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fran-fics · 1 year

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“Insufferable Pig” 🗡️

cw: desperate-ness 😭, he want u, hurt pain, sharp bottle and mean langoo!

gender non spec 1,000 words

🔦 Tight ropes calloused my skin as I struggled and squirmed, I had no idea where I was and didn't want to know. Grunts pilled out as the rope skinned my wrists more and more, desperately I decided to check my ankles. But to my disappointment, no prevail. The pain only worsened as I sat under the bright light, I squinted my eyes as the light swayed around my figure. With a dazed look, I heard a creak as a tall man shadowed the opening of the door across from me.

Fear struck my body as I squirmed more and more, only doing myself harm but what else is there to do? Blood oozed from the deep cuts made from the burning rope as more and more grunts came out. A low giggle echoed through the room as the man waiting in the doorway finally took his moment and walked into the room.

The coldness engulfed my body as I realized I had little to no clothing, feeling bare I perplexed my face as I shivered. As the figure got closer and closer to me I shallowed my breath hoping that maybe just maybe it could make me unrecognizable.

The man still stood above and towered my sitting figure, looking up I could see that he was very enthusiastic about something. "Who the fuck are you?" I spat out, huffing and puffing due to the loss of energy. How long have I been tied here, days? Was I just waking up?

Pushing all those questions aside I started listening to what he had to say, his low voice gave a weird sense of comfort but I remembered the situation.

"Don't worry about it, darling... Hahaha.. ha."

His eyes darted around the room trying to think of something else to say when his eyes met yours again his perplexion finally subsided. He stared at your face as saliva dripped from his agape mouth.

Studying your features hot puffy air clouded your senses as and sweet aroma of sweets made its way to you. As he scootched closer and closer to you you felt more and more uncomfortable, it came to a point where he was practically sitting on you huffing and puffing.

"Can I help you??" You asked as he was practically all over you at this point.

"Ye..ss" He took a break between his sentences to admire your figure.

"With what..?" Your face was perplexed as you stared at him visibly upset.

"You.." he said desperately, he inched his face closer as the fat grin on his face winded and he looked like a madman. Touching his hot sweaty forehead to yours he groaned,

"You don't know how long I waited for you.. ag,, mm.."

Squirming in the tight restraints once again more blood pooled from the cuts as Kizami seemed to take note. His long fingers came down under the rope, his fingers slid inside the opened wounds as he felt the flesh around it, pressing his forehead more parallel to yours, the more he felt around.

Strings of yelping and hot puffy air came out from the both of you as you felt you were getting torn from the inside out. Honestly, you wouldn't mind. Biting at your lip as a way to cope with the pain only decided to put you in more, one slick cut through your skin was enough to start whining at the pain overdosing everywhere.

"Do you need a hand with that?..."

He looked at the slit in your lip that formed over time, uncomfortably leaning in closer to your face in a natural impulse you retracted your head and then slammed it into his, causing Kizami to revolt back in pain. You were also in a severe amount of pain but you didn't crouch over and whine about a little hit, did you?

With a groan he lifted himself back up, a cheeky grin plastered on yours as the hit wound on your forehead dripped down into your mouth. A muttered 'your fucking kidding me' was heard as you watched as he picked up something off the floor.

You couldn't quite figure out what through cloudy eyes, and your glasses mysteriously were misplaced. Loud stomping was heard as he once again was towering over your figure, your cheeky grin slowly subsided as you saw what he was holding. A sharp bottle was placed in his hands as he looked over you, moving closer he slammed his lips into yours, taking a second to adjust you felt a cold glass on the back of your head. Shivering into the cold wet lips he was way too eager, pushing his way into your mouth.

Hot steamy breath was met between the two of you as you had no choice.

With a groan he entered again and you saw this as an opening. Biting down on his tongue a yelp and a whine was greeted, another cheeky smile opened up on your face as you watched him whine into his wound. With no second of hesitation he bodied you, a large thump was heard echoing as you struggled to breath. Your chair fell on the ground.

Everything happened at once as he again stood over you with the object. He crouched down to your dazed figure looking you up and down, “God if only you could have been good. I gave you the signs my love..!” He said with a smile, his words were calloused since his tongue was now swollen but you just stared up at him.

Everything going in one ear and out another you felt a sharp pain stabbing into your stomach, looking down your eyes widened as screams admitted from your mouth. Loud laughing was also accompanied with your pain, scratching and clawing the wood as the pain became insufferable.

Vision panned out as laughing still became apparent as day. Slowly but surely you lost consciousness, as everything came to a wrap.

please leave a note 😭💕 ty for reading

#fran-fics #kizami #corpse party #corpse party x reader #corpse party fanfiction #corpse party kizami #kizami x reader

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yagamisdiary · 2 years

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if u feel uncomfortable answering this question u don’t have to!

just wanted to ask if u have any tips in preventing on doing sh? like it’s really hard to stop once u started and even if you’re clean for a while the urge doesn’t go away

oh damn we’re getting deep okay

TW: self harm, rape, drug use, overdose

so i used to self harm and i think this is pretty well known since i included it in parasite and what not

i started in 2016, i was 16 and i had scars all down my arms and i always wore sweaters, jackets, long sleeves etc

btw, i live in TEXAS where it’s hotter than hell so i would sweat my ass off and ppl would be like girl take off your jacket but i would always say i was fine even though i was dying

i ended up doing it until i was 17/18 without anyone noticing until i overdosed and went to the hospital (1st suicide attempt) and they saw the cuts

when i woke up i got help and sent to a mental facility and got some cute socks 😍 (sorry humor is my coping mechanism) and i ended up getting clean from self harm and drugs

i was clean for maybe an entire year but i would get random urges but i would just try to push them down or resorted to other forms of self harm like pinching myself until i bled or pulling my hair until it came out or punching walls/glass

when i turned 19, i got raped and i ended up going down hill again and start to self harm again and doing drugs again

my second suicide attempt happens after i slit my wrists again and endured blood loss and had to go to the hospital AGAIN and got cute socks AGAIN

i think i didn’t get better until i was 21 and it was only because i moved away from everything that was making me depressed. i left my family, friends, school, etc behind and started a new life in another town with my dad (my parents are divorced)

moral of this depressing ass story is i didn’t magically get clean one day. that’s not real. people who actually deal with self harm never just get better one day. it’s not possible because it’s an illness, it’s an addiction and i know that first hand

the best piece of advice i can give you is to find a pattern. find what makes you want to cut yourself and try your absolute hardest to stay away from it or get rid of it even if it hurts like a bitch

leaving everything behind hurt so bad, saying goodbye to some and just disappearing on others hurt but my mental health has never been better

there are times where if things get bad, i’ll randomly get the urges too but i think i’ve gotten much better at convincing myself it’s not worth it

i’m stuck with scars that are BARELY fading away because of something i did years ago and sometimes it makes me really sad when i feel insecure about wearing certain things that expose my arms or when someone points it out

at the time, i just had so much disgust and hatred for myself that i wanted to cause myself pain. i felt like i deserved it. i deserved to hurt, i deserved to bleed

and then there was times where i was so depressed and numb that i would cut myself just to feel something, just to see if i was alive

i regret it so fucking much i wish i could go back and hug my 16 year old self and beg her not to do those things and be kinder to herself and love herself some more

i’m legit tearing up while writing this because the idea of someone feeling so low of themselves that they feel the need to punish themselves breaks my heart so badly because no one deserves that.

i hope whatever you’re going through gets better and i hope you never get the urge to hurt yourself again because from someone who committed self harm in many different forms for YEARS i can tell you personally it’s not worth it

it won’t take the pain away, it won’t change anything, it won’t make you feel better

if you ever need someone to talk to, i’m here for you!!

#amara's asks

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mangoofthesea · 2 years

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Warning for a semi personal very angry and longer than I intended rant about people's opinions on domestic abuse, amongst other things:

I am extremely tired of there not being understanding from some that others are not as strong as they are. People are allowed to need help, they are allowed to be vulnerable they are allowed to not be able to help themselves because maybe they don't know how, or they do but there are obstacles. Maybe there are solutions but it will rock the boat too much for them to see it as worth it. I'm so fuckjng sick of this attitude of 'yes but why do you have to be vulnerable and not be able to sort all of this on your own because you should?' While at the same time making that exception where they think it's okay.

Basically why is it okay that you can see *I* need help because I lost my parents, because I'm 20 and tired and I had a load of stuff dumped on me before I was at an age I was ready. Yet you PRESUME that anyone else in a bad situation who doesn't have help can just. get themselves out of it. Or make their life better if they try hard enough because you did. Maybe they wouldn't succeed. Maybe they'd fucking die in a gutter because they couldn't pay for housing and got hypothermia. Maybe their partner beat them to death and they got brain damage. Maybe they wanted their kids to have both parents even if one of them is SHIT. Maybe I wouldn't have been okay if you hadn't helped me. Maybe j would have fucking overdosed or slit my wrists rather than deal with life. Maybe I would have become a shell of myself and given up on life and university and anything beyond staying here and helping my family.

Why do *I* deserve to have help but you have to have the mentality that I would have been alright eventually without it? Because you were? You found a stable partner at 26. You were in a better housing market. You were maybe in the right places at the right times and made a couple good choices by chance. So why is it your right to judge that someone else, even a character on a TV show, is at fault for not getting the same chances you had? For staying in an abusive relationship, which you have never been in, and get to judge that they are irritating because they could have left? Does it make you feel less sad about the world because you can put the blame of some people's circumstances back onto them in order for you to not feel hopeless? I wonder if that's it. Because if you recognise that sometimes people can truly not have a happy life through no fault of their own, and it's not just in third world countries, or whatever you judge to be 'okay' as 'yes it's not their fault' then it feels sad. It feels fucking horrible to have to acknowledge that sometimes things are bad, and maybe someone's life is terrible, and they COULD do something about it. But that COULD is a million miles away due to whatever has happened jn their life up to that point to mean that they do not have the resources, knowhow, emotional, spiritual, and physical strength to do what you think is so Not Easy But Doable.

Just because you are strong does not mean that some do not have the right to be weak

#small rant #abuse #tw abuse #abusive relationship #i have kept hearing certain family members make these types of comments about characters on shows #or real people #like 'why couldn’t they just leave them?'#or 'why can't they just lose weight and look after their bodies?'#'why can't they just work out how tk not be anxious or depressed?'#BECUASE NOT EVERYONE HAS THE SAME PHYSICAL OR MENTAL CHEMISTRY AS YOU AND THAT MEANS LIFE IS FUCKING HARDER #even my own mother taling about it last year #like why didn’t that female character just leave her abusive husband?#LIKE SHE WASN’T IN AN EMOTIONALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH A MAN THAT MADE HER FEEL LIKE SHIT BUT SHE STILL STAYED WITH HIM ON AND OFF #FOR 3 FUCKING YEARS WHILE MY LIFE WAS HELL #NO FUCK YOU #absolutely fuck you #i can't #how dare you make judgements abiut other peoples lives #thats the core im sick of #focus on your own fucking life #if somebody else isn’t doing life as well as you maybe there’s a fucking reason #also quit being shit to your past self????#why can you not say 'i wasn’t dojng great then at life'#rather than 'oh i was a total bum yeah'#even in a jokjng manner its cruel #and in regards to someone else i know fucking abelist jokes are fucking horrible and sick and i still remember a couple that im #trying to forgive #urgh i just felt so mad tonight #people are not all the same so quit holding them up to your own standards of 'what j would do in that situation'#like you have any fucking clue what its like to have so much of your life fucked with in that way

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3knecrotic · 4 months

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here’s another for you to keep in your inbox as a trinket <3

the fact youre so fucking selfish to be like "i wish i was the one overdosing" is MIND BLOWING. youre insecure, unloved, and put yourself out of your misery so no one has to deal with your fucking problems. youre such a cunt and no one fucking cares about you, or your problems, or the fact youre so mentally unwell you want YOURSELF in that position. kill yourself, genuinely. hang urself. slit ur wrist down to the beans. no one fucking cares about you.

also, consider trying again?

OH MY GOD YOURE ACTUALLY STILL HERE?!!! MADNESS

#dk speaks #vent #thc rambles #asks and answers #GIRL HELPP

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ajiinsidebubble · 8 months

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im not suicidal. i tell myself when i stare at that knife for too long, i look away. im not suicidal. six years ago i picked it up and cut my wrist, it wasn’t too deep, maybe i was scared to die, “i have to die i dont see a way out, i have to try again”. my hand was shaking, i couldnt bring the knife to my wrist again, i hated myself, coward i am. i slit my hand, tears dripping down blending with the blood on it, stinging pain across my arm. i was so creul. walking around school hallways hiding my hand, i was glad it was winter, no one can see the scars, no one will know that i dint plan on seeing the day, no one will know that i failed, that i couldn’t escape. and just like that i relive that night everytime i see a knife, like cutting my hand all over again, killing myself once more, failing yet again. cant escape myself. cant escape. for after i forgave myself, but everytime i look at pills, i relive the night i overdosed, on every capsule pack i found at home, and tried to run for the second time. threw up on my bathroom floor, i failed yet again, i cant escape. so i gave up. been four years. i relive my death when i throw up, when i take that panadol for my headache, when i cut fruit for myself, i relive my failure every day. killing myself all over again and still yet living everyday, is this the escape? an escape from death? am i too afraid to die or am i too afraid to just fail again.

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alostsoulintheworld · 9 months

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The thing about suicide is that you never really understand why.

Whether someone close to you commits or you do it yourself,you will find yourself never truly understanding why,no matter how clear the person explains the reasons and no matter how hard they try showing you why,you'll always have a void spot concerning the answer.

Why?

Maybe because I was too sad and my weights suddenly went heavy and brought me down,maybe I couldn't bare all the suffering with hot blood til it ran cold and couldn't keep me alive for long,maybe I was way too patient with everything and everyone and forgot how my heart had limits I should've considered before it ripped apart...or maybe I was just a person,who wasn't designated to live or survive,a person who wasn't made for a life,yet for a 6feet under spot deep in mother Earth's womb,ready to be reborn as someone's worth living...but does that give me the choice to gutter myself or maybe slit my wrists? Hang myself in a memorial tree? Jump from a specific height? Overdose on various drugs and meds or maybe even slash my whole trachea open and swim on my guiltless puddle of spoiled blood boiling from hatred towards a merciless world...?

Why would a beautiful human with a radiant soul want to do that to themselves...

17/04/2013 two of your cousins poisoned themselves and died within the next few hours horribly with long lasting damage to a whole family,which led to an international concern raising on news and socials.Everybody knew,nobody understood why.

_/_/2015 you overdosed on several drugs mixed all at once,made you feel so high yet suddenly so low for a whole week,asleep,with no movement and none to wonder why.

_/_/2016 ...

_/_/2018 ...

_/_/2019 ...

16/06/2021 you tried to kill yourself,slashed your wrists open,and nobody asked why. Nobody checked nobody rushed to you nobody gave a single thaught about you while you were sitting on the corner of the hospital room wondering whether you should loosen up the syringe hook to lose blood and die or just go to sleep and brush off your brain monsters...nobody asked why,not even you.

23/05/2022 you hung yourself in that abandoned forest at midnight hoping it to be the end of you only for the ropes to cut loose and rip right above your supposed to be one last midnight moon,only for others to ignore the bruises on your neck,only for poeple to give you funny looks,only for yourself to wait for someone to ask "why?" So you can feel a little less heavy...But nobody asked why.

_/_/2023 Is someone going to ask why? If so,will they understand? Will they accept it? Will they move on and live normally? Will they suffer? Forget? Cry? Laugh? Carry on? Move forward?...

I hope I don't figure out why,because if I ever do,I would be most sorry for all of you except me and the long awaited answer of,"why".

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narciesuss · 10 months

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youtube

They figure me a dead motherfucker,

but I'm just a motherfucker that want to be dead

💀💕

I'm trying to get the highest I can get before I overdose and die

My ribs are nothing but an empty cage

💕💀

Think I'm joking

When I'm talking

About blowing my head open

Till the moment you walk in

And find my body motionless

Wrists slit

💀💕

Always burn my bridges

Cause I'd rather fall in ditches

If life's a game of inches

Then my dick has been the biggest

And my goal's to fuck the world

Until that motherfucker's twitching

Lane switchin'

Same mission

To die and blame my addiction

Bitch

💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕💀💕

Season Three

Episode Four: You and Me. Me and You.

🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷🩶🩷

Is this too much to ask for? Wtf.

I’m the main character and I lead the relationship no matter what shape or form I am in. Submit 😈

#the kassie show #The Kassie Show Season Three on Crack #Youtube

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golfgolyo · 1 year

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Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

[Verse 1: Frukwan/The Gatekeeper]

So you wanna die, commit suicide

Dial 1-800-Cyanide line

Far as life, yo, it ain't worth it

Put a rope around your neck and jerk it

The trick didn't work

Your life was fucked up from the first day of birth

After watching Jackie Gleason, walk into a precinct

Gun down the captain for no fucking reason

And get some LSD or a drink from the bar

Get behind your wheel and crash the car

Like Desert Storm, got bombs for the war

Confront an alligator, let it eat ya raw

Back to the function, riding the caboose to hell

BZZZZZT touched the third rail

You fucked up chicken, now you just got fried

Cause it's a suicide

[Chorus: KRS-One]

Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

[Verse 2: Too Poetic/The Grym Reaper]

Hey, you, little rich kid, what's your beef?

Come and tell the Grym Reaper all of your grief

You asked for a Benz and you only got a Jeep

Your pop's got ends, but yo, he's mad cheap

Maybe you're a bastard child, you think

Mom and Dad are white and you're dark as ink

Maybe you're Sicilian with a tan

But you hate lasagna and the pizza man

Now you stand on the Gravedigga plot and

You're singing the blues about the rough life you've got

(Not!) You don't wanna live no more

I guess you're really ready for the graveyard tour

When you get home, just seal up your windows and you doors

Turn your oven on high for about four hours

Light you a blunt, kiss your ass goodbye

You gassed yourself, 'cause it's a suicide

[Chorus: KRS-One]

Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

Suicide it's a suicide, biddy bye bye

Suicide it's a suicide

[Interlude: Scott (the Moleman) Harding]

Yep, I've said it before and I'll say it again

Life moves pretty fast

If you don't stop and look around every once in a while

You could miss it

[Verse 3: The RZArector]

Six fucking devils stepped up playing brave god

Had the fucking nerve to try and enter my graveyard

I'm the Rzarector, be my sacrifice

Commit suicide and I'll bring you back to life

The first was convinced, stuck a water hose in his mouth

At full blast so his head can explode

Second one said, "Hmmmm, that's good but I can top it!"

Put a axe up to his head and then he chopped it

Blood shot out in every direction

The rest didn't know what to do, I made suggestions

Put a slug in your mug; overdose on a drug

Wet your hand, stick a knife in the plug

Or be like Richard Pryor, set your balls on fire

Better yet, go hang yourself with a barbed wire

Three and Four fell deep into the spell and

Ran to the zoo, locked themselves in the lion's den

Number Five said, "It ain't worth being alive!"

Smoked a dust joint, mixed it with cyanide

The only one who escaped was Number Six

He went home, sat in the tub, and slit his wrists

Yeah, more graves to dig, goodbye

There's no need to cry... 'cause we all die

#Spotify

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nxcturnalbxnes · 1 year

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It's not fair, I found love

It made me say that

Get back you'll never see daylight, If I'm not strong, it just might

It's not fair, I found love

It made me say that

Get back you'll never see daylight, If I'm not strong, it just might

They figure me a dead motherfucker, but I'm just a motherfucker that want to be dead

$now Leopard with the lead in his head

Turning me into a sweater

Bitches use me as their fucking bedspread

I'll be the silhouette of a sunset

Smoke a cigarette while I compress my depression

Stare into the violet fluorescent lights makes me violent

I'm trying to get the highest I can get before I overdose and die

My ribs are nothing but an empty cage

Black hole in my chest

Big bang

Yung Plague on the tip of a wave

In my head it feels like I'm a guest so I will throw it all away because when I am dead I will be nothing decomposing in a grave

I'm matter but I don't matter

I can feel my skull shatter from the dull chatter

Brain spattered on the wall

Grey stains won't dissolve

Now I have to paint it all

It's not fair, I found love

It made me say that

Get back you'll never see daylight, If I'm not strong, it just might

Always boasting my emotions

On how I'm so fucking broken

Think I'm joking

When I'm talking

About blowing my head open

Till the moment you walk in

And find my body motionless

Wrists slit

Thoughts of $lick keep falling in an open pit

Shit

Always burn my bridges

Cause I'd rather fall in ditches

If life's a game of inches

Then my dick has been the biggest

And my goal's to fuck the world

Until that motherfucker's twitching

Lane switchin'

Same mission

To die and blame my addiction

Bitch

#spotify #$uicideboy$#grey59

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3knecrotic · 4 months

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I think I'm finally gonna let go of this message in my ask box, it's fairly old but. I don't need to keep seeing this lmao.

That said, sorry my suicide attempt you begged for didn't work! I was definitely pushed to a breaking point with the several months I've been living and gave it a try with! You guessed it! Several mg of valium, Lot of cough medicine, probably opioids, and Definitely alcohol<3, but I woke up. Oh well!

I'm happy I'll never be able to see this ask again, it'll be good for me u.u

#dk speaks #asks and answers #v anon #excuse me for wanting to die when my FP became obsessed with someone so hard i was neglected and practically cheated on for Several. months #being discarded by your wife for someone who basically just entered the picture is kinda gonna make you wanna die!#the only downside is my wife didnt even do it To Cheat #she fucking did it because she felt she'd have to visit a funeral if she didnt.#but thanks for the words either way ig lol

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springloveswinter · 5 years

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(...)

#im so sorry to keep going on the same topic but i was just thinking and like #whats stopping me from killing myself??#being realistic im not getting into medschool anytime soon but my parents wont accept me doing anything else #so i have no hope for feeling fulfilled with what im doing in the near future #theres no one who depends on me and would actually miss me that much #im a disappointment to my father and an unnecessary weight on my poor moms shoulders #at most they will cry but they will get over it #everyone will we all do thats just life #and like i live on my own #in a city where no one knows me nor cares about me #i could totally lock the door and overdose or turn the stove on without a flame or just put on loud music and slit my wrists off #by the time someone comes to look or my parents alert the security guys ill already be on the other side #i could totally just tell everyone to not contact me cause im studying and trying to concentrate or some bullshit like that #yeah #please dont read this #i just needed to get it out of my chest #dont worry please #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal ideation #tw suicide mention #tw negative thought #tw depression

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7-wonders · 3 years

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Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

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