Tumgik
#Gray Zone
hero-israel · 9 months
Note
There was a Shoah movie where the Jews fought back: Defiance, and everyone HATED IT because they projected some kind of judgment onto the Jews who "went quietly to their deaths" when that wasn't the message of that movie at all. So it doesn't really matter whether the Jews resist their genocidal oppression or not, it'll get criticized and problematized and thinkpiecified no matter what.
I also find it funny that Schindler's List has nothing to "teach" because it is literally a Hollywood structure of the Hero's Journey. Oskar Schindler has to learn about Jewish suffering and to value Jewish life, and use every tool in his arsenal to try to save the people he grows to care about. Several Jewish characters lecture him on their plight and he goes from dismissive to never being able to bear the psychological weight of not getting just 1 or 2 more Jews out.
It's a movie about the man who has everything to gain from exploited Jewish labor and suffering, who is barely moved by the oppression he sees, to being horrified by the dehumanization and slaughter taking place, who risks everything to rescue as many people as he can. It's a parable of what it is the average person's responsibility to do. The message is clear: If you find yourself being an Oskar Schindler in times of oppression and genocide, your duty is to become the kind of person he became.
Like sorry I won't stand for Schindler's List slander!
SL is in very rare company, if not unique, in being a Holocaust film that is historically accurate, artfully made, and - this term seems really inappropriate - "watchable." I've watched it twice and could see myself watching it a third time someday, likely when my kids are old enough. It has legitimate educational, historical value.
It also has shortcomings. It sets viewer expectations to normalize Gentile saviors, grateful Jews, quasi-happy endings. It is very, very much the exception to the rule of those years. A more fair, representative movie about the Holocaust was "The Gray Zone." Relentlessly bleak, tortuously painful, the Jews do scrape together an uprising, then they all die anyway. It's really what history classes should be watching, I'm sure most teachers wouldn't dare, and having watched it once myself I'm sure I can't sit through it again.
30 notes · View notes
hatsumishinogu · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Gray Zone
15 notes · View notes
tezla7 · 1 year
Text
youtube
0 notes
mockingjay-sings · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
THE HUNGER GAMES APPRECIATION WEEK → day 5: favorite arena
The 10th Hunger Games arena
333 notes · View notes
snaileer · 2 months
Text
Like Son, Like Mother
Danny was doing homework at the kitchen table with Jazz when he heard it. A bang, a clatter, and his father’s shout of “Maddie!”
This was not all together that unusual. But for some reason, both him and Jazz looked up from their books to glance at the basement door.
Jazz /never looked up anymore.
The silence seemed to echo.
Jazz skated her eyes over to meet his, raising a confused eyebrow. Danny shrugged in response.She shrugged back. Which was.. really not helpful honestly.
Well, only one way to find out.
Danny pushed back his chair with loud scrape and walked over to the door. He opened it and shouted down, “Dad?? Everything okay??”
There was another clatter.
“Sure is, Danno!” There was a slight waver of uncertainty to his Dad’s voice.
Danny furrowed his eyebrows, taking a step down, then another. “You sure?? Jazz and I heard a pretty loud bang and-“
Danny stopped at the bottom of the stairs, one foot still hovering, “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Jack smiled at him from where he stood in front of Maddie, “Sure as a bear, kiddo!”
Danny leaned forward, trying to peer around Jack’s form, “Mom?
Maddy hesitated but answered, “Yes honey?”
“You’re sure you’re alright?”
There was a moment of pause and then Maddie leaned out from behind her husband, goggles and suit hood on, “We’re fine sweetie, don’t worry about us.” She smiled comfortingly at him.
Danny glanced between the two of them again, before slowly starting to turn around, “Alright, if you’re sure..uh.. Have fun, I guess.” Then he turned fully up the stairs and went up the hallway. They caught a snippet of him telling Jazz it was okay before the basement door closed once more.
Jack’s shoulders drooped with a whoosh of breath and he turned back to Maddie, eyes filled with worry.
“Mads?”
Maddie tried to smile back at him, pulling back her hood and goggles with one hand.
“Don’t worry, snookums, we’ll fix this,” Maddie said, patting Jack’s shoulder.
She looked down at her other hand.
Her other hand stuck halfway through the metal of their lab table.
She sighed, a few strands of pale hair falling in her eyes as she did so.
“Somehow.”
185 notes · View notes
Text
The Grey Zone 5
Tumblr media
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)
Character: Lloyd Hansen
Note: Oh my mustachioed man!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Tumblr media
Lloyd pulls in at the last rest stop before you officially enter the true desolation of the northern wilds. You open your door before he can even turn off the engine, unable to hold back the spew of sickness. You spit onto the tarmac as the sun sets darkly above. You grip the door and flinch as Lloyd reaches over to rub your back.
"You okay, baby cakes?" He asks as you press the back of your hand to your mouth and sit back, trapping his hand against the seat.
"Yeah, I just get car sick, like I said," you're almost breathless as the bile sears in your throat, "I should go rinse my mouth out."
"Need help?" He asks and you send him a confounded look. He winks as you struggle to decipher his meaning.
"No," you unbuckle your seat belt and grab your little leather knapsack.
"I guess you're not in the mood for any snacks?" He says as he climbs out on his side, mirror you as you shut your door.
"No, I'm good," you cough.
You walk in stride with him, trying to keep ahead as you're paranoid about your breath and any possible dribble from your vomit. He reaches past you to open the door and holds it open. You flit in and search for the bathroom sign, leaving him behind as the taste of your sickness dries on your tongue.
You hurry down the hall and push into the ladies. You crank on the sink and bend over to rinse your mouth out. You dry off, wiping away much of your black lipstick. 
You fish a mint out of your bag and reapply the tint to your lips, checking your reflection one last time. You go into one of the stalls, just to be sure and wash your hands before venturing out into the store. 
As you come out. Lloyd stands by the magazine shelf, browsing without intent. He glances over at you and smirks, his hands full.
"Got ya... ginger ale," he holds up the green bottle, "and some anti-nausea stuff." He shakes the box of tablets.
"Oh, you didn't have to..."
"I saw it, so... whatever," he hands over the items, "paid and good to go, unless you need anything else."
"All good," you muster a smile.
"You just relax, sweetheart," he waves you towards the door, "we're looking at making midnight if we're lucky. You rest up... you'll need your energy for your vacation."
"Thanks," you mutter. You don't plan on relaxing, you have textbooks and more than enough homework.
"Let me get this," he opens the door for you again.
You step through and he follows closely, just grazing the loose fabric of your pants. You feel a tug but don't think much of it right as he passes you and hits the unlock button on his keys. You near the car and drop into the passenger seat with your goodies.
You crack the seal on the ginger ale, the mint tainting the flavor. You open the box of pills and break one free of the insert. You swallow it with another swig of soda and put the bottle in the cupholder, tucking away the pills in your bag before shoving it between your feet. You lean back and buckle up.
Lloyd turns the engine and flips the stereo on again. You're tired already. You're glad he's taken on most of the driving, aside from his lead foot.
"That's it, you just chill," he reaches over and claps his hand on your thigh, "we'll be home before we know it."
"Home?" You wonder.
"Home away from home," he shrugs and pulls his hand back to the wheel and shifts into gear. "don't worry about it, babe. I got you."
You don't respond. You're not really sure how to and you're stomach is still gurgly. You just want the meds to kick in so you can close your eyes without getting dizzy.
"Alright, back on the road," he steers around the lot, following another car towards the ramp, "huh," he snorts as he speeds up.
"What?"
"Nah, just thinking... feels like... a movie," he muses as he sits back, keeping one hand nonchalantly on the wheel even as the speedometer ticks up, "like we're going away on a honeymoon. Some ridiculous romcom... or maybe a horror movie. You seem partial to the latter."
"I guess. That's a stereotype though. I'm not really a horror person."
"No?" He sniffs, "my bad. I saw that Poe collection on your shelf, so I assumed--"
"I like to read, not so much into seeing gore," you shrug.
"Fair," he replies, "surprising..."
"Why's it surprising?"
"I didn't take you as squeamish with the whole..." he points to his nose, "ring thing."
You reach up to touch your septum.
"Oh, I couldn't really see them doing it," you say.
"Not that I don't like it," he assures you, "it's a look."
You furrow your brow and nearly laugh. Is he trying to sound young and hip or something? At least he's not like your mother, lecturing you on mutilating your body.
"You got any ink? Tattoo or something?" He asks, "something mommy and daddy don't know about?"
"Um, no," you say, "it's... expensive."
"Oh, do I ever know," he clucks.
"You have a tattoo?"
"Sure do," he pats his chest, "I'll give you a look once we get where we're going. It's nothing hardcore. Mostly a college mistake."
"Ah, makes sense."
"What else is college for?" He winks at you in the rearview, "making memories."
"Sure," you agree and yawn into your hand.
"I'll shut up now," he scoffs, "you rest that pretty head."
You look at him, hesitating before letting yourself relax against the seat. You cross your arms and lean into the door, closing your eyes to keep from glancing out the window. He must have got the drowsy stuff, your head is swimming.
🖤
Soon the motion of the car turns from alarming to soothing. You let yourself sink into the anti-nauseant laced drowse itching on your eyelids. You blink, slower and slower, as you succumb to the dark sky and your induced exhaustion. You drift into semi-consciousness, the engine still whirring in your ears.
The hours slip by like seconds and you wake much before your ready too. Not quite all the way as your head wobbles and your body feels buried in sand. You drag your hand across your face clumsily as the car slows and you hear the chirping of crickets. You grumble, batting your lashes before letting them close again. You nestle into the door, reaching for sleep once more.
A soft rumble, like a chuckle, rises as the engine quiets completely. You feel a shift and hear the driver's side door. You can't tell if it's real or you're dreaming. Not until your own door opens and your seatbelt barely keeps you from falling out of the car.
Lloyd nudges you back and snickers again, "ah, look at you, sleepy girl."
He bends over you, his fingertips fluttering over your stomach as he reaches to undo your seatbelt. You moan as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His shadow blocks the moonlight as your tongue sticks dryly to the roof of your mouth. You feel... more tired than you should.
"Let's get you to bed, huh? Look at you," he lets his hand wander down your thigh, "fuck, you're so warm." He tickles you through the fabric of your pants and you shiver, "and it's damn chilly, isn't it?"
He pushes his hands between your thighs and you gasp. You reach for him and he bats your hand away easily. He cups your cunt through your pants and you squirm. He puts his other arms below your chest, pinning you to the seat.
"Wha..." you babble.
"Shhhh, it's alright, babe," he purrs as he bends, pulling his hand down your thigh as he parts them wide, dipping his head into your lap. "Mmmm, you smell delicious."
He buries his face in your pelvis and takes a deep breath before exhaling hotly into you. You whimper and push on his head. He chuckles and pulls his head back. He raises the hand he had cupped against you and sniffs that too.
"The way I'm gonna taste you and find out it you're just as good as you smell," he stands and hooks his arms under yours, lifting you out of the seat, "and you're gonna be begging me for it."
"What are you talking..."
"It's okay, honeybee,  you're fucking out of it," he snaps shut the passenger door, keeping you against him, "if I wanted to, I could fuck you in the dirt right now but that's no fun."
"Huh?" You lean against him, your feet unsteady in your platform boots.
"My dicks been hard since we got in the car, you're lucky I don't test your throat out," he guides you along the pebbles and twigs, a large structure looming limned in moonlight.
"Mr. Hansen?" You eke out.
"Relax, I'm gonna put you to bed, nice and cozy. Cozier on my dick but we'll save that," he teases as his hand creeps down to squeeze your ass, "you got some of those rings in your nips too? Kinky shit."
You shake your head, stumbling with him up the wooden steps of the cabin. The place is dark and you didn't notice if your dad's SUV was there yet. They must have got there by then.
Lloyd angles you through the front door and moves seamlessly through the dark. His strength is unsettling, knowing he could do anything and you couldn't fight him off. Even if you weren't groggy.
"Come on, princess," he hums as he takes you up the stairs, each step creaking.
"Please," you beg, "why..."
"Shhh," he hushes you as he gets you to the top.
Your panic pulses and you try to shove away from him. He lets you and you go crashing into some unseen shape and bounce onto the floor. The noise of your tumble is deafening. Lloyd cackles and you hear something else. Suddenly, footsteps barreling but uneven, a door opens further down.
"What the fuck is going on?" Your mother snarls drunkenly.
"Nothing, Connie," he calls through a chortle, "girl's just a bit hopped up."
"Hopped up?!" She shrieks and you hear her struggling before she emerges, shining a light at you from the flash of her cell phone, "what?!"
"Calm down, she had some dramamine," he scoffs, "she doesn't have the same tolerance as you, Con."
"Oh, shut up," she huffs and turns back, casting the light away from both of you, "keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep."
"Pleasant as ever," he mutters as he slides his arms under you and lifts you. You touch your forehead, dizzied as he cradles you against his chest. He walks down the hall and stops to push open a door with his foot. He stands in the frame and clucks, "just like a honeymoon, huh? Me carrying you over the threshold." He enters and moves carefully through the dark as it thickens, "but we'll save the fun stuff for now."
He puts you on the bed and you grumble. He hovers over you, his hand trails down your body. You shiver and he presses his lips to your forehead and growls, "I can wait…"
He pushes away and stands straight, lurking as you feel him staring down at you. You hug yourself and roll onto your side, weak and disoriented. He takes in an audible breath and lets it out. 
"I'm not even gonna jerk off, as much as my balls are swinging like barbells," he taunts as he leans back on his heels, "I'm saving it all up for you, baby." He clicks his tongue in his cheek, "I'm even gonna be a gentleman and bring your stuff in. Don't worry, you can be naughty for me."
You don't say a word as you close your eyes, hoping to shut out this twisted reality. You hear him retreat, slow deliberate steps that stoke your nerves. He's letting you be for now, but it won't be forever. And now you know exactly what he wants…
🖤
The morning greets you with the sight of an unfamiliar room. Your memory doesn’t rush back but trickles in. A patchwork begins to form in your mind; your father sending you off with Lloyd, his herky jerky driving, the rest stop, and the wobbly scenes that came after.
You remember a conversation but not every word. Only enough to set you on edge. You sit up sharply as the words etch in your mind; ‘don’t worry, you can be naughty for me’. You want to shrug it off as a figment of your own imagination but it’s all too real in your mind.
You look around at the bedroom. Hardwood side for the walls and similarly coloured slats across the floor. The bed frame is elaborate, hand-carved with ornate knobs at the top of each post. There’s a quilty haphazardly pulled over you, gathering at your waist as you hold yourself with palms flat to the mattress.
Your duffle is in the plaid armchair set in the corner. It’s empty. You shake your head, clearing out the last of the cobwebs. Despite the nausea meds and a night of almost lifeless sleep, you wake swiftly. You feel eerily alert of every detail. 
You get up and near the tan dresser, your reflection appearing in the circle mirror perched above. Your eye makeup is smeared and your lipstick only left at the edges of your lips. You’re a mess.
Your hat hangs on the one of the posts that holds up the mirror and your knapsack from the other. You rest your hands on the thin metal handles and slide the top drawer open slowly. You look down as the wood grinds loudly.
Your underwear is neatly folded to one side but you didn’t pack enough to fill the whole drawer. At the other side, there’s something else, something unfamiliar. You touch the lacy fabric and hook your fingers through the slender straps. 
You pull it out of the drawer and let it hang down to the floor. It’s a full body suit, lace in the pattern of spiderwebs, with no lining. It wouldn’t hide much at all. You look up and see yourself positioned behind it, as if you’re trying to see what it would look like on.
You lower the garment and clear your throat. Last night wasn’t a dream, you’re lucky it was a nightmare. You quickly tuck the lacy bodysuit back into the drawer and close it.
What do you do? Do you tell your parents? You don’t imagine your mother would believe you, if she even listened. She’s already into the wine. And your father, Lloyd is his friend. He’d probably shrug it off as one of his jokes.
You back up and turn to the rest of the room. You hear the birds chirping, trees swaying, and the soft breeze flowing in through the slightly open window. You cross to the pane and look out at the deep cluster of trees that stretches for miles. It’s all the more obvious then that you’ve walked straight into his trap.
246 notes · View notes
anistarrose · 1 month
Text
on gray matters
Magnus chats with Lup about relationships, and winds up realizing something new about himself.
“I don’t get it,” Magnus says, leveling an open hand towards the television, where a so-called romantic comedy is playing out. “It’s like they ran out of ideas four episodes into the first season. Who makes a show if you have less than four ideas for it?”
On the couch next to him, Lup clicks her tongue, looking up from the denim miniskirt she’s embroidering. “This plane just invented TV, remember? You can’t blame them for still working on the whole making-TV-good thing — they’ll hear you heckling, and they’ll give up right away and never get there, bud!”
Magnus huffs. Lup snorts, tossing him the remote.
“You can still turn it off,” she tells him, “just put on literally any other background noise. These skulls and marigolds aren’t gonna embroider themselves, and neither is my ADHD ass, if —”
“I gotcha, I gotcha.” Magnus clicks to another channel. Perhaps fittingly, it’s a recording of one of Taako and Lup’s post-Story and Song cooking tours. “Your ass isn’t so one of a kind, you know —”
“Barry would disagree.”
“Gross!” Magnus shoves her in the shoulder, and she elbows him back. “Seriously, that show, though. Couldn’t go an episode without that guy getting a new rebound crush — like, who gets five crushes in a year? Rebound or otherwise?”
(keep reading on ao3!)
55 notes · View notes
thoriffix · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i like the movie a lot
2K notes · View notes
kazumahashimoto · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
see you soon!
60 notes · View notes
spacedace · 5 days
Text
John Constantine knew what he was. Knew he wasn’t a good man. He tried, sometimes. Got credit for it more often than he should. But at the end of the day, he was a bastard of the highest sort and nothing was going to change that fact. A rogue and a rake through and through. He lied, he cheated, he stole, and delighted in doing so. Cut from the same cloth as ol’ Stingy Jack who tricked the devil into letting him live longer than he should and managed to keep himself out of hell to boot after he’d finally shuffled off his mortal coil. John liked to think his cloth had been sewn into a much sharper suit though. He’d been clever enough to avoid the dying altogether, no carrying around smoldering turnips in the bleak between of closed-off afterlives for him, thanks. He was a charlatan and a scoundrel, and many, many worse things besides. John knew what he was. The woman who appeared in his dank and stinking flop house room in the middle of the night knew what he was too.
The Wild Hunt calls. For better or worse, John Constantine answers.
-
Chapter 6 is up! 😄
49 notes · View notes
mooselybased · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
We're closing in on 30 fighters for our hypothetical Adventure Zone platform fighter, at which point I'm probably going to take a break from this series. But before we get there, we've got a few more characters to get through! Starting with our local demon prince, Gray!
Gray is fantastic at racking up damage, and is surprisingly quick for his size. Unfortunately, he actually only has a few moves that can knock out opponents early. As a result, Gray tends to have to play the long game.
Gray's neutral special throws out a poisoned onyx dagger. The move is quick, and while the dagger only does a small burst of damage, the poison slowly racks up additional damage for a few seconds after.
Gray's up special tears open a rift through his hell dimension, with an exit appearing a set distance away in the direction held. This move has practically no knockback, but the closer a foe is to the center of either the entrance or exit portal, the more damage they'll take.
Side special rushes forward to try and grab a foe. If successful, he will magically disguise himself as them. The disguise lasts for several seconds, but can be ended early by attacking or being hit. While active, the person the disguise was taken from will slowly accrue damage.
Gray's down special has him toss out an imp. The imp does some damage if it hits someone, but the real potential is it can be knocked around by all players. Stronger attacks send it flying faster, and hitting anyone except Gray may cause it to violently explode into ichor.
Gray's finale has him tear open a large rift into his hell dimension, from which a torrent of hell hounds pour in whatever direction he was facing. The dogs move somewhat erratically in a straight line, damaging and pulling along anyone in their path.
132 notes · View notes
rebelmist · 10 days
Text
DPXDC Prompt 2
I want to preface this post by saying, I freaking thrive off of morally-gray Danny so this what it shall be pertaining towards. Also omg I’ve have like 3 different versions of this idea, at least, but holy fuck does it come up at inconvenient times.
Not to mention my memory loss issues. So some parts maybe be freaking missing but I need to put this somewhere so I digress.
TW:Suicidal thoughts, self-dehumanization
It had been a good few years since Danny’s gotten lost in the Realms, far from his home, his normal, and his fraid. But, what else really was there left back in Amity…it had been all too good to be true. Danny had grown into finding a balance in heroics and personal life towards the later half of his junior year; he had even sat his parents down to confess about his identity as Phantom alongside the support from Jazz, Sam, and Tucker. His parents had been stunned to say the least until it all boiled down to tears of anguish and loud apologies from both of the older Fentons.
“Mom, Dad, …I don’t think I can safely say that it didn’t have it’s lasting effects but in the end think about this way. I’m definitely a Fenton cause I did get that portal to work after all, and survived. Fenton luck, you know how it is.”
Safe to say that while he was immediately chastised after by everyone, they definitely appreciated the joke to lighten the air. Maddie cracked a bit of a small smile and Jack let out a loud snort.
He was 17.
Oh it was just going so well, but nothing ever really stays that way, does it? Reminiscing felt bittersweet and all too raw, but then it all blossomed to sheer anger at his next memory. He, alongside many other Amity Parkers had become too compliant or carefree towards the GIW. They had created a concoction of sorts with Blood Blossoms to slowly smoke him out of his haunt, as they had taken a particular interest with him being vastly different compared to the other ghosts. There wasn’t much he could do, and while the actual flower had a less than desired effect on him being half-human still, they had somehow made it effect the people he protected to have to avoid him less he started to become weak, even for a second as they sent out ghostly beasts that he had to fight. He really should’ve trust his gut that there was more to it than that, they had figured out his identity then turned their interest to his fraid, as though to dissect what exactly made him special and became the way he is.
If it was his blood (the blood was everywhere, the broken pair of googles and pieces of a headband), if it was his bonds that held the closest towards his friends, (the fallen locks of black hair and shattered pda beside a dark-skinned hand) or if it was the location of his haunt itself, (his city had become ruins, a former shell of what it once was, toppled buildings and destruction galore). In the end, he been weakened and actively suffering from the cracks in his core as there was death after death in his home, enough to the point where he had been captured.
He distinctly remembers every slash, cut, blunt force, stabbing, drugging and so much more as he went under their examination. He was gagged, silenced, and used as their guinea pig to test weapons and tools to go after the other ghosts. He was put under a constant hazy fog but that didn’t stop him from hearing their words; their lips always become loose around him, treating him as if he was just air. The longer he stayed there, the more he lost faith in his own humanity. He lived in a constant state of self-contempt and guilt, which was at times encouraged by the other agents when they become too arrogant. He responded back with bites to their flesh in the past until they created a work-around. Overtime he became detached and distant in his nature, but the revenge for his haunt dug it’s claws deep into his soul. The whispers from the ectoplasm fueling him with powers to end this farce soon, there was nothing holding him back anymore.
There was a few of the more impressionable agents they had, that sometimes looked at him with pity and so he played them, made them let their guard down and manipulated them into loosen some restraints. He made them think they broke him.
He waited and waited until the time was right, and at last, the whispers said to let go, to raise hell and he did. For the first time in his life, he killed, maimed, and demolished the bodies—human bodies, until there’s was nothing left. He hunted down each and every station, and burned their research to the ground before he finally returned back to his haunt.
There has been nobody left there, either they were able to escape or dead, he had no idea but he was met with an empty and eerie feeling as he looked around the desolate area. Danny stumbled back towards his old house to see that remains of the carnage was still left there, his fraid left unburied and unmourned by anyone else but him within his core and mind. He couldn’t take it anymore, the cracks they had left behind still ached their spots in his core.
And so with what little semblance of sanity and humanity left in him, he dug their graves—his hands trembling the entire time. Once he buried what he could, and laid down what little flowers from weeds were left, he did the same to those he couldn’t save. He dug and dug graves for days, until the last was mourned and given an apologetic goodbye.
He never thought he’d find a time where he cursed himself for being half-alive but then he stood there, among the rubble and broke apart. He wailed the rest of his haunt away; piece by piece, memory by memory until he returned back to the building (his home) and made one final grave for his name to lay against his fraid. He laid there next to their gravestones and wept. Tears ran out and he soon fell into exhaustion, the next time he woke up, he dismantled what was left of the smaller projects until he was met by the very bane of his existence.
The portal funny enough was still standing, the agents hadn’t been successful in creating their own so they left it as is. All it could do was stare at it with a sneer, and with every step towards the closed portal, it started to feel more enticed into the Realms. The portal could stand for a few seconds while the frame self-destructed and that’s exactly what it wanted. It packed what little memorabilia that had survived the destruction; some pictures, materialistic items, and all of the documents left of it’s parents’ work.
There was officially nothing that tied it to this place and it couldn’t just end it’s own life, that’d be too simple, simply too merciful for the likes of it. So it started the self-destruct sequence and walked through, to ‘live’ in eternal suffering as that’s what it deserves.
It was freshly 22.
Now all it was is a pawn—one loyal to the League. It had drifted to a particular spot of the Realms that both seemed foreign and radiated anguish, and decided the spot would be where it will reside till it’s afterlife. Soon it had fallen through the Lazarus waters and fueled with something likeliness to a drug from the waters and it clung into it’s cracks with it’s core.
Later it was met by the one, that calls himself, Ra’s Al Ghul. Seemingly fascinated by it’s emergence, he called out for it to serve him and give ever-lasting undying loyalty.
It agreed.
It was now 29.
52 notes · View notes
ghibli-stims · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
📺 -> The Narrator (The Twilght Zone) Stimboard !
📦 -> with related stims !
📬 -> rqd by me !
📓 -> 📻 - 🎙 - 📻 / 🎙 - 🎙 / 📻 - 🎙 - 📻
🔓 -> requests closed ! rq info !
DNI -> NSFW/Kink/Bigots/Etc. I'll Block You.
67 notes · View notes
asjjohnson · 1 year
Text
When she'd started seeing white hairs, she bought hair dye. Valerie could at least afford that secret little luxury with her part-time job.
It wasn't a big deal. So what if she was only fourteen? It was stress. It'd been a hard several weeks and it was only normal to get a few gray hairs out of the mess.
Her dad had lost his job, they'd lost most of their money because of all the legal stuff, lost their house, most of their stuff had been either sold or broken, she'd lost all her friends, she'd needed to start looking for a job, her grades were slipping and she needed to bring them back up. So of course she'd see a few white hairs.
When she'd stopped falling off her board, no matter the angle, she figured she'd just gotten used to it. It was normal for a tool to begin to feel like an extension of someone's body. That's how things work. And it only made sense it would start feeling natural to be in the air. She was a ghost hunter. And she was good at it. Something was finally starting to go right.
Her eyes had always held a mix of blue and green. The contrast of the red suit just really brought out the green in them.
The suit had a slight glow. It was the power source—had to be. She could even feel the low hum through her body, under her skin. Some little motor somewhere—she didn't know where—that powered the suit. Probably on her back, under the backpack—she felt it strongest through her chest.
She knew there was electricity flowing through the suit. There was a little short in it at first. The very first time she'd put the suit on, she'd hit the 'on' button and got a shock. At least her dad hadn't been home to hear her shriek.
It hadn't been that bad. More surprising than anything. It happened the next two times as well. Just got her a little fried is all. And it'd stopped happening after the third time.
The suit must be hooked up to the Internet or something. Had downloaded a patch or software update that finally got it to stop. She didn't need to push a button at all anymore. It makes sense that it'd be downloading updates. The longer she uses the suit, the more abilities she realizes it has.
How she can materialize any weapon she can think of? The suit. How the suit can form around her with just a thought? Again, the tech of the suit. The endless ammo? The suit. She doesn't know how it all works, but she doesn't have to. And when she'd met Mr. Masters, the advanced tech made sense. He's a multi-billionaire. He can build anything.
Then, when her suit was taken away and a new one just formed out of nowhere? Must've been something from him. Some kind of upgrade. It still felt like her, so— her suit. It still felt like her suit. It still felt like it belonged to her. The same hum throughout her body, the same glow. It just had a new design and some extra power.
The only weird thing is, there's this ring.
Mayor Masters—at the time Mr. Masters—said it was passed down through generations of ghost hunters. (No wonder he was so good at designing a suit—it'd been his family business.)
The ring was so important, that even that Pariah dude had wanted it.
She hadn't thought much of it, though. What good was a ring? It was just a status symbol, right?
But, the thing is, ever since that day... the ring keeps showing up on the side of her bed each morning.
No matter where she puts it, or throws it, or hides it.
It shows back up beside her each time she wakes up.
273 notes · View notes
doctorwalrider · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Tbh I love Valerie but her lack of ability (along with damn near everyone else’s) inability to put “Danny Fenton” and “Danny Phantom” together made me low key wanna slap her repeatedly…….
Kinda like how Adrien had no idea his father was Hawk Moth/Shadow Moth/Monarch even tho he lives with the dude whilst Félix figured it out within a span less than 30 seconds of being in his house…..
29 notes · View notes
abyssa111 · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
86 notes · View notes