it looks a lot better on my tumblr. with embedded video and gif.

#joining coulson brb

by Incendiarist

asking your murderer to clear your internet history for you

„Wait!"

The man´s face was hidden by the ski mask, but it was clear he was surprised. „What?" he asked, his voice gruff.

„Um. It´s just, you´re gonna kill me, I get that, but, but. Can I blog about it first? I´ll set it so that it doesn´t publish until the day after to-morrow, look, see! ´cos of they´ll be really worried, you know? And I need to make sure someone can get into my dropbox files so they can keep publishing my stuff even after I´m gone, on FFN, yeah?"

The man´s arm wavered uncertainly, the gun lowering ever-so-slightly. „This isn´t some sort of ploy, then?" he asked, suspicious. „You´re not going to try to hint at my identity or anything?"

„Please," I said, waving a hand. „I don´t know who the fuck you even are. I mean, who sent you? Was it Odin? I never trusted that bastard. Fuck-all parenting skills." A pause. „Nah, I just… what if they think I abandoned them? That I got a life?" I continued, an anxious cry. „I can´t leave them in the dark like that, that´s beyond cruel. Look, see, I´ll show you the post. You can sign off on it and everything."

The man sighed, probably wondering what deeds done in a past life might have made him to deserve putting up with me. „Sure," he said, „whatever."

I about died of happiness. (Was that even, like, kosher? Since I was about to die, anyway? It seemed a bit distasteful.) „Thank you. Thank you so much," I implored, and if I could have seen his face, I would have probably tried to talk him into letting me make a gif of it so I could share it with you all, and that probably wouldn´t have gone over well. So, you know, mixed blessings and shite.

«Important,» proclaimed the post title, and an embedded youtube video began the text; «Open at the Close», by Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls.

"Hey, everybody.

"This is going to be kind of a weird post, sorry. It´s also going to be my last. I´m not leaving tumblr, though, not really; Gwen, you´ll know what I mean—remember TGLB? Think of me as Tegsee, I guess, The Ghost of Cindy. Tell stories about how I about scared, like, every single newb on Vville and GWH ever half to death. About my obsession with MR. Keep writing those fics that I bribed you into doing (I´m looking at you, Gwen and Varsha. Don´t think for a second that just because I´m dead you get a Get Out Of Jail Free card on Nobby/Igorina and Mal/Harry. The opposite, actually. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect US$200, dammit). Please, just… don´t forget me. I don´t know if I could stand that—and I know it´s selfish, but I can´t help it, I don´t want to be forgotten, to fade into nothing. So long as my name is still spoken, I´m not truly dead, right? And Cendi is more my name than my given name ever was.

"Gods, I probably sound like I´m committing suicide, or something. I´m not, though. Remember how I said «weird post»? There´s a guy reading this over my shoulder right now—well, not right now, not for you, because this isn´t being published for another two days—and he´s got a gun. I never liked guns. Like how Zirah said, «any madman could swing a sword or shoot a gun, but it took real dedication to kill with a paperweight.» And I think I´ll stop insulting him now, yeah? So he won´t kill me before I can post this. That would be sad. And not really funny at all.

"Wow, I´m making jokes about Portal on my deathbed. (Deathdesk-chair-with-lumbar-support?) I´m even more pathetic than I thought.

"Um. Gods, I really don´t know what to say. I mean, this is my last gods-cursed post, it should be special, shouldn´t it? I feel like I should be able to impart some important headcanon or something, and you´ll all adopt it even though it´s completely batshit, because it´s my headcanon, and I might be batshit, sure, maybe even guano warns its kids about me, but it´s mine.

"And, and, and. Gods. I love you all, you know that? All of you. You´re each of you amazing, even if I don´t actually know some of you all that well, or even at all. You must be amazing, after all, not just because you´re yourselves, but because you´re in the company of some of the best people I´ve ever known. Gwen, Cal, Minaret, Varsha, Syd, Fell, Teaflowerné, Soapy, Rachel, Medu, Marz, Draco, Snow, other-people-who-I´m-not-actually-forgetting-only-the-guy-is-telling-me-to-get-the-fuck-on-with-it-and-stop-fucking-stalling-jeez-this-calls-for-some-Dawn-or-something-because-handsoap-isn´t-enough-who-does-this-guy-think-he-is-anyway-Nick-Motherfucking-Fury…

"Cal, you´ll find an iMessage two days ago. It has my passwords for dropbox and ffn. You know what to do.

"Medu, never abandon ship.

"Draco, take good care of my dungeon. It´s yours now.

"Varsha, know that your status on my List of Authors I Would Make Immortal if I Were Suzumiya Haruhi hasn´t been lost, and never will.

"Everyone, know that you´re the best thing that´s ever happened to me.

"And Soapy, purr in the affirmative.

"Live long and prosper, don´t blink, and always remember:

"FWIP FWIP."

I didn´t know what else to say, in the tags; #crying brb was uncomfortably accurate, and #dying brb was the sort of stupid joke that would have heads slamming into keyboards. And then I almost wanted to slam my head into my own keyboard, because it was so obvious.

#joining coulson brb

I set the publish date. „Alright," I said. „I´m done now."

„Finally," muttered the man.

(blood and tears soaked into the stuffed animals)