Death - Blog Posts
Whispers of Shadows: A Capitol Love Lost
This is a short story. I just wanted to write something that I thought about when I was watching the movie. It has a sad ending, depending on how you view it. and all the pictures are from Pinterest.
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The opulent halls of the Academy for Capitol Youth buzzed with excitement as students in their crisp school uniforms mingled, their laughter echoing against the marble walls. Among them moved a figure that commanded attention — young Coriolanus Snow, the scion of a once-proud family fallen on hard times. His icy blue eyes and impeccably styled blonde hair belied the struggles hidden beneath the surface.
Enter Monica Crestwood, a vision of elegance and grace despite the standard school uniform. Her family's wealth dripped from every carefully chosen accessory, from the way she carried herself with poise to the sparkling kindness that set her apart from the Capitol's typically callous elite.
Monica and Coriolanus had been inseparable since they first crossed paths at the Academy. Bonded by a shared understanding of familial expectations and the pressures of societal standing, their connection deepened as they leaned on each other for support in the face of adversity.
Monica's compassion extended beyond the polished halls of the Academy, reaching into the very heart of the Snow family's struggles. She sought to bridge the gap between the Crestwoods and the Snows, understanding that Coriolanus's family was teetering on the precipice of ruin. Monica's parents, however, disapproved of her association with the Snows, deeming it a threat to their carefully cultivated image.
Despite the frosty reception from her family, Monica persevered in her efforts to help Coriolanus. She offered support in the form of clandestine financial aid, discreetly providing assistance to the Snows without her parents' knowledge. Her love for Coriolanus was unwavering, and she believed in a future where they could rise above the obstacles that threatened to tear them apart.
As the 10th Hunger Games approached, the Capitol was abuzz with anticipation. This year's tributes were selected, and among them was a girl named Lucy Gray, whose ethereal beauty and captivating presence had captured the attention of all. Coriolanus, tasked with mentoring Lucy Gray, found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn't comprehend.
Monica, sensing the shift in dynamics, struggled with a growing sense of unease. Coriolanus, engrossed in the world of the Hunger Games, became increasingly distant. The once inseparable couple found themselves on opposite sides of a growing chasm, their worlds spinning in different directions.
Amidst the lavish parties and glittering distractions of the Capitol, Monica grappled with the realization that she was losing Coriolanus to the allure of the Games. The once unbreakable bond they shared seemed fragile, as though the weight of the Hunger Games threatened to shatter the foundation of their love.
In the dimly lit corners of the Academy, Monica watched as Coriolanus and Lucy Gray's interactions deepened. The spark that ignited between them cast a shadow over Monica's heart, leaving her feeling abandoned and isolated. As the Games approached, Monica wrestled with the looming fear that she might lose not only Coriolanus but also the person she once knew him to be.
Little did she know that the coming days would test the limits of her love and loyalty, forcing her to confront the harsh realities of the Capitol's machinations and the unpredictable nature of the Hunger Games.
The Capitol's effervescent energy reached its peak as the Games commenced. Monica, adorned in the standard school uniform that all students wore, stood in the crowd, her eyes fixated on the arena. Coriolanus, now fully immersed in his role as a mentor, exuded a confidence that Monica had not seen before.
The tributes, including Lucy Gray, entered the arena, their faces a mix of fear and determination. Monica's heart pounded as she watched the spectacle unfold on the screens. The opulence of the Capitol contrasted sharply with the brutality of the Games, and Monica couldn't help but question the society that reveled in such a spectacle.
As the days passed, Monica's inner turmoil grew. The divide between her and Coriolanus widened, exacerbated by the Capitol's intoxicating influence. Late nights turned into early mornings as Monica grappled with her conflicting emotions, torn between loyalty to Coriolanus and an unsettling realization that the Games were changing him.
In the hushed corridors of the Academy, Monica overheard whispers of alliances and betrayals within the arena. The Games were a ruthless game of survival, and Coriolanus navigated its treacherous waters with a cunning that both impressed and frightened Monica. She wondered if the boy she fell in love with still existed beneath the layers of Capitol manipulation.
Monica's clandestine efforts to aid the Snow family faced new challenges as her own family intensified their disapproval. The Crestwoods, deeply entrenched in the Capitol's social hierarchy, couldn't fathom Monica's association with the Snows, especially given Coriolanus's role in the Hunger Games.
Despite the mounting pressures, Monica refused to abandon her convictions. She continued to support Coriolanus from the shadows, offering subtle gestures of encouragement that went unnoticed amidst the chaos of the Capitol's festivities. Yet, as the Games progressed, Monica couldn't escape the nagging feeling that her actions were a mere whisper against the roaring tide of Capitol politics.
The turning point came when Lucy Gray emerged as a formidable contender in the Games. Coriolanus's mentorship had molded her into a captivating and unpredictable force, capturing the hearts of Capitol citizens and sponsors alike. Monica, torn between her love for Coriolanus and a growing admiration for Lucy Gray's resilience, found herself at a crossroads.
The Capitol's opulent façade crumbled as Monica confronted the harsh reality of the Hunger Games. The Games weren't just a spectacle; they were a cruel reminder of the Capitol's power and the sacrifices made in the name of entertainment. Monica's internal struggle mirrored the external chaos of the arena, and she couldn't shake the feeling that the Capitol was playing a dangerous game with the lives of its youth.
As the climax of the Games approached, Monica's resolve solidified. She would confront Coriolanus, not as a victim of the Capitol's machinations but as a woman who refused to be a pawn in their deadly game. The once-burgeoning love between Monica and Coriolanus would face its ultimate test, and the outcome would ripple through the corridors of the Capitol, challenging the very foundations of their society.
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The echoes of the Hunger Games had barely faded when the harsh reality of consequences descended upon Coriolanus Snow. The Capitol, unforgiving in its pursuit of perfection, discovered his illicit actions to save Lucy Gray. As the Capitol's judgment fell upon him, Coriolanus found himself stripped of privilege, his family disgraced, and his future hanging in the balance.
Monica, unaware of the extent of Coriolanus's transgressions, sought him out in the dimly lit corridors of the Academy. Her steps quickened as she approached him, her eyes revealing a mix of concern and determination.
"Coriolanus, we need to talk," Monica implored, her voice tinged with worry. "What's happening? Why are they punishing you?"
Coriolanus, his once-confident demeanor now replaced by a defeated slouch, sighed heavily. "Monica, it's over. The Capitol has no tolerance for failure.I cheated in the games. I've been assigned to be a Peacekeeper in a distant district."
Her eyes widened with disbelief. "No, there has to be something we can do. I'll talk to my parents, we'll find a way to fix this."
He shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Your parents won't help. They never believed in us. They saw me as a means to an end, a way to maintain their precious status. Now that I'm tainted, they'll wash their hands of me."
Monica's determination wavered as she reached out to touch his arm. "Coriolanus, we can face this together. I'll stand by you, no matter what. We'll find a way."
His icy gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was a flicker of gratitude. However, as the weight of his impending departure settled in, an unexpected venom seeped into his words. "Monica, let's not pretend. Our love was a convenience, a way for me to survive in the Capitol. I never loved you. It was always about the money, the stability you offered."
Monica recoiled, her eyes welling up with tears. "Coriolanus, how can you say that? We've been through so much together. I believed in us."
His tone turned cold, matching the frost in his eyes. "Belief won't change anything. I've found someone who truly understands me, who doesn't see me as a pawn in their game. Lucy Gray — she's the one I love."
Monica felt the ground crumble beneath her. "Lucy Gray? After everything we've been through, you're leaving me for her?"
Coriolanus, unmoved by her distress, continued, "I need to go where she is, I need to make sure she is alive. District 12, where Lucy is. It's time to embrace the reality of my feelings."
Monica, torn between disbelief and heartbreak, struggled to find words. As Coriolanus turned to walk away, the shattered pieces of their once-unbreakable bond lay scattered, lost in the harsh winds of change.
Monica, though battered by Coriolanus's cutting words, refused to let despair consume her. As he turned to leave, she reached out, her hand trembling, and gently caught hold of his arm. "Coriolanus, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
He turned his expression a mixture of regret and determination. But before he could speak, Monica stepped into his arms, wrapping herself around him in a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered into his ear, her voice steady despite the quiver in her heart. "If this is where you need to be, then I'll support you. I'll love you from here, even if it hurts."
Coriolanus, taken aback by the unexpected gesture, hesitated for a moment. The cold exterior he had crafted began to crack as he felt the warmth of Monica's embrace. His icy resolve wavered, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned the choices he was making.
Monica continued, her voice filled with sincerity, "I promise to take care of Tigers and Grandma'am. I'll make sure they remember you. And I'll do my best to bring you back home, to us."
Coriolanus, conflicted and haunted by unspoken emotions, simply hugged her back. The weight of his actions hung heavily between them, but in that moment, the familiarity of their connection pushed through the turmoil. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the love that lingered beneath the surface.
Monica, her eyes closed against the pain, whispered, "Be safe, Coriolanus. Find your happiness. I'll be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes."
As he reluctantly pulled away, their eyes met one last time. In that gaze, a complex tapestry of emotions unfolded — love, regret, and the unspoken truth that lingered between them. Coriolanus, unable to voice what his heart truly felt, simply nodded, acknowledging the sacrifice Monica was making for him.
With one last glance, he turned away, leaving Monica standing in the dimly lit corridor, a pillar of strength despite the ache in her heart. As Coriolanus ventured into the unknown, the memory of her unwavering support lingered, a beacon of hope in the shadows of uncertainty.
---- Time skip
The days that followed were a blur of anguish for Monica. The weight of Coriolanus's departure pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to let it crush her spirit. Determination fueled her actions as she navigated the challenges of keeping her promise to him.
Monica faced the disapproval of her own family, who viewed Coriolanus's fall from grace as a stain on their reputation. Yet, she stood resolute, deflecting their judgment with a grace that belied the turmoil within her. Tigers and Grandma'am, Coriolanus's family, found solace in Monica's unwavering support, and together, they faced the whispers and sidelong glances of Capitol society.
In her quiet moments, Monica grappled with the truth Coriolanus had laid bare — that their love was not what she had believed it to be. The sting of his words lingered, a persistent ache in her heart. Yet, in the face of adversity, Monica discovered a strength within herself that she never knew existed.
As she navigated the intricacies of Capitol politics, Monica found herself drawn to the cause of the Districts, a stark contrast to the privileged life she had known. The injustice of the Hunger Games, the oppressive rule of the Capitol — it all became painfully clear to her. Determined to make a difference, Monica secretly aligned herself with those who sought change.
The Capitol's grip on her life loosened as Monica immersed herself in this clandestine world. She forged alliances with rebels, learning the art of subversion and rebellion. Monica, once the epitome of Capitol elegance, now moved in the shadows, a silent force working against the very system she was born into.
---
The dusty air of District 12 clung to Coriolanus as he navigated the unfamiliar streets, his steps heavy with the weight of his choices. Lucy Gray walked beside him, her presence offering a semblance of comfort in this strange, new world. Sejanus, their unlikely companion, observed the surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
In the dimly lit bar they entered, the crackling sound of an old television caught their attention. The screen flickered, revealing the unmistakable visage of Dr. Volumnia Gaul, the architect of Capitol cruelty, as she delivered a broadcast.
"As a reminder of the consequences of treachery," Dr. Gaul's voice echoed through the bar, "we present the traitor who dared defy the Capitol's authority."
The camera shifted, revealing a face both familiar and heart-wrenching. It was Monica, pale and beaten, her eyes hollow with despair. Coriolanus felt a sharp intake of breath as he stared at the small screen, unable to comprehend the depths of betrayal that had transpired.
Lucy Gray's hand found its way to his, gripping it in silent support. Sejanus, too, watched with a mix of horror and sympathy, realizing the impact of the Capitol's ruthlessness on those who dared question it.
Dr. Gaul continued, her voice devoid of remorse, "This traitor provided aid to the districts, undermining the Capitol's authority. Let this be a warning to all who dare to defy us."
Coriolanus, his heart heavy with guilt, could hardly bear to watch as Monica's beaten form became a pawn in the Capitol's ruthless game. The realization hit him with a force that eclipsed the power of any Games he had ever witnessed.
As the broadcast concluded, the bar fell into an uneasy silence. The trio exchanged glances, each grappling with the harsh truth of the Capitol's brutality. Coriolanus, torn between loyalty and self-preservation, felt a surge of conflicting emotions.
---- Big time skip
Years had passed since the traumatic events in District 12. The Capitol's grip on the districts had tightened, and Coriolanus Snow found himself entangled in the web of political intrigue and power struggles. The memories of Monica and the haunting broadcast had become a distant ache, buried beneath layers of duty and survival.
In the garden of the presidential mansion, where whispers of rebellion echoed in the rustling leaves, Coriolanus found himself in the unexpected company of Katniss Everdeen. The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken truths as they discussed the Capitol's ruthless tactics, particularly the bombings that targeted innocent children.
As they exchanged somber words, Coriolanus couldn't help but notice a delicate necklace around Katniss's neck — a small, silver chain with a pendant that bore a striking resemblance to the one Monica used to wear. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't suppress the urgency in his voice as he asked, "Where did you get that necklace?"
Katniss, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, touched the pendant thoughtfully. "It was my grandma's. She gave it to me before she passed away."
Coriolanus, trying to conceal the turmoil within, couldn't shake the feeling that the necklace held a connection to Monica. He probed further, "Your grandma's? Did she ever mention where she got it?"
Katniss shook her head, her expression clouded with sadness. "No, she never said. It was just a simple keepsake she wanted me to have. Why do you ask?"
A sense of unease settled over Coriolanus as he grappled with the possibility that Monica might have suffered a fate worse than he could have imagined. He hesitated before speaking, "It just looks remarkably similar to one someone I knew used to wear. A dear friend from a long time ago."
Katniss studied him intently, her gaze penetrating the carefully constructed facade.
Coriolanus Snow, unable to shake the eerie similarity between Katniss's necklace and Monica's, took a deep breath before venturing further into the delicate topic. "Tell me more about your grandmother, Katniss. What was she like?"
Katniss's eyes softened with nostalgia as she spoke of her grandmother, a resilient woman who had endured the harsh realities of District 12. She shared stories of strength, survival, and the enduring spirit that had been passed down through generations.
Listening intently, Coriolanus couldn't help but feel a growing weight of recognition. The details Katniss provided about her grandmother painted a vivid picture, one that seemed to align with the Monica he once knew — the Monica who had disappeared without a trace.
As Katniss spoke, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Monica, like Coriolanus, had been cast into the unforgiving embrace of District 12 by her parents as a form of punishment. The once wealthy and privileged girl had found herself entwined in the gritty reality of the impoverished district.
Coriolanus, his heart pounding in his chest, felt a mix of emotions swirling within him. Monica had not only survived but had built a life in District 12 — a life that transcended the confines of her origins. The revelation brought a bittersweet sense of closure to the wounds of the past.
The necklace, once a symbol of loss, now carried the weight of a profound connection. Monica's legacy lived on in Katniss, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit even in the face of adversity.
A complex tapestry of emotions played across Coriolanus's face — relief, regret, and a tinge of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events. In that moment, he found a measure of solace in knowing that Monica had forged her own path, a path that led to the birth of a courageous young woman who stood before him.
As the conversation with Katniss unfolded, Coriolanus couldn't escape the realization that the Capitol's attempts to break them had instead given rise to something far more powerful — a legacy of strength and defiance that endured in the face of oppression.
The necklace, now an emblem of intertwined destinies, served as a silent reminder of the choices they had made and the paths they had walked. Coriolanus, standing on the precipice of history, found himself reevaluating his role in the unfolding drama of Panem. The shadows of Monica's disappearance, once haunting, now held the promise of a resilient spirit that refused to be extinguished.
hii i remembered tumblr exists 💚 this is a series that i'm in the process of making long term, i have most of the characters assigned to a tarot card that i think fits them
i have more art in the vault to post but ill wait to not get shadowbanned. or something idk
Voodoo4Dummies
Wanda x y/n
Agatha x Wanda (friends only)
Nat + yelena + y/n (sisters)
Y/N gets killed on a mission, leaving her one true love, Wanda to deal with the consequences. Throughout the weeks after Y/N’s death, Wanda seeks out help from her old friend Agatha, in which they stumble upon multiple books, the Dark Hold, The Manual of Witchcraft and Alchemy and Voodoo for Dummies.
WANDAS POV
“im closing in on the room with the, what did you call it tasha? a goober?” Y/N’s voice echoing through the earpiece which allows the team to speak to one another during missions, with a hint of sarcasm she speaks in her Russian accent. Following this Natasha chuckles into her earpiece and following up with “shut it y/n/n, get the USB and get out”
I smile at the interaction they share while fighting off another round of hydra agents.
“Uh guys. So I took the USB out of the computer and now there’s a timer on the screen. i- I think it’s a bomb” y/n announces with a tremble clear in her voice
“hey, hey no malysh, cmon, it’s okay just get as far away from that room as possible, what floor are you on?” Yelena says in a comforting tone, recognising the fear in her baby sisters voice
“Fuck I don’t know Lena, but it’s high maybe 5th floor from what I can see” my heart sinks, memories of Pietro’s death flood back into my brain, she can’t die like this. I can’t loose her. “My love come on, just keep running please” I plead with her, I can hear her heavy breathing through the earpiece.
One I manage to get outside, all the hydra agents on sight are dead and the whole team are out front looking at the door waiting for one of Y/N’s last minute miracles, she always gets into trouble on missions because she is careless with her life, always diving head first into trouble and unlike any normal person she always ends up surviving. It’s an ongoing joke that her power is luck.
I run over to Natasha and turn to the building in hopes y/n runs outside and into my arms. Tony points up to a window “what is she doi…*BANG*”
the whole team falls to the floor in attempt to cover from the flames that burst out of the building. We all watch as Y/N jumps through the window of the 5th floor, her body on an incline toward the floor, a scream rips from both mine and Yelena’s lungs as our y/n hits the floor in one swift motion, her small frame, slumped against a car, her head hung low, her tactical goggles covering her eyes, her raven curls covering the remaining surface of her face.
Everyone stumbles to their feet to get to y/n, yelena making it to her first, falling to her knees and holding her younger sisters lifeless head up in her hands, she cursed under her breath as the rest of the avengers huddle up around the two, i kneel next to yelena with panic. “Is she awake?” I say in a sense of urgency as I lift up my girlfriends tactical goggles off her eyes, her head still resting in yelenas hands.
That’s when it hits me.
I cant hear her heartbeat, I lift my hand up, my palm just in front of her face, my fingers grazing over her forehead. Strands of red magic float around her head.
“i- I can’t feel you” I say in a whisper to y/n before looking around “I can’t feel her” I announce to the group in panic “why can’t I feel her?” I say as Natasha pulls my body into hers, wrapping her arms around me as tears cascade down my face. Yelena starts to gently slap Y/N’s face “come on little one, this isn’t fucking funny, wake up. Wake up y/n, WAKE UP” Yelena’s screams can be heard from anyone, probably even from universes away.
“wake up, come on Wanda, wake up your having a nightmare” I am shook awake, my eyes flutter open as my body is shook by my best friend Agatha, she looks down at me with fear in her eyes. I rub my eyes, tears staining my black stained fingers, I slowly lift my body into a sitting position opposite Agatha. “Oh hun, it’s okay, we will find her body and bring her back, just like we said, yes?” Agatha says in a hopeful yet reassuring tone of voice. I nod slowly knowing today is the day I am to go to S.W.O.R.D headquarters to talk to general Hayward about Y/N’s body.
- time skip -
I walk into S.W.O.R.D headquarters with a plan and an right to commit to my plan.
“Ah yes, hello miss Maximoff. Here to see general Hayward? Right this way, let me get this door for you” a man on front desk greets me but I know where I need to be “I’ve got it but thanks” I say interrupting the kind man as I use my powers to open the door.
Once in Haywards office he greets me with a nod “hello miss Maximoff” he smiles “okay yes I know your here for your girlfriends body but I’m sorry to inform you, she’s the government’s property” i tilt my head in anger knowing he would say something like this, and because of that me and Agatha came up with a plan, I would distract him while Agatha goes in and teleports Y/N’s body back to the house we share. “If it where that the two of you had married before her death then I would of been allowed to hand over her body to you” that one hit a nerve, the night my love died I was planning to propose to her after our weekly movie night. After a breif moment of silence I went to speak, just as the radio attached to Haywards fancy suit blazer goes off “general Hayward, the mutants body has been compromised” I smile a little knowing they meant Y/N, however she wasn’t a mutant she just… well she was a mutant, but she wore a power dampener in fear she would hurt the ones she loved, I remember her staying up for weeks upon end in the lab making the stupid gadget, she would stay up until she passed out in someone’s arms. My thoughts are broken as I see Hayward run out of the room, I chuckle knowing she is already at the house, I drive back to mine and Agatha’s small house quickly with excitement radiating off my body.
Once entering the driveway, i quickly get out of the car and run into the house, without wasting time, I go straight to the basement, throwing my overcoat off my body, Agatha already has your body upon the medical table we built. “You ready hun?” She says in a comforting voice
I grab the only book that had gotten me and Agatha any progress. We had tried the Dark Hold but this book, voodoo for dummies was a remake of a old witches book from the 1600s a spell for reincarnation had been left opened in the book. I smile at Agatha and nod. We had done this spell many of times in the last week, we would kill people before bringing them back, it would work.
Agatha on one side of the table, me on the other, we lit candles and as much as it hurt me to do we had to carve runes into your skin, we started on your arms, carving over your scars, then we had to rip your shirt and I had to carve over your heart. Once we finished we started chanting in Latin. After a few minutes your body started to shake as if you where having a seizure I pressed my hands down onto your freezing shoulders and held you down. all of a sudden your body went limp again and Agatha threw the book “what a crock of shit” she curses. And turns around to pace the room.
I sigh and look down at your body, caressing your cheek lightly, this is when your eyes flutter open slowly, “my love?” I say quietly as Agatha quickly spins around to look at what I’m talking to. “oh my, Wanda she’s alive, she’s alive” Agatha nearly shouts.
Active leisure. Darksiders.
The number one cause of death, is birth. If there was less people born in the world, the less deaths there’d be.
Author's Note: I have written a second part to this one-shot that I posted many moons ago, here is a quick reblog to hopefully get it into circulation again before the new part is posted. I never planned for a second part, but it kind of happened anyway and I think it works well. I thought it would be fun to explore the aftermath of this event, and how it would affect some of the characters of Mystic Falls. Keep in tune! It should be up within the next day or so.
The Day Before ➳ Damon Salvatore x TerminallySick!reader One-Shot
Synopsis: The reader knows she is dying and to save Damon the pain of her death she makes an extremely difficult decision.
Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS: Angst, Death.
Masterlist
A/N: This is my first time writing for Damon Salvatore, hopefully this is the first of many.
Words: 1,538
Keep reading
The Day Before ✢ Damon Salvatore
Synopsis: The reader knows she is dying and to save Damon the pain of her death she makes an extremely difficult decision.
Damon Salvatore x Reader, female pronouns.
Warnings: Angst, Death.
Masterlist
Notes: This is my first time writing for Damon Salvatore, hopefully, this is the first of many.
Words: 1,538
Y/N’s heart sunk as she glanced down at the beads of blood glistening on the tissue she clutched in her hand, she had received news the day before that her cancer had metastasised to her lungs, though she did not realise that her condition would worsen so swiftly.
Y/N knew she would not be able to hide it for much longer, every day she became more crippled and with every passing moment her façade threatened to unveil.
Her friends had experienced too much loss and the idea of adding to it made her stomach churn sickeningly. She would not allow them to grieve her; which is why she was leaving.
Through clouded eyes she began bundling all of her possessions into a small suitcase, she did not pay much mind to what she grabbed, it would not need to last her very long.
Though when she reached a small photo album sitting on her bedside table her heart jolted, with shaking hands she flipped open the small winsome book, and sure enough, smiling back at her were the faces of her beloved friends.
She brushed her fingers over each and everyone of their grins, smiling through her tears as she recalled the moment she had taken it. Though her hand halted when she reached the last face, she could have sworn she felt her heart beating in her throat.
Damon.
It had not yet occurred to her that she would never see him again. The pain she felt at that realisation was crippling. She would never feel his gentle caress against her body or his lips on her cheek; Damon’s touch was lost on her forever. All that she had to carry her to her deathbed was his picture and her feeble memory, and that would never be enough.
Before she met him Y/N would not have believed a love so potent was possible, though she was very agreeably proved wrong. Even while living in Mystic Falls with all its theatrical and apprehensive infamousness, Y/N had never been happier. And that was entirely the work of Damon.
Y/N knew her death would break him and she knew the kind of person Damon became when he was broken. If she left without an explanation he would eventually make his own assumptions and any assumption he made surely could not hurt him like the truth.
She knew he would try and find her, she could only wish he was never successful. The decision she was making was far from easy, but it was easier than knowing he was mourning for her; hurting because of her.
Damon was always abundantly clear on the life he wanted for them, he yearned to turn her and live for eternity at each other's sides. Though Y/N was never sure what she wanted, she did not want to be rash and he respected that. Though now any chance of her accepting his vision was lost perpetually. She could never become like him, the possibility was lost the moment she was diagnosed with cancer; vampire blood could not fix her now.
Y/N was riddled with guilt and regret, she knew she should have said yes when he first told her what he wanted; because now in the face of death, she yearned for it too. For months the abstraction of the undying life she could have had with Damon had been eating away at her. She laughed humourlessly at the malevolent irony of her situation.
Y/N could not bear to spend another second thinking of the near future and what could have been, so to ease her mind she thought of the day before. The day that, albeit unknowingly, would become their final moments together. It was not a grand affair, they had simply spent the day in each other's company.
They watched TV, had a nap and Damon had even offered to cook dinner, and even though he failed miserably it had still meant so much to her. She believes he noticed she was feeling unwell and was doing what he could to make her better.
But it was the final moment that had meant the most to her; when he wrapped her in his arms at the end of the day as he was leaving and whispered that he loved her. Tears ran hot down her cheeks at the realisation that it would be the last time she heard him say those words.
A sudden feeling of lightheadedness had Y/N rushing to sit on the edge of her bed, she should not be stressing herself out like this, she knew it would only worsen her condition. Though she could not stop the unfathomable feeling of guilt stewing within her, It made her sick; she could not leave him without so much as a goodbye.
Going against everything she had planned since her diagnosis she turned to the messily packed suitcase and began unravelling it.
Another wave of sickness overcame her, though this time disparate. Y/N felt her body go slack, her possessions slipping from her weak grasp and falling back into their places in the case. Her body slipped downwards from the bed and found itself docile against the floorboards.
She had started coughing up blood again when the realisation crushed her. This was it. Just as she decided to see Damon karma unfurled its caustic tendrils and enveloped her. She swore she could feel the life depleting from her body. Y/N felt akin to a spectre as darkness shrouded her being like a void, plunging her into nothingness. She was lost to the world. Her glassy, lifeless eyes stared above her; forever immortalised with the fear of never seeing him again.
Y/N had not been answering her phone and Damon knew the consternation he felt brewing because of it was completely irrational, but he found himself headed to her house regardless; he wanted to see her anyway.
When Y/N’s house met his line of sight the sound of a lack of life immediately registered with him, he could not hear her breathing nor the beating of her heart and there was certainly no sound of her usual bustle.
He concluded that she must not have been home, though before he could turn around to leave he noticed with furrowed eyebrows that her car was still in the driveway. He picked up his pace as he closed the rest of the distance.
He pushed open the creaking old door and when the smell of her exposed blood met him immediately, his heart was sent into a panicked frenzy. Before a second had passed he used his speed to send him straight into her bedroom. But the macabre sight on the floor halted him. He discerned that her skin was the colour of death and the stillness of her frame was much the same.
He repudiated this thought as he felt the veins grow black beneath his eyes, his fangs coming to meet his wrist. He sped to her limp body and placed his bloodied arm against her cold lips, they remained unmoving.
‘No...’ he barely gasped out, ‘You need to drink this Y/N, it’ll help you.’
He shook her shoulders, her whole body moving with the disruption. Damon’s vision dimmed through the welling of his tears. He forced her taut jaw wider trying to force down his blood. He choked down his sobs as he continued to plead with her.
‘Please drink, you need to drink… Please.’
His weeps quaked in his chest, unwillingly observing her lack of heartbeat. He removed his wrist from her lips, replacing it with his mouth and breathing air into her empty lungs. He placed his hands on her chest and tried desperately to recall the steps of resuscitation, but his efforts were futile.
With an all-consuming sense of despair, his hands fell slack from her inanimate frame and he acknowledged what he had known all along.
She was dead.
The sobs that passed his lips were inhuman in sound, with shaking hands he used the pad of his fingers to gently pull the eyelids over her glassy eyes. Damon then pulled her torso up to his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head.
For the first time since he had arrived the sight of a half-packed suitcase entered his concentration. He realised hollowly she had been trying to leave. She knew she was dying and was trying to leave anyway. He wanted to feel angry at her, but no emotion could supersede the severe sense of dejection he was under.
Who knows how long he would have been living in blissful ignorance, thinking he resided in a sphere where she still existed, a world where she still lived.
Damon knew he could not live in a world where she did not exist. This was a pain he could not overcome, a pain he would not overcome. Her death left his humanity in shreds, and Damon knew at once he could no longer function with it extant. His emotions left him like a flame getting put out, the enthralling love he had felt for her the day before all but a memory.
Here is the link to a second part if you're interested. I thought it would be interesting to write Damon with no humanity, Part two.
Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3
Your Faith Has Made You Complacent (And Thus Your Pride Will Bring You To Ruin)
Another piece inspired by @m1d-45. I have normally have great impulse control unless it's writing. Then this happens.
Instincts honed
Through years of wear
It has led them well
When their heart was torn
And their mind in shambles
So why?
Why is it now
That they fail to listen?
It pulls back
Desperate to get away
To plead for forgiveness
For ignorance and arrogance
They do not listen
Not this time
Emotions surge
As their heart thunders
Their mind races
Ignoring the sirens that blare
They raise their blade
Even as something
Someone?
In the back of their head howls
The weapon plunges
Sinking into soft flesh
The thud of a guillotine
A hasty execution
It is a graceless death
That prickles their skin
As a sense of wrongness settles
Something is not right
When they fall to their knees?
Why were they trying to heal the dead?
Why did their soul ache?
Why does it feel so wrong?
Oh.
What have they done?
Remorse Is Not Forgiveness (And Forgiveness Won't Bring Them Back)
@m1d-45 A little piece inspired by some of your writing. I hope you'll like it!
The quiet fade to black
Waking to familiar scenes
Of an unfamiliar world
Only seen through fragile screens
The world croons in welcome
Though its sentiments aren't shared
As the people call for execution
As beloved characters turn their blade
The ones built from ashes to glory
Now set their hunt upon thee
Run and hide
The clock is ever ticking
You will always be caught
So face your death with dignity
Your blood runs starshine bright
Only seen in the burning light
But it's far too late
Your eyes shimmer and glaze
Blank and dull and unseeing
Life fades from your body
Corpse cooling in the shade
There is no time for regret
No time for forgiveness
Sunbeam golden chains bind them tight
As prayers fall from their lips
As the world mourns around them
Their mistake is unforgivable
And thus they must pay the price
I wanna cry till death takes me in her arms and embrace with its soft touch , closing my eyes and singing melancholy lullaby of her's.
Today I saw death
But I escaped
I think it's still lingering behind me.
Today too I don’t wanna live .
Sorry , it is a tough day.
Bear with me.
On average in the USA 856 people die everyday. 856 god damn people die and people think it’s okay to say that COVID-19 isn’t doing anything, or isn’t real? That’s like if my ENTIRE school dropped dead. So please, before it’s too late, take some action.This could be as simple as ordering your groceries online and staying home everyday. Sorry not sorry if it’s an “inconvenience” to you. You know what’s mighty inconvenient? When you you go to call your friend, family member, acquaintance and you realise you can’t because they’re fucking dead from your so called “myth” of a dies. The bodies are piling up high, I think you should start to at least notice the smell.
(sorry if i’m incorrect about the death toll)
notes:)
I wrote this to be part of a big series I’m creating and I love it. It’s something I wrote in 40 minutes which is pretty good for me
It has some violence and character death so watch out for that
If you want to follow more closely of things you can go to my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Clouds/pseuds/Orange_Clouds
"You're a beauty, a luminary, in my face…," I jump to the song, waiting for the intense part to kick in. I've recently become obsessed with problems by mother mother; it has quickly turned into my favorite song. I had been pacing from corner to corner in my bedroom, hoping I'm not being loud enough to awaken my roommate. I'm doing a mix of skipping and jumping because of the excitement. I reach the corner my door is in and quickly touch my fingers to the wall next to it. I turn around and skip to the corner my bed is in and allow my leg to brush against it.
I give a wide grin when the lyrics I had been waiting for come in. "I've got problems…," I turn around and get ready to jump and dance only to give out a short scream. The smile of pure excitement I had on my face quickly dropped when faced with the face of a creature staring at me from my now cracked open door. I stare at the thing in horror and watch as its hand slides in holding onto my doorway. It reminded me of one of those guys in k dramas that put their hand against the wall to pin the girl. I almost laugh at that thought before quickly correcting myself.
From what I can see the thing is very tall and lanky. Having to bend down to fit itself in the hallway. It has at least one long spindly hand that's now breaking the wood of my doorway. Its face is very oval shaped and it almost looks like it's wearing a mask. I can see nothing of the body or legs but its neck is very thin; with it looking like a small branch. As I'm analyzing the rest of it something draws me back to its face. It's only then I notice what I assume to be saliva dripping down its face onto the carpeted floor.
I slowly reach up to pull down my headphones. I was hoping for it to be like a wild animal; meaning I was attempting to not make any sudden movements. With my headphones off I could now hear the growling and labored breathing coming from the monster. My eyes widened in fear, wondering how I was supposed to get out of the situation. My eyes suddenly shift over to the wall my closet is on. What happened to my roommate? Oh god. Did this monster already kill her? Eat her? Was I too busy blasting music that I didn't hear my own roommate, my friend getting killed? Or did she somehow get away? Or did the monster come to my room first? If it did I hope she has enough sense to run instead of trying to help me.
My eyes quickly jump back to the monster at the slight movement. The thing was slowly sliding itself into my room. My mind starts rushing, wondering what I should do at this moment. Should I try jumping out the window or throwing something at it and running around it? I didn't get to make a decision before I heard a whistle blow and the monster jumped forward at me. I scream and bring my arms up in an attempt to cover my face and chest, but that didn't help me. I scream out in pain as I feel its sharp claws dig into my arms and then my chest. I pushed my arms into its face to push it away but that only resulted in me cutting up my hands from the sharp teeth it apparently has. I feel the tears well up in my eyes from the fear and pain that I'm currently in.
I attempt to push out my legs to no avail before going limp; hoping if I don't struggle as much the thing would just get it over with and kill me. But of course that didn't happen. No. This things' giant hand instead grabs at my face to force me to look at my doorway. There I see my roommate. My eyes widen as more tears fall from them at the emotionless look on her face.
Oh.
I don't think she's here to help me.
That was the last thought I had before the thing squeezed its hand and everything went black.
Making it count
Last week I was at a classmates funeral. Everything about it seemed wrong. She just turned 18 three weeks ago, therefore being way too young to leave this world and as I stood at her open grave, looking down at the bright wooden coffin her dainty body was in, imagining her just sleeping inside, I felt like I’m living my life the wrong way.
In that moment everything seemed so important to me. Because standing there, watching her older sister break down in tears, filled my heart with so much fear of not only dying but losing people I love before I had the chance to tell them everything I wanted them to know and spending as much time together as possible.
In that moment I wanted to call both my parents and tell them I loved them.
I wanted to wrap my arms around every single one of my friends and thank them for the best memories ever.
I wanted to tell my favourite teachers how much they inspired me and helped to create a new version, a better one, of me throughout the past years.
I wanted to make sure my brother knew that he has always been my favourite person on this planet no matter how hard we had fought in the past.
I wanted to show up at this particular boy’s door and just kiss him and thank him for slowly putting back all the pieces of my broken heart another one had left me alone with.
I wanted to be fearless. To be brave enough to just do whatever I felt like. To stop caring about what others might think of me and do whatever my heart desired.
I wanted to make every single minute of my life count, because I realized how fast everything might fall apart.
RIP Leo,
forever loved.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
Speedpaint:https://youtu.be/YQLIuVtK6go