with her body in it. How he couldn't just walk away from the burning car and had to watch until it was finished burning. About how he burned his hands on her bones while putting them in his backpack to bury on the beach. About how he not just had to accept her death and grieve her but also had to make it like it didn't happen. About how he didn't get to talk to anyone about it for two years and just carried this extremely traumatic experience with him.

He told the FBI where he buried her (as much as he could) and I hope they found her remains so he could properly bury and mourn his mother.

#mary hatford #neil josten #aftg #all for the game #tfc #tw death

[chaosclan]

MOON 35 - CHAOSCLAN

i wish horizon was here longer :( wanted to expand more on his character

i CANNOT wait to show yall what’s going on with Shard and Shark… AUGH

shard’s got ghost sight ingame!

#clangen #clan generator #clangen art #warrior cats clangen #chaosclan moons #warrior cats #tw death

[etwlemons]

Death of an angel

#trying to distract myself from life via complicated drawings #discovered it’s one of the few things that work whit that #the good the bad and the ugly #angel eyes\sentenza #angel eyes #lee van cleef #my drawings #spaghetti westerns #tw death #(?) maybe

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

⚠️ Warning for cannibalism I guess? But if you're reading this then you already expected that.

Ryoumen Sukuna:

Your favorite movie is Sweeny Tod, you would let a serial killer step on you if they were hot or you're secretly Yorozu. You make Gojo stans look like saints.

First Date:

You reach the next village only to see corpses laid to waste admist a pit of fire. You walk through an ocean of blood and notice that some of the bodies have giant teeth marks gouged into their flesh. "What the hell!?" You descend further. Were those voiced you heard? "How could anyone survive this carnage?" You kept moving closer until you could make out two figures engulfed by smoke. You then scurried to a tree and hid behind it while you watched.

There was a monk? Were they cooking? But what could they be eating if there's nothing around? Then it dawned on you. You resisted the urge to vomit. You then took another peek. You then felt your heart throb as you gazed at the handsome creature ahead of you. "I can't believe I found God..." You then took note of his for eyes. For some reason you weren't scared. "All the better to see me with..." Then you noticed the four arms. "All the better to hold me with..." You began to wonder if he had extra body parts elsewhere. You then shook your head. "I need this man!"

Sukuna was eating roasted torso a la Urame when he heard what sounded like an irritating mosquito. He was only partially wrong. There was another whiney human running towards him. "Another fight? I just started eating..." He then put down his bowl of blood broth. He was prepared to flick you into outer space with his claws but then you did something unexpected. "What is this!?"

There you were on the ground, kneeling. "PLEASE STEP ON ME, MY LORD!" Uraume then gave a disgusted look as they were already kink shaming you. You then looked into their eyes. "PLEASE! I'M NOT LIKE THE OTHER GIRLS! I CAN CHANGE HIM! HE JUST NEEDS MY LOVE-" Sadly you never had a chance to finish your sentence. The man in front of you began splitting you apart (not the way you wished) as he activated world slash. You fell over and began to fade out. Before you lost consciousness, you were grabbed by your hair.

"Why can't you be happy with just being normal?" You tried to speak but only blood came out. Sukuna then dropped you to the ground. "Pathetic... Love is worthless. Never forget that." He then kicked your corpse out of his sight. "Come, Uraume. Let us take leave." The monk then gathered all the clean bones and constructed them into a vehicle. Uraume and Sukuna then peddled their feet and drove away like in the Flinstones opening.

#shitpost #cursed #crack fic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #heian sukuna #heian era #sukuna ryomen #urame #tw cannibalism #tw death #You get kink shamed by Uraume #love is worthless #Sukuna simps need to be sprayed with holy water #sukuna simp #Can't wait for the hate I'm about to get #sukuna and uraume use bones to make a car and get away Flintstone style

[everythingwasnormalhere]

Kyle Week Day 3: Yandere

Never not using my chance to draw insane Kyle :3

This was my 1st drawing with the digital pen I struggled so much 😭 I'm used to drawing with my finger you guys,,, this was so weird to me

#yes the colors are the same as mirai park's #which means: butters stan and cartman are dead #and kyle is simping for kenny #(because k2 slays) #south park #south park au #south park fandom #south park hcs #south park headcanons #south park fanart #kyle broflovski #south park kyle #kyle sp #kyleweek2024 #sp k2 #kenny mccormick #leopold butters stotch #eric cartman #stan marsh #tw blood #tw death #tw creepy #tw yandere

[jlwritesstories]

The eyes are the windows to the soul (Part 3)

Masterlist

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Ooh it was a close call, but on this poll, option 2 - "The real Cameron comes home, a fight breaks out, and reader chooses Not-Cameron." won.

Trigger warnings: Gore. Body horror. Mentions of domestic abuse. Death/murder. Uncanny valley.

So without further ado, here is part 3.

You're humming.

A jaunty little tune you can't remember the origin of. Stood in your kitchen mixing up a bowl of bread batter.

It's been seven months since Not-Cameron arrived.

Seven calm and strangely lovely months.

Even if the occurrences have been getting more frequent. You've grown to almost expect them, and so they have become less frightening. Not to mention that the more affection you've accepted from Not-Cameron, the more distance and space the occurrences have given you.

You suspect the occurences were Not-Cameron checking on you when he "wasn't there" to see if you were trying to leave or secretly call the police or something.... Classic doppelganger horror stuff.

But you never ran to a neighbour for help running away or called the police. You acted perfectly normal and unnasuming.

Not-Cameron has been steadily relaxing around you. A little slower to stop their purrs when you move. Their dopey love struck grins are a little toothier than normal. Hugs feel a little squishier than they should. But honestly, you've found their quirks...cute.

You kissed them last week.

You've been kissed by them before obviously; accepting just a few kisses and cuddles from them so they don't realise you know they're not the real Cameron was part of your plan to stay alive after all. But it has always been Not-Cameron asking and initiating the affection.

Last week that changed.

You kissed them first. It was just a kiss on the cheek and the admission that you missed them all day. You swear they had literal hearts in their eyes, when you followed up with a chaste peck on the lips before going back to finish your own work.

You may have followed up with a few more chaste kisses and a hug or two in the following week. And who could blame you if you needed cuddles after a tiring day. Not-Cameron has soaked up any and all affection you give, and you may have found yourself chasing that little loving glint in their eye.

For three months now, you've felt different, lighter, almost on cloud nine.

It took you a while to realise what the feeling was...confidence.

You can't say the look of awe and love Not-Cameron gave you when you wore the vibrant blouse the real Cameron had said "made you look tacky" didn't feel cathartic.

Your colleagues have noticed something is different about you. You've gotten a few compliments for your work and comments on your bright mood. You've even been to a few of the company social nights and gone out to the movies with friends, some things you never had time for when Cameron was in charge of your social calendar.

It's been tranquil.

Not-Cameron has even started warning you in advance of which evenings they will disappear on.

One of which is tonight.

You pour the batter into a tin and set it inside the hot oven.

There's a pounding on the door. Insistent and demanding.

You grab a knife and creep out into the hallway, eyeing the silhouette on the other side with caution.

You've left your phone on charge in your room upstairs, so you inch towards the landline on the little table in the hallway. Eyes never leaving the swaying shadow through the porch window.

You pick up the phone, quickly dialing 999 when the shadow suddenly ducks down out of sight. It lurches back up and there's the sound of the key in the lock.

You back away quickly, ducking around the corner of the door to the kitchen. The phone vibrates as you press call.

Your boyfriend stumbles inside. His clothes are torn and he has multiple scratches on the sides of his face, neck, and arms. Crusted dark stains down his sides and shoulders, flake of bits of dried blood as he almost falls into the wall.

Out of instinct, you drop the knife and phone on the table as you rush forward to support them.

"Cameron what..." you pause. His eyes are brown. This is the real Cameron.

He's come back.

For the real Cameron to be here, it stands to reason something terrible happened to Not-Cameron.

Making another split-second decision, just like the one you made all those months ago, you decide to pretend like you never noticed the switch and just deal with Cameron's injuries before wrestling with the moral guilt of realising you're disappointed to see your old boyfriend instead of his more-loving replacement.

"What happened? We need to get you to a hospital." You turn to grab your car keys, but the sudden collapse of Cameron causes you to change plans and instead support him to walk into the living room.

He's muttering under his breath. Practically raving with no meaning; spouting over and over the words, "no change", "my face", "that thing" and "have to escape."

You set him on the sofa and fetch a glass of water for him. He drinks like a man who's been lost in a desert, uncaring of the rivulets spilling out of the cup and down his face and chest as he greedily gulps the precious liquid.

You internally cringe at the wet patch and blood stains sticking to your sofa as he leans back.

"Cameron. What happened? Should I get you to a hospital." You keep your voice soft, gently probing for information.

He seems to calm down slightly after the drink.

____ A voice calls your name from the hallway; (Not-)Cameron's voice.

"It's here," Cameron whispers, voice cracking into a squeak at the end as he grabs your wrist and pulls you into the kitchen.

Just as you both duck into the kitchen, your ears pick up the soft pat-pat of footfalls entering the living room behind you.

Keeping up the charade of ignorance, you whisper. "What is..." A sharp pain lances through your cheek and you fall silent.

Cameron slapped you. A quick whipping motion with his hand, not enough to bruise or damage you, but enough to set your cheek stinging. You're momentarily stunned by the sudden rush of familiar fear and shame that you mutely stumble along behind him as he drags you along.

His pace quickens to a run when a horrifying nails-on-chalkboard demented shriek suddenly comes from the living room. Primal fear floods your being, your heartbeat races and you scramble behind Cameron through the other door into the hallway, up the stairs and into the bathroom.

The lock clicks into place and you retreat back to kneel in the gap between the sink and the shower door. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear that shriek instilled in you temporarily narrows your vision to a pinprick. You focus on your breath, clasping your hands in front of you and squeezing them together hard.

"Where are you?" You hear the muffled voice of Not-Cameron call from downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Cameron tucks himself down to kneel beside you and he hisses. "Stay fucking quiet."

You don't answer or even look at him. Focusing on calming yourself quickly so you can figure out how you are going to survive this confusing situation.

"Love, please! Come out!" There's a note of panic in Not-Cameron's voice, a rising shrill sound that sets off an uncomfortable vibration in your teeth and yet also a deep base vibration you can feel in your chest. "Where are you? I'm sorry. I can explain." Their voice grows more distorted as a shadow creeps past the door.

Even through your fear, the sound of their panic tugs at your heartstrings. Your happiest memories from the past few months suddenly flash in your mind's eye.

You come to a decision.

The calls of Not-Cameron fade, then come back, then fade again. From the distance of the calls, they've probably checked your bedroom and the office, they'll either check the guest room or the bathroom next.

Slowly under the pretext of getting more comfortable, you shift to a crouch and brace one foot back ready to run.

Cameron looks at you with a stern glare his black-eye fails to hide. Covering for your motion, you immediately fawn, twisting to grab the long-handled brush from the shower and making a show of bracing to fight.

He nods at you and turns to grab the toilet plunger from behind him. Once he turns, quite stiffly and slow due to his injuries, you move. Springing forward and sliding the lock before he can turn back and slipping through the door just as he lurches to his feet.

The hallway is dark and empty, swallowing your call of "I'm here!" like the void of space.

You falter at the unnatural silence and suddenly pain blooms behind your eyes as your head snaps back against the wall. Bruising pain jumps from your arms to you chest to your head.

Cameron's hands are on your throat.

"You." Speckles of saliva splatter your face as he hisses at you. "Fucking shh."

It's getting harder to breath. His hands are too tight, cutting off your precious oxygen.

You lash out with the long-handled brush, it almost collides with his head but he blocks it ripping it from your grasp before turning to choke you again with a blank hateful look. But the distraction helped to lower the pressure on your throat.

It takes all your strength to utter the word: "help."

Cameron is ripped from your vision in a blur of grey and red. You collapse as the pressure around your neck disappears, gasping for air.

It's dark, but in the light coming through the window at the end of the hall from the street lamps outside, you can make out the details of the thrashing figures only four feet away from you.

Cameron is on the ground, swears and angry screams stream from his mouth as his hands scratch and swing at the creature pinning him to the ground. He attempts to pry off the huge clawed hands holding him down by his shoulders and tries to punch the creature in its ribs, but he can't get enough force behind his fists.

The creature doesn't flinch, just releases a low growl as it hunches over Cameron.

It is humanoid, but its arms and legs are just too long, and the bones of its spine jut out along its back. It is wearing clothes; you recognise the flannel cardigan and jeans combo Not-Cameron was wearing when he left the house earlier. From what you can see of its neck and the ends of the limbs poking out from its sleeves and trousers, its skin is silvery-grey, but it's thin and almost looks like clingfilm, the shining red of its muscles is visible as they stretch and contract beneath the translucent skin. It's hair is pitch black, standing on end and shifting, reminiscent of a wind ruffling a field of corn.

Suddenly, in a motion so quick it appears to be a blur, the creature's head snaps down towards your former boyfriend.

Cameron's screams are cut off by a squelch followed by a wet gurgling that slowly goes quiet with a crunch.

Just as quickly as it started, it's over. The creature draws it's head back up before flicking it, flinging something heavy down the hall. You can just see the edges of the bloody mess that is all that remains of Cameron's neck past it's claws.

All falls still.

Deafening silence consumes your fear.

The creature begins to shake.

You can only watch in horror as it appears to distort and melt and crack and shrink.

Protruding bones retract back into its back, claws shrink, and limbs recede into its sleeves. A pearlescent liquid seems to ooze out from the muscles beneath the skin, swirling and filling the space beneath, hiding the muscles from view before changing colour. The sound of cracking bones and wet squishing sets off an uncomfortable feeling in your teeth.

Before it finishes transforming, it turns to look back at you.

You can't help but let out a gasp.

Glowing silvery-blue irises in blacked-out eyes stare at you from above a stretched-out grin full of sharp teeth. A string of bloody drool hangs from their chin.

Half-of it's face appears almost manequin-like, but from the other half the recognisable face of Not-Cameron stares.

Their skin swirls and distorts, the cloudy ooze beneath their skin floods the right side of their face first, before curling over to the left and solidifying. A ripple runs through their skin as it twists and distorts, growing to mirror the features on the other side to form the recognisable face of Cameron. With a series of spine-tingling cracks, their sharp teeth begin to snap into their gums and out of sight, leaving a set of pearly rounded normal teeth behind.

All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.

Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

You don't move. While your brain tries to process what you're seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.

Not-Cameron stares.

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Extra note: There is one more part and then it's over. Ooh, I can't wait (and I'm the one having to write it 🤣).

#doppelganger x you #doppelganger x reader #doppelganger #doppelganger boyfriend #shapeshifter x you #shapeshifter x reader #shapeshifter #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #mimic #monster x you #x you #x reader #mimic x reader #mimic x you #tw body horror #tw blood #tw death #the eyes are the windows to the soul #teatwtts