Bad End - Tumblr Posts
Goretober Day 9: Bullet Wounds Poor Little Red got shot instead of the wolf, guess that means no happy ending for her. --------------------------------- I don't know what else to put here, besides the fact that I used a fairy tale character instead of an OC or game character. A friend of mine gave permission for me to draw some of his characters for Goretober too, one of them is for tomorrow's prompt so stay tuned. Using this prompt: docs.google.com/document/d/1RC…
Wiping the Slate
Summary: What happens after the happy story, when everything inevitably resets? Undertale short story: You, Sans, Papyrus 494 Words
There's a skeleton staring at you, little white lights in the place of eyes tracking your movements. You were just watching him from the corner of your eye, yet the pain on his face was clear to see. It looked like loss, regret, anger, pain, guilt, abandonment… your own heart pulsed in sympathy, as if you could feel an echo of that cocktail of emotional despair within you.
He looked familiar, which was a weird and unreal feeling, since you'd barely had any contact with the recently released monsters, and you'd definitely never met this skeleton before in this life of yours. You want to get to know him, though. Want to find out if (that) he has a fondness for bad jokes, if (that) he has nightmares that make him doubt the reality of the world, (that) he's worried everything will be torn away from him, that he's patient and laid back until he's been forced to the edge of the apocalypse, where he snaps back with all the ferocity of an angered dragon, why it feels like the two of you could be (are) (once were) such good friends…
You shift in (expectance) surprise as another skeleton walks up towards him, tall where the other is small, pointed where the other is curved, loud where the other is contained. You feel that you should know him too, but there's something terribly wrong about this picture. You're expecting the new arrival to shout, to emote expressively, but he just crouches down to (his brother's) level and speaks to him quietly.
(Sans) looks at him for a moment and shrugs, looking down for a moment before turning back towards you, still with that mix of painful expressions that makes your heart ache and burn. (Papyrus) follows his gaze, and you see his mouth quirk up in an empty grin (that he learned from his brother) but it did nothing to hide the pain in his gentle black eyes. You saw tears start to form before he firmly tears his gaze away from you, catching his brother's skull in his phalanges. (Papyrus) lifts (Sans) head until their eyes meet, and you can see the defeat on the upturned face before (Papyrus) bent down, gently bringing their foreheads together and whispering words of comfort. Some of the pain slides off both of their faces at the reminder that someone is still there, that someone will at least remember –
You want to go over there and drag them both into a hug, hold them tight and tell them that you'll never leave, that you promised – you swore on your soul that you would always love them and their entire ragtag family, no matter what came your way or whatever trials you faced – together.
But that's a ridiculous thought. You shouldn't intrude on such a private, emotional moment. After all, you've never met these two strangers before.
…no matter how much your heart screams otherwise.
I'm going to listen to a lot of songs dedicated to this story... 🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾
🌾🌺🌾🌾🌺🌾🌼🌾
🌾🌺🌺🌺🌺🌾🌺🌾
🌾🌺🌾🌾🌺🌾🌺🌾
🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾
After Lila's lies are revealed, the class expects forgiveness from Marinette. They're forced to take a good hard look at themselves when it doesn't come
Alya practically crashed into her, enveloping her in a hug.
“I’m so sorry!” Alya cried, almost bawling. “I should have…I’m so sorry!”
“We all are.” Nino added from a few steps behind.
There were murmurs and choruses of the affirmative from the rest of the class that now formed something of a semi-circle around them.
“Can you ever forgive me?” Alya asked.
In a perfect world, Marinette would have said yes. She would have proclaimed it in an instant, hugged Alya back, and smiled brightly at the rest of the class.
This was not a perfect world.
There was a long pause. Something felt wrong.
It took Alya a moment to realize that Marinette wasn’t hugging her back—her arms remaining limply at her sides.
Unsettled, she stepped back and looked at her friend. Marinette was…hesitant. Uncertain. Anxious. She hadn’t looked this way since they had first met…and then lately as Lila was succeeding in alienating her from the class.
But it was find now, right?
“Marinette?”
Right?
Marinette bit her lip, finally meeting Alya’s eyes.
“I…I don’t think I can.”
The class froze.
“M-Marinette?”
She looked away, uncertain. “Well…I’m glad you know now. The truth, I mean.”
That class watched her twiddle her thumbs nervously before looking back at them.
“But that hasn’t really changed anything.”
“Not changed—Marinette, that changed everything!” Alya exclaimed.
“Why? Because now you know that how you treated me wasn’t okay?”
Alya flinched—actually flinched. Marinette had ever snapped at her like that.
“But…I…we didn’t know before!”
“You should have. I warned you. Several times. I pointed out how her stories had more holes than Swiss cheese and it didn’t matter.”
“But that was just—” Alya suddenly froze, realizing what she was about to say.
Unfortunately, Marinette did as well. “Just me?”
The class as a whole winced, confirming the truth for her.
Marinette nodded, understanding.
“I don’t blame you for believing her. I mean—I can’t really blame you for that. But I would have thought at the very least that after the elections, the class photo, and…everything…I thought that I at least had your trust.”
“What, are you owed our belief now?” Alix questioned, angrily and defensive.
“No, but if we were any sort of friends, I should have been given consideration. And…none of you considered me. Even before Lila started lying about me, you guys pushed me to the back corner and dismissed me out of hand. None of you tried to talk to me. None of you were willing to even listen to me.” She hesitated, taking a breath. “And I’ve noticed that…maybe that’s happening a bit more than it should.”
“Girl, we hear you!” Alya insisted.
“You blew me off when I tried to talk to you. You demanded I provide evidence that you never asked Lila for.” She met the girl’s eyes. “Alya, you’re the journalist, not me. Isn’t it your job to gather the facts before reporting something? Why did that suddenly not matter when it came to me?”
“Marinette, no offense, but you have done some pretty intense things.” Mylene pointed out.
“But did I ever lie or falsely accuse someone of something they didn’t do? Did I intentionally do things with the purpose of hurting someone? Or did I go out of my way—as I always do—to help and defend other people regardless of how they may have hurt me?” She looked around, meeting everyone’s gaze. “At what point did I show that I wasn’t worthy of basic trust? I understand if you couldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt, but didn’t any of you even consider if I might have been right? Or is it that you didn’t want to?”
One by one, each of the class members was forced to look down or away to break her gaze. Because no. They hadn’t. They never even considered it.
“Because after everything, I think I’ve long since proven I was worth it.” Marinette realized she was beginning to slouch inward and forced herself to straighten—to not show weakness. “I thought that after the class elections at least—when I only ran for you all in the first place, you guys would have had more faith in me. But a new student came and suddenly nothing I said mattered. Nothing I FELT mattered.”
She took a breath. “I…I shouldn’t have to keep going to such lengths to keep proving myself to you. That’s not friendship. And that’s not something I should have to be okay with.”
With that, Marinette pulled away.
“So…while I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t think I can let it go. I don’t think it’s something I should let go.”
Alya reached out to her. “Mari…c’mon. Can’t…can’t we talk about this?”
“Not right now.” Came the reply, and it made her want to sob. “You…haven’t really shown you can listen.”
Her face crumpled, and Marinette very nearly gave in.
But…she couldn’t. Not this time.
“What hurts the most,” She stated, “isn’t that you believed her over me. It’s that any of her lies could have easily been found out if anyone had just looked…and none of you even tried.”
No one said anything.
No one could.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t. Not yet. So please…just leave me alone.”
The classmates winced. Marinette didn’t have to speak the final words for the thought to collectively ring in their heads that leaving Marinette alone had been the only thing they were good at.
Adrien had watched the whole thing with a critical and disappointed eye. When Marinette walked away, he made to follow. He caught up to her pretty quickly, though it wasn’t like she had been trying to avoid him.
“Marinette, don’t you think you were being harsh?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “No, Adrien. I’m being honest. It’s all I’ve ever been.”
“But they’ve apologized.” Friendships often had fights and disagreements, but they always worked things out and got back together in the end. So Adrien felt disappointed that Marinette was being so stubborn about it.
“And that makes it better?” She asked, feeling drained and honestly wanting to just go home and sleep. “It doesn’t undo the months of being targeted and alienated. It doesn’t change the fact that I tried to help them and they hurt me.”
“They’re trying to make up for it now.” He reasoned, calmly. They were at least trying. For all that Marinette talked about not being enough, wasn’t this enough for her? Wasn’t she the one holding such extreme standards?
But Marinette wasn’t having it. “No, they’re trying to make themselves feel better. And I’m not ready yet to help them with that. Not when I still feel so hurt about everything.”
“But—”
“Enough.” For once, she felt angry—actually angry with Adrien. “I’ve let you invalidate me enough times already, Adrien. But this time, I’m not going to let this go and pretend I’m okay when I’m not.”
His eyes widened and he drew back in shock and hurt. “I haven’t—"
“You told me not to out Lila. You told me it wouldn’t help her become a better person—like SHE was the greater concern. You…” Her breath hitched. “You said that we were in this together. That as long as you and I knew the truth, did it really matter?” She met his gaze with more strength than she ever had. “It did matter. Suddenly it was just me. On my own. Against everyone, even though I wasn’t the one in the wrong. And where were you, Adrien?”
He flinched.
“Because you weren’t with me. I had to face everything alone. And now I need to figure out how to move forward alone. Because real friends don’t turn on their friends like that. And a real friend wouldn’t have left me to face it all alone.”
He tried to reach out to her in comfort. “Marinette…you know we’re still friends, right?”
That actually gave her pause.
And for once, really made her consider.
It was with a heavy heart that she pulled away from him.
“I would appreciate it, Adrien, if you wouldn’t lie to me anymore.”
She turned away before having to see the look on his face and headed home.
At least there she could mourn in peace.
Remember my Bad end Coraline post?
well....
i guess here's Kubo
It still has a similar vibe tho..just...blood
Ripped Indulgence
Hunting is a raucous profession, that borders on playful, in the same way that a child might skip happily along a cliff edge. But for every drink quaffed and trophy boasted, there is sword that has to be wiped of blood, and a tooth-hole in armour to be repaired.
And while stories are regaled around the braziers, it is easy to forget that the bite you parried was meant for your torso, that your last-moment duck was the difference between a slick movement and your ribcage being shattered. The hefty bounty you just turned in once lusted for your blood, and you owe more to luck than you want to admit.
Because when the palicos run in with their cart, sometimes all they retrieve is a pack with bitten-through straps, or a glaive split like a twig. Or an arm, dropped into a patch of yellowgrass, the armour too thick and fiddly to be worth chewing open.
These are monsters, and it's easy to forget that - right up until your sword is shattered and a claw as large as your leg has pried your armour away, and the teeth that found no purchase on your shield sate their hunger in your body. What was fun and folly becomes the apex of a million years of cruel and merciless evolution, to which your body is kindling and appetizer.
And pray that the tortured anger of a thousand hard-won turf wars is kind to you, does not easily tear your body asunder. Because it nigh-surely will, but perhaps prayer, or hope, or whimpered bargaining will offer a trickling breeze of relief as his highness rips his indulgence into you, and teaches you the finite, final lesson, that eventually all will come to the monsters they hunt.