#permission to die

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #20: "Permission to Die" Gladiator (2000)

[salty-autistic-writer]

Whumptober 2024 Day 20: Permission to die

Title: Like A Prayer (AO3)

Tw: Major Character Death!

1

They are in bed together when they talk about it for the first time. 

Entangled naked limbs shine in the moon light as sweat is drying on their bodies. It’s a summer night and the darkness brings a desperately needed chill.

Evan chews on his lip when Tommy brings the topic up. He shakes his head. “I don’t like to talk about this.” And that means something. Because normally, Evan likes to talk about everything. It’s easy for him to get interested and excited. It’s like there’s a well of words inside him just waiting to burst out and once he starts there seems to be no end. But now, his lips press together into a grim line. His brows furrow. And he falls silent.

“Death is a part of our life, Evan,” Tommy points out gently.

“Still … It’s too painful to even think about it. I don’t want to live without you.”

“I know. And I feel the same. But we will die eventually.”

Evan sighs. “I almost died way too many times. Now, I want to live.”

“And we will. We will live,” Tommy assures, reaching for Evan’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you. But we still should talk about death from time to time.”

Evan buries his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck, almost as if he’s trying to hide. “Alright,” he mutters. “But not right now, okay? Not right now.”

2

Tommy is tired. He is tired of walking through the ever-same hallway. Tired of entering the room. Tired of the silence. Tired of the brightness and the smell.

He looks at his husband. And it’s not really his husband. It’s a shell that looks like him. A ghost. Barely breathing. Machines keep him alive. A mess of tubes and wires.

Tommy sits and sighs, reaching out to take Evan’s cold hand. It doesn't feel real either.

Oh, what Tommy would give for this to be a nightmare. A nightmare from which he will wake up any second. He wants their life back.

But it's not a dream. This is happening.

Evan, his beautiful caring strong Evan, saved someone and when it was time to save himself, it was too late. He fell so deep. He fell deep and when he finally landed, he was broken. The 118 managed to get him out breathing. But he didn't wake up. Not this time. No matter how much they all beg and hope and cry. He doesn't wake up.

Tommy always thought he would go first. A helicopter crash. Most likely. He didn't expect Evan to be the first to fall. But now here they are, with Evan fading in a hospital bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Tommy grips Evan's hand. I wish I could pull you back into life.

“Evan,” he says. Like always, it sounds like a prayer on his lips. But it remains unanswered.

3

“Evan …”

“You could have died, Tommy!”

“Yes. I could have. We could die all the time. Every day.”

“Still … You can’t be so careless! I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Don’t do this again!”

“Help save the day?”

“Tommy …”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I will be more careful. Come here.”

“I was scared …”

“I know. I’m okay. I’m here.”

4 Beep. Beep. Beep. A tear falls on Evan's hand.

“Evan," Tommy whispers. "It’s okay. I know you always said that if one of us must die, it would be better if it were me. Because I would be a mess without you. And ... and I know you're right. I'm already falling apart. But ... but it's okay. If you have to go, you can. You can let go. I will be alright."

Evan wanted to die doing what he loved. Or of old age. "Together," he said once. "Together would be best, right? That way no one would have to figure out to go on alone ..."

But life seldom gives you what you want.

"It's okay," Tommy repeats, pressing Evan's hand to the side of his face. The ghost of a touch. "I will figure it out. Don't worry about me."

5

“I think I would want to be cremated.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I read too many facts about decomposition.”

“Oh, Evan … I will have to listen to them now, won’t I?”

“Of course.”

6

“Tommy?”

“Yes. I … I just need a moment.”

“Tommy, it’s been almost a whole night. Come on. You have to get some rest.”

“I can’t leave him, Howie.”

“He’s gone, Tommy. I’m sorry. But you can’t stay here forever. You know that. They will take care of him now, okay?”

And Tommy gets it. He really gets it. The hospital sees a room they can use for someone else now. Some other shell. He’s still holding Evan’s hand. He can’t let go. He can’t leave him alone. But then, his eyes wander up to Evan’s face. It’s so still. He’s never been that still. 

And that’s when he truly gets it.

His husband is gone.

A sob echoes in the room. He only realises it came from him when the tears are coming. When Howie hugs him and gently makes him let go of Evan's hand.

7

“A tree.”

“Hm?”

“I want to be buried close to a tree.”

“Why?”

“It feels right. Trees see so much life and death. And I imagine it would be nice to have leaves fall down on my grave. Squirrels sleeping above me. Birds building a nest …”

“Yes. It’s a nice image, Evan.”

“What about you?”

“I just want to be close to you.”

8

Autumn painted the world in yellow and red. The leaves are falling. Tumbling to the ground where they cover older leaves and their colour slowly fades. They make crunching noises under Tommy’s boots as he walks over the graveyard, approaching the tree under which they buried Evan.

It’s a beautiful tree. Big and strong. Old. There are always animals climbing up the trunk or sitting on the branches. Squirrels and martens. Crows and blackbirds. The tree is full of life. Evan would have loved that.

Tommy sits on the blanket he brought. He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at the gravestone. It still hurts so much. A constant ache in his chest. Evan’s voice is haunting his mind. Sometimes, he still wakes up and expects to see Evan’s face - only to remember. 

Grief comes in waves, Bobby told him. They are talking a lot. About Evan. About grief. About the future. It helps.

Tommy is grateful. He’s never really alone. Their family is going through this together.

But sometimes, he has to be alone. Alone with Evan.

He sighs and rubs at his eyes. It’s astonishing how many tears the body can produce. So often Tommy thinks he doesn’t have any more left. And then he cries again. He smiles at the gravestone and takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Evan.”

[messmersbxtchboy]

Last Wish of a Dying Demigod

Their fight had raged on, flurries of flame and blade passed back and forth. The tarnished had watched in abject horror as Messmer pulled the scarseal out of his eye socket, crushing it and releasing the abyssal serpent that lurked within him. They had watched as he asked his mother for forgiveness and a part of them nearly felt sympathy, but they had little time to dwell on it before the serpent itself was coming for them. 

Messmer was quick, but the tarnished was quicker. With one final blow to his head, they watched his lengthy form crumple at their feet as he cried out, “Mother.. Marika.. A curse upon thee..!”

Standing over him with their blade still held tightly at their side, they watched him silently, waiting for the body of the demigod to disperse into the air as nothing more than dust. 

But it didn’t. His spear fell from his hand, the snakes rooted in his chest moving in a futile frenzy as if they might find a way to bring him back from the edge. He turned his head from where he lay beneath the tarnished, looking vaguely up in their direction, his voice pained and shaking, “Tarnished… mongrel tarnished…” 

They didn’t respond, their eyes remained focused on his face; the grotesque injury from ripping the scarseal out, the blood seeping from the final blow they dealt to his head. It was a curious sight, a demigod dying at their feet. 

“Tarnished,” he repeated, his large hand reaching blindly for them, “Please… do not leave.”

An odd request, surely. They considered him, the pathetic way in which he regarded them, and the thought of ending his misery then and there crossed their mind. Yet something about him, about how harmless and broken he was, bid them to kneel beside him instead.

They were quiet, studying him for a long moment before finally speaking, “What wouldst thou ask of me, Impaler?”

“T’is.. rotten, to die alone.”

The tarnished shifted uncomfortably. For everything they knew of Messmer and the things he had done, they could not help but feel that same twinge of sympathy rising in their chest. The despondent plea was so ill-fitting for a monster such as he, yet it made him seem so human.

“Thou wouldst prefer to die next to the one that has killed thee?”

He managed a mirthless, hollow laugh that seemed to cause him pain as he grimaced, “I have naught else, dearest Tarnished. My family, my mother, have long since forsaken me. I had hoped… my mother…” His voice trailed off as he found himself incapable of finishing the thought. 

“Thou hoped to see thy mother again,” they muttered, finishing the thought for him. The tarnished did not know why they found themselves entrenched in such guilt, such sympathy for such a terrible demigod, but they did. They reached their hand out, slipping it under his head, careful to avoid the wound they had given him mere minutes before. Their action prompted his serpent companions to dart feverishly around their face and their hand, though it seemed the serpents were acutely aware that the tarnished did not intend to bring further harm upon their master. 

Messmer’s body tensed at the sensation of their hand beneath his head, but he made no complaints.

“Yes… but thou needest not pity me, tarnished.”

“There is little less pitiable than a child abandoned.”

Messmer’s face twisted briefly, his expression lost somewhere between disdain and a deep sorrow. The tarnished saw the passing expression, “My apologies, I did not mean–”

“Nay, thou’rt not wrong,” his trembling hand found its way to their arm, grasping it as if in a desperate plea for some final closeness to something, someone, anyone, “I only regret that I have failed her, that I have failed my goal, that I shall die as the monster she sealed away.”

“But thou served her cause for so long. Surely she would not decry thee for thy final attempt at survival, at upholding her will,” they replied, their other hand carefully brushing the stray red hairs from his face. Their movements were delicate as they found themselves desperate to offer him tenderness in death, for they were quite certain he had seen little of it in life.

“Thou’rt far too generous, tarnished.”

“I speak what is true.”

“My mother… forsook me. And yet…”

Silence filled the air, Messmer seemingly lost in his thoughts. His grip remained tight on their arm, but they did not mind. They looked at his marred face, now that they had brushed the stray hairs away, they could see all of it. Part of them was almost glad they could not look into his eyes because they knew the sadness they would find in them would all but shatter them. 

They placed their hand on his cheek which made him flinch, but he seemed to settle quickly. They could feel his grip on their arm weakening.

“Messmer,” they whispered, not entirely certain he would respond.

Almost a minute passed before he did, his voice nearly inaudible, “Dost… dost thou truly think my mother would be pleased?”

“Yes.”

“Even… in my failure?” He was struggling to speak now. His grip on their arm failed, his hand falling hard to the cold stone of the floor. He was fading quickly.

“Even in thy failure,” they responded softly. They manoeuvred his head into their lap, bringing their now freed hand to his that lay on the floor.

He was quiet once more.

They could see his breathing slowing, the serpents were barely moving.

They tightened their grip on his hand as they spoke, “I believe it is time, my dear.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Already.”

“I… I am afraid. I do not think I can… I do not want…” his voice trailed off. 

“Thou can, thou must.”

“Art thou… certain?”

“Yes, Messmer.”

He took one last, staggered breath, “I… thank thee… tarnished.”

The tension in his hand disappeared as it fell limp in theirs.

The room was silent now. His serpents were as still as he was as the tarnished watched his body dissipate into nothingness, their fingers still curled around a hand that was no longer there. 

Link to work on AO3 <3

[cryptocollectibles]

James Bond 007 Permission to Die 3 Issue Complete Set (1991) by Eclipse Comics

Written and covers by Mike Grell, drawn by Mike Grell, Dameon Willich, Mark Jones, and Rick Hoberg.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 12: Beware the Grapes of Wrath.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[a-most-beloved-fool]

spirk using telepathy to keep each other alive. kirk, desperate, psy-null and untrained, reaching clumsily into spock's dying mind and pulling, dragging spock's essence into himself, wrenching him forceably from the very jaws of death and holding him there through sheer strength of will, saying you can't die, i won't let you, you can't leave me, i need you, and binding him to life and to himself until it's impossible to fully separate them. spock, more skilled, carefully managing each one of kirk's vital signs - keeping his heart beating steady, his lungs drawing breath, his temperature within a safe range, all while suppressing kirk's pain, and at the same trying, vainly, to keep their minds from tying themselves inexorably together, but they're pressed too close and he can't, and he hopes that kirk will forgive him, for bonding them like this (he will, of course he will), but the alternative, letting kirk die, was - unthinkable.

[aroaceleovaldez]

mildly entertaining pjo fandom curse (mostly in that you can make games out of it):

everybody draws Piper showing skin. half the time Shel as well. literally almost EVERYBODY. go look at Piper fanart. is she wearing a crop top? i bet she is. or if she's wearing a dress hers is gonna be one of the most revealing. bonus points if they gave her a belly button piercing. and it's almost always only Piper and/or Shel. i thought we had a whole discussion about sexualizing young indigenous girls back in like 2021 but i guess nobody processed that part cause pjo fandom acts like if they dont have Piper show her stomach or have her shirt ride up they'll die.

the curse is that you will never unsee this. have fun with that.

[theredcuyo]

You know, Ive seen both, fics where Bingqiu adopts Wei Wuxian and fics where it's Hualian instead

But it will be far funnier if both did, actually

Like, Bingqiu finds him first and Sqq knows they'll have to let him go at some point, and there's only so much he can do about it because, just like the abbys, he can't stop Wwx from falling into the burial munds. From losing his Golden core. From dying.

He prepares the boy the best he can and let's him go, they keep communication with him, but that's all they can do

Then everything goes mostly as normal, and Wwx dies

NOW, he is in Ghost city, still new to things, still kind of lost and he stumbles upon Hualian, Xie Lian decides to help him out and Hua Cheng ends up fond of him later on

13 years pass, Wwx's story continues and ends

Two years later, at GusuLan arrive four people

One inmortal Master, one Demon lord, one god and one Ghost king, all four asking to see Wei Wuxian

They didn't even need to call for him, the demonic energy coming out of all the glaring between Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe is what brings him out

There's a custody battle and the juniors made Jiang Cheng come too, because, well, they love the drama and, hey, wasn't Wwx meant to be Jiang sect's?

Except no, as Lan Zhan reminds everyone (By silently grabbing Wei Wuxian's waist), he's Gusu's, he married into it

[egberts]

@semprini

[bumblydumbly]

i think that if kabru saw that “laios meeting falin for the first time” strip he’d be sobbing uncontrollably

[samthechaotic]

I leave the batfandom for A WEEK then come back and find out that not only jason todd is dead AGAIN but *checks notes* he died an EMBARRASSING death??? and *checks notes* HE'S ALIVE???

[ricky-mortis]

I love playing dress up with the blorbo

[serickswrites]

Falling Stars

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, blood, wounds, infection, mcd

Caretaker carded their fingers through Whumpee's sweat soaked hair. They had pulled Whumpee into their lap hours ago and had tried to offer Whumpee any measure of comfort, no matter how small.

It was the least they could do.

They had sat chained in a corner for days, watching Whumper torture Whumpee. Begging Whumper to give Whumpee a break and hurt them. Hoping that rescue would come soon and they would both be spared.

But as the days wore on and the blood dried on Whumpee's skin and Whumper re-opened every wound, Caretaker began to doubt. They began to doubt help was coming. They began to doubt Whumper would hurt them. And they began to doubt that Whumpee would survive.

Some of Whumpee's wounds still bled from Whumper's last visit. Some wounds oozed and wept. And some were so deep that Caretaker was certain Whumpee was dying. And soon.

"You......you need to......get out of here, C'ta'r," Whumpee managed to rasp out. "G-G-G-Go outttttt th-th-th-the wwwwwwinnnnndow-ow-ow-ow."

"I'm not leaving you," Caretaker said as they stared down into Whumpee's fever bright eyes. "Just rest a bit longer. We'll find a way to get both of us out of here." Caretaker blinked hard, fighting against the tears that were always present in their eyes. They looked away as they tried to blink away the tears. The starry night's sky winked at them from out the window.

Whumpee smiled softly. "I.....I don't th-th-think sssso-o-o-o-o."

"Nonsense. Just rest more. Rest and then I'll take you home. You can rest more. You can heal. And maybe....maybe you will be all better by the time all those falling stars happen around your birthday. We could watch them again."

"I'd.....like th-th-that."

"Just rest, Whumpee. Close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere."

"C-C-Can'ttttt l-l-l-leave yyyyyyou-ou-ou."

Caretaker's heart twinged. "It's ok. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. Just rest, Whumpee. I'll watch over you."

Reluctantly, Whumpee closed their eyes. Caretaker knew that no amount of rest was going to make Whumpee well enough. But they couldn't give up hope. They couldn't let Whumpee die. Not yet. There had to be a way for both of them to get out.

But as time wore on and Whumpee got weaker and weaker, Caretaker realized that Whumpee was holding on, was prolonging their suffering, to spare Caretaker the heart ache.

Whumper had dragged Whumpee from their arms countless times. Whumper had beaten and tortured Whumpee countless times. And Whumper had left Whumpee barely alive and breathing on the floor countless times.

But this time was different.

Whumpee hadn't stirred when the cell door slammed shut. They hadn't stirred when Caretaker called to them. Normally Whumpee slowly dragged themself close enough that Caretaker could pull them into Caretaker's lap. But this time they just lay there and breathed.

"Whumpee," Caretaker called softly. "Say something, Whumpee."

Whumpee groaned. "T-T-Tiredddd. H-H-Hurrrrrttts-s-s-s-s."

"I know. I know, Whumpee. Let me hold you. You've always slept better in my arms. Come on, Whumpee."

Caretaker stretched to the end of their chain, their fingertips just brushing Whumpee's arm. Whumpee moaned as they tried to roll onto their side. Blood had pooled beneath them and the ground was slick. Whumpee was too weak to pull themself along.

"Love, come on, you can do it."

Slowly, painfully, Whumpee rolled onto their side. They managed to push themself with one leg close enough to Caretaker that Caretaker could pull them close. Whumpee gasped with pain as Caretaker moved them, their eyes wide and bright with pain.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'm sorry!" Caretaker repeated over and over.

Whumpee didn't respond as their chest heaved weakly. They lay in Caretaker's arms, but couldn't get enough air to speak. Their eyes were hazy with pain. Their eyelids fluttered open and closed as they struggled to remain conscious.

"I'm sorry, Whumpee. I'm sorry," Caretaker sobbed. They pressed their forehead to Whumpee's. "It's ok. It's ok. You can leave me. It's ok. I'll be ok. I promise."

Whumpee blinked up at Caretaker, their eyes suddenly clear. Caretaker nodded. "It's ok. You can rest. You can leave me. I'll be ok. I promise I'll be ok. You can," Caretaker sniffed, "you can go, Whumpee. I'm here. I won't leave you."

Whumpee's stuttering wheezing breaths echoed in Caretaker's ears. They opened their mouth, but no sound came out. "It's ok, Whumpee. It's ok. I love you. You're ok, love. I'll be ok."

Slowly, Whumpee's eyes closed. Their body slowly relaxed in Caretaker's arms. Their stuttering breaths continued as Caretaker watched Whumpee relax. A light flashed in the darkened cell. Caretaker looked up and out the window. Stars. The stars were falling out the window.

"The falling stars are here, Whumpee, look," Caretaker said as they returned their gaze to Whumpee. Their mouth went dry. "Whumpee?"

Whumpee looked peaceful, as though they were asleep, their face no longer pinched with pain. But Caretaker knew better. "Oh, Whumpee," Caretaker wailed, "I am so sorry. I'm sorry."

Whumpee flopped bonelessly in Caretaker's arms as Caretaker lifted Whumpee close. They rocked with Whumpee's body as they sobbed. Whumpee was free. Whumpee had gone. Whumpee had left Caretaker behind. Whumpee had gone where Caretaker could not follow. Whumpee was with the falling stars. And Caretaker was alone.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[holmsister]

Also consider: experienced!Kabru being like he had so many bad experiences with people... hes probably not interested in such things anyway... i shant press the issue... vs virgin!Laios being like I AM SO HORNY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 193

Once again I put forth cryptid batfam. But with a Marvel crossover. Because why not. 

See Gotham isn’t really talked about by the others in the US. The other cities ignore, ignore, ignore as best they can manage, pretending that if they don’t see it, it doesn’t exist. 

That being said, they aren’t completely oblivious to it either. Oh they don’t believe the tales and whispers that come out of the place, because if they were true surely someone would have done something. But they are aware of things like Wayne Industries or Drake Enterprises, right up there with Stark’s. 

Both of which are based within Gotham, though have plenty of things outside the dreadful city as well. Now the Drake couple were constantly seen at galas outside of New Jersey before their tragic demise, but the Waynes? Never once have they been seen outside their city for a single Gala. 

Which makes this invite that one Tony Stark get to one of the Gotham Galas incredibly surprising. Suspiciously so actually, but he has the option for a couple plus ones. His team might be interested- Shield definitely would, seeing as Gotham is a complete blackout on their files. And from his hacking he’s discovered that any information gathering attempts of theirs have failed. 

But really, how bad can it be, it’d only be a couple days after all.

…

Okay what is that fucking thing on top of the building-