#sp !

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triggers: death, allusions to burning alive (:elmosmile:), idk is getting existential about the afterlife a thing? not like it was a great attempt but...

It was black. Pure darkness. With one door situated in the middle of the vast nothingness that sprawled before him.

And soon, as though he had actually walked towards it, he was in the middle of that door. His legs straddled each side, both taking up a different half of nothingness. He wanted to ask where he was. He wanted to speak. But he could not.

His grandmother -- or, perhaps, someone who looked like his grandmother -- approached him from the left half of the doorway and locked eyes with him. “David. It’s nice to see you again. Would you like anything?”

Finally, he could catch himself:

“Yeah, I... would like to know... where I am?”

The left half turned into a scene, a moment from memories’ past. His grandmother - his abuela -, his mother, his father, his brother, and his sister all sat around an Evergreen, the fire glaring against them. Not blazing. He could feel the warmth radiating. He could not feel the fire. 

Was that how he died?

He tried to lift his foot to step inside, but it wouldn’t move. It proved physically incapable.

“Wait a minute, David. All things come to those who wait.”

“What am I-”

On the right side, a light rested upon his friends -- or, perhaps, illusions of the group. Everyone was there. Roxi, Jordan, Finley, Victor, Will, Noah, among others. They waved to him, friendly faces and varying voices that chirped ‘I love you’s and the like.

This was impossible. Whatever this was, wherever he was. None of it was possible. Was it?

“I’m... confused.” Direct and to the point, he looked back towards his grandmother -- or whoever she really was. “What does... where am I?”

“There is no simple answer I can give you, David. You are, I would like to say, nowhere. You are straddling the real world and what comes next. It’s not limbo, nor is it the afterlife. I would say that it’s... a barrier.”

“A barrier?”

“A choice,” his grandmother reworded. Looking to both sides, exaggerating it so that David would follow suit, she continued, “It’s not one between your family or your friends. It’s between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”

“Why the hell would I choose death?”

“In your condition, there is little worth in going back. All it will do is give your doctors and friends false hope, a blip on the monitor. If you do, by some miracle, make a recovery...” She didn’t have to say it. Everything that would follow...

“I don’t... want to choose, abuela. I don’t want to choose.”

“Nobody ever does, sweetie,” she replied, cupping his cheek and shaking her head. “But everyone has to.”

In that distant memory of leaving Finley, the last memory he had, he knew he had been biting back tears. In his death, something he could only feel, he knew he had become so frantic and pained, there was no time to stop. Thus, all the tears that had been waiting to break finally flowed. And his messenger wiped them away, offering nothing but a sad smile.

“Let me make this easier...”

Everything was dark again. The warmth of his family was no longer on the side of the dead, the warmth of his friends was no longer on the side of the living. It was all absolute darkness. 

...

“David, it’s been a week.”

A week of straddling a door, crying, denying, and, eventually, resigning. Now there was just one question left:

“What’s... beyond?”

“Nothing.” A hand on his shoulder, she stated again, “There is nothing beyond.”

He nodded.

And he stepped through the door of the dead.

triggers: body horror, violence, gore, murder/death, sneks, mark being so mark that he is barely even mark anymore

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he was right. he was right. the bore that was his mission no longer concerned him -- because, oh god, he was right.

irena. ezra. levi. everyone he brought it to who dared to doubt him -- which, in truth, was the majority of the brotherhood -- would all have to see it plain as day. that bristling suspicion that had come with the news of her ‘initiation,’ of her team-up, of her past with xavier -- that all-but-confirmation that came with her overcompensation around him.  he was fucking right. 

so why, then, were frogger and red #2 still standing ? why, then, were they -- the two who joined at the same time, teamed up with red #1, also xavier defectors -- still there ? 

ha !

...

no drink or substance in his body, he burst through the doors of o’donahues, ignoring the patrons who were not a part of their organization, a mad dash for the bar. clearing it of the drinks, glasses shatter as he ran his arm across the table, he leapt on top.

“ i was fucking right ! i was fucking right and you fucking idiots -- you fucking idiots ! ” 

poked from behind by the bartender, more so annoyed that intimidated, mark turned to face him. slowly craning his head to the side with a growing smile, he knelt down on one knee and took the keep’s face in his hands. digging his nails in, he began to morph, shedding human skin -- not transforming it, shedding it -- and nails following reptilian logic, growing sharper. the smile was replaced by a grin full of sharp teeth and a forked tongue, brown irises replaced with a yellow sclera and slitted pupils.

“ youuuuuuuuuuuu, ” he drawled out, breathy, mimicking a hiss. “ do you remember ? i talked to you. and you... ” he hooked his claws into the man’s cheeks, beginning to draw more than blood -- beginning to draw fear.  “ you, my darling, said that it was paranoia. how does it feel now ? ” he began to yank slowly, watching with that toothy grin as the man’s expression began to contort. no confidence left, only terror. “ does it sting ? ” eyes alight to match the dimming of the other, he tugged... more and more... peeling the skin... shedding the skin... shredding the skin... as the keep’s breath hastened... “ how does it feel, darling ? ”

what was left of the other man’s flesh began to oscillate between human flesh and scales. 

manipulate the cycle of life and death. mark would like to keep them oscillating for this man as long as he could, blood pouring down his face.

meet leviathan, his mind whispered to the other’s.  for the other would have no one to tell. the blood loss would inhibit him, the infection would kill him.

“ doesn’t it feel... sweet ? ”

the final question, he peeled off all that was left and held it up like a prize as the keep fell to the ground. between mad laughs, he called to the patrons that had stuck around in worry or morbid curiosity, “ does anyone want to go as... travis this halloween ? i’ll preserve this authentic mask for you. ”

he jumped off the bar table, beside travis, and walked over to the phone. yanking the cord, blood staining the wire, he dropped it to the floor and stepped on it with an unparalleled ire until there was no hope of a call home. a call to save him -- not from the general population, at least.

he stood above the keep, momentarily poking him with his foot, just as he had poked mark. “ looks like he’s not getting up. tragic ! ” infection would sneak in. no matter who called now, who sought help... he was as good as done.

hopping back on the bar, he hissed, “ if any of you do anything, say anything... i can, and often do, work quicker. ” 

as if to demonstrate, he looked to a random patron who had made the mistake of not fighting, not fleeing, but freezing.  in a matter of nanoseconds, their limbs turned into dead snakes. they collapsed. they could not move. if he so longed, he could ensure that they could no longer make a sound...

though that was far too obviously mark’s m/o. thus, he granted them reprieve and returned their limbs. “ i will find each one of you if i’m not allowed in this ‘fine establishment’ again, and you’ll wind up worse than mr. mask over here. ”

with his piece said, he jumped off of the table top and handed the face to the patron who had just become more snake than man. “ parting gift -- from me to you. i do so apologize, but... everyone had to know somehow. ”

removing his flannel, the best identifier, he scraped and bit through it until it was nothing but a pile of shreds. “ it’s been great fun, all. ”

he exited the door, hardly having a trace of human left on his body or in his mind, and threw the flannel strips into the trashcan. 

...

he would not be the only gruesome casualty that night.