#tw major character death

[stevesbipanic]

Steve's only 25 when it all catches up to him.

It starts off small, things people wouldn't even be able to tell is an early sign of something wrong. Misplacing keys, forgetting which day he has his shifts, what time he's supposed to get Robin. Robin notices though.

Robin knows Steve always keeps his keys on the hook next to Eddie's by the front door, that's where he always finds them, he's not misplacing the keys, he's forgetting the hook exists.

Robin knows Steve has the same shifts every week, they never change because they line up with Eddie's at the record store nearby. Robin knows Steve isn't forgetting what time he's supposed to pick Robin up, he's forgetting Robin moved away a few months ago after she graduated college.

Robin keeps noticing when the kids start calling her because the little things are becoming big things.

Robin notices when Dustin calls and tells her Steve thought he and Suzie were back together, "Like how crazy is that we broke up two years ago, I don't think I've even mentioned her lately."

Robin notices when Lucas calls and tells her Steve asked when his next game was, "The season ended months ago, he came to the finals."

Robin notices when Max calls and whispers softly, "He asked to take me to the skatepark, Robin, I told him I had to help mum. He's forgotten I'm blind Robin."

Robin wished she'd noticed sooner, maybe years ago when Steve was getting knocked around a lot. She wished she'd screamed in the face of those Russians to take her instead. She wished a lot of things when Eddie called her.

"He's in hospital, Birdie, he collapsed at work."

Robin is back in Chicago for the first time since she graduated. She wished she'd visited sooner.

"Do you think the feds are gonna let me go soon, Robbie? I mean it usually doesn't take this long for them to bring me the NDAs."

Robin hopes Steve doesn't notice her eyes going glossy as she runs her fingers through his hair, "Don't worry Stevie, I'm sure they'll be in soon, Dusty is probs just arguing over something in his."

"At least he isn't having to explain he raised a demodog. Did I ever tell you about that Robbie?"

Robin smiles softly, "Yeah but tell me again, don't want to forget any of it."

Eddie gives Robin the gist of what the doctors said, Eddie didn't understand much, a lot of technical words and shit. Too many concussions, more than they knew about most likely. They say it'll probably get worse with no timeframe of how quickly it'll happen, there might be good days, there will be a lot of bad days.

The first bad day comes a week later. Steve barely remembers Eddie, trapped in a time when Eddie was just the kids DM. Eddie sobs in the corridor in Robin's arms. The next day it's like nothing happened and Steve gets discharged. They tell Steve, this time Eddie is the one to comfort him.

"I don't want to forget you Eds."

"It's okay if you do, sweetheart, I'll still be here."

It's Robins idea to start writing everything down. Eddie, Nancy and the kids all help. Filling journals upon journals of stories and pictures of Steve's life to help on the bad days. Steve has to quit his job, Robin moves back to Chicago, they make it work.

On bad days depending on how far back Steve is Dustin or Robin or Eddie will read through the books with him, filling in the gaps of what he needs. On the worst days, Eddie leaves the pile of journals on the bed with a note and waits downstairs to see if Steve will join him later.

They make it work for a few years. Steve celebrates his 30th birthday with perfect clarity. He writes himself an entry in the journal next to a big group picture with Steve and Eddie's matching rings showing.

That July, over a decade since Starcourt, Steve is in hospital again. He'd collapsed at breakfast. Eddie had thought it was going to be one of their good days, Steve had woken up fine, all his memories in tact if a little fuzzy. He'd made them coffee and giggled at Eddie's singing while he made them eggs and just like that it all came crashing down.

Steve's brain is shutting down. They don't know if he'll make it past Christmas. There's more bad days after that. More days with books left on the bed. Most days Steve doesn't even come downstairs. On the good days, Eddie always calls off work. He'd rather be fired than miss a single second of Steve smiling at him like he does, so full of love.

They have Christmas, the whole family comes, they have to bring every chair from around the house and squish in around the table just to fit but it's perfect. Steve sits between Robin and Eddie, face bright and full of love and life. Everyone gives him the tightest hug as the night closes, all lingering, afraid of letting go.

"I love you, dingus."

"I love you too, Robbie."

Later, upstairs in their room, Steve and Eddie go through all the journals, laughing softly at each little note the kids have left. Steve writes his little journal entry, a tradition of good days, and curls into Eddie's arm whispering soft loving words to each other before falling asleep.

Steve never wakes up.

The funeral happens shortly after, all of the family is still in town. Robin holds Eddie afterwards as they go through the journals together. When they get to the last page, they struggle not to smudge the ink with their tears.

Dear Eds and Robbie,

I don't know how many more good days I'm going to get so I'm leaving this here for you now. I love you both so much, you're equally my soulmates and I want you two to look after each other while I'm gone.

Robs, go travelling with Nancy, ok? Thank you for looking after me all these years but it's time for you to go look after yourself. Go see the world for me, tell me all about it wherever I am when you get back.

Eddie, I'm sorry we didn't get as much time as we hoped, I hope you know that even just a day with you has been worth a lifetime with anyone else. Go follow your dreams, write music, perform, show the world how amazing I know you are. I give you full permission to fall in love with whoever you meet along the way, I don't want either of you guys to be alone.

Thank you for giving me a life worth remembering.

Your Dingus,

Stevie

#omfg i sobbed writing this im sorry #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #st4 #steddie #stobin #robin buckely #angst #poor steve #concussions #memory loss #fuck i actually cried so much omfg #ficlet #major character death #tw major character death #tw death

[electrozeistyking]

Ghost Drone is an AU where the events of Murder Drones have been spread out some odd years and changed around (except for Episode 1, which remains the same as it does in the show). Alternate takes on Episodes 2, 3 and 5 have already occurred.

The first comic isn't canon to the AU anymore, but since it's the initial concept, I figured I'd include it. This entire post is basically my way of saying "Hey, this AU has been stewing in my brain since the 16th of November in 2023."

#ghost drone au #murder drones au #oh my god the nuzi wedding photos are making me scream incoherently #murder drones n #murder drones v #serial designation n #serial designation v #murder drones uzi #uzi doorman #tw major character death #technically? but not really? idk #nuzi fankid #THAT'S RIGHT I HAVE CRACKED #fun fact: this au exists because i heard micheal kovach reading a one-sentence horror story #that's right i revisit old episodes of hunicast and don't feel bad about it (yet) #it's also really funny that i basically went back to using beanie's original hair colour #nuzi #whoops almost forgot to tag that fdskal

[rottmnt-residuum]

part 26 - end of arc 1

⇇ | ⇽ | index | ⇾

#rottmnt #rottmnt april o'neal #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt residuum comic #residuum #c #g #tw blood #tw dismembered limbs #tw death #tw sedation #tw overdose #tw major character death

[strawberryspence]

Steve is 19 when Eddie first says it. It's the night Eddie comes home from the hospital, body all bandaged up to help him heal. Steve picks him up, drops him off the brand new trailer and has to say his goodbyes. He's the one who's been staying with Max at the hospital since Lucas started going to school again. Eddie watches, seated on the door, shoulders leaning against the frame.

Eddie waves at him, hand still wrapped protectively on his middle. There's a tired smile on his face, "See you tomorrow, Steve." It's the first time Eddie ever calls him by his first name.

Steve is 20 and Eddie Munson has been saying, "See you tomorrow!" as his goodbye to him since that night. Robin thinks it's for him and for him only. Steve watches Eddie, something he does a lot these days. He watches as he says his goodbye to the kids, says goodbye to Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle. Eddie never once says the words, "See you tomorrow!"

Steve waits for everyone to be gone, hitching rides from the other older kids. Eddie turns to him when everyone has finally left, "Are you staying, Stevie?"

"No. I am leaving too."

Eddie smiles at him, cheeky and dimpled, brown eyes shimmering like a fucking gem against the cheap yellow fluorescent light, "Well then, see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

It clicks. It's not a goodbye, It's a promise. Eddie will see Steve tomorrow, come hell or high water. A promise made for him, and him only.

Steve pulls Eddie by the lapels of his ridiculously shiny jacket and kisses him straight in the mouth.

Steve is 23 when Eddie and him move in to their first apartment together. It's dingy, kind of old, but hey, it's freaking cheap. They unpack boxes of things that was given by Joyce, Karen, Hop, Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair. It's not much but it makes their bare home more livable.

They sleep on the floor with Steve's old mattress laid in the middle of the room, unopened boxes and furniture scattered surrounding them.

It's the first night they sleep together in their first home.

"See you tomorrow, sunshine." Eddie kisses his forehead, his nose and then his lips.

Eddie never says goodnight, just see you tomorrow.

Steve is 25 and it's the first time Eddie won't see him tomorrow. Eddie has to go to New York because Corroded Coffin just got discovered by an agent who wants to sign them.

It's okay. Eddie still calls every night, thank God the time differences of Chicago and New York isn't that big. Steve makes sure Robin isn't using the phone, so Eddie could call and tell him about his day with producers and songwriters and music and Steve can tell him about school essays and presentations for his Education class.

And always, always, just like every night since he was 19, Eddie ends the call with, "See you tomorrow." With whatever name he feels like that day. Sometimes it's sunshine, sometimes it's Stevie, sometimes it's love or baby or sweetheart. It doesn't really matter because it's all Steve.

Sometimes it's not true. Steve doesn't see Eddie the next day. Sometimes it goes on weeks and months on ends before the greeting finally means they get to see each other again.

That's okay. Steve's okay with it because if not tomorrow, he knows he'll still see Eddie again.

Steve is 34 when he hears Eddie say the greeting to someone else for the first time. Adoption is exhausting and repetitive and long and grueling but in the end— with a tiny little baby, cradled right against your arm— it's perfect.

Kids are always a mess. Steve knows because he has seven of them already, all grown up, all spread out in the country, all doing things on their own. And it's exhausting and takes out so much energy from you and your partner.

But with Eddie, all the weariness in his bones dissipate at the image of him, rocking their child on a rocking chair, humming a soft song as he finally tells them, "See you tomorrow, peanut."

Steve is 47 when Eddie and him finally get married. Joyce and Robin plan the wedding and as ridiculous as it sounds, they separate the two of them the night before. Steve rolls his eyes, kisses his groom on the cheek and waits for Eddie to say the four magic words.

"See you tomorrow, fiancé." Eddie whispers against his lips.

They get married the next day, under the bright beaming sun, spring flowers surrounding them as their daughter reluctantly spreads flowers for them.

Steve thinks he's heard so many variations of the greeting, but, "See you tomorrow, husband." might be his favorite from all of them.

Steve is 54 and it's the first time Eddie doesn't say it to him before going to bed. They both silently slip into the bed together, hands intertwined together like the other will float away if they let go.

Apparently being tortured and experimented with half of your childhood has some bad outcomes. It's the day they find out that El has a brain tumor.

Steve is 56 and the Party sleeps beside him and Eddie, tucked into each other like they're 15 again. The last time the Party had a sleepover was in 2000. They still all have sleepovers, don't get him wrong. What Steve means is the sleepover where they're all squished together on the floor, clinging onto each other as they sleep soundly, knowing they're safe and sound with their friends.

They have a sleep over just like that one last time.

"See you tomorrow. I love you." Eddie whispers, just as he falls asleep.

The expired eggos in their fridge gets thrown out six months later.

Steve is 65 when he gets to meet their first grandchild. Eddie is adamant that he is not crying, but his glasses make his tears more visible, making them look like actual diamonds coming out of his eyes.

Their daughter laughs, and lets them hold him for the first time. Steve is a blabbering mess of tears, holding the baby close to his chest. They stay the whole night, to help take care of the baby and their daughter.

And there's nothing more beautiful than the moment the nurse has to take their grandchild away from their daughter and she whispers, as gentle as a feather, "See you tomorrow, Ellie."

Steve is 73 when Eddie first forgets to say goodnight. It's Alzheimer's, it's—

It's not okay. It's never going to be okay. But Steve has to be okay, has to carry on for the love of his life. He takes care of Eddie, because he vowed to do so the day they got married, because he loves this man and he will do anything for him.

Steve tucks Eddie at night, after fits of confusion as to where he is, as to who he is, and kisses his forehead, soft and gentle, and says, "See you tomorrow, Eds."

Steve is 82 when he hears it for the last time.

Eddie's health has been declining. Nine years after his first prognosis, Steve takes it as a win, nine years and his love still battles it everyday.

They've been living in a nursing home, Steve is also getting too old to take care of Eddie. His bones are weary in ways that never goes away, his sight and hearing has always been bad but time has made it worst.

There's something called terminal lucidity. The doctors explain to Steve, in the most gentle way he's ever heard, "You're husband will probably, theoretically, have a moment of clarity where he remembers everything and it will seem like you have him back, but for us it is the sign of his health declining further. I am sorry, Mr. Munson."

Eddie gets it a few days later, and they talk nonstop. They talk about the kids, their grandchildren, about their friends, about how they've lived their lives. They open up photo albums, and point and laugh and smile and cry. Steve excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but only so he can call the others, so they could say their goodbyes. The kids fly in, from all around the country, to say goodbye.

Eddie goes a few hours later, warm and comfortable in his bed, cuddled next to Steve with a big dopey smile on his face, "See you tomorrow, Steve."

Steve smiles back, as Eddie closes his eyes. He stops fighting the ache in his bones, the never-ending beat in his scars.

"See you tomorrow, Eddie."

Steve doesn't see Eddie the next day, not the next, not the next, not the nex—

Until, he finally sees Eddie again.

#alright see you tomorrow #i have school so bye #steddie rants #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie hc #daeheadcanons #dae writes #tw mcd #tw major character death #tw illness

[shadow0-1]

Which should I regret?

What I became?

Or what I didn't?

#call of duty #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #MWII #CoD MWII #CoD MWIII #MWIII #blender renders #Johnny Mactavish #MWIII spoilers #MCD #tw major character death #wanted something with the bullet halos again but uhhhhh #he has a hole in his head jKDGKJDSGB it's not nice to look at #it's partially covered at least? oopsie

[ghosthoodie]

corallteral damage

#my art #sicily(3) #kait(8) #agent 24 #angst #tw body horror #tw major character death #splatoon #splatoon 3 #side order #splatoon oc #digital art #artists on tumblr

[tightjeansjavi]

My Dearest,

A/N: so, while I was in Galena for my girls trip this weekend…my friend and I went into a bookstore and that’s where the inspiration struck! Ulysses Grant wrote letters to his wife (My Dearest Julia) from June 4th, 1844 to February 2, 1854. Of course I immediately had to throw Joel into the narrative, with a twist ;) please have your tissue boxes at the ready for this one and remember, fiction can’t hurt you! Also, big thank you and kisses to @beardedjoel for sobbing along with me while I wrote these series of letters 💘 P.S I know California wasn’t founded as a state until 1850…but let’s just pretend!

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: a series of letters written by Joel Miller, a hopeless romantic yearning for your embrace once more.

Pairing | forbidden love!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, allusion to smut, infertility, pining, hopeless romantic, unrequited love, forbidden love, major character death, alcoholism, death by alcohol poisoning, yearning, no age gap, mentions of social status, somewhat historically accurate language, no happy ending, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is my dearest, +18 minors dni! (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealously drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel.

-

July 13, 1844

My Dearest,

California is beautiful and my eyes are seeing the ocean for the very first time. I wonder what your view is? Last I heard you were moving to New York. Is it true? Please tell me it’s a lie. I would be naive to think that what is written in the papers to be false, but my heart is still holding on. Are you moving to New York because of me? I’m so sorry, my dearest. We should have been more careful. I can still smell your perfume, and feel the ghost of your lips on my skin. I am no poet, but if I was, perhaps your father would think highly of me.

I dream of you even in the daytime.

Please write to me, dearest.

J.M

-

September, 7th 1844

My Dearest,

There is a sweetness on my tongue that I have not felt the indulgence of for many moons and suns. I worried that I would never hear from you again, that I would become another distant memory fading into ash. I forbade this from happening, dearest. We are thousands of miles apart, and all I wish for is to see your face once more. Do you wish for the same, dearest? To see your Joel, to feel his warm embrace? Please don’t forget me, please. I know in your heart that you still feel for me. California calls your name as it did mine. Come back to me, dearest.

Yours most affectionately,

Joel

-

January 12th, 1845

My Dearest,

I have not heard from you in months and my heart cannot bare it any longer. Why do you not write to me, dearest? I’ve enrolled in classes, maybe I’ll even become the next great American author! Would your father accept me then, if I was no longer a penniless man? I think he would. Your father is a very simple man in those regards. If only my status in society didn’t matter. Do you lie awake in bed and think of me, dearest? Does your dream state float off to the thoughts of your Joel? My dearest, my love for you has not changed, only grown stronger. Has yours for me felt all the same?

Joel

-

July 11th, 1845

My Dearest,

I write to you with a heavy heart and an anger that has never once possessed me. Please tell me it isn’t true. That you have fallen for another, the rich banker's son? It cannot be true. The papers lie, dearest. Your heart belongs to me, does it not? It must. You promised! You said that no matter what happened, no matter the consequences, we would end up together. You spoke those words so sweetly upon my ear when I laid beneath your sheets, dearest. Back in Texas, in your abandoned home, the stench of me still lingers. When you receive this letter, close your eyes and imagine me there with you, wherever that may be. I’ll come to New York, I swear it. I’ll come find you!

Please, write to me soon, dearest. Do not allow this to be the end of our story, I beg of you.

Yours always,

Joel Miller

-

October, 1845

My Dearest,

This morning I write to you about the thoughts of reminiscing on our love. Something so sweet, fresh, ripened, but not yet spoiled. Do you remember the night we first met? We were just children then. All bright eyed and filled with curiosity. I remember the bows in your braided hair, your mother scolding you for them, slapping your cheek and yanking them from your braids. You wept with your face buried in your hands, and I comforted you. Your mother taught you how to curtsey, how to engage in small talk and forced you to wear those unbreathable garments that you hated so. I showed you how to run, to make mud pies and swim in the river. Do you remember the night of our first kiss? The first time our lips touched and my life held a meaning again? The foul mouthed, stable hand boy winning the affections of a girl such as you. If I bring my fingers to my lips now, I can feel your kiss there, too. I moved back to Texas, dearest. I wanted to feel closer to you. Write to me soon, and in your letter tell me that you wish for me to come to New York to be with you.

I am inconsolable without your presence at my side.

Yours devotedly,

Joel Miller

P.S. Every night I pray to the moon and stars that we will be in one another’s embrace very soon. I have never been a religious man by any means, but I find myself praying for you, my dearest.

-

March 29th, 1846

My Dearest,

It is spring once again, and everything is in bloom! A new family has moved into your abandoned home, and I am back to my roots. I have given up my dreams to be an author, but I write to you, still. I missed being around the horses more than you could possibly imagine. There’s a piece missing here, and that piece is you. The new family I work for has a daughter around your age. She’s pretty, beautiful even, but she’s not you, my dearest. She’ll never be you. Her hair isn’t the right length, her eyes the wrong shade, her laugh isn’t yours, her mannerisms are all wrong. She yearns for my affections, but my heart belongs to another. I will not commit adultery against you, my sweet. Even in my loneliest hours, I will not give into my sins against you. She would make a fine wife, and her parents are unlike your own, but she will never be you, and she will never possess my heart.

I yearn for you.

Your Joel

-

July 2nd, 1846

My Dearest,

I write to you with sweat dripping down my brow. I cannot sleep, the Texas heat has played a cruel trick upon my mind. I awoke to your voice, whispering my name through the billowing curtains. I taste your sweet kiss and the oncoming summer storm, but you are not here. Am I going insane? I fear that I am. What is the weather like in New York? Write to me soon, I beg of you.

Joel Miller

-

September 23rd, 1847

My Dearest,

I am facing my loneliest night yet, and I picture you laying beside me beneath my sheets. I have scrapped up enough money to finally buy you a ring! Isn’t that the most wonderful news? Tomorrow evening, after supper, I will head into town to the jewelers and buy you a ring that shines more brilliantly than the heavens above. You’ll wait for me, won’t you? Promise me that you will.

With love,

Your Joel

-

January, 1848

My Dearest,

Today is the day where I wish I never awoke. I wish to stay in a sweet slumber where my dreams are filled with you. You cannot marry him, please. Tell your father that you don’t accept the banker's son’s hand in marriage! He will never know you as I do, my dearest. He will never satisfy you the way that I can. He will turn his nose up at your politics, your drinking habits, your antics and wildness. But I love you as so. Come back to me, runaway with me. I can give you so much happiness if you only let me. How will your husband to-be react when he finds that you cannot bear him children? When the marriage is to be consummated, and he strips you of your skirts and touches you where only I have been, how will he feel? I worry for you, my dearest. I remember the night that we first became one. Do you still think of the way I moved in you? I still feel the phantom crescents of your nails in my back. I wish the marks left there were permanent, so I would always have a piece of you with me. Tell me that you remember the way that my kisses feel, my taste on your tongue, my voice, my body moving with yours. There was a time when you wanted to bear my children, and begged me to fill your womb with my seed. We waited and waited, but your womb never swelled with life no matter how many times we tried. You assumed my feelings for you would sour, but they only grew.

If you accept the banker's son's hand in marriage, I wish to never see the sunrise again.

Joel Miller

-

May 7th, 1848

My Dearest,

I have never wept more than I have this morn. I shredded the papers, I pounded my fists into the earth and spooked every horse in the stable. Even the heavens weep with me, my dearest. Can I even call you that any longer? You wear his ring upon your finger, awake beneath his sheets, smelling of him. I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m sorry I could never be enough for you. I have tried so hard, and have continued to fail. My heart aches, and I wish I could rip it from my chest and stab it till all movement ceases. I wish to not feel any longer. I have lost all hope, and I fear that my attempts to hear from you have been fruitless. My devoted letters are out there, somewhere. Or perhaps you have collected them. Perhaps you did not awaken in his sheets. Perhaps you are on your way back to me. I’ll wait for you, my dearest.

Undoubtedly yours,

Joel Miller

-

June 4th, 1848

My Dearest,

In my loneliest hour, I write to you. If you ever receive this letter, do not weep for me. You and I were cut from a separate cloth since birth. I was not born into wealth. I was not fed from silver spoons. My clothes are tattered, the soles of my boots are worn down. All I have to my name is my penmanship and my memories of you. Think of me sweetly, will you? I wish you only happiness and love. I have turned into a drunk, my dearest. Alcohol soothes my mind, woes, and ailments. I hear your voice so vividly when I am in this state. You’re here beside me now, watching as I write my final letter. I can reach out and touch your cheek, soft, supple. You smell of saccharine honey and lavender fields. Your laugh is my favorite tune, and I can hear it now. Sing me a lullaby, my darling as I close my eyes and dream of you for a final time. If another universe exists, I hope I am rich. I hope I am the wealthiest man who is adored by your mother and father. I hope that on the night we meet again, I present you with a ring forged from my heart, a piece of me that has forever belonged to you. I hope I am fed from a silver spoon, dressed in the finest garments, attend every gala with you on my arm as my lady, my wife, my reason to live. I hope to bless you with as many children as you so desire. I have always loved you, my dearest, from the moment we met, I have been yours.

Farewell,

Your Joel.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💖

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#fic: my dearest #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller au #tw major character death #tw infertility #joel fic #joel miller story

[aslitheryprinx]

I couldn't help myself...

Drabble based on the most recent comic in @somerandomdudelmao's apocalypse au. (check the series out, it's incredible. Probably my favorite au despite how much it's emotionally destroying me rn..... or maybe because of that who knows.)

--------

The funeral was a small, private affair.

Not everyone was lucky enough to get to bury their loved ones in the apocalypse; hell, they hadn't been able to have a proper funeral when Raph's robot form had been lost.

It didn't make this any easier.

Draxum had taken the role of officiant, as he had at Splinter's funeral. None of them could have kept it together, and despite the occasionally strained relationship, Barry was still family.

They all took a turn to say something once Donnie's coffin had been lowered into the grave. Leo hoped his twin didn't mind the sentimentality. It wasn't like they knew what he would have preferred.

It was funny; Donnie had left so many instructions on his codes, his tech, his duties... everything but what he wanted his funeral to look like.

None of them cried at the actual funeral. There had been plenty of tears in the days leading up to his death, and in the direct aftermath. Leo was sure that once it sunk in, that he was truly gone, there would be plenty of tears to come.

But here, as they carefully brushed the dirt over the coffin- purple, because Donnie had designed his own coffin, and wasn't that a morbid thought?- no tears were shed.

It was somber. Quiet. ....Empty.

Leo had felt it before, the emptiness that came with loss. Now, with his twin, his other half gone, it was a void, a deep, yawning chasm.

Later that night, he held Donnie's mask in trembling hands. As he wrapped it carefully around his katana, he wondered how he could ever feel whole again.

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #cw death #tw major character death

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Warning: Depictions of character death

[Image Description: A 4 panel colored Legend of Zelda AU comic  “Linked Spirit”. Panel 1: The Darknut's head is turned to the viewer, one eye and a splash of the dark purple ooze pouring out of the visor space. "HA ha ha I see you now" it says. Panel 2: Hero's Spirit, appearing as breath of the wild Link, looks disturbed and wide eyed. "Malice." Panel 3: The background turns black, and Hero, back in their green tunic, looks up at the Malice's giant yellow eye looming over them. "Killing the Hero again and again clearly doesn't work." It says "You must be destroyed" ('destroyed' is italic and bold). Panel 4: A glowing teal wheel with clipped scenes in each of in the 6 segments, each Link in the segments are colored in the same tunic colors as when Hero is shapeshifted as them. Hero's Spirit is in the center, curled up and clutching their hair. Their face looks fractured and generally featureless. The 1st segment features a hand reaching toward a blue ocarina, with Beast Ganon's hoof in front of it. 2nd segment Rinku is seen from behind a hand hovering over a headstone with the name "Link" in Hylian on it. 3rd Rinku sinking in water, indicated by small bubbles. 4th: Engineer sprawled on the ground, the pan flute in one hand, the Spirit of Healing hovering over him. Maladus's clawed paw beyond him. 5th: Hope hovering over his own body as a spirit 6th: Breath of the Wild Zelda (Bloom) holding onto Glider like within the Final Memory in botw. Under this segment, a ribbon like line turns into a glowing droplet. End ID]

masterpost

smh time travel makes the order of events so confusing sometimes huh?

First- Previous (30) - 31^ - Next (32)

#linked spirit #hopefully only confusing for a second before you go 'oh shoot wait' #loz au #legend of zelda #loz #linked spirit au #ls hero's spirit #linked spirit comic #botw is next can you tell :P #ls malice #finally I can tag my beautiful monster's name :P #I'm sure most people knew it was malice but i mean Dramatic Name Drop #ls hope #ls rinku #ls engineer #ls glider #death mention tw #tw major character death

[dreaminginpencil]

A mini rough 6 page comic.

Steddie undertones.

CW for major character death/violence

#steddie #Steve Harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson fanart #kas eddie munson #kas!eddie #kas eddie #steddie art #steddie fanart #stranger things #stranger things art #stranger things fanart #dreaminginpencil #Steve/eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #tw major character death #tw death

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

“Ghost!” shouting and the clattering sound of someone scrambling up the loose metal roof of the shed woke Ghost up from his sleep with a start. He groaned, the sudden movement tugging at the stiff scar-flesh on his side. “Ghost! Ghost, are you here?!” 

“Yes!” he shouted back, sounding like a poked bear. Groaning again, he stood and slipped out from his nap spot tucked in between two warm, silver vents and onto the roof proper. He squinted at the ginger shape hauling itself over the edge of the roof, his left eye still mostly swollen shut from the hot and tender scarring on his cheek. Once she stood, he recognized Lizzie from her alert and dutiful posture, although he noted the way her pupils were blown wide and her tail was half bristled. 

“Sorry to wake you, sir!” she said loudly. “I have urgent news!” 

“What is it?” he asked, running his tongue over his chest fur tiredly. He really didn’t want to have more problems to deal with right now and her natural volume wasn’t helping his ever present headache. 

“There are wild cats in the city!” she reported and he immediately looked up. 

“Have they killed anyone?” he asked, heart starting to pound.

“No, sir, rumor has it they’re here to talk to Razor!” 

Ghost sighed in disappointment. “This won’t end well…” he grumbled. “How many of them?” 

“Two, sir, both elderly she-cats,” said Lizzie. 

“What?” His fur bristled.

“Two elderly she-cats, sir,” the girl repeated, her eyes darting up to the places where his ears used to be. Milo had taken extra satisfaction in tearing each of them to shredded stumps. 

Ghost shook his head to get a grip. “Right. What did they look like?” 

“Um,” Lizzie hesitated thoughtfully. “The bigger one was white and grey, the smaller one all grey.” 

“Shit,” Ghost cussed, lurching towards the edge of the roof with a brisk but wobbly walk. “And you said they were going to see Razor?” 

“Yes, sir,” Lizzie said. He could hear the confusion in her voice, the question she held back. Jagg would have asked it, he thought, ‘do they mean something to you?’ He thanked the Folk for Lizzie’s obedient nature. 

“Thank you, Lizzie,” he said, leaping down onto the roof of the shed. It rattled loudly, making him wince, and he quickly bounded from there to the ground. He didn’t wait for her to respond or follow, he just started moving. 

What was she doing here? The description could only be Miss Smoke but he had no idea what business she would have with Razor. Had she come to see him instead and been intercepted? Were the Clans surrendering? Either way, he knew that she was not going to be safe until she left the city. His muscles burned in protest as he darted across roads and under fences, cutting the shortest path he could to Razor’s yard. 

He slowed right before he reached the hedges and peered through the leaves. Razor was lounging on the edge of the slightly raised deck, Gingersnap sitting bolt upright behind him. Tiger sat close by on the grass and ahead of them stood Sardine and Smokyrose, another Clan cat Ghost couldn’t name close behind. 

Smokyrose was speaking. “-conditions for peace. If you have a list of terms, I can bring it back to Goldenstar and we can start moving towards an equitable solution.” She sounded unsure of herself but trying her best. 

“Hmm,” Razor said, regarding her with slit pupils and a tail twitching with interest. “I’d love to speak to Goldenstar myself. Would that be possible?” 

Smokyrose nodded, getting a little bolder. “It’s definitely a possibility. If you give me a time and place I can try and arrange a meeting.” She seemed so naively unaware of Razor’s true intentions. Something inside Ghost kicked in to high gear and he found himself striding out towards the gathered cats. All eyes turned to him, Razor’s narrowing darkly. 

Smokyrose gasped, eyes going wide. “Ghost! Oh, Stars, what happened to you?” She hurried in his direction, ears pressed back, gaze flickering over every bruised and battered inch of him. 

“Uh,” he didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure what his plan had been, only knew that he couldn’t leave her alone with Razor any longer. He watched the tom’s face, paralyzed, as Smokyrose came to hover around him. Razor smiled. 

“I didn’t realize you two were acquainted,” he said. Ghost heard the dangerous interest in his voice but Smokyrose, bless her soul, didn’t know any better. 

She turned back to him and said, “Oh, yes. Ghost and I are-” she paused, looking back at him, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, “we know each other.” Guilt sank its claws into his throat and pulled down until it was tight and painful to swallow. 

“Is that so?” mused Sardine. 

“Yes,” Ghost said carefully. He looked at Smokyrose, her pretty face pinched in a worried pout, and whispered, “Miss Smoke, you really shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe.” 

“Not safe?” she whispered back, louder than he would have liked. “Ghost, what happened to you?” 

“Let me explain,” Razor said, leaping down onto the grass. “Come here, both of you.” He beckoned with a paw as if he were going to tell them a casual secret. Smokyrose hesitated, eyes on Ghost, and Razor insisted with a, “Come onnn, it’s alright.” 

The other Clan cat growled softly, tail starting to lash. Gingersnap looked like a deer in headlights, her tail curled tightly against her body, her eyes wide, ears pressed against her skull. Ghost glanced at her briefly and she shook her head so subtly he almost missed it. Unfortunately, Smokyrose was already on her way over. Ghost followed, trying to stick close to her. 

As they reached Razor, he put his tail around Smokyrose, making eye contact with Ghost as he did. “You see, Ghost and I had a bit of a disagreement because a little birdie told me he was trying to steal my girl. This was our way of settling things, although, I’ll admit, I’m still a bit angry with him.” His tone was light and playful but it sent fear straight through Ghost’s heart. 

Smokyrose recoiled in terror. “Y-you did this to him?” Razor’s paw wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back into him. Ghost’s jaw tensed possessively. 

“Me and a few friends of mine,” Razor said nonchalantly. “He just doesn’t listen if you ask him nicely.” 

“Razor,” Ghost tried, voice sounding small as it squeezed its way out of his throat. “Again, I’m sorry about all of that. But she has nothing to do with this.” 

“I don’t like your tone,” Razor growled. “But it’s alright. I’ve thought of something that will put the whole dispute to bed.” 

Ghost hesitated. He didn’t know where this was going but he didn’t like it. “What’s that?”

Razor smirked victoriously. “This,” he said. In a blur of movement, his other paw came up to wrap around Smokyrose’s chest. The force of the movement knocked her backwards, onto the ground, and Razor followed her, teeth flashing. Smokyrose screamed.

“Don’t-!” Ghost tried but it was too late.

Razor had his teeth clenched around her neck, one of his canines poking through the soft flesh under her chin, and with a sharp twist of his head there was a nasty snap of bone. Smokyrose choked out a cry of pain, blinking back tears. Razor adjusted his grip and twisted again, her neck giving another disgusting crunch. Her body went limp, the only movement a feeble twitching in her feet. 

Razor dropped the body to the grass and licked his lips. “There,” he said, “now we’re even.” 

Across the yard, the second Clan cat took off in a sprint for the fence. Sardine yowled and lunged after her but she leaped nimbly out of his claws and disappeared through the shrubs. 

“Dammit!” hissed Sardine. He looked back at Razor, a simmering anger slipping through his mask. 

“Well, get after her!” Razor bellowed, “she could be useful!” 

“Of course,” Sardine smiled, tail lashing bitterly, then he took off after her. 

“You too,” Razor snapped at Tiger. The ginger tabby growled but heaved himself to his feet and bounded after them. 

“Razor, how is this even!?” Ghost cried, unable to look at the cooling corpse at his feet. He was furious and queasy and tired and distraught. His mind was searching for something he could have done differently, some way she could have survived. If you hadn’t arrived, it said, he would have sent her home just fine. 

“You went after my girl, I went after yours,” Razor snorted, prodding the body. 

“You killed her!” 

“So?” Razor narrowed his eyes. “She was a savage! She deserved it. Besides, I’m sure you have plenty of other girls who are just fine.” 

Ghost couldn’t muster a retort. 

“Now get rid of this thing,” Razor said curtly. “I don’t want my Folk finding it when they get home.” He turned away and strode back towards the deck, leaving Ghost to stare down at the silent scream etched onto Smokyrose’s features, the unnatural angle of her head. 

Distantly, he heard Razor saying, “I’m sorry you had to see that, dear.” 

“I feel sick,” Gingersnap said softly. “I think I want to go home.” 

“I’ll walk you,” said Razor. 

Ghost looked up just in time to catch Gingersnap looking at him, horrified. She quickly ducked her head and slipped out of the garden at Razor’s side, leaving Ghost alone with the body. He stared numbly for a long time. 

This is what he got for caring, wasn’t it? If he’d shut Smokyrose out of his heart, if he’d stayed away, she wouldn’t have died and they both could have gone on with their miserable lives. His kits were orphans now. Well… they were practically orphans. They’d be better off orphans. It wasn’t like he would have been a good father anyway. 

He scoffed, laughing as he tilted his face to the sky. Who was he kidding? Pretending he was going to step up and be there. He was the same as he ever was, a solitary tom wishing for something he wasn’t brave enough to hold onto. He had been foolish to even think he was capable of changing. 

He bent down and took the body by the scruff, moving roughly to pull it from the garden and into some dark alley or abandoned side street. The Folk would find it and take it away and the rest of his decency with it. Good. He was better off this way.

UPDATES: - Smokyrose is murdered by Razor. - Songdust goes missing.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warrior cats oc #warriors #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Ghost #Lizzie #Razor #Sardine #Tiger #Scorchplume #Smokyrose #Songdust #newleaf #TW Graphic Injury #TW Character Death #TW Major Character Death #Swear Warning #clangenrising

[stevesbipanic]

Before Steve could even open his eyes, he could feel the soft breeze brush his cheek. The soft grass beneath him cushioned his back as he took a deep breath of fresh air. He almost didn't want to open his eyes, it was so peaceful just laying here, calm, comforting.

When he did finally open his eyes again he blinked up at a bright blue sky above him, he could see the branches of the trees swaying in the wind. The woods were so quiet that he could hear birds chirping in the distance.

It was perfect, well, almost.

"There you are dingus! What're you doing laying on the ground?"

"Just enjoying a moment of peace before you got here, Robbie."

Robin face was bright as she laughed, her hand reaching down to pull him up. Now standing, Steve wrapped her in a tight hug which she returned wholeheartedly.

"I remember when these woods were a lot scarier."

"Don't worry, Steve, no more monsters."

"Yeah, no more monsters. Hey, is he here?"

His question was answered by another pair of arms wrapping around his middle.

"Stevie! Birdie here has been soooo annoying."

"Oi! I'm a joy to be around!"

Steve giggled watching his old friends bicker, it felt like coming home. Eddie grabbed their hands and lead them through the clearing out to the edge of the woods. The three of them sitting down and watching the sun slowly slip behind the horizon.

"Did you watch them while I was gone, Stevie?"

"Everyday, Eds. Knew you would hate it if I didn't say hello."

Eddie smiled softly wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder while Robin rested her head on his other side.

"Do you think Nance is watching them now?"

"Course she is, Robs, wouldn't miss it."

"How long do you think we'll be waiting for her then?"

"Oh knowing our Nancy it'll be awhile."

"Well, we've waited this long, plus there's so much to show you, Stevie."

"Can't wait, we've got eternity to see it all."

"Yeah, yeah we do."

Steve closed his eyes again as darkness finally fell upon the forest, finally, no more monsters.

#in case you got this far and didnt fogure it out yea theyre dead #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft angst #tw major character death #stranger things s4 #steddie #st4 #ronance #robin buckley #ficlet

[electrozeistyking]

...how did Uzi die in your Ghost Drone AU?

Oh my god. I never thought anyone would ask. I usually have thirty five facts about my AUs, and no one ever asks. This is going to be a simplified version, and I’m sorry if I sound insensitive about this.

Basically, some time after N and Uzi's wedding (probably around the same time they decided Let's Be Parents), Uzi got sick. Like, unusually sick for a drone.

Eventually, when she started coughing up red stuff and made things implode or melt with her powers whenever she tried to use them, they (which does include V) realized that The Solver had something to do with it.

The trio spent a good few months trying to figure out a way to either get rid of It or stop whatever It was doing completely, only to turn up empty handed. In the end, as It made Its final efforts to to take over her body, Uzi came up with one last plan: she would be killed, and her core would be destroyed.

And seeing as they split off from V during this particular search... that only left N to do it. Unfortunately, his laser cannon suffered a rare freak malfunction right in the middle of their heartfelt goodbyes, and nearly took them both out.

Of course, the plan succeeded. The Solver failed to take over her body, and is now seemingly gone forever. But of course, as N woke up in the medical wing days after the incident, he discovered their daughter had recently been booted up... and now, he's seeing ghosts.

SPOILER ALERT, Uzi (eventually) becomes one of those ghosts.

Ghost Drone!Uzi's redesign was actually handled by my buddy, @adragonenjoyer! They wanted to draw fanart for the AU, so we kinda geeked out over how she should look, and lo and behold, we've got Bluzi (yes i made ghost drones blue specifically for that pun)!

She's a bit more special than regular ghost drones, seeing as they're usually just drones but cyan, blue and white. They don't usually reflect how they died... and parts of their bodies don't usually float around like that, either! Plus, she can occasionally interact with inanimate objects! Sadly, that does mean she can't touch N anymore... but it won't stop them from trying!!!

(she unfortunately takes a bit longer to "manifest" as a ghost drone, too. just needed to give n four years of raising their lil baby on his own and beating himself up for failing his wife before i gave him something good... like his wife back!)

#Zeisty's Askbox #murder drones #murder drones uzi #murder drones n #ghost drone au #murder drones nuzi #we did it we found the lil blue guy living in the blue world #tw major character death #tw trypophobia

[fuwushiguro]

I Can Be The Eye Of The Storm

chapter six | masterlist | chapter eight

Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader | Megumi Fushiguro x f!Reader

Genre: Smut & Angst with horror/thriller elements Notes: thank u everyone who sent love about this series it’s been fun to get back into it! hope this chapter was worth the wait hehe 💕 Warnings: 18+, rape/noncon, major character death, false imprisonment, violence, attempted murder, blood mention, misogyny. Words: 4.4k

Synopsis: You meet a handsome older man while partying in Paris with your best friend. Going home with a man you've just met isn't usually your style, but looking at him is more than enough to dispel any doubts. But maybe you should have listened to your intuition.

“Toji please!” you cry, pounding against the door. “PLEASE!”

You keep hammering at the wood, you assume it will break if you carry on. But in truth you know you’re the one who’s going to break. You’re exhausted, you’re hurt, you haven’t fully processed everything that’s happened. And now the man who said he loves you is keeping you locked up in a room in the same building as your attacker.

And still, you can’t stop.

No matter how much your arms ache. Despite your voice becoming hoarse and your legs wanting to give out from under you.

You don’t stop.

“She needs a muzzle.” Gojo smirks, flipping through a deck of cards as he sits comfortably on a couch in the living room. The spot you’d been sitting in eating hashbrowns hours earlier without a care in the world.

Toji gawps at him. A little dumbfounded by his sheer audacity.

“What’s wrong, big man?” he asks as he starts to organise the cards. “Didn’t realise she was such a handful? I knew she was trouble from the second I saw her.”

And now, Toji has had enough. He hadn’t been able to sit down, instead pacing around as he heard your pleas and cries of his name. This is so fucked, but he couldn’t think of another way. But hearing what Satoru has to say is making his blood boil, and he’s no better than a caveman despite wanting to be.

“Shut the fuck up!” he lashes out, he approaches Gojo so quickly he’s barely registered their close proximity. He just looks up, and Toji is towering before him. And another second later, the cards are flying out of his hands as Toji begins to throw punches. “You raped my fucking girlfriend and you’re wondering why she’s screaming. Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yells.

“That’s enough.” Nanami breaks them up.

“Easy…” Gojo replies, his face bloody with a busted lip as he tries to regain his composure. “You sound like a pathetic old man, girlfriend? Please, you’re twice her age. It’s embarrassing.”

“I love her. I let you hurt her.” he rakes his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t invite you here for this.”

“So… why did you invite us?” Gojo stands up now, levelling his stare with Toji’s. “You said she’s slutty, and you’re willing to share. I took advantage of what you said and fucked her.”

“Not like this.” Toji responds immediately. “You did take fucking advantage. And you’re not even sorry. You’re not even fucking sorry about what you’ve done to that poor girl.” he argues. He begins to pant out of frustration. Nanami can do nothing but watch the two men argue. Gojo runs his tongue along his top row of teeth before deciding to speak again.

“Either way, we can’t leave her locked in there forever.” Gojo reminds him.

“I should let her call the police. I cannot fucking believe you’ve done this you stupid fuck.” Toji carries on with his barrage of insults. His gaze keeps flitting between the men he’s with and the stairs to the bedroom you’re locked in. “I don’t think a little bit of coke is going to matter to the police when there are bigger things to focus on.”

“You’re not calling the police.” Nanami speaks.

“Right, you’re not going to call them. Because you know it’ll blow all of our shit up and it’ll fuck yours up the most. So shut the fuck up, sit down and shuffle the cards. We can think about what to do in the morning.” Gojo orders him.

“I’m not fuckin’ playing.” Toji tells him. He retreats to the kitchen and grabs himself a beer, cracking off the top with his teeth. He’s only just realised his knuckles are bleeding and his hands are shaking. He puts down his beer and holds his head in his hands, his head pounding with the gravity of the situation.

Nanami picks up the cards that Gojo had dropped and begins to shuffle again. He hands them all out between to two of them, thinking snap is probably the easiest and low effort game to play.

“How can you sit there and play cards knowing what you’ve done?” Toji asks, emerald eyes vibrating as he stares over to Gojo.

“Just having fun, Toji.” he smirks again, “Just a little fun.”

A few hours pass and you know Toji isn’t coming. He’s hiding from you, he’s ashamed. Not that you know that, though. To you, he’s having fun with his friends and laughing at your expense.

You gave up kicking and punching the door a while ago. Now, you’re crumpled in a heap on the bedroom floor. Is this all you can do? Give up and accept this is it for you? That Toji might keep you locked up in this place until you agree to their terms? They can’t… they can’t make you.

And then a harrowing thought crosses your mind.

No one knows you’re here.

One of them alone could easily shut you up for good.

And there are three of them.

“To—” you stop yourself before his name becomes louder than a whisper. He doesn’t care about you. He isn’t going to help you. It’s all about self-preservation, for him. Toji is too scared of facing prison to help you out of this mess.

It’s got to be you.

You pull yourself to your feet using the bed frame, your legs are still shaky, but you know you’ll have to find your nerve soon. There’s no one coming to save you, nobody is going to undo the damage that has been done. If those three are all about self-preservation, you have to be to.

But nothing is catching your eye. There isn’t a single thing you can use to your advantage. You think about battering the door down using the armchair in the corner of the room, but you can’t imagine you have enough strength to keep repeatedly hammering away at it.

You instinctively reach for your phone, forgetting Toji had taken it from you.

“Fuck.” you mutter and begin to pace around the room. All you can think about is Nobara. What would she do in this situation? But that question immediately vanishes when you remember she wouldn’t be stupid enough to get herself into this mess. She didn’t trust Toji from the get-go and you shouldn’t have either. Tears begin to well in your eyes and spill over as you realise your momentary injection of heroism has been snuffed out. You’re stuck here like the useless idiot you are.

Your breath hitches as you look at the windows in the room. The same windows Gojo attacked you against. Your heart race quickens as you replay it in your mind. You can’t help but feel sick. It’s as though you can physically feel the weight of a bowling ball in your stomach as you relive the incident that occurred hours ago and think about the only thing people will see you as if you manage to escape.

A victim.

You place your hands against the window, and then your forehead, closing your eyes and beginning to sob violently. What had you done to deserve this? You know you’re stupid. You’re gullible and a fool and you’re just so fucking useless. But is that really a crime that deserves such a severe punishment? Is being a failure truly worthy of what Satoru Gojo had done to you?

As your eyes slowly begin to flutter open, you notice the pool illuminating your skin as it had with Gojo in his room earlier. It’s dark outside now, the cyan water even more bold than it was this morning. It looks so inviting…

It looks so… warm.

“Snap, I win.”

“You’ve gotta be cheating, Kento. You’re killing me.” Gojo laughs.

Toji is still leaning over the breakfast bar as he watches them both play their tedious little game of snap. He’s thinking about going to see you now. Checking on you, seeing where your head is at. He thinks maybe if he grovels, you two might be able to work something out. He’s drunk, he’s coked up, everyone is coked up. But surely there is some arrangement you can come to so that he can make things right without involving the police.

“I’m gonna head up.” Toji announces, shoving his fifth bottle of beer to the edge of the counter. “I need to check on her… try and do some damage contro—”

The three men pause, almost frozen in time as they look at one another to confirm they all heard that. Did they all really hear the sound of glass shattering from upstairs? They can’t move. None of them can bring themselves to snap out of their daze and move. What the hell was that?

And then, the sound of the crashing glass is followed by the familiar sound of water splashing. Toji finally manages to move himself, standing with Nanami and Gojo as they rise to their feet and stare at the bubbling blue water they can see out of the window.

Nobody says a word. They just stare and continue to stare.

Suddenly, you rise. The water is wiped from your eyes, and you see all of their eyes fixed on you. You too, are frozen. All you can do is kick your legs to keep you afloat. You know that your fear of them chasing you will be realised as soon as you make a break for it.

But you can’t stay here.

You swim as fast as you can to the edge of the pool, and your prediction comes true. As soon as you start swimming, they’re running for the front door. They’re scared, they’re panicking, this turn of events hadn’t even been in the equation for them.

Before they can unlock the front door, you’re already out of the pool and sprinting in the wrong direction. You’ve become disorientated but you know that you can’t double back on yourself, you’ll only fall into one of their arms and end up locked in a room without a method of escape. You have one chance to get away, and this is it.

Despite running through the wilderness in your underwear, you’d been smart enough to put on a pair of trainers and a jacket. You’d have covered yourself more, but you thought the water would weigh you down and give them more of a chance to catch you. That’s not a chance you can take.

“Princess!” you hear Toji bellow in the distance. There’s a gap between you for now, but you know it won’t be long before they close the distance. You don’t think hiding is an option, you have to keep running.

You run.

You fucking run until you feel your lungs empty.

You run until your legs are cut to shreds by the brambles and thorns through the trees.

You run… until you can’t.

You’re staring over the edge of a cliff; another step would mean certain death and your stomach plummets at the thought of accidentally falling over. Looking left and right does little good as you know you’ll ultimately be met with the same fate no matter which way you go. The snow begins to nip at your skin. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re starting to feel hopeless once more.

As you take a deep breath and contemplate your next move, you feel a strong grip on your wrist.

“Caught ya.” Gojo smiles, menacingly. You let out a scream and try to yank your arm from him, but it does no good. Toji and Nanami aren’t around, they must have split up to search for you. It’s just you and Satoru. And your legs begin to give out under you once again. “Squeezing your thighs f’me, hm? That excited to see me again?”

“L-Let go.” you try to sound confident, but your stuttering earns a pitiful laugh. This is the worst-case scenario. You can barely process what he did to you let alone what is about to happen. And Toji, once again, isn’t here to stop him.

“You’re no victim, look at you. Even now you’re running around in your underwear like a slut. Do you love the attention that much? You know anyone could be out here, waiting to fuck you. But that’s exciting to you, right? I get it, being desirable is the greatest feeling in the world. That’s why I couldn’t keep my hands off ya.”

“You raped me.” you say, your voice refusing to falter. “You know what you did, and you have to live with that until the day you die.”

“It doesn’t bother me, sweetheart. I wanted something and I got it, that’s how I am. It’s my right. And you were begging for me to fuck you.”

“No—”

“Yes.” he interjects. “Girls like you are good for one thing, and you know it. You’re just a cunt to be fucked. You’re barely a person. You’re a hole to be filled and make men feel good about themselves. You don’t think Toji loved you, do you? He loved having a pretty young thing wrapped around him and being able to brag about it. You’re nothing.”

“I— I’m…” you don’t know what to say. Partly because you think he might be right. You’ve always known it was ridiculous for Toji to be saying he loved you after barely knowing each other. It was some Disney romance you’d built up in your head to be more than it was. It wasn’t and isn’t love. It’s just lust.

You’re nothing.

You’re nothing.

“At least I’m not a rapist.” you tell him, your eyes focusing on his as you refuse to back down. “I’ve never had to have sex by force. I have loved and been loved. You just hurt people.” he grunts, forcing you closer to the edge of the mountain. It makes you smile, laugh, even. Knowing that you’re getting under his skin.

“You should be careful how you speak to people when you’re in such precarious situations.” he warns you. It’s a threat, and you see the gleam in his eye which tells you he isn’t afraid to follow through.

“I don’t give a fuck.” you smile. “You can’t do anything worse to me than you already have.”

“Wanna bet?”

“If I die, if you murder me, I promise… I’m going to haunt you until the end of time.” you start. “Whether I’m the first, only, or last of the people you’ve hurt like this. I will fucking haunt you until you lose your mind. I’ll always be with you, like your own personal stalker. And I won’t stop until you get what’s coming to you.” you speak with so much conviction, you hear a shallow and panicked grunt settle in his throat. He finds his steel once more, looking at you with disdain before allowing himself to smile.

“Go ahead and try,” he pushes you away from him. “I don’t believe in ghosts.” and with a final kick to your abdomen, a harrowing, involuntary scream tells you both that you’re not long for the world.

The air bites at your skin as you fall. He watches in horror as he realises what he’s done. What he has actually done. He’s killed you. Your eyes lock as you continue to fall. There’s no reading either of your expressions. Though he imagines you’re in shock, he is too, after all. He can’t turn away until he hears a thud, a disgusted gasp leaving him before he turns to look again. The white snow around you has been stained red, and your eyes are staring daggers up at him.

“Shit.” he speaks, pacing around as he tries to contemplate what to do.

For the first time in his life, he thinks he might actually be experiencing regret. His knees buckle, just as yours had after he assaulted you. His eyes fill with tears as he crawls on his hands and knees to peer over the edge and see your lifeless body staring back at him. He covers his mouth with a hand as he tries to keep it together.

You’d spoken with so much conviction and certainty. And now Satoru Gojo is experiencing… remorse? For the first time in his fucking life. Could you have been right about haunting him? Is this your doing?

“Have you found her?” Nanami asks, emerging from behind.

“Her footprints disappeared, she’s smarter than we’ve given her credit for.” Toji announces.

They both look confused as Gojo can’t pull himself away from the edge of the cliff. All they see is a pathetic, snivelling man on all fours. A sight neither of them had ever expected to see before. Toji’s brows furrow, and Nanami’s eyes widen as he realises what’s going on in record time.

“Try to stay calm.” he puts his arm across Toji’s chest, doing what he can to calm the situation before things get out of hand. But Toji is confused, he doesn’t understand why Nanami said something so random. He is calm. But they need to find you before things escalate even further.

It finally hits Toji when Gojo turns to look at them. Cheeks sparkling with tears in the winter moonlight.

“I f-found her like this.” he lies, effortlessly.

“No, no no…” Toji panics and hurries to look over the edge with Gojo. “FUCK!” he bellows as he witnesses the same sight Gojo had been staring at for quite some time. Nanami joins the two of them, standing on the other side of Toji as all three men look down at you with nothing but contempt.

“It’s regrettable, but I doubt anyone will find her out here. It seems we’re in the clear.” Nanami tells them, cool and collected as always.

Toji can’t stop himself from crying, his lip quivering as he stares down at you. He can’t feel the sting of the freezing wind and nothing else is happening between him and the woman he genuinely fell in love with, in a bloody puddle beneath him.

“I didn’t do it…” Gojo sniffles. It’s the only thing that can break Toji out of his trance as he starts to see red other than the blood surrounding your body.

“Is that what you think?” he mutters, his lips in a tight line as he feels more tears spill over and down his cheeks as he carries on staring at you. “You think you didn’t cause this?”

“She must have slipped while she was running.” Gojo lies, again, it comes too easy to him and Toji can see right through his crocodile tears. He kicks him to the ground so he’s flat on his back, and he can’t stop himself from delivering a multitude of brutal, heavy-handed punches directly into his face.

“You think this isn’t your fucking fault?!” he yells as he continues. He warns Nanami to back off when he tries to separate them again. “I should fucking kill you, you think she’d be running for her life out here if not for you? You think she’d be dead if you hadn’t—” he can’t even say it, covering his sorrow with more anger as he beats Gojo to a bloody pulp.

“You made your point.” Nanami interjects, consequences be damned. “The last thing we need is another dead body out here. We need to get back and figure out what we’re going to do about this.” he speaks, managing to tear Toji away from Gojo.

“Fuck sake, fine.” Toji grunts, walking ahead of them both. Nanami helps Gojo to his feet and helps him walk back to the house.

You’re so still. So statuesque as their voices fade from being clear to quiet mumbles. And then finally to nothing. But you don’t move, you just continue to lie still, soon to be a memory to all who knew you.

The atmosphere in the cabin is damn near disgusting. Nobody has spoken a word in hours, and the black sky is starting to fade. Toji can’t tear his gaze from the crackling fire while Gojo continuously dabs tissue on his gushing wounds and bleeding nose.

“I fucking loved her.” Toji grimaces, not sure if he’s talking to himself or letting Gojo know what he’s taken from him. “I don’t really give a shit what you thought of her or us… I know how I feel, and I loved her.” he finishes, wiping a lone tear from his eye as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that he brought you here and you’ve been murdered for it.

“Please try not to kill each other.” Nanami orders the two of them as he takes his cup of coffee and a cigarette outside. The two men watch him go before their eyes return to the aggressive flames in the fireplace.

“Sure you did.”

“Don’t push me, Satoru, or I’m gonna turn your face inside out.” he warns him.

“Whatever. It’s done now, she’s gone. What’s happened, has happened. We need to think about what we do next.” he tries to reason with him. “We’re going to have to pretend everything is fine and normal. We’re going to have to make sure nobody knows this ever happened.”

“I’ve got her phone so I can cover things for a while… and her car keys are—” he thinks for a moment as he tries to recall the last place he saw them. He checks inside the bowl at the entrance only to discover they’re not there. “They must be in our room.” he runs upstairs to check. The reality of how much covering up they’re going to have to do hits him as he sees your luggage littered around the room. But he tries to focus on searching for the keys. “Shit.” he speaks quietly as it dawns on him that you’ve taken them. He leaves the room, spotting Gojo at the bottom of the stairs.

“Well?”

“She must have taken them.” he alerts him. “She must have been planning on going for the car but ran the wrong way.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. We’ve got to burn her stuff and figure out a way to dump the fucking car.” Toji speaks, visibly getting agitated again. “You’ve fucked us.” he yells at Gojo.

“This is not my fault! It was you who—”

Again.

Another splash in the pool.

You watch on in horror as Nanami’s lifeless body falls into the pool. That beautiful aqua colour becoming stained with red. But you don’t have time to watch this. You don’t have time to stand around and watch a dead man drown. You drop the heavy log you found on your way back to the cabin, the edge stained with Nanami’s blood. You knew it would kill him. You knew you’d become a murderer the second you picked it up no matter who you struck with it. He hadn’t bothered to save you when he could have. He decided to be ignorant, and he had no qualms in leaving you for dead back there.

Why would you grant him anything but the same?

You flee before you can be spotted, getting your car keys from your pocket, and hurrying inside. Once Gojo and Toji see Nanami’s body gushing blood in the pool, they know what’s happening. As they rush outside, they both spot you behind the wheel of your car, headlights beaming as you prepare to pull away. Toji rushes over to slam on the hood, begging you to get out so you can talk. You shake your head, barely able to look at him. Your eyes are more focused on Satoru Gojo.

He’s horrified.

You’d think he’d just seen an honest to God ghost before his very eyes.

And you will fucking haunt him.

You flip them both off before reversing as fast as you can and driving away.

Toji drops to his knees, he thinks he might be having a panic attack. He has emotional whiplash from everything that’s just unfolded. He was convinced you were dead, everybody was. And now… Nanami is gone.

“This isn’t over. She’s not going to let this go.” Toji practically heaves as he explains through panicked breaths.

“She’s really going to haunt me.”

“Yeah, we need to count our fucking days.” Toji continues. “You’ve fucked us.”

“I’m sorry.” Gojo answers.

“What good is sorry now, Gojo? We’re dead men walking.”

You drove, you don’t know how long for. So long that you thought you might crash if you had to keep your eyes open any longer. For some reason, you thought you’d been driving home. To the safety of your father and brothers. The security of your home and the money your father would ultimately use to guarantee justice for what you’ve been through and shield you from you suffering the consequences of what you did to Nanami.

But you’re not home. You’re parking at a house that you recognise, though. Your legs are moving on auto pilot as you get out of the car, not even bothering to close the door behind you as you approach the front door.

You don’t even know what time it is, so you can’t find it in you to care as you press the doorbell and begin to pound on the door repeatedly. There’s not a word you can say, not a single thing to speak of as you continue what you’re doing and wait for somebody to answer.

“I’m coming! Do you know what time it is?” you hear from inside as the stairs creak beneath their feet. “What is it?” she asks as the door opens.

“Nobara…” you manage to speak, your voice absolutely shredded to pieces. “Do you have a cigarette?” you ask before collapsing into her arms.

“Oh my God… Oh fuck, hey, hey hey. Don’t die on me!” she begins to cry as she tries to lower you carefully to the ground and hold you in her arms. “Maki! MAKI! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” she screams before turning to look at you again. Your eyes begin to flutter, and you can’t keep them open anymore.

“I love you…” you whisper, before fully closing them.

“Please don’t die!” she sobs, cradling your body close to hers. “I love you too, dummy. Hear me? I love you so much… so please don’t die.”

© 2023 fuwushiguro

#toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jjk fanfic #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji smu #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #fushiguro toji smut #tw rape #tw noncon photography #tw age gap #tw victim blaming #tw major character death #tw violence #tw blood #tw attempted murder

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending

#should i apologize #i dont feel bad #i love this idea #steddie soulmates forwver #its so mwa chefs kiss #tw mcd #tw blood #tw major character death #hehehehehehehehheheehehhehehehehe #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #steddie hc #steddie fic #steddie angst #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steddie soulmate au

[ramuneda5149]

#ramuneda #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #fanart #kim dokja #tw major character death #spoiler i guess