my favorite memetian

[miasmajesty]

 

 

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. 


(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.)



HOW IT WORKS:
Getting your numbers from RNG (or pick your own), 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.) 

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.

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

As usual, all meme's are open to interpretation. If you want to play an AU immortal, yay. If you want to be sucked into another dimension or shoved into a tiny glass box, also fine. YOUR PLAY, NOT MINE.



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?

Comments

[uncertainty]

[ Quieting down. The pain is getting worse. There's the occasional groan, then a miserable sob. ]

[turntables]

[ He's there within 15 minutes, probably a new record. He hangs up the phone and lets himself in, quick but quiet to hopefully avoid setting off the entire neighborhood to his presence. It's not like anyone would attack him (and they'd be crazy to try, besides), but still.

He's a little out of breath when he comes running in, expecting blood and guts everywhere. ]

I'm here.

[uncertainty]

[ There's blood alright. Tavros' pajama pants are soaked with it - the whole bed is. The troll's stomach is huge and swollen, but a familiar shape - something a troll wouldn't recognize. ]

Mmngh...

[turntables]

[ Good god he got fat.

Wait.

Oh jesus screaming christ. Sweet shitting hell. Just. Fuck. Okay. ]

...'Sokay, I've got this. You're not dying.

[ Setting aside his incredulity over a vast number of topics and questions surrounding this situation, mostly originating from an all-encompassing "HOW," he wastes no time in getting things set up. It's not like he's ever done this before, but he's watched plenty of daytime television. Hot water and a rag, pillows propped up, towels padded underneath him and with no outwardly apparent embarrassment he gets rid of the bloody pants and drapes a sheet over him instead. ]

[uncertainty]

[ He looks up, teary-eyed and scarcely there. ] I'm not? [ How can Bro even think that. He shifts pathetically, as if to cover himself but then thinks better of it and stays splayed out like that. ]

[turntables]

No.

[ He's not really sure how to explain this rationally, given that he doesn't really get it, himself. He's heard of live troll birth but not with a dude troll and what's even more incredible is the timing pretty much only leaves one culprit that he's aware of, which he also thought was impossible.

But he leaves that alone for the time being and digs around unceremoniously for a clean glass and pours him some water. ]

Drink this, an' uh, just take deep breaths.

[uncertainty]

[ He downs it quickly and just drops back.

This is sinful amounts of pain. ] Stop...

[turntables]

[ God, what the hell does he know about labor. It goes on for fucking forever, is what. Doesn't blood mean the thing is coming out? He figures he's not exactly going to be able to pop the hood and check out the situation without explaining what he's doing first so he sits down to broach the subject as delicately as he can. ]

So I'm thinking you came down with a bad case of pregnancy, kiddo. Good news is it's curable. Bad news is it probably hurts 'cause there's a baby all up in there trying to get out in basically the shittiest way possible. So. We're gonna have to deal with that.

[uncertainty]

Oh.

[ he must be half-delirious from the pain, he's pretty sure he misheard all of that and he doesn't request a repeat. ]

[turntables]

Yeah.

[ So. Yeah.

This is one situation where he's not going to want his gloves on, at least not leather ones, so he peels them off and tries not to seem creepy about it. ]

Unless I'm wrong, which could be entirely possible, given what I know about troll birthin', but I get the feeling like it might be go time. Or close to it. [ So uh. Gesturing. ] Might be able to tell you better if I check out what's going down. If that's ok with you.

[uncertainty]

Okay.

[ He guesses. His head rolls back on the mattress, groaning and digging his nails into the sheets once the next wave hits. ]

[turntables]

[ Lifting up the sheet and getting acquainted with the goings on up in here. Fortunately, at the very least, he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty (and he does, pretty much right away). This proves to be good news when "go time" is actually a thing. ]

[uncertainty]

[ Yeah it turns out horns and soft fleshy insides don't get along well. The baby is out and Tavros is in really rough shape. ]

[turntables]

[ Bro is actually a little bit terrified to have gotten through that and to now be holding probably the strangest living thing he's ever seen, but he makes sure it's alive and breathing and not covered in gross substances and calls for one of his nurse friends whether Tavros likes it or not.

She advises him on what to do until she gets there and he sits there with a cold compress wrapped in a fresh towel putting pressure, y'know, where it's needed with one hand and holding a squalling horned alien baby in the other. ]

[uncertainty]

[ The half-conscious troll rouses enough to lift his head, looking at the little hybrid with a mix of confusion, terror, and adoration. It's... something. Clearly a mix of both, blunt teeth, tiny (sharp) horizontal horns and grey-white skin. The hair is whispy and white, nothing at all like Tavros' course black mess. ]

Oh. [ Like he understands, before falling unconscious. ]

[turntables]

Tav—

[ Shit. He grits his teeth but doesn't move, absolutely cannot let off on that pressure for anything until the nurse finally shows up nearly half an hour later. By then the baby has quieted down and Bro has sunk into solid anxiety, stepping aside to let her work and focusing his attention on the wiggler.

Red eyes. Pretty much exactly what he expected. ]

[uncertainty]

[ Thankfully he's not far gone. It takes a little work but she has the troll stable and stitched up.

Half-trolls are rare for plenty of reasons. Not the least of which being how low their survival rate is. Most trolls don't get medical care and either die during labor or shortly after, with the mutant grub culled immediately. Without the influence of a mother-grub the babies end up more mammalian than their troll parent, perfectly humanoid save for the tiny nubby, useless grub legs at their sides.

Tavros stirs after a little while but makes no effort to reach for the baby. ]

[turntables]

[ He imagines this must be some kind of sick joke. Not even in a bad way, just twisted and wrong and downright impossible. He doubts Dave could have possibly known, hell, even fucking Tavros didn't know and he was the one brewing the thing.

Okay, it's not a Thing. Bro establishes that pretty early on. Once he grasps just what it is, essentially, it goes from being a Thing to his grandkid. He gets his nurse friend to look it over and then holds her the rest of the time.

When Tavros wakes up he's just glad he already thought of the kid as family, offering out the fussy, sleeping bundle. Otherwise he might just try and run off with it. ]

Hey.

[uncertainty]

[ He doesn't lift his hands for it. He just fixes Bro with a baleful stare. The girl probably can't pass for human, but anything she can get is better than living here. ]

Take it, and get out of the District.

[turntables]

It's your kid. I'm not leaving with it.

[uncertainty]

I can't raise it, and, even if I could, it wouldn't have a life here.

[turntables]

[ Point. There's no point in "hoping for the best" when "the best" around here is basically shit all. ]

Aight. Then pack up your shit, 'cause you're coming with me.

[uncertainty]

[ woozily trying to sit up annnnd going right back down. ]

You don't have, a permit...

[turntables]

Fuck permits. We'll worry about that later. For right now, as far as anyone's concerned, you're just visiting.

[ Pushing his wheelchair over. ]

Need some help?

[uncertainty]

Yeah...

[ He's so drained. He doesn't quite have the energy to scoot into the chair on his own. ]