bakerstreet | The Last Words Meme

The Last Words Meme

(TRIGGER WARNING. This meme deals heavy with death and also possibly with strong violence or with suicide/depression. If you are not comfortable reading about that, please PLEASE do not proceed further.)

The Last Words Meme

This is it. The final curtain. You're at the end of your life, and there's someone here you really, really need to say something to before you die.

CAUSE OF DEATH
1 - Accidental. Nobody meant for this to happen, but it doesn't matter now. Due to negligance, arrogance or just plain bad luck, you've become gravely ill or injured and are now in your last moments. This covers all kinds of accidental deaths--strangulation, drowning, car accidents, unintentional beheadings, whatever you can think of.

2 - Murder. Somebody really didn't like you. Enough to kill you, it seems. You're now dead by someone else's hand. (Maybe even the person replying to you?) As with accidental death, this covers all types of intentional, malicious murder, regardless of method--so poisoning, stabbing, shooting, etc., all work here. Same with all the below options: any possible variation you can think of on it will work!

3 - Suicide. There is no hope for you, and no way out. You've reached the absolute bottom pits of despair, and the only recourse you have is to take your own life. Someone shows up to stop you... but they're too late to help you now.

4 - Terminal illness. You have cancer, or tuberculosis, or cholera back when people got cholera. The doctors have done everything they could and it wasn't enough. The only thing to do now is give your loved ones the bad news.

5 - Starvation. So thirsty. So hungry. Maybe you've been traveling in the desert for hours, or maybe you're just really poor. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, because you're slowly wasting away until you're nothing but skin and bones.

6 - Death in battle. You've died a hero's death, and gone out in a blaze of glory. Or maybe you were a coward who got shot for deserting? Either way, you're now a casualty of war. Will you be honored with a parade or scorned as a traitor to your country?

7 - Natural causes. You've lived a long, happy life, and now your story is at an end. In a warm bed, surrounded by your family and friends, you peacefully drift off. Just make sure that you've made a will somewhere, or at least use your deathbed to set the record straight. Otherwise, who knows what kind of squabbles might errupt after you leave this world?

TIME LEFT
1 - A few minutes. You're fading fast and you don't have much, well, any time left. Better tell the person with you that you love -- or despise -- them with your last breath, because you'll never have the chance otherwise.

2 - A few hours. You haven't got much time left. Is there someone you still need to kill? To kiss? Better do it quick. (Note: last kisses not recommended for people dying of highly contagious illnesses.)

3 - A few days. The doctors have given you the news, and it's not very good. You've only got a couple days left to live. You should start trying to make peace with people and saying your final goodbyes with the days you have left.

4 - A few weeks. Take that vacation you've always wanted to go on but never had the chance to. Go do that thing you've never thought you'd be any good at. You've got only weeks left to live. Don't waste them.

5 - A few months. While you aren't quite on death's doorstep yet, your lifespan has still dwindled considerably from what you probably thought it would be. How are you going to spend your last few months on Earth? Making the world a better place and telling your family you love them? Or raising as much hell as possible?

RELATIONSHIP
1 - Lovers. This is your husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, mistress, whatever you call them they were the person you wanted to spend your life with. Too bad you don't have much of a life to spend with them anymore.

2 - Siblings. Your beloved little or older sibling is just standing there, watching you slowly waste away before their eyes. Can you say anything to comfort them? Note that it doesn't necessarily have to be interpreted literally; adopted siblings and friends so close they might as well be siblings work too.

3 - Parent and child. Nothing is worse than a parent having to bury their child... except, maybe, a young child now alone in the world after losing their parent. As with the sibling prompt, this can be expanded to include parental figures and people who are LIKE a father/mother to you as well as actual biological parents.

4 - Co-workers, teammates or classmates. You were fighting for the same side. Or you worked together in the same office for years. Or they sat behind you in biology all semester. However you met, how do your react when you find out someone who used to be a fixture in your life is going to die?

5 - Friends. You're the best of friends! You go everywhere together, know all each other's secrets, and are never seen apart. At least, you didn't use to be. Now one of you is dying and the other one is left alone in the world. Or maybe you're dying together. Wait, is that better or worse?

6 - Bitter enemies. You hate, hate, HATE this person. In fact, maybe you killed them. Or they killed you. Or maybe nobody killed anybody and they're just bitter that Mother Nature got to you before they did. Regardless, they want to confront you one last time before you bite it, if only to rub your nose in your imminent demise and their ability to outlive you.

HOW IT WORKS:
1. Using it random.org or a similar site, the first character to post rolls for their cause of death and how long they have left to live. They then post to the meme with their name, canon and the results of their roll. (For example: "Jane Doe | That One Series | 1 2" would mean Jane Doe from That One Series died of accidental causes and has a few hours left to live.)

2. Responding characters then roll for the relationship between the two of you. Optionally responding characters can also share your cause of death/time left to live or roll for their own, but that's not required. A living character caring for (or horribly mutilating) a dying one is fine, too.

3. Tell the person what you need to tell them before you bite it.

4. Have fun!

((Snagged from an earlier post from way back when... Different pic, but it's pretty much the same. Now in DW flavour.))

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[Death in battle or murder for cause, minutes for time left. I'm happy to set up a starter if you want one.]

[Damn like he really needs to go through this again.]

[(X) doesn't need to go through this again could be the tagline for the entire show. Just substitute different values for "X" and "this".]

[They really need to stop that.

Do you want to set something up? Death in battle is probably the better option.]

Emma can't even quite remember what had hit her; the chaos of the magical firefight had been too intense to fully track. She'd been occupied with trying to push through the animate gargoyle things the sorcerer had conjured up - and to think, she'd complained about the monkeys. She'd only had the barest impression of big and fast before a stone paw the size of a Harley and caught her in the chest and sent her flying, vision sparkling black and white and all the air knocked from her lungs.

She can still hear the fight raging, but she's clear of the thick of it, if still close enough to see the occasional streak of flame across the sky. She thinks, vaguely, that she should probably get up and get back into it, but when she tries to move she can't, and there's pain like someone's dragging a rusty sawblade through her stomach, and holy shit is that a pipe? It looks almost like some grotesque bit of hallowe'en costuming, shoved through just below the ribs with blood only beginning to seep through to soak her shirt where her attempt at moving had disrupted the seal between flesh and metal.

If this were a story, this is where her magic would rise up unbidden, take over and heal her and put an end to evil wizards and animated stone lunacy, but it's not, and she can't even grasp hold of it long enough to get rid of the stupid pipe. She's pretty sure she's going to bleed to death here in the dirt and rubble of what remains of the town hall, and after everything, isn't that just a little ridiculous?

He's used to the chaos of a battle, and at least this time he doesn't have to deal with the pitching of a ship beneath his feet. Footing is starting to get treacherous anyway, with the detritus of battle strewn across the ground. He's so caught up in fighting off the gargoyles that it takes him a few moments to notice that Emma has disappeared.

Forgetting the fight for a moment, he scans around until he finds her. On the ground, on her back, with a pipe sticking through her.

Suddenly winning the battle is no longer the most important thing. He runs over and kneels beside her, sword falling to the ground. "Emma. Emma." He brushes the hair back from her forehead and tries to keep the panic out of his voice.

Not this again.

[ He doesn't know how it happens. At one moment he's deflecting bullets that Moira (foolish woman) is aiming in his direction and the next all he can hear is the cry of agony. It's like the world slows around him and as his body turns towards Charles he can feel the horror and the sickness curl up inside of him, his eyes widening and his mind feeling as though it's going to drip through his ears.

It takes him a bare few seconds to fall in the sands beside Charles, gripping his arm tight and drawing him close. It wasn't just one, he can feel it, a second bullet a little higher in his body and his first instinct is the draw them out, to suck the stark metal out of his friend's body and to grip them in his hands. They're shiny with blood and he wants to vomit.

What can he do? Charles is near enough writhing in agony and he feels as though he's about to fall apart, his limbs like jelly and his eyes able to do nothing more than skim over the other man's features, completely at a loss. He wants to reach out, to draw him close, to promise him that it'll be alright, but all he can feel is a hoarse dryness in his throat and nothing but pure agony in his heart. ]

Charles -- Charles.

[so focused was charles on the struggle to get the helmet off of erik so that he could stop the missiles being sent back at the russian and american fleets that he wasn't aware of the gunshots until they were sounding out loud and deadly in his ears. pain blossomed in his back like fire and he cried out as he fell into the sand.

at first he thought, it must not be so bad, as he didn't feel too much. then erik was tugging him onto his side, then his back, and drawing out the bullets. he screamed, and with his next breath he found that he was growing cold like the metal erik had drawn out of him. he huffed in a pained breath, eyes watering, as his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably despite the warm summer sun beating down on them.

oh. oh, this was a strange feeling. he didn't much care for it at all. he heard moira's steps in the sand coming to a halt in horror.]

E--[a pained, halting gasp.]--erik.

[ Erik moves his hand almost without thinking, pressing away everyone that dared try and come close to himself and Charles. The children flew back and hit the side of the wreckage and fall their, the metal from their flight suits chaining them as, at the same time, Moira falls to her knees from the tightening pain of her dog tags around her neck. Erik doesn't care about sparing her or being kind - she did this to Charles, she shot the bullets, they came from her gun.

He has no sympathy for Moira, his heart firmly centred on Charles.

Reaching out with a shaken hand he hesitates before he cups the other man's cheek, tender and careful, stroking along the skin there gently before he shakes his head. This - all of this - it cannot be happening and he feels a sick pull in his heart. Charles is fading, he can almost taste it, and he doesn't know what to do. What can he do? ]

Charles. You're alright. You will be fine.

[ It's a lie, they both know it, but he needs it. He needs to cling to it for as long as he can. ]

[he would have thought the world might have tunneled to the feeling of just the two of them in this moment, but no. he can hear the missiles, no longer under erik's control, exploding off-shore. he can hear the cries of the children as they fly back from erik's power throwing them. he can hear moira choking not two feet away from them.

his eyes, filled with pain, go from erik's face to moira's desperate one as she clutches at her dog tags. erik still wears the helmet, and so he can't merely send a command to stop. he struggles to find his breath, his words through his trembling lips, and finally manages to rasp out:]

Please---she didn't do this. [he coughs, body spasms causing him to grimace in pain, and he can taste blood in his mouth. he struggles again:]--please.

[ The words halt him, the pain in the whispers enough to have Erik dropping his hands. The unspoken words there shatter him from the inside out and make him feel as though his entire body might fall apart under him, like Charles' pain is eroding his bones and making the very structure of him crumble, piece by piece. He lets his fingers touch Charles' skin before he pulls back, fearing that even a touch might do him more harm.

Moira didn't do this, Charles had said. That meant Erik had. His movements, his self-protection, had done this to the only person he had ever loved.

He can feel the cold spreading through him and he goes numb, almost suddenly. It's as though there is no feeling left inside of him for the pain to cling to, nothing left in his heart for it to suck the warmth from. He is a shell, now, lost without Charles, not knowing what to do other than sit and nod his head, trying not to betray how truly at a loss he is, on edge with nothing to hold onto but his own hatred for himself. ]

I'm sorry.

[there's so much he wants to say, but he can't summon the energy. all he hears from erik is silence from the helmet, and he wants---he just wants---

he reaches up to touch trembling fingers to the helmet. he can't force him to remove it, not now, and all he wants is to feel him. perhaps it is selfish, but he feels he's allowed something like that considering the circumstances now.

he can only keep his hand raised for so long before it falls limply against the other man's chest, and slides down. his eyes flutter, threatening to shut, though he tries to keep them open.]

[ He stares. For a long moment, Erik simply stares at Charles and watches him with confused, hopeless eyes. It's obvious what his friend wants from him but the problem isn't understanding; it's finding the courage to do it. Lifting the helmet will let Charles into his mind and, at the same time, let himself feel the other man's all the same. Is he quite prepared to feel himself come undone, to feel Charles fade away in his arms?

Erik lifts his hand, dragging the helmet away from his head and dropping it to one side in the sand, his fingers shaking.

Drawing Charles closer is easy, moving his head down so they're almost touching, his breath coming hard. When he speaks it's almost a whisper and he wonders, for a moment, if it's all inside his own head. ] Do not leave me.

[it isn't the pained whisper that pulls a sudden, shuddering gasp out of charles from where he's cradled in the other man's arms. it's the removal of the helmet.

he can feel erik's breath against his face, the warmth of it, and he wishes it wouldn't disappear so quickly. he's cold. his body jerks in an abortive laugh.]

Oh, my friend---[only a wave of pain rolls through him and steals his words from him along with his breath.]

I do not believe I have a choice.

[ No. He refuses to accept it, his entire body almost recoiling from the very idea of losing Charles, of feeling the life slip away from him. His fingers grip at the grotesque yellow of his flightsuit and he breathes out, a shaky, desperate noise, his eyes closing as he bites back tears. He has to remain strong but, he knows, his mask is fading. He has never truly been able to hide himself from Charles. ]

You told me I was not alone. You swore to me. Do not go back on your word.

[ He hesitates before his fingers go a little lax, more careful, adjusting their positions so Charles might be more comfortable. It's only then that he dares speak again, thoughts in his mind even as his mouth moves soundlessly. ]

Do not abandon me. Choose me, Charles.