penchantforeyeballs:

YO GUYS THIS IS MY FRIEND PET, FABULOUS WRITER AND FIRST-TIME RP-ER. GO FOLLOW HER, SHE’LL FUCK UP YOUR HEAD.

tagged: #out of ankh
ALRIGHT I’M BACK. IF I OWE YOU, PESTER ME

Heya followers! I’ve been super unreliable and erratic for the past few months, thanks to college and emotions, but I really miss writing as my favorite psychopomp, so shoot me asks, starters, or prompts, ‘cause I’m back and I wanna write!

lian-harper whispered: Ms. Death? Is dying...dying scary?

jess-curious:

asktheendless:

"Dying is… sorta like the end of a movie. Sometimes it’s a happy ending, but you’re still sad the movie’s over. Other times, it’s surprising and scary, like a jump scare at the end of a horror movies. Some people don’t like the movie, so they turn it off before they get to the ending, and sometimes they wished they hadn’t. Sometimes the movie doesn’t end the way people wanted or expected, and sometimes there are a lot of plotholes and things the person wished the movie had wrapped up before it ended. But for everyone, once you get over the fact that the movie’s over, you still got to watch a movie, and then you get up, stretch your arms, clean up the popcorn, and move on with doing other things."

Self-promoing here, go follow my Endless askblog.

Psst yes it is I go follow it is exactly like this blog except I draw and it has the other Endless.

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:

She rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated half-smile. “You’re a bad liar,” she remarked. “But then, it could just be me: I’ve seen ‘em all.”

She collected their garbage, beckoning he follower her as she made her way to the door. 

"What should I do today?" she mused, turning to glance his way for suggestions. "Maybe visit some people. I’d like to go to the top of one of these buildings. Last time I was mortal tall buildings didn’t have sidewalks between them. Do you have class?"

“Nah. You’re right. When I’m not acting, I’m a terrible liar.” His mother always managed to catch on rather quickly when he was putting on airs around her. That’s why she’d handcuffed him to a desk or bedpost before and kept that microchip on so she’d know where he was at all times. Madison Wilson was a control freak when it came to her child.

As Death moved, Carter was sure to follow. “Today? Nah, I’ve only got one and it’s an easy A. I don’t think I’ve got much to worry about if I miss one.” He didn’t have a car, though. They’d have to take public transportation.

"I am too. But the thing about being Death is you don’t really need to lie that much. Honesty’s easier. Plus people distrust me enough as it is. Really, I can’t see why, I’m not sneaky or underhanded or anything. At the most I’m sudden. Everyone LOVES Desire, but then, It IS Desire, so love comes with the territory…"

So rambling, she made her way out onto the street, balancing on the edge of the curb like a tightrope walker and gazing happily up into the labyrinthine structure above them.

"I hope y’don’t mind convicted criminals," she called over her shoulder.

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:

She smirked, plucking the ankh out of his hand and looping it around her neck with the barest sigh of relief. “I’m 14.6 billion years old, omniscient, and my siblings fight a lot. You pick up a trick or two,” she quipped back. All traces of hostility had fallen away, and once again she was back to chattering away in that hyper-yet-calm way.

She chewed a lip at his question. “Most’a the time it just sort of… HAPPENS. See, to take a mortal day, one person has to die a day early. Painless, usually stroke in their sleep or something. But then I get whatever they were supposed to die of. Usually it’s still pretty basic, heart attacks, accidents. Once or twice I got in the way of some soldiers or a murderer. Those are always interesting. But I never have to orchestrate it. It just… is.” She shrugged. “Don’t you go planning anything either!” she said suddenly, jabbing a finger at him. “Death’s supposed to be a surprise, just like life!”

She was the oldest of the siblings, too, not that this was anything Carter would know. Death was never an Endless he would have met before. There had never been any suicide attempts (like this one guy he knew), nor had he had any near-death experiences (like this one girl he knew). Life was the only state of existence Carter ever came into any sort of contact with, although he’d stared down the barrel of a gun once or twice from rival gangs in those darker days. Slagging Ts.

Even if he were planning something, he wasn’t going to tell her. If death was supposed to be a surprise, then he wouldn’t be sharing any spoilers with her. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he reassured her. “There’s absolutely nothing in the world to worry over.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated half-smile. “You’re a bad liar,” she remarked. “But then, it could just be me: I’ve seen ‘em all.”

She collected their garbage, beckoning he follower her as she made her way to the door. 

"What should I do today?" she mused, turning to glance his way for suggestions. "Maybe visit some people. I’d like to go to the top of one of these buildings. Last time I was mortal tall buildings didn’t have sidewalks between them. Do you have class?"

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:

"Well, being bombarded with memories that BELONG TO ME won’t help you kill your mom," she said bluntly, giving the matter the serious consideration of someone who had never been in that position. "Either way, your authorities by now have so much technology, you’d be hard-pressed to get away with it."

She looked up, brow and lips quirked in a grin far more mischievous than any of her previous expressions. “But seeing as I’m gonna die at the end of these twenty four hours anyway… why not do it right in front’a her? Would sure make it confusing if I appeared tomorrow in my Endless form.”

That—

His heart stopped for a moment because he realized there was truly nothing better out there than pulling a stunt like that. It was a one in a lifetime thing and he’d never get a shot like that again. On top of it, she was on board for it. At that moment, for quite possibly the first time ever, he was feeling himself very much drawn in to someone else.

She’d charmed him with this, pure and simple. Taking a deep breath, he held the necklace back out for her. If she was all for pulling this kind of prank—

"I have to hand it to you. I was a Joker, and that’s the best practical joke I’ve ever heard.” And if this was only going to be a twenty-four hour thing, maybe he could open up a little more and give her a bit more insight on why he hated this woman so much. “Is there a certain way you have to die, or is that a carte blanche sort of thing?”

She smirked, plucking the ankh out of his hand and looping it around her neck with the barest sigh of relief. “I’m 14.6 billion years old, omniscient, and my siblings fight a lot. You pick up a trick or two,” she quipped back. All traces of hostility had fallen away, and once again she was back to chattering away in that hyper-yet-calm way.

She chewed a lip at his question. “Most’a the time it just sort of… HAPPENS. See, to take a mortal day, one person has to die a day early. Painless, usually stroke in their sleep or something. But then I get whatever they were supposed to die of. Usually it’s still pretty basic, heart attacks, accidents. Once or twice I got in the way of some soldiers or a murderer. Those are always interesting. But I never have to orchestrate it. It just… is.” She shrugged. “Don’t you go planning anything either!” she said suddenly, jabbing a finger at him. “Death’s supposed to be a surprise, just like life!”

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:

"Years feel the same to us. When we’re on the mortal plane, we experience time the same way you do. And no one came in to hurt him. Everyone else was hurt. You remember that sleeping sickness that was rampant in the mid to late twentieth century? My brother is Dream. He returned to the Dreaming half-dead, with an entire aspect of reality to repair. That was terrifying. But you’re mortal, and you only have finite time as a living human. So it makes sense you’d want to avoid as much pain as possible."

She furrowed her brows, thinking. Then grinned. “If you want, we could mess with her! Oh, Desire WILL be proud of me.”

He heard about that. There were people who went without sleep and others who didn’t wake up. A woman in Britain spent nearly her whole life asleep and didn’t even know she’d had a baby until much later. Like the tarantella myth from the Renaissance, and the Salem witch trials, it was written off as a mass hysteria and some strange psychological disorder occurring only once.

"I actually wrote a paper on that," he found himself confessing, glancing down at the pendant. Then again, he’d chosen the Corinthian as the serial killer he wanted to study for his Introduction to Abnormal Psychology course earlier in the semester. Jackie Wallace gave him the weirdest look when he said relax; at least I didn’t pick John Wayne Gacy.

Nothing seemed to freak Death out. This seemed to more annoy her than anything, but she kept on smiling and laughing anyway. “I’d love to mess with her. Is there something I haven’t considered, maybe?”

"Well, being bombarded with memories that BELONG TO ME won’t help you kill your mom," she said bluntly, giving the matter the serious consideration of someone who had never been in that position. "Either way, your authorities by now have so much technology, you’d be hard-pressed to get away with it."

She looked up, brow and lips quirked in a grin far more mischievous than any of her previous expressions. “But seeing as I’m gonna die at the end of these twenty four hours anyway… why not do it right in front’a her? Would sure make it confusing if I appeared tomorrow in my Endless form.”

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:

She pursed her lips, lifted a brow contemplatively. “About seventy five years ago my little brother escaped from being kept in a glass bottle with no food furniture or sentient contact for about eighty years. It was very scary, I couldn’t talk to him or visit or help. I guess for you it’s like being inside the bubble.”

She shrugged. “I’m not gonna say it’s a good or bad idea to kill her, ‘cause it’s not my job to take or save lives, just collect the dead ones. But you don’t need my ankh to do it. And stealing the sigil of Death herself is rude.”

The thought had crossed his mind to find something somewhat illegal (well, it would be illegal once the DEA found out about it) and drown some of those uglier memories out. There were so many reasons he loathed and resented certain people in his life, but Madison was the queen mother of resentment.

As much as he may have wanted to hurt others who angered or annoyed him, Madison was truly the only one he wanted to kill. There were people that Carter wouldn’t think twice to humiliate or frighten. One of them was even sitting a few booths away. He never even thought about killing those people. Not ever. Mommy Dearest was in a category all her own and always would be.

"Something like that, yeah. It wasn’t as long, but it has been my whole life. I guess it’s all how you look at it. If you’re immortal, nineteen years is nothing. If you’re not…and you’re only nineteen…it’s everything. No one ever came inside that glass prison to your brother, did they? Did anyone ever go inside the barrier and make things even worse?"

"Years feel the same to us. When we’re on the mortal plane, we experience time the same way you do. And no one came in to hurt him. Everyone else was hurt. You remember that sleeping sickness that was rampant in the mid to late twentieth century? My brother is Dream. He returned to the Dreaming half-dead, with an entire aspect of reality to repair. That was terrifying. But you’re mortal, and you only have finite time as a living human. So it makes sense you’d want to avoid as much pain as possible."

She furrowed her brows, thinking. Then grinned. “If you want, we could mess with her! Oh, Desire WILL be proud of me.”

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:


"Look Carter, you’re really smart, but you’re also a complete idiot. Trust an omniscient being to know. That ankh won’t give you any kinda power over your mother. I know you’ve wanted me to come for her for years, and there were a couple times you were close to sending her my way. But a flood of knowledge beyond your comprehension is not gonna help you push her down a dozen flights of stairs. You can do that as a mortal."

That probably wasn’t the best thing to tell him when he worked himself up like that. It was so easy, he thought. One hand, and he could crush her trachea and be done with her—but it would leave a mark. Pushing her down the stairs would show a struggle, unless she slipped of her own accord. A lubricant on the stairs, perhaps? It would be easy enough to clean afterward—but that would leave other traces behind.

Stabbing her wouldn’t work. Electrocuting her wouldn’t work, though he’d fantasized already about throwing a plugged-in toaster into the bathtub with her. They didn’t have doors to the bathrooms, after all. Adding antifreeze to her morning smoothie (which she stupidly trusted him to make for her) would work, but he’d be the prime suspect of a poisoning, considering Madison Wilson trusted no one to get the job done in her house aside from her slave of a son. It was his penance for being such a failure in her eyes.

Death knew. She already knew, even without her token. It wasn’t going to be that easy. “She needs to die. You really don’t know what it’s like in there until you’ve lived it yourself. I can’t tell you how much I hate her.”

She pursed her lips, lifted a brow contemplatively. “About seventy five years ago my little brother escaped from being kept in a glass bottle with no food furniture or sentient contact for about eighty years. It was very scary, I couldn’t talk to him or visit or help. I guess for you it’s like being inside the bubble.”

She shrugged. “I’m not gonna say it’s a good or bad idea to kill her, ‘cause it’s not my job to take or save lives, just collect the dead ones. But you don’t need my ankh to do it. And stealing the sigil of Death herself is rude.”

Sexually Transmitted, Terminal Condition

falling-at-terminal-velocity:

death-of-the-endless:


She rolled her eyes. “The guy who took it last time thought he was gonna become super powerful with it. Something about “life eternal” and “eradication of good versus evil.” He was just pissy that I made him walk back home from the end of time, but that’s what you get when you try to kill an innocent kid while I’m trying to clean stuff up… anyway, you’re not gonna have anything to gain from it, and it could make you a target for some people I can guarantee you are’t prepared to handle.”

"I think you know me well enough to know I’m not an idiot. I also hope you know me well enough to know that I don’t have any delusions of grandeur or to go overkill with this knowledge. Quite the contrary. There’s…heh…there’s really only one thing I want to do with this. Once that thing is done? I can give this back, no problem. It wouldn’t even take more than a couple of seconds, anyway…"

But she probably knew what it is, assuming she knew enough about him. It didn’t take a god or an immortal or a mind reader to guess it.

"Look Carter, you’re really smart, but you’re also a complete idiot. Trust an omniscient being to know. That ankh won’t give you any kinda power over your mother. I know you’ve wanted me to come for her for years, and there were a couple times you were close to sending her my way. But a flood of knowledge beyond your comprehension is not gonna help you push her down a dozen flights of stairs. You can do that as a mortal."