[ a contemplation of hapiness ] [ morpho death srp ]

Instructions

(Click for bIood, there is a lot of it, im warning you now, don’t report me i beg of u i gave u the bloodless version!) (Huge blood tw for the srp as well u all know morpho. I am a /horror writer/ i tone it down for scratch but just be safe there’s a tl;dr in the n&c if u need it) What does it mean to be happy? Morpho has spent his entire life dedicated to that question. He has danced around it, courted it, pledged service to it and now he thinks he is dying for it. He can feel it. The delightful salt of the red pouring out of his wounds. The pain is intoxicating. He never really imagined the day he left this world. He’s surprised he has lasted this long. He never thought it would be this… slow. He rolls onto his back and feels his life force ooze onto the already sticky floor of Smile Home. Everybody else is asleep. He won’t scream, won’t wake them up. He realizes that it has always been this. Him and the blood. Not when he was very little. There was no blood then, except for that which coursed through his veins. But then there was blood and it was… beautiful. It sung to him, told him to smile and he did. It wasn’t heavenly. It wasn’t from hell. It was from a primal place deep within him and it was beautiful and /happy./ Others didn’t understand it, so Morpho tried to surround himself with cats that did. His boyfriend. His girlfriend. His kits and his closest friends. Kevin. His Minis. His Smile Family. He has been killed. He is still alive, but that’s just schematics. He has been killed and he is dead and alive and isn’t it beautiful? He does wish he was around longer. He did all he could. He hopes he made somebody happy. He doesn’t blame his attacker. He is proud, in a way. And so, so cold. He /feels/ the bIood around him. It is sweet and beautiful and as his breath grows more rapid and his head becomes swimmy he can feel his heart pumping it through his veins like he has never felt anything before. He would weep if there was room in the puddle for tears. What does it mean to be happy? Above him the lights of the stars are reflected upon his corpse and they are beautiful little suns. The world looks so much prettier as a dead man, everything complete in this circle he has become a part of. Somewhere something will feed on his bIood and he wishes them a fine meal. His heart pumps faster and his moment of clarity is interrupted. He is not dead. He is alive and it hurts, but not the physical pain. His claws are out and he swipes at the force that is trying to take this happiness from him. There is no force but there is so much fear. Is he happy? There is so much more he can do in the world. Is this death? It is painful and black spots are now swimming in front of morpho’s eyes. He catches sight of himself in one of the pieces of broken glass and just stares. He has seen this look before. They didn’t wants to die in the end. Nobody wants to die. It is too late and he sees a vision of himself above him. He is younger in the vision and his throat is no longer dripping red, it is white and fluffy and his smile is so wide. “Don’t cry because you’re over. Smile because you happened!” “Don’t be sad.” “Now we can both be happy.” “Smile for me.” The voices overlap as the corners of his mouth shakily turn up. He is not afraid. He was afraid, yes. But now he is smiling. What does it mean to be happy? For Morphosmile right now, it means the grin on his face, shaking as the last traces of red leave his corpse and his eyes grow blank and cold.