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#tw: death

Jounouchi’s heart broke, Serenity- his world spun. He vaguely heard someone calling his name on the other end but he was too far gone. She was gone. One minute she was there and-

He screamed and threw the phone at the wall. It shattered on impact and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Turning to his left, he slammed his arms against the table knocking it to its side. There was another scream building in his throat so he threw a pot instead.

She was gone he would never see her again. He would never hear her again. A choked sob escaped him and he slumped to the floor. His sweet little sister taken way too soon. He pressed his forehead to the floor and sobbed.

What was he going to do without her …..?

He failed. He failed to save his Cinderella. He failed….. His body went numb. “I’m sorry Seren…. I’m so so sorry…..”

He threw a fist through the wall and then stopped, breathing hard. He… Was a mess without her… He failed as an older brother. He failed as a friend. Nobody would ever want to face a murderer…. He wasnt fast enough, that was equal to murdering her himself…

What was he going to do……..?

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Yeah, I mean love babies and I guess I always thought I’d have them? But if any potential kids were lucky enough to dodge Henry’s VHL, they’d probably drop dead of an arrhythmia from my side of the family. Which is a bit ironic. And horribly morbid. Wow we have some crappy genes. So I guess maybe not, at least not without some serious consideration.

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White people, if you can stand to watch and share videos of Black people dying and being killed on social media platforms, but you cry or can’t stand watching the deaths of other white people, then you aren’t a good ally.

If someone has asked you to stop sharing these videos, and you haven’t stopped, then you aren’t a good ally.

If you haven’t taken steps to address and acknowledge your own biases towards people of color and your own complicity in the problem, but you’re posting black squares on Instagram and talking about it on twitter without taking any real action, then you aren’t a good ally.

If you say Black Lives Matter, but then feel the need to turn around and add, “But Blue/All Lives Matter, too,” then you aren’t a good ally, because that isn’t the point of this. The point is that Black lives are inherently undervalued and maltreated by America’s government and justice system, and that Black Lives Matter shouldn’t be something that needs to be said.

If you have to tell people that you’re a good ally just so that you can win some brownie points, because you feel the need to have yourself acknowledged, too, then you aren’t a good ally. It’s as simple as that. This isn’t about you. You shouldn’t need to have positive affirmation to fight racism, end of story.

Stop sharing the videos of these murders, because it shouldn’t be necessary to see them and re-traumatize Black people in order to have some fucking compassion. Black people have already told you to stop, and said that the videos are traumatizing to watch, so stop already. I’m still seeing the videos crop up places they shouldn’t.

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Oof I don’t know why but these ones gave me some problems!!  Hopefully they are good!!


“Please, no more.  Please, I can’t, I can’t do this anymore…” Malcolm moans as the specter of the girl makes its way towards him.

“I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to help you.  Please, just stop.  Please go.”

She keeps moving closer, and he sobs, rocking back and forth on the couch as he shakes his head, digging his palms into his eyes, shivering with exhaustion and terror.  

“Please, please, please.  I can’t, no more, no more,” he whispers over and over.

She sits next to him and he wails. 

“No more, no more.”

59. HERO - This one is a little dark.  Warning for minor character death.  

“See what happens when you try to be a hero?”

Malcolm looks up at the man taunting him from where he’s laying on the ground, his head pounding, blood trickling down his face.  He’s clutching his thigh, but it’s not doing much to stop the blood streaming from the bullet wound he’d gotten when he’d stepped between the killer and his intended victim.  

He’d still killed her.

The man reaches down, grabbing a fistful of Malcolm’s shirt and yanking him up, smiling down at him.

“I don’t think you have long, but we’ll have some fun together while we can.”

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Chapter 11: Dance with the Devil

Trigger warning: Graphic violence, torture, and body horror ahead.


“Are you sure we should be here? It’s fucking cold out.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Besides, this should only be quick.”

“Define your definition of ‘quick’. We don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Just trust me on this. It’ll be worth it, especially when we finally prove to everyone that the “Man of Lighting” and the “Green Man” don’t even exist!”

“I…guess, but still, how are we going to find our way in a forest? We could get lost for all we know!”

“Ah, I know these forests like the back of my hand. We’ll be fine.”


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Chapter 2: The Protector


The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

There was supposed to be a light breeze here (after all it had been there not too long ago), the crickets should’ve been more active, and there was certainly supposed to be no dark sky when it had been starry not too long ago.

That meant her footsteps could be heard from a mile away.

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Chapter 1: The Day I Lost You

This is inspired by TristanRambles (or Arthur-Tristan-Kingsmen on Tumblr)’s Double Trouble AU, in which Arthur manages to save Lewis from ??? but ends up dying and becoming the ghost instead due to his soul fusing with ???, and thus making him unable to pass on. Go check out his blog on Tumblr or his account on Archive of Our Own! He writes very good stories on the Mystery Skulls Animated fanbase, especially around Arthur and the OT3!

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wormholxtreme said: “Hey Red if you’re reading this it means that somehow someway I have left this world. I hope I get to see my brother again. He was an inspiration to me until I met you. It seems weird to say but I hope whatever took me away from you was worth it. Whether protecting you or Tony or someone who needed protecting. That’s the way I hope I went out. I know I was never very good with words so I’m going to keep this short. Everything of mine I leave to you. I gave you my heart long ago anyway. Love Hap”


Her fingers kept shaking while she gripped the sheet of paper the lawyer just passed to her, unable to read through the veil of tears in her eyes, threatening so dangerously to fell down at any given moment. She knew that the words wrote there should be giving a sense, but they weren’t. Her mind couldn’t contain any of that. “C-could I get a moment, please?” Her voice shaky as well as she spoke softly to her lawyer, sitting on the other side of the table. The man nodded and left while she sniffed loudly. It wasn’t until she remained alone in her office that she let out the pain take over her completely. Now there were rivers of tears running down her cheeks, her whole entire body trembled with agony, she hadn’t even tried to hold on the loud sobs anymore. 

Her grief resonated with the cold silence of the room, echoing through the walls while she kept crying. It wasn’t a pretty crying, rather a full spectrum of emotions breaking her down for the lost love. For someone she loved so deeply that she truly couldn’t put her finger on it until he was… he was gone. And it made her heart shatter into a million pieces. No one could ever put her together. Not like this. Not when he was everything. When he was all she ever wanted, not even realizing it throughout all the years. She kept choking on her own tears, chest rose, and fall back in a steady pace. She needed to breathe. 

What he said there was a lie. He didn’t leave everything of his there for her. He took away the subtle smiles that only belonged to her, his scent, the inside jokes only two of them would understand. His skin brushing against hers in the morning, just a second before the alarm went off and they had to break that little moment of peace in each other’s arms. This all was gone. He was gone. No one can ever replace this, what they’ve got, what they’ve shared. And she might as well, could’ve ended her own life too because without him it made no sense, anyway. 

ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ // @wormholxtreme

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Illinois would kiss every single part of Yancy to make him not as embarressed about the vines and flowers.


There can only be so many flowers and vines on one person. There are two possibilites here.

1. If Yancy dies one more time, he won’t get up again. There’s no space for a new flowers to appear and thus can’t revive Yancy.

2. Much like the hanahaki disease, the vine and flower starts to become real. Roots begin to grow inside of Yancy and soon enough, buds start to appear where the flowers are. Or rather, were. The tattos slowly sinks into the skin as the root grows and when the buds start appearing, it’s already too late. Almost all of the energy Yancy gets from eating gets absorbed into the flowers and when the roots reach his lungs, it’s like the hanahaki disease. You start to slowly choke to death. Either Yancy will die from starvation because the flowers takes everything or he will die from no air.

Haven’t decided if someone gets killed by the flowers, or can’t be revived again, if they are getting erased from everyones memory or not.

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June 3 

My father in law passed away today, at eighty-five years old. It has been thirty-four days since we were summoned by news of his hospitalization, and it was barely thirty hours from the time we learned he was declining to his passing. The time seemed so long and so short. 

By the time I got to bed last night, it was nearly two in the morning. I couldn’t stop turning things over in my head, questions about logistics for guests, questions about what we needed to ask hospice in the morning meeting, wondering if I’d put whatever random item on the massive grocery list, you know how it goes. At six am, MIL woke us with a tap on the door to let us know that the nursing home had called. If we wanted to be there, they said, we ought to come soon. We rolled out of bed and into whatever was nearest and decent, shoving on shoes and finger-combing hair. I woke up the kiddo, who hadn’t gotten to sleep till after midnight, and nudged him along as well. It was only about fifteen minutes from the time we woke up until we were ready to go. 

This journal day is very long because I wanted to remember all of it more so than most days. I’m putting it behind a cut, preemptive sorry if it does not work for you. 

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open to: f
connection: any ;)


chest so frail, the bump of each rib was visible underneath his thin pale skin as he sat on the floor with the journal in hand. bloody hand flipping through pages to find an empty page. it was true, arthur might’ve lost his mind but he was simply being his truest self. careless that he left the apartment door slightly open after letting gary out while his boney back was facing the dead corpse of the fat fuck. being different wasn’t the slightest a bad thing for him. but the ridicule that came along with not following what was socially right was horrible. no such thing as a safe place for the weaker souls in gotham. only hate and brutality came from gotham. scribbling and drawing practically what came first into his mind, arthur winced and huffed in utter annoyance before eyeing the dark bruises on his forearm. his pale slender white face lifting up to gaze at his dead grandfather before frowning. truly it seemed he didn’t have anything left nor anything to lose. overhearing murray’s voice on the television, he knew saturnight special was starting. but there was a bitter grudge that he held on the talkshow host that lead him to make up his mind. “i’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” arthur spouted in annoyance before getting up from the ground. grabbing the cigarette off of the table, he took a deep drag and puffed it out while eyeing the screen. 

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He gave a small smile as the m!a wore off, he couldn’t voice his thoughts but he could never bring himself to hate Kokichi. It never really clicked for him that this wasn’t truly Kokichi and that the events never truly occurred. He could feel his body getting colder from the blood loss. Before his body went limp he weakly hugged Kokichi. After a moment or two of the hug he went limp. He was cold. He was dead. In total he had 39 stab wounds. 39 stab wounds that he endured before his frail body finally gave out. He might be able to survive a lot of things, but even he couldn’t survive something like this. The floor and part of the wall were covered in blood and the metallic scent is overwhelming.

(M!A Goodbye To A World)

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Some nights thought I had on my Instagram (not linked here)


I think that many of the crimes of police officers towards black people have (and are) being mute/silence… Like all the times before, other news overcome (?) this violence, these injustices. While today, apart the news about corona-sh*t, we don’t have other news to exploit.

If you have any suggestion on how I could learn something about this topic a little more, say in the comments/reblogs

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@noahmcdowell || flashback

TW: death


“Charlie stop.”

“Charlie…you did everything you can but”

Hazel eyes looked up leveling with the doctor across from her. She swallowed hard and shook her head and backing up while simultaneously pulling off her medical gloves and throwing them.

“She’s gone.”

Lily was gone.

Lily was gone and Charlotte needed to face her brother and tell him that his wife and the love of his life was dead. Behind her a colleague said he could do it but she shook her head. This couldn’t be done by anyone else.

How many times has she done this? Half a dozen. A dozen. Notifications to family members never got easier. We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. Please take a seat. You don’t want to see them like that. Is there somebody I can call for you.

There were never the right words but she always did her best to dig deep and offer them the compassion she’d want if she was in her shoes and now in a way she was…Lily hasn’t only been Noah’s wife she had been her best friend.

Charlotte walked through the double doors and entered the hospital corridor. A million miles away sat her brother doubled over in the arm chair. Fore arms pressed to his knees. Head buried in his hands. She sat and stared at him for a long while before forcing herself to take a step forward.

“Noah,” she cleared her throat drawling all the strength she could. She’d seen war. Been in the middle of the battle field but this…this was a nightmare. “Let’s go in here.”

Here was a private area where the door could close behind them. Where she could face him alone.

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Blood bubbled from his mouth and he shuddered, looking up at Federico. He wouldn’t live with his injuries. At least he wouldn’t be alone in his final hour, Federico was holding his upper body up and cradling his head so he wouldn’t see the gaping hole in his gut from the bomb. They had finally found where the two Auditores had been kept this whole time and someone had thrown a bomb into the window. Federico had gotten away in time but Vieri hadn’t.

“Just rest, I’m here.”

Those words offered the dying Pazzi a bit of comfort, but not much. Tears burned his eyes and he whimpered, raising a blood stained hand to cup his face. “I….I’m afraid. I-I don’t want to die…..” He whispered, his voice weak and shaking. A kiss was placed on his forehead with another attempt to sooth him and it worked a bit more.

“Don’t….leave me alone….. Please, Fed…. I love…….”

Slowly he managed to sit forward enough to plant a kiss on Federico’s lips, holding himself up long enough to let him feel his last breath escape their united lips. When the final breath escaped, his body slumped back into his arms, a stray tear escaping his half closed eye and mixing with the blood running out of his mouth.

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