#and hw fucking tired i got at the end with the writing lmaooo

[gilded-gheists]

"You're Dead. And you just want everyone else to be." -Bizly, joking about William Wisp.

But what if, William was a premonition of death. And that statement, from the moment he thought it, held true.

just a drabble, a word vomit story kinda beat 'm tired. I've been thinking about this phrase Bizly said ever since he SAID it. Major character death throughout. Be warned.

You had woken up in the snow, crimson stained your snow-angel below you, bones were cracked out of place and legs hung limp. It was a shock to your system and you tried to gasp for air that at the time you were thought would help. Though trying to do something you can't was never going to work, whatever comforted you at the time helped. You'd dragged yourself onto your stomach, dragged the mangled corpse through the snow, tracked blood with every sweeping movement and groan you made. Of course, you didn't think you were dead, so you just kept moving, you were desperate to survive.

"Make sure to hop in the shower before dinner, William!" Your mother yelled up the stairs.

Your mother meant well but you'd sighed, clicking your crutches across the landing to the bathroom.

"William," Your father had said, "You smell awful, get some axe."

You'd brushed off your father's remark. He wasn't around enough for you to care.

"You smell like death, Will, take a shower." Your brother sneered at you one day.

Your brother was never around. His words meant nothing.

You left deadwood a few weeks later, the uptick in monster attacks were clearly your fault, you decided.

When you'd reached the edge of town, you were panting, eyesight darkening and world spinning. You coughed up some more blood as snowflakes landed on your nose, sitting and gathering upon impact. Your hair was dusted white with heavy powdered snow and you lay there, staring dead ahead at the battered path into town from the forest. It was night and the streetlamps were on, flickering with moths flitting around it. A groan came from you as you lurched further into town. Desperate for someone- anyone to find you at the time.

Years later you'd gotten onto the train with some friends, dressed up in gaudy purple costumes as a joke. It was nothing else but a joke at the time. Then the train got highjacked and a bullet had came barreling towards you.

If you were alive, you'd of felt bile burn at the back of your throat, threatening to come out. You'd of felt it spill past your warm lips and tumble down your crust pants, pooling in chunks at his body. And the smell of it would have made more come from your lips until it was nothing but flem and tears. Well, if you were alive, he wouldn't have been shot, you would have. But that was besides the point.

Because you're not alive. And you'd simply stood there. Lips cracked, lips blue and parted, staring down at his body as it fell. As if you were tangible you'd reached out for him, as if you could grasp his body and cushion his fall. You'd skidded to your knees with this, probably ripping some stitches in your pants as you came to his side.

Not the shoulder -like you'd thought initially- but the heart.

It was one of your friends who'd found you after hours. She liked walking out at night like this, umbrella in hands and thick boots clunking tracks in the snow. She was like you in a way, a social outcast. Her umbrella fell to her side when she found you though, black tights digging into the snow and knees becoming red and angry quickly. She'd tugged you to your feet, heaving you up as you cried out in agony, foggy breath mixing with hers and fading out together. She'd screamed and yelled for help. Thankfully there was a diner nearby that was open still and people came out to help. Deadwood was a tightly knit-community after all.

His smile was beautiful.

You'd always loved the way he smiled; the way he snorted when he laughed; the way his ears perked up when you called his name; the way he leaned his head atop of your own when the two of you were in deep though - he was beautiful and you were nothing. Perhaps your feelings were no more than puppy love but it was a helpless feeling that was making you feel more alive than any moment you'd ever felt in your life. He made you feel feelings you did and didn't want to all at once.

"You're real. I see you!"

His smile was beautiful,

even when your tears were fading through his face as he lay on the broken concreate, skull cracked open on the floor. Even when your friend was cradling his head, brushing his purple hair out of his eyes, violently sobbing. He was beautiful dead or alive and still it stung. It stung so so bad to lose someone again. And even thinking that he looked pretty in death sent shivers down your spine as you'd buried the thoughts.

Never again. You'd decided. You weren't going to lose your last friend. He means too much to you. He's all you've got left now.

You woke up weeks later being lowered into a casket, eyes shooting open and body lurching forward as you made contact with the cushioned base. People screamed, you screamed. It was...eventful. A few weeks later you were hobbling around the house on crutches whilst you learnt how to control these weird powers manifesting within yourself. The stench of death clung to you like the plauge, no matter how much you washed it stuck. Nobody understood why your hands faded through them. Nobody understood why you were always ice cold to the touch, even in the heatwaves of summer. Nobody got why your teeth began to rot and fall out or why your skin was cracked and cheeks were bloated compared to your figure, they just laughed. you're only 16- this shouldn't be happening after all.

When Dakota offered you his heart? you were hesitant to agree to say the least. The doctor was unstable, he was mentally unstable and blinded with his metaphorical heart on his sleeve. But he wouldn't take no for an answer, and maybe, just maybe you thought being alive would make everything better. And you wouldn't hurt anyone else again. And naievely you agreed.

First he went under, then yourself. And when you came to...

The gentle blip of a lone heart moniter and a solem expression on the doctors face spoke a million words you didn't want to hear.

You're dead. And you just want everyone else to be. Maybe they'd get it then.

You were no longer dead. And you don't want your friends to be. But they are.