#dead au

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Previous | You are Here | Next

Placating a hero, when really your a monster. How strange can you be? The truth isn't needed at a time like this.

Next part is HERE! Pt 8's WIP is already up on Patreon to see!

Edit: fixed up the potion to look like a potion and not a "drill"

[swiftjay23]

You Remember Wrong

Genre: Psychological Horror Erotic Thriller Unreliable Memory / Glitchcore Smut-Heavy Mindfuck Neo-noir Romance Paranormal Erotica, Dead Boyfriend Isn’t Dead, Or Maybe He Is, Gaslight Gatekeep Ghost Dick, Sex and Memory Collapse, Possessive Glitchboyfriend, Mirror Sex, Voicemail Moaning, Fucking Through Amnesia, Trauma-Fueled Lust, “He’s still inside you”, Is She Dead? Is He Real?, No One Knows. Especially Not You, Emotional Manipulation via Orgasm, Unreliable Narrator, Haunting as Foreplay, File://ERROR, You Died. Maybe.

SUMMARY: Every year at exactly 12:12 a.m., you receive a single text. Always from the same name. Always the same word: “Sorry.” The name? Jake. Your boyfriend. Your first love. Declared dead five years ago. You thought the case was closed. You thought you were healing. But this year, the message changes. “You remember wrong.” Reality glitches. Your reflection moves without you. He never left. And he’s not leaving now.

🔞 CONTENT TAGS / WARNINGS (Explicit): MDNI Oral Sex (M→F), Vaginal Sex, Mirror Play, Rough Sex, Creampie, Somnophilia Themes, Breathplay / Choking, Public Photo/Surveillance Kink, Voicemails Featuring Moaning, Glitching Reality / Horror, Forced Arousal via Haunting, Intense Psychological Themes, Unclear Consent in Dream/Memory Sequences, Body Memory / Amnesia, Blood Mention, Flashbacks to Sex and Grief, Possessive Behavior, Distorted Perception, Delusions of Love, Self-Pleasure Induced by Haunting, Manipulation via Pleasure, Mentions of Death, Fire, Identity Erasure, YOU DIED. (Maybe.)

Pairing! Sim Jaeyun | Jake (Enhypen) × Female Reader

Word Count: 3377

🗂🕯️ Permanent Taglist:

⟡ @tashmonellloveskpopboybands,⟡ @yuriloveshee, ⟡ @kookiesnkim, ⟡ @picklemafia, ⟡ @add-this-to-that, ⟡ @xxjoyridingxx,⟡ @enjakey, ⟡ @noidnoentry, ⟡ @avadie, ⟡ @enhaheart8, ⟡ @yourislandgirl, ⟡ @meowwwon, ⟡ @saodk ⟡ @inlovewithparkjisung, ⟡ @verycutesyverymindful, ⟡ @fleurdelises, ⟡ @queenvash, ⟡ @tyongielee, ⟡ @amzingjellyfish,⟡ @enbplvr, ⟡ @6abriellaa, ⟡ @fateismoonstruck, ⟡ @trashlord-007, ⟡ @artemesiareads, ⟡ @d0einheadlights, ⟡ @miuuuw, ⟡ @butwhyareyoureyessosad, ⟡ @rainofcrime, ⟡ @darkblueblueberr, ⟡ @zone444girls, ⟡ @bombombakudanmeow, ⟡ @en-cityy, ⟡ @koya2000, ⟡ @tttbearblog, ⟡ @yb763, ⟡ @freakseung2001 ⟡ @nics-fxy, ⟡ @irers

Your apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that shouldn’t exist in a city that never fucking sleeps.

It’s not just silence, it’s a void.

You’re half-asleep on the couch, remote still clutched in your hand, your phone balanced on your chest. A candle flickers out in the kitchen. You don’t remember lighting it.

Then the phone buzzes.

You jolt, eyes unfocused as the screen lights your skin. One notification. One word. One name.

It starts the same way it always does. Phone buzzes. Screen lights up. 12:12 a.m. You don’t need to look at the name. You already know.

1 new message from: Jake

Your chest contracts. Your breath stalls. Your fingers twitch. The first year, it said "Sorry." The second, third, and fourth did too. A single word. Unchanging. Like a ghost with manners.

But tonight, tonight, it’s different.

No. This time, it’s you who’s the problem.

You sit up. Every hair on your arm stands. Because… he’s dead.

Jake’s dead. He’s been dead for five years. Found dead, stabbed, burned, unidentifiable. The authorities ruled it a home invasion. But something never sat right. Declared gone at exactly 12:12 a.m. the time carved into every death certificate, every news report, every echo of your memory.

You remember wrong.

You stare. Not at the message. At the room. Like something's about to shift. Crack. Like the floorboards might peel back and spill blood. You’re alone. Of course you’re alone.

Except…

The bathroom door is open. You always leave it closed. The faucet’s dripping. You haven’t used it all night. You back away slowly.

You pull yourself off the couch like the air’s thickened. Something’s wrong. The temperature’s dropped. Your reflection in the mirror across the room looks… too still. Like it’s not moving when you do.

You blink. It blinks back. And then. Your legs brush the edge of your bed. You sit down without meaning to. Hands trembling.

You hear it.

A clink. Metal against ceramic. From the kitchen.

You whisper it before you can stop yourself. “Jake?” The light above you flickers. Just once. A joke, maybe. A coincidence. Except you don’t believe in those anymore.

You haven’t said his name out loud in almost two years. You forgot how it tasted. Bitter. Familiar. Like copper and old perfume.

Your phone buzzes again.

Don’t say it again.

You flinch. You’re not alone. You don’t know how you know. But you know. The air shifts. Thickens. Warms. You feel something press against your shoulder, then nothing.

You turn. No one. Except your bedroom mirror. Fogged over. Like someone breathed against it. Like someone’s still breathing.

Your body moves before your brain does. You stumble to the mirror.

The words smear across the glass like fingerprints. "Shh." And behind your own reflection, someone stands.

Close. Too close. Fingertips graze your waist. Cold. Familiar.

You take a few steps back. Head to the kitchen for water and a sleep pill. You step forward slowly, heart hammering in your chest. There’s a knife on the counter. The same one that went missing last week. The same one from the police report five years ago, missing weapon, presumed disposed.

It’s back. Dripping something dark. Like it was just used.

You take one step back. And then—

A hand wraps around your waist. Familiar. Warm. Firm.

Another hand covers your mouth. You try to scream but it’s breathless, like your lungs forgot how. And then you hear him.

That voice. That fucking voice. Right by your ear. A low whisper, like silk sliding over a wound.

“Shh.” “You talk too much when I’m home.”

You jerk forward but the grip doesn’t loosen. His lips brush your jaw, lazy. Fond. Possessive.

“You weren’t supposed to ask.” “You were supposed to miss me.” You twist around. And you see him. Sim Jaeyun.

Alive.

Or at least, something that looks like him. Hair slightly longer. Skin paler. Eyes… glitched. Like a skipped frame in a movie reel. Too real. Not real enough. Both.

He smiles. And your body betrays you.

You feel wetness between your legs. Because your body remembers. Even if you don’t.

You back up. Your voice breaks: “Are you—?”

He’s already shaking his head. “You remember wrong.”

You wake up on the floor.

Hardwood against your cheek. Cold sweat on your spine. The clock on your microwave says 4:43 a.m.

The knife’s gone. The fogged-up mirror is dry. The message from Jake, deleted. And your phone? Powered off. You don’t remember turning it off.

Your throat feels raw. Your lips are bruised. Your thighs are sore.

You pull your sleep shirt down over your ass as you stand, shaky, like your body’s been used. Touched. Fucked. Like the ghost of a man fucked you open and made you forget your own name.

You try to shake it off. Go to the bathroom. Turn on the light— It flickers. No surprise. You lean over the sink. There’s blood beneath your fingernails.

By noon, you’re sitting at your desk with four tabs open: Jake’s police file An archived news report The coroner’s statement The funeral guest list

Every link says the same thing: Jake died. Five years ago. Time of death? 12:12 a.m. No body ever confirmed. Closed casket. The fire burned his face. They ruled it a match using dental records. That’s what you remember.

Except one file doesn’t open. Jake’s identity archive. The system returns a red blinking message.

FILE://ERROR – IDENTITY MISMATCH. SOURCE UNSTABLE.

You stare. The file isn’t corrupted. You are.

You hear your phone vibrate from the kitchen.

One new voicemail. Timestamped at 2:47 a.m. While you were… unconscious? Dreaming? Coming?

You press play.

You expect static. Garbled signals. You get moaning. Your moaning.

Panting, whispering something over and over. Begging.

“Jake, please, just tell me—” A wet sound. Fingers. Something deeper. Your voice breaks. “What are you, what are you doing to me?” “I’m making you forget.” Click. End of voicemail. You drop the phone.

You curl up on the floor of your apartment like it’ll help you hold shape. Your hand drifts down.

It’s not a choice. It’s instinct.

You’re soaked. You slide a hand under your shorts, two fingers curling in like they’ve been taught. Like someone trained them.

You gasp. The memory floods back, his teeth on your shoulder. His voice in your ear. “I know how to make you come harder than truth.”

The orgasm hits before you’re ready. Violent. Full-body. You come shaking, biting your hand to keep from sobbing.

And just as you blink your eyes open, he’s standing in the doorway.

Not a sound. Not a footstep.

He’s just… there. Leaning against the frame. T-shirt half untucked. Hair wet. Eyes on your fingers.

Jake.

Still not dead. Still not explaining. Just watching you unravel.

You try to speak. Your mouth opens. He raises a finger to his lips again.

“Don’t ask.” “Just come here.”

You wake up naked.

Sheets tangled between your legs. Mouth dry. Skin damp. A bruise blooming on the inside of your thigh in the shape of a hand you know too well. Jake is gone. Again. But he always leaves reminders.

The scent of him on your pillow. The ache in your cunt like you were kept up all night. The slick that clings to your inner thighs, cooling.

You try to clench your legs, flinch. It hurts. God, it hurts. Like you came over and over and forgot how to stop.

Your phone buzzes. You drag yourself to the edge of the bed, grab it with trembling fingers.

Unknown Number

1 New Photo 1 New Voicemail

You don’t open the voicemail. Not yet. Your eyes land on the photo first.

You. And Jake. Laughing. Holding hands. Drinking coffee. Last week.

Date stamped. Geotagged. Smiling.

You drop the phone. Because you don’t remember that moment. You didn’t go out last week. You barely left the apartment.

You haven’t smiled like that since—

That night, he comes back. Doesn't say a word, moves up to your room.

You follow him.

You don’t remember standing. You don’t remember moving. But suddenly, you’re in the hallway, feet bare, heart in your throat, the floorboards creaking like they're holding secrets.

Jake doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to. You’d follow him off a rooftop right now, and he knows it.

He pushes the door open to your bedroom. Except—

It’s not your bedroom. It’s cleaner. Too clean. Sterile. Like a memory of a bedroom. Your furniture, your sheets, but wrong.

The scent hits first. Jake’s cologne. Faint. Faded. Like he’s been here this whole time, bleeding into the walls. Your knees wobble.

He doesn’t speak. Just sits at the edge of your bed. Legs spread. Elbows on his knees.

And that smile. The one that used to mean “Come here and let me wreck you.” The one that made you soft when you were supposed to stay angry.

It’s back. But colder. Hungrier.

You open your mouth, he raises a hand. Stops you with one look. “I’m not here to explain.” “I’m here to remind you.”

He pulls you by the wrist. You stumble, fall into him, straddle his lap without meaning to.

Your shirt rides up. He palms your hips like you’re his. Like he never died. Like you never forgot how good this felt.

He kisses you like punishment. Like silence. Like you’re not supposed to speak, only break.

Your mouth tastes like grief and heat and déjà vu. You don’t even notice when he lifts you, lays you down, crawls between your thighs. Because your head tilts.

And then you see it. The mirror.

Across the room. The full-length one you never liked. The one you threw a blanket over after he died. It’s uncovered.

You see yourself. On your back. Legs around his waist.

But something’s wrong.

The reflection smiles first. Not you.

Your reflection is moaning before you even feel his cock push inside. Grabbing his shoulders. Tilting your head.

You’re still gasping, still catching up. But the girl in the mirror is already cumming.

Already his. He fucks you slowly. Like he’s memorizing you again. Like he’s carving something into your bones that won’t leave, even after death.

“This is the version of you I like best,” he murmurs. “You never talk during sex. Just beg.”

You want to ask where he’s been. Why no one remembers. Why you’re unraveling. But your mouth won’t work. He’s thrusting too deep. Your voice has become sound, not sense.

The reflection lifts her head. She watches you. Smiling, dazed.

She whispers something you can’t hear— But Jake can. Because he leans down and repeats it into your throat. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You cum when his hand closes over your throat. Tears slipping from your eyes, not from pain. From remembering. Everything. Or nothing.

And just before you pass out. The reflection mouths something new. “Don’t wake up.”

You wake up naked.

The knock at your door is too normal. It jars. You tug on a hoodie. Nothing underneath. Still wet. The air stings between your legs. You’re leaking. You open the door a crack.

It’s your neighbor. The old woman from 5B.

She frowns. Takes a step back like she’s seen a ghost. “I thought… sorry, I didn’t think anyone lived here anymore.” “Weren’t you the girl whose boyfriend—”

She stops.

“No, that’s not right. You moved out. Five years ago.” “After the fire.”

She leaves before you can speak. Your lungs seize.

You slam the door shut. Collapse against it.

You're not real. Or maybe reality isn’t.

You crawl back to the bed. The sheets are cold. The mirror across the room is cracked. The voicemail still waits. You hit play. Jake’s voice.

“You're tighter when you’re scared.” “When you don’t understand what I am.” “But your body does, doesn’t it?”

There’s a wet sound. Slapping. Breathing. Your voice. “Jake—please, I can’t—” “You can. You always could.” “I’m the only thing that ever felt real.”

You hear him groan. “Say my name.”

Your voice on the recording sobs it. Moans it. Over and over. Crying it into the crook of his neck. Begging for more.

“Say you’re mine.” “Say it, or I’ll fuck you until you forget your name again.”

You say it. On the tape. Desperate. Shattered.

“I’m yours, Jake—fuck—yours—” He laughs. Low. Ruined.

“Good girl.” You drop the phone again.

You don’t remember the night. But your body does. You’re sore, raw, dripping down your thighs like the proof of possession.

You crawl onto the bed again. Still open. Still warm.

And you feel it, Not just slick but him. Like he’s still inside you. Like he never left.

You reach down.

Two fingers. Wet. Warm.

You fuck yourself with the rhythm he used last night. And in the mirror, you see Jake.

Behind you. No expression. Hands on your hips. Watching. But when you spin around? Nothing.

The email from the archives comes at 3:03 a.m. Just two lines:

REQUEST DENIED. SUBJECT: Y/N [REDACTED] – STATUS: DECEASED.

You blink at the screen. Your name, blacked out. Birth certificate: not found. Hospital file: error. Death record: processed.

You’re not dead. You’re not.

You touch your own pulse just to check. And your fingers come away sticky. Slick.

You’re wet again. Still. There wasn't a time you weren't, with his breath hitting you constantly.

A knock at the door. Not tentative. Not curious. Confident. Like someone who knows you’ll answer.

You grab your robe, still braless, panties nonexistent. Because nothing stays on you these days. Jake makes sure of it.

You open the door. And there he is.

Bare-chested. Black sweats. No shoes. Neck glistening with sweat like he ran here. Or maybe… like he came. His eyes flick over you.

The robe barely clings to your shoulders. His gaze drops between your thighs.

“You’re leaking again.” “Let me fix that.” You don’t speak.

Because your body’s already moving. Letting him in. Locking the door. He doesn’t waste time.

Pushes you against the kitchen counter. Hands under your robe. No patience. You gasp when his fingers slide in—two, immediately. Like he owns the place. Like he’s coming home.

“Still this wet?” he whispers, mouth on your throat. “Even when I’m not around?”

You try to lie. Try to say it’s from the dream, the tape, the memory.

But he curls his fingers inside you just right. Finds that spot. And you choke. He smirks.

“Thought so.” He flips you over the counter.

No warning. Your robe’s yanked open, tits pressed against cold granite. One hand between your shoulders, the other already freeing his cock. You look back. And fuck.

He’s hard. Thick. Mean-looking. The kind of cock you don’t forget, even if reality begs you to.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you are.” You hesitate. He doesn’t. He slams in. One thrust. Bottoms out.

You scream, choked, sudden, fucked full.

“Say it.” You sob. “I’m yours.” “Jake, I’m yours—”His hips snap forward, fast, brutal. Your nails scratch the countertop.

“Louder.” “Let the walls remember too.”

You say it. You cry it. You mean it.

Because he’s fucking you like he wants to leave a blueprint inside. Like when you’re gone, your cunt will still remember. You cum hard. On his cock. Around it. Slick splattering down your thighs, onto the floor.

He doesn’t stop.

“That’s it.” “Stay broken.” “Stay mine.”

He pulls out just enough, then slams back in. You feel it in your teeth.

And just before you black out— You hear it again. The mirror. A whisper from across the room. Soft. Feminine. You. “Don’t wake up.”

But you don't, you never fall asleep. The room is quiet after he cums.

He doesn’t pull out. Just stays pressed deep inside, breath tickling your neck, his palm cradling your jaw like you’re made of glass.

You’re shaking. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

Soft. Nothing like before. No thrust. No demand. Just lips.

“You used to cry when I touched you.” “The first time, remember?”

You don’t.

But your body clenches around him like you do.

FLASH.

You’re nineteen. Jake’s apartment. Messy sheets, your first real boyfriend, his trembling fingers between your thighs.

He’s saying, “Tell me if it hurts.” You’re whispering, “Don’t stop.”

Your legs shake when you cum. You cry into his neck. He holds you like it’s sacred. Back in the present, he fucks you slow again. Almost gentle.

“You were so good for me,” he murmurs. “So fucking sweet. Always so wet. Always mine.” Your eyes sting. You don’t want to cry. You don’t know if this is memory or manipulation.

But he leans in. Kisses your lips, soft. Careful. Real.

“You still are.”

You’re riding him now. Hands on his chest. Your thighs sore. The mirror behind him cracked. Still watching.

You roll your hips. Slow. Needy. And Jake? He’s smiling.

Not that twisted grin. A real smile. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” “Let me see you. Let me remember.” Your walls clench.

You moan. Loud. Unfiltered. And Jake, his hands shake when he grabs your hips. “You’re my favorite version.” You whimper: “Which one am I?”

He doesn’t answer. Just thrusts up, deep, perfect.

And you come.

FLASH. A picnic. Sunlight. Jake handing you strawberries. Telling you your laugh is his favorite sound.

You laugh now. But it’s hollow. You collapse against him.

He wraps you in a blanket. Cradles your head. Hums. “You used to cry when I touched you.” “But now you forget.” “And when you forget, you let me touch you again.” You fall asleep like that.

Still inside him. Still unsure. Still his.

It starts with a letter. On your pillow. Folded once. No envelope. Your name in blue ink. You recognize the handwriting. Yours.

The signature, though, is Jake’s. “You used to write me letters when you were angry. You said it was easier than screaming. You only screamed when I left. I didn’t leave. You did.”

The paper smells like old perfume. Yours. Or his. You’re not sure anymore.

“You begged me to come back. So I did. I made a home in the only place you’d never look again. Inside your own memory.”

The voicemail comes two minutes later. You play it. Your mother’s voice. Shaky. Frayed. Real. “Sweetie, I—I don’t know why you keep saying his name. You always did this, remember? Imaginary friends. But Jake, Jake never existed. We thought it stopped after the… after the accident.”

“You died. Honey, you died. You weren’t supposed to come back.”

She’s crying.

“Why are you calling me from this number? Whose phone is this?Please stop. Just let it rest.”

The world goes quiet.

The room doesn’t feel cold. It feels… gone. Like the lights are on in a house that was never built. You walk to the window.

And across the street. You see it.

Your funeral. A closed casket. Mourning clothes. Black umbrellas under white sun. Your mother on her knees in front of the altar. Sobbing. The same woman who left the voicemail. Only now it’s hours later.

But you’re not there. You’re somewhere else.

The kitchen smells like eggs and citrus.

Jake stands at the stove. Barefoot. Sweats hanging low. Soft music playing from an old radio that never worked.

He looks up. “Morning.” “You look pale.” “You dreamed again, didn’t you?”

You sit down. There’s orange juice in your cup before you speak. “Jake…”

He slides the eggs onto your plate. Kisses your forehead. “I’m yours. You made me that way.” “I can’t leave anymore.”

You blink. He smiles. “Eat, baby. It’s a long life. And we’re the only ones who remember it.”

In the mirror behind him, you’re smiling.

But you’re not eating. Your reflection tilts its head. Blood drips down its nose. You wipe yours. Nothing. Jake sits across from you. Reaches for your hand. And you don’t ask if he’s real.

You just whisper: “Will you stay?” He doesn’t blink. “I never left.”

Outside, the funeral ends. They bury the casket. The wind carries a single name from your mother’s lips:

“Please. Come back.”

But you’re already home. You always have been.

The End You remember wrong.

masterlist

[a3stheticcc]

My take/version on the Dead Cul-de-sac kids AU

(tw: graphic (possibly) description of deaths, maybe suic!dal thoughts)

STEP 1 VER

How did they die?

Qiu - Accidently rode his bike too fast during a race with Darren and got into a car collision when he rode into an oncoming car

It was all so sudden, just one second he was riding his bike as he raced his best friend through the streets of the town, speeding through town as fellow locals cheered him on whilst Darren retorted at his teasing taunts directed towards him.

Then the next second his body was flying through the air, body crashing onto the pavement, his helmet doing nothing to save his shattered body, his bike crashing down next to him.

He could feel everything going around him going dark, he was so scared, he was never scared, not till now. Not when there was the sudden change from cheers to screams and yells for help as Darren yelled out his name. That was all he heard as his eyes finally closed.

"...Well, hah, looks like you won for the first time Darren..! Good...jo..b...."

Tamarack - Got into a tussle with a dangerous woodland creature when exploring the forest alone

It was just meant to be small exploration, she was bored and wanted to go collect some mushrooms, maybe to show her Omi later, maybe Parker too if they were still at home. Then she spotted an injured fox resting by the bushes, being who she was, she was cautious but wanted to help the poor creature. She couldn't bare the sigh.

But her soft concerned words turned into screams and cries as the thing bit her! It was a pain she hasn't ever experienced, she tried to fight back but the thing was more scared than she was, that's what they always said.

And the next thing she knew was the sounds of the fox rushing away and the growing volume of footsteps and her Omi's voice as Tamarack laid there exhausted and in aching pain as everything went dark slowly.

"Omi...help..it hurts....and..so.....t..ired.."

Parker - Slipped and broke her skull when they were climbing up a tree

Parker's grip on the tree was tight as she hulled themself onto the branches, making sure her legs followed along, she was bored and bet that Autumn and Tam were already busy with, whatever they did and didn't want to disturb them.

But the sole of their boot suddenly slipped, just as they were about to reach the top, she gripped the bark and felt pain shoot through her fingers as they let go and they felt their body fall through the air, could feel the crack in her bones as they crashed against the branches.

They felt their body crash onto the ground, a choked gasp escaping her lips as her small body fell onto the tree's roots, laying their helplessly as their vision blurred.

"Mama...Autumn..? Tammy...? Anyone..? He....lp..me...."

Extras

All of them are scared and shocked

They all don't necessarily die with each other or at the same time, so it takes them a while to see each other's own ghosts

They're all even more horrified

Qiu does his best to reassure the other two, but on the inside he's internally panicking

Tamarack is stuck in shock, not having expected to die so quickly

Parker is scared and is literally trembling and close to tears

They're all still pretty young so they have a hard time processing that they're no longer alive

Idk if they're ghost appearances would be their normal selves, or their corpses/how they looked after they died

If it was the latter, they'd all be equally horrified and scared considering their deaths

Usually rome around the cul-de-sac to try and get their families' attention

They do get found eventually, Qiu was probably the first to be found, Tamarack the last

Big impact on the neighbourhood

STEP 2 VER

How did they die?

I like to think they all died during the 'Assistance' Moment bc yes (and bc there's more death alternatives for Azzy than you think :P)

Qiu - Hypothermia, because it was fucking raining, and there is NO way they can survive just wearing a coat considering they were still wearing their ballet uniform too, they ain't surviving being in rain dude.

It was cold, the rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo as Qiu sat on the wooden floors underneath it, clutching their jacket close to them, curling into a small ball. It was stupid coming out here, but they just wanted to get away from it all. The pressure, expectations, the cul-de-sac, just everything.

They knew it was dumb, that everyone would worry, and that's what they wanted, they didn't want to just be seen, they wanted to be cared about, not for being who they were, but for who they were now, and where they were internally.

They could feel their teeth chatter, the goosebumps, feeling the cold wind bite their skin, as they closed their eyes, seeking any hint of warmth there was left.

"Maybe I deserve this..maybe....I..can finally get away from..everything....I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry dad...I'm sorry Tam and Azzy, for letting you all down...again like always.."

Tamarack - Panic attack to heart attack, a rare case yes, but still possible, it's canon (I believe) that she has anxiety so this happens due to her hearing about Qiu going missing and only thinks the worst and is unable to do anything.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on her, she clutched her sweater as she could feel her heartbeat racing in her ears, unable to slow down and wasn't planning to any time sooner. Just a few moments ago she had received a text from Mr. and Mrs. Lin, asking if Qiu was with her or visited.

And when she heard Qiu had gone missing, she could only fear the worst, did they get kidnapped? Run away? Or were they...no, they couldn't be, they shouldn't.

The pain in her chest suddenly increased in a way she couldn't bare as she collapsed onto her bed, her breath pace quickening as she laid there clutching her chest, tears welling in her eyes, her head felt like it had got hit by a thousand hammers, she felt like she could throw up as her vision slowly but abruptly went black.

"I'm sorry Qiu, I'm so, so sorry for not being responsible enough to keep the connection towards us, to not caring about you when you were where you were, I just...wish..I could take it all..b..ack...."

Parker - Got beaten up to death by bullies who accused him of being the reason behind Qiu's disappearance. Qiu's popular as fuck, Parker isn't and with their disappearance, ofc SOMEONE was bound to blame Parker.

He felt pain shoot through his head as one of Qiu's admirers AKA one of Parker's bullies, grabbed and yanked her hair, a cry escaping her lips before a punch connected to his cheek, making him collapse to his knees. "It's all your fault!" They yelled at her as she shook her head, trying to crawl away before a bully grabbed her ankle and dragged him back.

She felt like her body was going to tear at the seams as the bullies threw him around like a hot potato, took turns giving hits and kicks, laughing, mocking and call him names as they beat her to a pulp like a beanbag.

Just as he thought it was all over, he felt her body being dragged against cobblestone, her body being lifted out. She suddenly found herself falling and a cold embrace of water welcomed her like a eerily warm hug.

"Autumn..Tammy....I'm so sorry for being so useless, if I had tried harder..maybe none of this would've happened...maybe if you both had never met me everything would.....be..bet....ter.."

EXTRA

They all died on the same day

Qiu died first, Parker died last

Tamarack was found first, Parker was found last

Qiu and Tamarack's ghosts were watching fuming and horrified as Parker got beaten to death

Before their spirits found each other, they all individually thought they deserved to die

Then that thought changed when they all saw each other

They spend hours sobbing and apologising to each other whilst also comforting one another

Most of the sobbing and apologising is from Tamarack and Qiu

Tam and Qiu spend a good hour just hugging

AzzyTam are still upset in different ways by Qiu's runaway attempt

Though totally not because it was the causes of their deaths indirectly

Qiu still feels guilty asf though

EXTRA FACTS OF MY DEAD AU IN GENERAL

They have different spirit essences, in step 1 Tam's is pink, Qiu's green, and Parker's is orange, in step 2, Tam's red, Qiu's is blue and Parker's is green

They can haunt objects

They can sorta fly but it's mainly hovering a few feet off the ground

The three can still feel the pain from their injuries occasionally

It's like a whole shock of pain enough to make them collapse to the ground in shock

The three mainly hang around the Special Place, but sometimes the rest of the town and neighbour hood, mainly if Step 1 Qiu requests or asks.

They check on their family and friends

But hey,

At least now they're going to be the same age forever for real now :P

[newtmasislove]

Newtmas dead au (They are all dead and in “paradise”) just dialogue bc I can’t be bothered

Paradise was different then they thought it would be but at least they were all together.

Newt and Thomas sat on a bench. They had been talking for a while about their lives, memories once forgotten.

“— Yeah we were always up to something!”

“ but the best one was you remember in the desert? That prank on fry.”

“Yes, when he fell into that hole? That was a good one.” Newt replies

“But the way jorge shouted at us I was scared of him for a week!” Thomas mumbles something about it being more than a week.

“I don’t remember being told off, I just remember looking at you, that stupid smile. Oh I loved you so much. I didn’t notice anything else!”

Thomas turns fully to newt his eyes wide. A moment passes.

“You loved me?”

-

“Does it matter.”

“It matters the most.”

[deedeethedevil]

A totally silly comic! ^_^

…….

Nvm-

[goldentragedyau]

I want to see how your alive and dead GoldenDuos would interact if they ever met, I bet they’d have some interesting things to say

GF!CC: I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most…

GT!Cas: it’s not like you could but if it helps I forgive you

GT!CC: don’t blame yourself..

GF!Cas: ..How could I not?!

[ritnya46]

Dead!Au

De qué trata esta tonta Su? Bueno, básicamente Antinous cumple el objetivo de matar a Telemachus y luego Odysseus lo mata a él (y el resto) antes de que los pretendientes puedan entrar en la habitación de Penélope.

Pero como ninguno de los dos tuvo un entierro no tienen monedas que darle a Caronte. Así que sí... Están atrapados, juntos.

¿Cómo? Ni idea ¿Por qué? Son las únicas personas que se conocen ahí ¿Dónde estarían? Me estás pidiendo demasiado.