#she emaciated him and left him to die

[jewishbarbies]

my sister’s pony was euthanized this morning. he was too weak to stand and just really sick. this is of course after my sister said no to the vet’s recommended diet plan to make him better, but it was too late anyway. he was too far gone. I’m so fucking sick.

if you can’t afford to properly care for an animal, PLEASE find it a home with someone who can. you’re not a horrible person. it’s the most unselfish thing you can do for it.

#g talks #my sister probably isn’t even sad #she never is #she emaciated him and left him to die #and then was like ‘no we can’t feed him the good food that will fix him bc…money?’ #I hate her #I hate this #fuck #mine #/mobile

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Eleven)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: This one is a short one. Technically, it should have gone at the end of the last chapter, but it felt right putting it on its own. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the next chapter right after so you won't be waiting long lmao

I'm so excited already to get to Act Two where all the pain and angst is, where Simon is Ghost and I can torture you all with tears o3o Alas, I have more of Act One to get through lololol

Placebo - Come Home

Stuck between the do or die, I feel emaciated Hard to breathe I try and try, I'll get asphyxiated Swinging from the tallest height, with nothing left to hold on to

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home

Glass of petrol vodka gin, it feels like breathing ethane Throw yourself from skin to skin, and still it doesn't dull the pain Vanish like a lipstick trace, it always blows me away

Every cloud is grey, with dreams of yesterday

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Always goes against the grain, and I can try and deny it Give a monkey half a brain, and still he's bound to fry it Now the happening scene is dead, I used to want to be there too

Every sky is blue, but not for me and you

Come home, come home, come home, come home Come home, come home, come home, come home

Charlotte lay there stiffly, the sun starting to shine through the window. She hadn't slept at all, she hadn't been able to knowing Simon was being shipped off so soon. She felt a lot of things she couldn't quite make sense of, but the biggest one was sadness. Six months was a long time to not be able to see him and she was so used to his presence in her life that she knew she was going to struggle to be on her own again. 

It was stupid really, she’d known from the beginning he was military and yet she hadn't even thought about him being deployed, it hadn't even crossed her mind. The emotion weighed her down and clogged up her throat and she knew she was being dramatic and stupid. Or maybe she wasn't since they were official now. She was right to worry about her boyfriend being in a warzone, right? She wouldn't know, her last boyfriend had been a lazy twat. 

Simon was fast asleep, soft and deep steady breaths brushing the back of her neck while his arm lay heavily over her waist. He had to be up at 5am, had to leave by 6. Looking at the clock, she saw it was 4.30 and her heart dropped at what little time they had left. She was sure her eyes were red due to lack of sleep and maybe, just maybe, she'd silently cried a few times in the night. There were a lot of disjointed thoughts in her brain over this situation but it always came back to the same one. What if he doesn't make it home? 

The idea made her heart go cold and she clenched her jaw tightly as she willed her tears to stay away. She knew deep down what she felt for Simon was more intense than what she was used to. Was this real love? She thought she'd loved Ethan but it had been fleeting and barely there and really didn't take long before it was gone. This was something else. There had been a connection with him since the moment they met, some kind of tether pulling them together. She'd never really believed in soul mates and the whole red string of fate nonsense but Simon was making her rethink a lot of things. She'd never felt such an instant connection before, never felt things so deeply or so quickly.

It felt far too soon to be even thinking about such things yet, but now knowing he'd be gone for half a year, it felt like her feelings were staring plainly at her. She wouldn't tell him, not yet at least. She had no idea how he'd react and she wouldn't risk messing his head up before he left. She needed his head firmly affixed to his shoulders and working soundly when he was over there because the idea of him coming back in a coffin made her feel sick. Would she even get told? Did his family even know about her? So many thoughts and not enough energy, she felt her lower lip wobble again. 

She took a few deep and shaky inhales to steady herself, she wouldn't get upset in front of him and make him feel bad. This wasn't a guilt trip, she was just feeling far too much. As she glanced at the clock again, she figured she'd get up since the sleep ship had well and truly sailed. She could at least feed him before he was off. She wasn't sure if a full English would be too much, too heavy for the day he was going to have but you couldn't go wrong with some bacon butties. 

Carefully, she tried to extract herself from his grip and started to sit up. His hand snaked back around her though, splaying over her stomach and pulling her back against him with a tired groan. 

“Where d’you think you're goin'?” He asked. His voice was deep and raspy from sleep and she tried to relax even though she felt so tense. 

“Was gonna make some bacon butties for us before you… have to go,” she explained, clearing her throat, trying to shake the emotion that was stuck there. He hummed, the arm around her tightening as he placed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Five more minutes, yeah?” He asked, not really giving her a choice with his iron grip. She forced herself to relax in his hold, telling herself this would be the last time in six months she'd be waking up in his arms, that he'd be holding her. She wanted to soak it in, to memorize what it felt like. His thumb rubbed circles on the skin of her stomach, his nose rubbing at her neck softly. 

“Gonna miss this,” he admitted quietly. Her breathing stuttered at his honest admission and her body went rigid, blinking rapidly to stop the onslaught of tears that were threatening to break free. 

“Me too,” she replied with a strained voice. He moved then, rolling her over to face him. Those beautiful dark eyes scanned her face, taking in her tired, red eyes that shone from unshed tears. His brows pinched together a little as he let out a heavy sigh. She felt bad at being so openly sad about the situation, not wanting to make the whole thing worse. 

“You not sleep, love?” He asked knowingly. She shook her head, not trusting her voice in that moment when his warm eyes were shining with concern. 

His hand came to her face, a finger trailing across her cheek in a featherlight touch before moving back up and along her temple. It danced across her forehead before sliding down the bridge of her nose, all the way down to the tip and then back up. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling and how gentle his touch was. He mapped out the planes of her face for a moment longer before his fingers then trailed down her neck, down her arm until it reached her hand. He took it gently and her eyes opened once more, watching as he brought it to his mouth, placing a sweet kiss on it. He placed it between them both, his hand still enveloping hers. 

“Wanted to ask somethin'...” He murmured, sounding unsure. It always surprised her when he seemed unsure of himself for a man such as him. 

“What is it?” She asked, watching as his eyes darted across her face. 

“Wanted to know if uh… if you wanted to write to me when I'm over there,” there was something shining behind his eyes she couldn't quite place as he asked but she felt her chest warm up at his words. 

“I'd really like that,” she smiled. 

It was a stupidly romantic thought, one she'd never really considered. She'd always been a bit of a romantic deep at heart but she hadn't been able to pay much mind to it outside of indulging herself in sappy romance novels. Her life hadn't had a place for romance in the past and yet the soldier in front of her had been quite romantic in their short time together. The flowers on her nightstand were proof of that. A handsome smile tugged at his lips at her answer and he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers firmly. It was a chaste kiss, one that carried a deep longing and yearning from the separation they both knew was coming. 

“I should make breakfast,” she murmured when he pulled away. She didn't really want to get out of bed, to leave his presence, but she knew time was running out. She wanted to see him off with a full stomach, she wouldn't be selfish. He opened his mouth and she had a strong feeling he'd been going to protest, so she quickly darted out of bed. She knew it wouldn't take her much convincing to abandon her plans of feeding him to stay in bed with him instead. 

She sorted herself out in the bathroom before swiping his jumper off the floor, sliding it over her head to stave off the cold and to enjoy the deep, spicy scent she loved so much. She padded over to the drawers to get a fresh pair of knickers before moving over to the kitchen. She busied herself with making the food but her eyes kept darting to the clock. The ticking felt louder and louder with each passing second, like it was mocking her and her aching heart. 

She heard Simon rummaging around in his bag but she left him to get ready as she tried to get the bacon just how he liked it. He slid behind her, something she noticed he seemed to love to do, not that she minded, and wrapped his arms around her. One of his hands slid up inside of the jumper to lay over her bare stomach. It wasn't a sexual touch, but one of intimacy and she felt her body melt into him as she tried to continue with the food. It made her feel a little better that he seemed to want to be attached to her, like maybe she wasn't the only one bothered by the whole thing. 

“Alright, foods ready,” she murmured, putting it on the plates. He released her then, grabbing the plates for the pair of them before he went over to the couch. Nothing good was on tv at this time so she just left some cheesy infomercials on while they ate in a tense silence. His leave was like a dark cloud looming over them both. He finished before her and once she was done, he grabbed both of their plates and put them on the coffee table in front of him out of the way. 

“Come here, love,” he held his hand out to her, gesturing with his head for her to come to him and she did without thought. She was careful when she moved to straddle him that her bare thighs didn't scrape on his belt now he was decked out in his fatigues ready to go. She settled into him and he used his hand on the back of her head to guide it to his shoulder. One of her hands clutched his t-shirt, the other wrapped around him as she snuggled into him, breathing in his scent deeply. 

“Just wanna hold you for a bit, yeah?” he asked and his soft and gentle tone broke something inside of her. She felt the lump expand in her throat and she pressed her face into his neck as the waterworks started. She felt so stupid, she promised herself she’d wait until he was gone. He didn't need the drama. 

“Lottie… Don’t cry… please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he held her tighter, the hand on her head pressing her closer to him. 

“I’m sorry… just ignore me, I’m being stupid,” she sobbed pitifully, her chest stuttering as she tried to suppress them to no avail. 

”It's not stupid, love,” he chided but she didn't reply as she stayed put, crying into his neck. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m gonna miss you, as well?” he asked and she scrunched her face up at the pain that lanced through her chest. His fingers massaged her scalp and she wished it would soothe her but it didn't. 

“Or that I’ll be thinkin’ of you every day I’m over there? That I have somethin’ to look forward to, comin’ back to you?” he finished and there was a weight in his tone that made her sit up, looking at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes looked troubled at her emotional state and she wiped her eyes quickly, trying to compose herself. The idea that he’d miss her and was already looking forward to coming back to her eased the knot in her chest somewhat.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry,” she sniffled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She really hadn’t mean to be so emotional in front of him. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the residual tears that lay there.

“Don’t need to be sorry, love,” he said firmly, giving her a look that told her he meant it. She was just used to always apologizing for things, it was second nature to her. A habit he was trying to help her break. 

She lay one of her hands over his that was still on her cheek, tilting her head to lean into him, seeking out his warmth. He watched her for a long moment, those piercing brown eyes feeling like they could see down to her very soul. She wished she could know what went on in that head of his sometimes. She felt like she was so easy to read and half the time with Simon, she felt lost. 

His eyes cut from her to the clock on the wall, a deep frown pulling at his brows that told her it was time. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the chest. He looked back at her then, his mouth opening and closing for a moment as if he couldn't figure out what to say.

“I uh… I always felt like I was livin’ life in the dark. Just goin’ through the motions, gettin’ on with it. But then… then you came along and suddenly everythin’ was bright light. Every fuckin’ dark corner of my miserable life was lit up and you chased all the shadows away…” his words were rushed as if he was just spewing his thoughts as they came to him and her heart felt like it stopped beating entirely. 

Had she really made him feel that way? Did he really like her that much? She felt like he had to be talking about someone else, she felt like she hadn’t done much to get him to feel that way. But his warm and soft gaze told her he was indeed talking about her. 

“I’m really glad I have you in my life, Simon,” she admitted, not having such poetic words as he did but hoping it got the message across. A few things flit across his face at a pace she couldn't keep up with but then he smiled and it seemed like his dark eyes were glowing amber. 

“I’m glad too, love,” he replied fondly, stroking her cheek again before he moved his hand. She knew that was her cue, knew he didn't really want to say the words that he had to leave. She didn't want to make this harder on either of them so she got up, feeling the cold already. She hovered near the door as she watched him fuss about his duffel bag for a moment before he came over to her with a handful of t-shirts. He handed them out to her and she took them, raising a brow.

“What are these?” she asked even though she knew what they were and she should have been asking why he was giving them to her. He shifted on his feet, running a hand through his short hair.

“I… I haven't washed ‘em. I know you like to sleep in ‘em so I thought…” he trailed off and she felt a blinding warmth hit her suddenly in her chest. It was so thoughtful she almost burst into tears again. She brought the pile of tops up to her face, burying her nose in them for a moment to confirm they really did smell like him. It was so overwhelmingly comforting. 

“Thank you,” she swallowed thickly, her eyes shining with unshed tears and his face told her he fully understood how much she appreciated the gesture. 

“Could I…” his mouth floundered, his cheeks turning a light pink color that she never got sick of seeing on him. It was rare he blushed but she was still shocked he blushed at all. “Could I have one of yours?” he finally spat out, unable to look at her. She wanted to make a witty quip about how it wouldn't fit him to sleep in but she could see it took a lot for him to ask her that. She wanted him to be able to talk to her or ask her for anything, no judgment. So instead, she nodded eagerly, moving to the wash basket. There was a t-shirt in there that hadn’t been washed yet and she moved over to her nightstand, spraying her perfume on it for good measure. She padded back over to him, handing him the shirt and he gratefully took it, stuffing it into his bag quickly as if he was trying to hide evidence. 

“I’m keeping this for now too,” she remarked cheekily, tugging at the soft jumper she’d commandeered from him earlier. She wanted to lighten the mood a little before he left and she didn't want him feeling so self-conscious around her. It seemed to work as his lips quirked up in that lopsided smile she was so fond of.

“Guess I’ll let you since I won’t need it,” he huffed playfully and she smiled up at him. 

His eyes danced around her face for a moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss. It started off gentle but it was like a sudden urgency had come over him. He grasped her face, deepening the kiss as he explored every inch of her mouth. She moaned softly, clutching onto him for dear life as he tried to suck the soul out of her body. It wasn't just a kiss, it was a whole fucking experience and when he pulled away she felt like she was in another dimension. She blinked slowly up at him and a proud smirk graced his face. It didn't last too long though as the reality seemed to hit him again at the time.

“I’ll let you know the address to write once I get back to base,” he said and she nodded. She was eager to write to him, it was better than no contact at all. She quickly moved to wrap her arms around his middle, squeezing him one last time. His arms wrapped around her like snakes trying to constrict her as he pressed his nose into her hair.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he murmured and she nodded, giving him one last squeeze before she reluctantly let him go.

“I’ll see you soon, Simon,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably. 

He gave her one last sad look before he turned and left through the door, jogging down the steps. She shut the door quickly, leaning against it as a sob ripped from her throat again. She knew she needed to get it all out after trying to keep herself in check in front of him. So she allowed herself to cry it out, to feel every shitty emotion she was feeling, because she’d never get through six whole months if she tried to bottle it up. 

#simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc

[daboyau]

I can't decide on either Animal Attack, Open Wounds, or Failed Rescue. Aaaaaaa-

maybe an ally try to save the character from an animal attack but was unsuccessful and left them with their wounds idk you're the writer

idk these are the three I offer do what you will with them.

-pcw (the letters mean something I swear)

Ooo okay this was fun to do. I ended up going with animal attack. (Loosely lol) I hope you like!! 🙏

@boots-with-the-fur-club

He stumbles upon the District Ten tribute twelve hours into the Game. She’s been dragged halfway into the water by one of the strange, colorful beasts that populate the neon hellscape that makes up this year’s arena. She’s clutching the branches of a spindly little blue tree that overhangs the shore, arms trembling, hands bloodied from their razor-wire branches. The creature seems content to wait until she finally loses the strength to fight back, neon pink eyes blinking slowly from just above the rippling waterline, its clawed, reptilian hands digging into her hips as it keeps her still and pulls her slowly down. 

Yoshi almost leaves. He already knows that he is unwilling to help carry her through to the finale of this bloodbath. Surely, it would be so much kinder to let her go now, when the death itself will be quick and impersonal instead of messy and inexperienced. At least this way, she won’t have to spend any more time than she already has in pain or in fear.

It’s the best option, and he’s determined to walk away. 

But then she looks at him. Her eyes are dull and sad and hopeless. She looks at him, and she doesn’t for even one second dare to dream that he will help. It’s the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever seen, and he knows he cannot allow this to be the moment she is lost to the world. 

He’s leaping into action before he has a chance to think anything through. The beast screeches and snaps teeth the size of knives at him, lips pulled back, eyes flashing with fury and hunger. Those teeth and claws are really all it has going for it. Its body is thin, almost emaciated. Yoshi wraps his hands around its spindly little neck and he squeezes, snarling right back, ignoring the way its claws tear through his skin, leaving deep gashes that leak blood into the tumultuous waters that it is fighting to drag him deeper into.

He wins that little battle. This creature wasn’t built for a real fight, and Yoshi has been training to survive for the last 17 years of his life. When he drops its still form and turns to make his way back to the shore, he sees the girl he just saved waiting for him on the unnaturally yellow sand. She’s shaking, terrified, but she silently offers him a torn strip of her jacket to wrap around his wounds. 

They form what could be loosely called an alliance. He doesn’t kill her. She doesn’t kill him. They alternate who’s on watch so no one can sneak up on them at night while the other one sleeps. They share what little food they’re able to scavenge, and in the quiet moments they keep one another company.

She tells him her name is Mosely. She’s fourteen and the youngest of seven children. She’s been ready to die since the moment her name was drawn. There’s no chance she’s leaving this arena with a pulse. They both know it, though neither will say it.

Yoshi tells her what little there is to tell. Of the broken remnants of a family (all dead or estranged or disappeared in some other way). Of the little seaside shack he’s worked hard to turn into a home. He shows her how to make an eel trap. He teaches her how to throw a punch.

When the District One boy attacks them, he cuts his throat and the blood stains her shirt. The girl from Eleven meets a similar fate. After he gauges the eyes from the skull of the District Seven boy, and strangles the District Nine girl, he finds that there’s really no use in taking shifts at night. He can’t sleep anymore. The nightmares won’t let him rest for even five minutes.

Mosely doesn’t say much to him, but she does watch him with those dark, sad eyes of hers. She looks like she knows something he doesn’t. Sometimes, she’ll open her mouth like she wants to tell him, but she never actually lets her words spill out. He never does learn what she wanted to tell him. 

On the fourth night, he loses her. 

Two other tributes distract him while their companion grabs Mosely. He doesn’t even hear her scream. He just turns around and sees her crumpled on the ground, blood a dark pool against the neon green of the grass, her dark curls soaked in it. He can see the white of skull through her hair, and the greyish-pink of brain matter beyond that. Her eyes stare straight through him, bloodshot and bulging. Her mouth hangs open, like that secret she’d held so close to her chest is still waiting to spill forth. 

Yoshi doesn’t remember how the rest of the fight went. All he knows is that at the end, there are three strangers’ bodies scattered around them, and he is cradling Mosely’s small form in his lap, telling her he’s sorry while her sad eyes go flat and dull.

They’d both known it would end like this.

#rise hunger games au #asks #Anon asks #Pcw anon #I’m having so much fun writing for these prompts #Thank you (and anyone else who send one!!) for giving me the chance to stretch my writing muscles #And the chance to expand on rhg lore too!!! #Rottmnt #my writing #Character death #head trauma #RHG Extras

[canarycolemine]

Death and the Promises He Made

Chapter 4: Stay with Me

Pairing: Papa Emeritus II x Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, references to abuse (emotion, sexual), anxiety attacks

The ease one feels after making so permanent a decision. Like an exhale, natural. That’s how I felt, suspended in time.

Perhaps a few minutes passed after he made his promise, or it could have been a lifetime. We sat.

In those suspended moments, a brief vision came to mind - rapeseed fields, blooming in spring - the  beauty of the changing seasons. The desert never changed - bareness, unforgiving and fixed, in blinding heat of summer and brief reprieve of winter. Landscape - untouched by Earth’s eternal cycle. It felt sweet, almost, to think about how I will watch the flowers bloom and wither and die. And to be so assured that they will come back as winter ends. That will be my life with this man. So much unsettled, but the expectation of impermanence was comforting.

As I sat in the dream, Secondo stood - I hardly noticed it. He shifted throughout the room, settling on something on the bed. His back turned to me, he spoke.

“My apologies, Eden. I do not have much more to offer.”

Back to reality. He was opening a suitcase, shuffling through his garments. 

“Would you like to take a look?” He asked, turning to me.

I stood, curious by the question, and approached him. His garments were impeccably stored, neatly folded. He handed a garment to me, a pair of sweatpants.

“These, I like, they are very comfortable. The inside, see here, is so soft. Hotel rooms get so cold, you know.” I took the item from him, he continued. “I have a few shirts, too, not just button up shirts - that’s not, eh, the most relaxing shirt to wear. Look through them, pick the one you’d like.”

“Do you want me to change?”

“That dress is covered in evil. I want you to rest well tonight, you cannot rest well with it on.”

I smiled softly at his remark. The dress was covered in evil - my skin recoils in the cheap white material. How perverse, really, it all was. 

I paused, abusing the skin around my fingernails.

“He, um Eddie, told me to wear it. He said it would make me look like a virgin, like pure. Those fuckers get off to that shit.” I don’t know why I told him that, but that was the evil it was covered in. The perverse thoughts and stares just as woven into the dress as the Nevada desert dust. 

“You have been through too much.” He reflected. 

I nodded. Nothing left to say.

He moved away from the suitcase, behind me, to the bathroom I hadn’t even examined yet.

“Would you like to take a shower?” 

“I would.” Turning to him, a whisper of a smile on my face. 

The bathroom was just as opulent as his tastes demanded - white marble covering every visible surface, it seemed. Only broken by the crisp clean walls of white and brilliant ruby of the shower curtain, revealing the largest shower I had ever seen.

“Nice, yes?” He chuckled at me, evidentially noticing before me how slack my jaw had gone at the sight of the room.

“I’ll leave these here for you, once you’re finished. Take as long as you need to, a good shower is good for the soul.” Placing the sweatpants and a shirt I hadn’t noticed he picked out for me onto the countertops. “There is some soap and shampoo around here, somewhere. I haven’t needed it, you see.”

I felt the ease again, letting slip the terrible memories.

How playful he could be.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” A warmth grew in my body, relaxation. I trusted him.

“You are welcome, Eden.” His hand reached out towards mine, how he dwarfed mine by comparison. But so, so steady he held as he brought his lips to the back of my hand. “I will leave you now.”

And so he did, he let the door close softly behind him. Hearing the latch click, I debated locking the door. But I didn’t. I undressed, gazing at myself in the large, gold rimmed mirror of the room.

This body, how she had carried me through all of this wickedness. I looked so frail, emaciated. I could count each rib, turning to my back to graze over the vertebrae of my back. And the pallor of my skin - the deep blue veins webbing just under my skin, so visible. How I had lived in so hot a place and managed to avoid all the kindness of the sun. 

I could slip into the fantasy so quickly - of how my skin would look, filled out and well fed. The pads beneath my eyes crinkling with age, not by lack of water. Feeling the sun on my skin again, I would see my freckles again. I would be rich with color again. Once I leave with Secondo, I go home. I get taken care of. No longer would I look like this ghost.

Mindlessly caught in the fantasy, I showered and sweetly savored the warmth of the water. The water pressure was nothing like the trailer I’d never return to. The rich jasmine shampoo lathering and rinsing the past away. 

What a diligent shower, baptismal even. I cleaned myself from the filth of the past.

Half of my heart told me to stay in the shower forever, at perfect peace. I felt almost a whisper of anxiety leaving the shower, drying myself, worried for the rest of the night - what next? Would he make me kiss him? Repay the debt in some way?

I should give in to the kindness of this stranger. Hope for the best, as optimistic he’s made me. 

I exited the room, my hair wrapped in a towel to dry. Unassuming as possible, as casual I could manage, my eyes scanned the room - like prey, always waiting to be struck. 

But he wasn’t there to pounce. The skull faced man sat up, legs extended on the bed. A few buttons undone, the details of his delicate paint starting to fail. Around his eyes, just underneath, as if he shed a silent tear. 

Apparently, my wonder showed clearly on my face. 

“Do I have something on my face?” He nearly shocked me into reality. 

“Oh! No, sir, sorry. It just looked like, your makeup.” I gestures subtly to my face. 

“What about it?” He asked, too cold for my sensitivity. “What’s wrong with my face?” His glare remained. 

I could feel blood rush to my face. Fear. The familiar lump in my throat, choking on the words. My body told me danger. 

I stumbled through any words, whispers of tears in my eyes. 

“Oh no, Eden, I am sorry.” Secondo stood, sensing my reaction. 

But the blood in my ears told me to freeze. My heart raced, time stilled. 

His strong arms wrapped around me, the most contact we’ve had. In the haze of frozen adrenaline, my body was shifted back onto the bed, but still wrapped in his arms. I was rocked, so gently. His voice came to me. 

“It’s alright. Hush, now.” I was crying, and I have no memory of starting. “I should have been more careful speaking to you.”

My mind was returning to now, registering safety in his arms. My body still reeling. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. 

His hand, no longer leather clad, was brought to my chin, gently guiding my gaze to his. 

“Darling Eden. You do not to be needing to apologize. So many men have been so careless with you. So selfish to your mind. And your body cannot forget.”

I closed my eyes, for a moment, clasping my hands close to my chest. A silent prayer that he is a man of his word. 

A small sensation on my arm, immediately opening my eyes to my body. A tear had fallen onto my arm, not my own. My eyes followed the path it took, and it took me to Secondo's eyes. His jaw was locked, a tear falling silently on his face, muddying the pristine lines further. 

The comfort I paid back to him, my hands met his face, my thumbs gently wiping the blackened tears from his face. 

His head leaned into my hand, a comfort. 

We sat silently, gazing at the other. Contented in our shared brokenness. 

“Who are you, Secondo?”

“What?”

“C’mon, I gave you my shitty life story.” I fiddled with the button of his shirt. “You're a satanic priest, you love broken people, and you have expensive taste. But who are you? Really.”

“I think you have just answered that, no?” He began long, soothing strokes over my arms.

“No, I said things about you. That’s not who you are. Who are you to yourself?”

“That’s a long story, Eden.” His voice was steady but undercut with tension, apprehension. Like he was cautioning me.

“I want to know. Please.”

“You want to know me?” It was as if no one had ever asked about the man beneath the paint.

I nodded.

“Well, then.” He cleared his throat, pausing to think of where to start. “People usually only want to know me for my power. They are afraid of me, but they want to have the control I do.”

“Painting your face to look like a skeleton probably doesn’t help that, too.” 

He patted my head. “No, no. I suppose it doesn’t. I have a lot of control, Eden. I have a lot of things to control. When I was a child, there was a lot of expectation put on my shoulders. I was born in Italy, living and studying there as a boy. My brothers and I, learning about the ways of the old one. It sounds idyllic, yes?”

“Far from it, though. My brothers and I were forbidden from leaving the grounds, day in and day out of studying. Aside from the tutors, my eldest brother carried the weight of truly taking care of me and my youngest brother.” 

“My brothers, my life. But, he had his responsibilities, too, he was a child, too. Not fit to take care. But me, too, I felt an undue responsibility to take care of my youngest brother. He is not much younger than myself, but he really did look up to me. Truly, I would say the thing I should have had was my father and my mother.”

“What happened to them?”

“My father is alive and well. If I am the Pope, then he is God - illusive and all powerful. He has all the influence people think I truly have, but I am nothing but his marionette.”

“I never knew his love, as I should have. He was always distant and cold. Very quick to criticize and keep score between myself and my brothers. My brothers, though, were my life then, even now, too. How cruel he was to drive us apart. When we were older, he took all manner of manipulation to separate us - by keeping us countries apart, festering resentment in each other, hurting lovers. Cruel things.. There, there once we were isolated, he would get me to do wicked things on his account. All for the promise of his love, or to see my brothers again. Vile things, I cannot say…”

“What about your mother?”

“Who’s to say? I never knew of her. Neither her name or her face. Just like my brothers, we all had different mothers. She was a pawn in my father’s game. I have… heard rumors she was murdered after I was born, or that she ran away to escape my father. But I do not know.”

“I know I needed a mother. A nurturing person, to soften the blows from my father. A reminder that regardless of the evil I think of myself, that I was made out of a union of love. But, I have never had that reassurance. I suppose that is my very belief of myself, I was made out of evil.”

“I don’t think you’re evil.” I whispered, braving to stand opposed to him.

“You don’t know what I’ve done for my father.” His words were cautious to me, but sincere.

“Why, though? After all that he’s put you through?”

“I have a very important part to play in my world. The selfish part of me likes the power - nice things, beautiful places, beautiful women.” His face was covered in disgust. “But, it’s all meaningless to me, I just want my father to be proud of me. That’s the worst part.”

Tears fell silently again. 

“Ah. Eden. Seeing you on the stage…” his voice quivered, “You don’t deserve horrific things to happen to you. Isn’t it just awful? Wicked things happen everyday, and we are all unable to stop them.”

“You’ve saved me, Secondo.”

His glassy eyes gazed at me, a warmth to them. Like no one has spoken to him like that before.

“I could say the same for you, Eden.”

For a while, we sat silently, safe in each other's arms. I could have sworn our hearts fell into the same rhythm. He would rock us, back and forth, as his cries continued. Sniffles broke through the silence. His body was warm, as was mine. 

I looked at him, lifting my head from his chest. My hand, holding his face so tenderly, as if he was made of glass. 

This trust I felt for him - it was something else now. A shift, unmistakable; the warmth in my chest bloomed. Maybe it was circumstances, maybe I’ve been broken for too long to rush into a good feeling. But maybe, it was real.

I loved him.

His shining eyes - welcoming. The pale eye showed a new warmth. Perhaps. 

Perhaps he felt this way too.

The pulling of me towards him. Our foreheads united, our eyes now closed, shedding the tears of unspoken feelings. I pulled back from him, staying on his lap, gazing at his thoroughly ruined paint.

“Oh nothing, nothing, nothing in this world

Can keep us apart

Oh, my dearest darling

I offer you my heart …” 

An offering - as he sang to me, to make me comfortable, now I will to him.

“Will you dance with me, Eden?”

“Yes.” 

He gently set me down, as he stood. I did not notice a record player, sitting atop a magnificent chest. A small stack of records, I could only guess it was his personal collection. 

But so diligently, he flipped through his collection, settling on one particular album. I couldn’t see what he chose, only that he gazed at the cover with reverence. Carefully, he slide the vinyl from it’s worn sleeve. The needle lifted, delicately placing the old vinyl into place. So precisely, dropping the needle into position. 

He let the music begin, and then I could tell instantly. It was Billie Holiday, “Lady in Satin.” I knew this album well, but I could never sing it as well as it deserved. 

Still facing the record player, he began to sway his hips. But he turned to me, with a look of love in his eyes. His gaze belonged to me - how sweet to be the tender object of affection. But no longer was I an object, a complete person. Myself. 

He leaned back onto the cabinet, crossing his arms and just revering me. Though painted, his lips curled to a gentle smile. 

I stood up, walking towards him. I only hoped my eyes could convey that same reverent look as his. He reached his hand to mine, the invitation. 

I grabbed his hand, feeling his very essence pulling me towards him. Like his own gravity. 

The record played, softly, the hallmark grain of physical music gave a warmth to the room, unmistakable. 

For Heaven’s sake,

Let’s fall in love

It’s no mistake, to call it love…

His hand holding mine, the other safely on the small of my back, keeping me close. We swayed as one. His strong steps guiding our movements. 

It all felt so easy. So simple. 

Being held by him, in the low lights of a hotel room, listening to Billie’s rich voice. He kept me safe. 

Don’t say a word my darling

Don’t break the spell like this

Just hold me tight 

We’re alone in the night…

Secondo guided me to spin, wrapping his arms around my body to dip me. I chuckled at his advanced choreography. A small kiss he pressed to the top of my head. 

No words we said for what felt like hours. I just looked in his eyes, felt his heartbeat in my hands. But even in the silence, I have never felt more heard. 

The truth now. I am free. 

Perhaps this is home - safe, in the strong arms of death, himself.

#papa emertius ii #ghost bc fanart #ghost band fic #ghost fic #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii x female character #secondo #papa secondo #secondo fic #secondo x reader

[solaceinabandonment]

😔, 3️⃣, 🤑, 😰 for coffincest! (Sorry idk anything about that game ^^;)

- @nsfwitchy

Coffincest (and more recently gravecest) is the fan name for the pairing of Ashley Graves and Andrew Graves from The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. They are a 22/20 year old pair of siblings who are confined to their apartment and left to starve, and also have a veeeeeery toxic and codependent relationship. While there is no explicit incest in the game, there is enough subtext that we have multiple pages on ao3 now lol.

😔 - Any sexual fantasies/kinks they’re ashamed of?

Andrew is ashamed of the entire relationship, at least initially, Ashley could not give less of a fuck if she tried. She loves bringing it up to fuck with him, because it means he'll be extra needy towards her later, and she craves all his attention.

3️⃣ - Pick 2 characters to join them in a threeway, and explain why you picked these two.

I feel like both of them are way too violently jealous to ever let anyone else that close, However, I could see them fucking in front of someone just to see their reaction. Popular targets for this are just anyone who makes the mistake of hitting on either of the siblings, or their Mom, because frankly she's the community hate sink. The bitch. (She knows what she did)

🤑 - Would they hire a sex worker? Would they do sex work themselves?

So I think there was a teaser on one of the developer updates where Ashley finds a billboard with a bunch of numbers on like "call xxx for a good time" and she jokingly suggests putting her own number up to make some money. Andrew shoots it down immediately and offers some good reasons not to.

Thinking about it, probably not. Again, they are murderously protective/possessive of each other. If they did do anything like that it would absolutely be a trap and you definitely would die lol!

😰 - Is there anything sexual that they find upsetting?

For Ashley, degradation. She cares way too much about what Andrew thinks of her, he calls her anything even remotely mean and she might actually cry.

For Andrew? Okay, so you remember how they are literally starving during the game? I feel like Andrew would feel a deep burning wrath every time he sees Ashley's emaciated body. Just the sight of what the world has done to his beloved little sister makes him want to do unholy things to the people that caused it.

@nsfwitchy sorry it took so long to get to this, I've been busy and didn't realize I could just copy paste the questions from the original ask lol, but here you go.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #shipcest #proship #andrew x ashley #ashley x andrew #gravecest #ashley graves #andrew graves #nsft #asks #coffincest #nsfwitchy

[hopefullyitsextensivebule]

Danny & the Kiszka Gods AU:

Josh, Jake and Sam are deities from another plane of existence, and while they know everything when it comes to the stars and the galaxy, they don’t know shit about humans and human life.

Josh is constantly observing and questioning human interactions and relationships, and even trying to have some of his own, but it ends up with him being by himself because people just don’t

Sam is instantly in love with the Earth: he left the trees, the grass, the creatures that live on the planet, and even has his own terrarium that he manifest and conjures up in his room.

Jake is often listening to all forms of music and dialect, deeply immersing himself in the musical arts.

And all three of them, gather their information and share it amongst one another in hopes of learning everything about humans.

When they experience death, they realize how short human life is, everyone deserves to live their life to the fullest

^^Josh takes heed of this and tries to cherish every single moment in his state of being as much as possible.

I know in an interview Josh states that he does not care for types and that it’s really more about the energy: So imagine him having a kindred spirit with someone in this AU. he experienced love and lost, and he cherish every single moment

Jake also experienced love, but it’s monogamous and with one person. He doesn’t know how to express love because deities don’t feel love from where they’re from. But with this particular individual, he feels like ‘his heart will come out of his chest’.

Danny has explained to him that what he is experiencing his love, and that Jake explores it more but in his own time.

Sam abducts a dog: it was an abused pitbull that was chained up and emaciated. Her name is Violet.

Daniel sees just how attached Sam gets when the pup is with him. He washes her beats her, even makes a shrine for her and blesses it with everlasting life so she literally can’t die. 

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka #gvf au

[uzumakisavior]

"There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." [ Cult Geto <3 ]

The leadership counsel keep their lips sewn shut. The tension lay thick in the air, and the deafening silence rang within its four walls. All eight members hold their breath-- doing their best to control any movement with their stiff, inflexible bodies. 

    The 9th member, the Publics Relations Manager Aoi Suzuki, grits her teeth. Suzuki is the only member standing, just as Master Geto asked, and she doesn't bear to look at him. Her eyes fixate on the wooden table in front of her. Beads of sweat gather on her patchy black hairline.

     "Answer me, Suzuki." Geto's voice remains firm and composed. A sneer pulls taught at the corner of his lips, mocking any sense of safety and hope. His hand reaches into his yukata, seeking for something important.

     "If these carefully, tactfully written letters aren't from you -" Suguru removes small stack of handwritten letters from his attire, then tosses them in front of him. Several pages slide across the conference table, some almost flitter in the wind. "Then who? Who else would tarnish the name of our tranquil abode. Why would anyone speak ill will of our liberated community? Isn't it our job to unshackle the masses, not push them away." Suguru's tone morph into a form of malignent playfullness. "Spoiling our heavenly mission -...hmm....I would say - fall under the guise of treason, would it not?"

    Suguru's words sharply ring in Aoi's ears. They echoe in the corners of her mind like an ominous beating drum. She was - in fact - stealthily warning the public of Geto's cult. Suzuki has valuable connections to the media and other public outlets, an advantage Geto sought to exploit. As a result, Suzuki was personally hired by Geto to gather more lost souls to freedom. While her networking skills proved itself useful to him, but she couldn't stand by and watch people die any longer. Her guilty consciousness ate away at her psyche and health. Compliance was the flame swallowing her whole.

    A devoted follower pretended to be Aoi's next business partner. A secret few that Geto has chosen to spy on other members. Suzuki told them to keep away from the group, occasionally sending a letter or two explaining why. Her aggregious mistake revealed her true intentions to Master Geto himself, and now her foolishness was coming at a price. Possibly her own life.

     Suguru leans forward, resting his chin on his on his palm. Eyebrows crease harshly in a macabre display of intent, and a cold- unrelenting stare glues onto Aoi. This threatening ear to ear grin remains. "Well....?" He asks, his words icy enough to chill bones.

     The 8 members glance at one another from across the table. Pupils shrink, but otherwise, eyes remain the same. All sit statuesque to avoid becoming involved in the scene. All but their visitor, a pink haired, gentle, sweet voiced woman who had the honor to sit beside Master Geto. Without her, Master Geto would sit alone at the end of the long rectangular conference table.

      Suzuki's clammy skeletal palms held onto the seat, resting beside her. Shallow breath work against the pounding heart hitting her chest.   Speak...speak.speak.speak idiot speak!! she thinks. Her anxiety held its grip on her stuttering voice and shaky emaciated lips. Tears well up by the mild crows feet wrinkling at the corner of her eyes. Aoi's knees grow weaker and weaker.

    "I-I'm sorry!!" She cries. "Master Geto. I-I was lost!!  Lost!! I didn't know wh-what I was thinking. I'm so stupid. I'm an idiot. My f-flame - Yeah!"  Aoi's petite, delicate body drops to the ground. She gets on her knees and kneels low enough for her nose to press against the hardwood floor.

     "M-My ailment. It's the fire. The fire w-was consuming me. M-My thoughts. Free me Master G-Geto. I promise, it won't b-be left unchecked again. I swear to you." Tears escape her nose, making her sniffle in between her words.

    The cult leader's smile only pulled tighter at her display of remorse. His full menacing teeth reveal themselves for all to witness. A distorted sense of joy triggers his nerves as adrenaline pushes its way into his blood. Aoi's distress and her suffering were purely gratifying.

"Yes. Snuffing out those treasonous flames. I can do that for you, Aoi" Suguru mocks. "Any potential flame that threatens our community deserves to be smothered. For all of us."

      Suguru raises his free hand and extends his open palm to face her. The moment he was about to summon a curse spirit, he feels a warm firm weight on his shoulder. He looks at the corner of his eye and sees Maeve with her hand on him. Despite the conference's unsettling foreboding energy, Maeve demeanor remains calm and helpful. The light of his soul sat beside him. How could Geto forget about her presence? Did he completely neglect the possibility of his sunshine witnessing the worst of him? Still, Maeve's warmth reels him in, presence alone with power to ground him.

    Suguru begrudgingly closes his palm to a fist. A low, grumpy growl hums at his throat.

"Aoi's treason isn't to be taken lightly, however, I feel merciful today. So I ask all of you to kneel. Kneel if you seek to prove your loyalty me. My mercy is limited, so I challenge you not to spoil this rare opportunity."

    A chorus of abrupt, chaotic, shuffling changes the atmosphere. Power and control was still at the forefront, but the tension and weariness from the other members morph into panic. Each of them follow Aoi's example. They scramble to their knees, palms face down above their heads, noses press against the floor.

    A memory plays in Suguru's mind. Earlier within the week, Maeve had entered his study. She approached him and said, "There's no victory in making someone kneel against their will." With her words playing in his mind, he whispers to Maeve,

"This here, observe. Would you not call this a victory?"

#ofrosegold #Master Geto #Cult Geto

[chloearit]

// discussion of organised sexual abuse

"We ran the DNA test. She is his daughter. We will try to identify a mother, but..."

"I know. Thank you."

I knocked on her door.

"Come in," she said with a flat tone.

She was sitting on her bed, eyes looking down at the floor. She was wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, a combo I would almost never see her wearing again. She looked incredibly meek, almost emaciated, and deathly pale where her body wasn't covered in bandages. An IV was stuck into her left arm.

Lúcia, age 14, 1.50m, 40kg.

"Hey," I tried to greet her with a smile.

She didn't look up. "Hello."

"Are you alright?"

"I feel sick." She sounded sick too. Her voice was incredibly raspy.

"That's understandable. You lost a lot of blood."

"I did?"

I tried to touch her cheek, but she grabbed my arm, her nails so sharp and grip so strong that she drew blood. Not as weak as she looked.

"Don't touch me." was all she said before letting go.

"I'm sorry."

She licked the blood off her fingers. I grabbed a chair and sat down across from her.

She was silent for a while. Then she asked: "So that wasn't a dream? And I'm not dead? This is real?"

I nodded. "It's real."

"How many did I kill?"

"You don't-"

"I wanna know. How many?"

"It's difficult to say, but... In total there were 46 found dead. A good number of them your work."

"Wow." She smirked. "I'd never held a gun before."

"How was that?"

"It felt good. Powerful."

"Did you know you would survive?"

"No. Fuck no. I thought I was gonna die. I just didn't care. It would've been a mercy."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "I... can't imagine what it must have been like."

"Whatever you're thinking, it's worse."

"You don't have to-"

She looked at me, just for a moment, and once again I saw that look in those green eyes, the same one she had when I found her. Unimaginable horror mixed with determined, righteous anger.

"It's called rape, right? What they did to us."

There was a weight to that word when she said it, that made it sound wholly different from the countless reports I had read and written including it.

"Yes."

"My... He said it was love. Then he told me it was work. At the start he rewarded me for it. That was years ago."

"Your father? Francisco?"

"Yes."

"Would it... help you to know that he's-"

"Dead. I know. I shot him."

"You remember that?"

"Yes."

"The doctors said you told them you couldn't remember anything."

"I remember now."

I nodded.

"I'm glad he's dead," she continued. "Is that bad?"

"I think it's very reasonable. What he did to you is worse than killing."

"Have you killed before?"

"Yes. I shot several people during that raid, and that wasn't the first time. This city is a warzone now."

"Really?" There was a sincerity to the question I didn't expect.

"Not literally, but... the organisation that... those people were a part of is... a very well-connected international group that managed to take over parts of the city. They're quickly falling now, but they've left a lot of chaos behind."

"I see."

"Did... you ever wonder why nobody was coming to save you?"

A naive question, I know.

"No."

And yet the answer hit me like a punch to the stomach. No.

"Never?"

"Never."

Fuck.

"I almost never thought about the outside world. As far as I was concerned, it didn't exist. All I saw of it were the clients that came in. Some of them were... gentle, but usually we were just treated like... toys. Not people. Just things to fuck. Like..."

"Dolls?"

"Dolls. Yes, they called us that, sometimes."

"Why do you always talk about "us"?"

"It wasn't just me. You know that, right?"

"The other kids?"

"Yes... Where are they?"

"We are trying to find their families and... return them home."

"You think they will be happy there?"

"I hope so."

"I hope so too..."

This seemed like a good opportunity to ask her.

"Do I have a family?" She got to it first.

I shook my head. "No. Your... father was your biological father. We don't know about the mother, but..."

"She's gone."

"What?"

"I saw her once..." For the first time in our conversation she seemed genuinely uncomfortable and like she was holding back tears. "He..."

"You don't have to say it."

Lúcia nodded, swallowed, shook her head like she was a wet dog, took a deep breath and straightened her back.

"I won't, then."

Silence.

"So... usually, a child like you would enter the foster system, but... if you want... I could adopt you."

"Adopt?"

"You would legally become my daughter. I would be your mother."

"Mother... daughter..."

"It's up to you."

"I... think I would like to know you more... if you're going to be... my mother."

"Of course. There's a whole process we need to go through..."

She nodded. "Thank you."

I smiled.

She reached out a hand and touched my arm. "Strong..."

"Yes. I'm pretty strong."

"Good."

Poor girl. Adjusting to normal life won't be easy.

"What is a doll?"

"What?"

"A doll. What they called us. What is that?"

"A... doll is a figure, out of plastic or fabric or something else... that's made to look like a person, at least somewhat. Children sometimes play with them, or people collect them, or... you know..."

"A plaything... a toy. That looks like a person?" She tilted her head.

"Yes." I pulled up an image on my phone. "Like this."

She looked at it, almost transfixed. "A doll..."

"Did you ever have things to play with?"

"No." She shook her head. "Why would someone give toys to their doll?"

Astute question for someone who seemingly didn't know what a doll was until just now.

"Some other children I've rescued were treated with more... love, for lack of a better word, I guess."

"The only love I know is being fucked. - Raped," she corrected herself.

Another gut punch. Fuck. And she said it so matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry," was all I could say.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry those things... happened to you."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do it."

"It's... an expression. To express sympathy."

"I see."

"I... do wonder if we couldn't have stopped it sooner, though."

"No way to change that now."

She said that like it was something she'd had to tell herself. Probably best not to probe that now.

"You're right."

14 years old. Stuck in that place for as long as she could remember...

"How do you know how old you are?"

"They told us. Clients have preferences with regards to age. If they asked us how old we were they wanted us to answer truthfully."

Clients. Preferences with regards to age. We had found children as young as four. Somehow I didn't think too much of it. Now it made me want to throw up.

"14-year-olds are the most desirable."

I was going to have some beer tonight. Or maybe something stronger. Maybe just pure vodka. That would taste appropriately clinical for the day.

"They... did something to me. They said that I wouldn't age anymore, and wouldn't die if they were... too rough with me. I didn't think they had actually made me immortal."

"What?"

"I don't know what they did. I just remember how they experimented with me, and what they talked about. But they said they had ways to keep me in check. I was the first one, I think. I don't know what they did before when we got too old.""

Definitely pure vodka.

I wasn't sure if I should dare to ask. "Did they... kill-"

"Yes. They'd kill you if you were too much of a problem." Her voice was monotone again. "They..." She was staring off into the distance. Dissociating.

"Hey, do you want some water?"

Again, she shook herself like a wet dog. I brought her a cup of water. She started crying, but she found back to reality.

"Okay. I think that's enough questions for now," I set the chair back where I'd taken it from.

"Yes."

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Do you have a phone?"

She looked at me like I was insane. "No? Where would I have gotten a phone?"

"Right... I will be around for the rest of the day. If you'd like to talk, just tell a nurse, okay? You know how to call for them?"

"Yes."

"Good. The door is unlocked, but everyone will knock before they come in. Get some rest, you deserve it."

"I know."

"And make sure you get enough water!"

"I will."

"Okay. Bye!"

"Goodbye."

Good God, I was already acting like her mom.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah... You know, I never really talked to them, like this. That's someone else's job. And even then it's so... procedurised. You don't really feel it."

"Sal, you know that's not a word, right?"

"And yet you know exactly what I meant."

He didn't say anything to that.

"That girl is... something. There's a lot she doesn't know, but... she has a way with words. And she's bitter. I'd be willing to believe she survived by sheer force of will."

"You know, a few years ago this would've baffled me - but now? I'd believe it."

"She says it's something they did to her."

"What? Why?"

"She says they did something to her so she wouldn't age and wouldn't die, no matter what they did to her."

"That's fucked."

"Worked out well for them."

"I don't understand what drives these people. I mean, there's so many things you could be doing. Why risk all this to get to fuck some child?"

"It's about power. Any adult can see they don't have hearts. Hurting people is the only way they can feel like they're in control."

While we were waiting around at the hospital, I briefly excused myself to seek out the nearest electronics store and pick up a phone for her. I installed some things I thought she might find interesting, saved my number, that of the hospital, all emergency numbers were already pre-saved.

"If her condition continues to be stable we will transfer her to the psychiatric wing tomorrow. A psychiatrist has already had a look at her. She has authorised us to share her full medical information with you, but only as a private individual, not in your capacity as an officer of the law. Will you be able to maintain that separation? - Please sign here. - Alright. We're sending you the reports."

// by Chloe, Silvy and Lúcia

#fiction #microfiction #empty spaces #horror #traumacore #lolipunk #Chloe #Silvia #Lúcia #Sally Carriveau #Lúcia Cuervo #Francisco Cuervo #The Last Human Century

[devinetheory-2]

Eternal flame lit

I tried to save it

Then my face went

Flat on the pavement

And I'm supposed to worry about

her heartbreak-in

I guess she never knew

about the days spent

emaciated

opium Haze bent

taking out my rage

on somebody else today

Her ghost won't stay away

So I keep the sage lit

I barely got away

She's happy she got away with

Angry and dangerous today

And I just wanna break shit

I thought I was safe

She thought I was a game

I was looking for love

Not trying to be played with

feeling like nothing has changed

cuz nobody's changed it

So I find myself idle in the same cycle

dealing with the same s***

and I ain't trying to fight

Napoleon Dynamite

running off of the stage quick

I want to close my heart

Because we're still apart

and I can still hear your voice

in my brain from inside my cage

destroying my name

you wanted to die at one time

I wanted keep you alive

You wanted somebody to ride

All the way to a grave

I wanted us to escape it

We are not the same

another victim of expectation

Shit doesnt even make sense

lost in This Matrix

and in my mind I'm staring ay my grave

as it caves in

standing at Heaven's Gates

thinking.... Damn

I almost didn't make it in

Busy trying to save those

that didnt want to be saved

But noone is there to save him...

Thinking, "Damn that's some insane s***"

Yeah we were supposed to make it

You were Supposed to be

my safe place

but the place I saved

left my page ripped

and the pages I saved your name in,

Can't be replaced

and I'm running out of space

on my broken heart to put tape in

I wanted your heart

you wanted me to be a security blanket

to fall for the fake s***

and if I didn't invite you into my heart

You were going to break it...

DT

#writerscreed #13cupsofteareblog #twcpoetry #spilled poetry #spilled words #bad love #poetry #addictsinrecovery #quotes #writeblrina #writeonworld #devinetheory2

[ben-the-hyena]

When Scarab got entombed, he was in complete pitch darkness (even darker than that, I just took a screenshot of the moment they ceal the gate so you could distinguish him) and his arms tied behind him not to do any magic anymore, and the whole tomb was empty with nothing for himself to eat, drink or dressed up with, all alone. He should have been blind force of living in the dark, crazy and unable to think and speak coherently anymore force of bzing alone with his thoughts, tied up and defenseless for eternity, and before that since after all the life force he stole off Rapses did not make him immortal but just living longer he should have actually died from thirst and/or starvation before even experiencing said eternity, maybe he would have even died frozen the very night since it is extremely cold in deserts at night. And even if the prince's life force did keep him alive, he would have been very weak, more than morbidly emaciated and horribly fragile, unable to move at all

And yet when Harris Stone unknowingly frees him by discovering and opening the tomb in 1928, Scarab is standing as powerful as ever, wears his new attire, has Heka with him despite her not being there when he got cealed in, is alive and is in normal shape, his hands are free and so can do anything such as magic and counted down all the days (or years) he spent there on the wall, also implying he was seeing what he was doing and indeed still sees as good as before, he just is extremely pale from never seeing the sun in 3500 years as he is for the rest of the show but that's it

At the start of episode 3, Scarab wakes up from a nightmare of him being locked inside the tomb, that event apparently having traumatized him enough to give him PTSD. Heka comes to him and comments he made the dream again, to which he replies she cannot understand what it feels like to be imprisonned asay from the sun in the dark for so long

And yet we saw she was with him when Harris Stone freed them !

So my theory : Heka to nearly everyone was just a staff, so obviously not arrested, but since in the meantime she had probably gotten attached to him already, she tried to find a way to enter the tomb a non-magic way since there was an anti-magic seal with a warning. She being either his living staff alive thanks to him or like the theory I prefer was summoned by him and in both cases is his familiar, she technically counts as a spell so she couldn't open the tomb herself. Being a snake, she found a small and thin entrance and could join him there. From that moment she was his only companion and contact with the outside world. She would untie his wrists, bring him food and water, give him fire for heating his food and stay warm, could have brought him those big robes to be even warmer, could have brought over things he needed to better his spells to spend time notably the shabties, perhaps help try different ways to escape in vain, tell him how things are going outside and keep him updated on the region for all these millenia, and would be with him. She would not be locked inside and came and went as much as she wanted unlike him, explaining why unlike him she wasn't traumatized and didn't know how it felt like to be imprisonned in the dark (maybe sometimes her fire would die out and he would be in the dark for a whole day or more until she could return), and why he remained sane, alive, more or less in shape, had other clothes and was unbounded. And also explaining why the 2 are so close and why each ithee are probably the only people they care for. Spending so much time together and in his case only knowing her and hearing her for millenia and seeing she could have left but took care for him instead, she liking him enough by now to stay indeed and keep him as well as she could, both seeing sides they didn't know they had and getting to socialize better since that was all they could do...

No wonder they are so close (andmarried). Ultimate bonding experience, and as much of a jerk as he can be to her at times, he will forever be grateful and she knows

#their love language is bickering is all #mummies alive #moi #love is here #i ship it ! #imprisonment #tomb #immortal #life #survival #scarab #heka #harris stone #i also think she found an underground water stream he dug to and so could drink and bathe as much as he wanted. or he would smell

[jacenbren]

Sneak peak of my new PPcrew AU (inspo—Cyberpunk: Edgerunners)

The hum of the maglevs was hypnotic, soothing on his ears.

Hypixel City never truly sleeps, Ant thought, gazing out the window of the hovertrain at the beautiful bright lights of the skyline and regretting answering that ping for a last-minute pickup for a client’s load of damaged cyberware. And neither do I.

The train car was full, like it always was at this hour. All the seats were taken and the aisles were packed, but it was eerily quiet, except for the hum of the train and the soft shuffling of fabric and flesh. No one talked to each other; everyone on the train was either engrossed in their HUDs or datapads, and still others had braindance wreaths on and were completely absent from reality. Ant had debated putting his own wreath on and queuing up an episode of one of the old TV sitcoms he used to watch with his brother, but the lemonade vodka from those two Spiked Summers he’d ordered at Las Nevadas had gotten him distracted.

It was clear tonight, clearer than usual. It was impossible to see the stars around the light pollution, but the moon shone brightly, a perfect orb of white in the black velvet sky. It looked beautiful in comparison to the corrupt wasteland of skyscrapers and neon lights that was Hypixel City, pristine and pale as it’d always been.

Ant swallowed hard, gazing up at the moon in contempt. It was like the damn thing was taunting him, reminding him of how he’d fucked up.

“Deep breaths,” Craft murmured, as they sat on the roof of one of the buildings in the slums. Ant’s hands were cold and his heart was beating too fast, but his older brother was hugging him, rubbing his thin, emaciated shoulders—his bones jutted out sharper than any seven-year-old’s ever should—as he shivered. “Just keep breathing, okay buddy?”

“I’m cold,” Ant mumbled through chattering teeth, sniffling anxiously. “Craft I’m really cold, where’s mama—“

Craft winced, tugging the blanket tighter around the two of them. “Mama’s… mama’s very far away, Ant.”

“When’s she coming back?”

Craft hesitated, and his voice was choked. “She… she’s not… well, she’s too far away. She doesn’t have the credits to get a ticket back.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s…” Craft stammered, wiping his eyes. “Um. She’s on the moon, Ant. Yeah.”

Ant perked up, grinning. “Can we visit her?”

Craft’s eyes turned distant and wet with tears, but he smiled faintly, stroking Ant’s hair. “Yeah. Sure, buddy. I’ll take you to the moon someday.”

“And you sure did a kickass job, didn’t you,” Ant muttered to himself under his breath, chuckling bitterly as the train snaked through the buildings and back into the big city. The moon vanished behind Hypixel’s skyscrapers, blotted out by towers of neon, steel, and corrupt wealth and depravity. “Mom never went to the moon, Craft. She overdosed on heroin and the guy she was stripping for left her to die.”

They’d never made it to the moon, either, and that was Ant’s fault. It was Ant’s fault that his older brother was dead, too.

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against the window glass. Ant debated canceling his pickup—

[UNKNOWN] is this shit working

Ant jumped.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, and the people sitting next to him gave him annoyed looks, before turning back to their datapads. Ant opened the ping in his HUD, scowling.

[FREYR] who is this

[UNKNOWN] red

[FREYR] ?

[UNKNOWN] guy from las nevadas? bought you a drink??

[FREYR] ohhhhhh

[UNKNOWN] you said to ping this number.. where you at, cutie?

Ant huffed in amusement.

[FREYR] on the maglev

[FREYR] west line

[FREYR] omw to captain’s to pick up some shit from a client. wouldnt mind some company

[RED] meet you there :D

#jacen writes #cyberpunk edgerunners #ppcrew #pummel party saturday #ppsat #antfrost #cyberpunk edgerunners has me by the BALLS you guys #craftclan #velvetiscake #velvetfrost #cyberpunk

[miras-ash]

Chapter 10 of "Just as the stars love the night"

Mira's pov

I stood for what felt like an eternity in front of the door, behind which my beloved was. Nervously I reached for the handle, but before I pushed it down I let go of it again. Gustave put a hand on my shoulder and opened the door for me. Uncertainly I entered the room, closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and then walked towards the bed she was lying in. Eliza looked so small between all the equipment, it didn't help that she was very emaciated. Her left leg was wrapped in new, clean bandages and her upper body was fixed with some kind of cast. She looked terrible and I didn't even want to imagine what she had been through.

Doc stood at the end of her bed, handed me a chart, and then explained what had happened.

"We had to remove a large amount of her remaining skin which had already formed massive scar tissue from third degree burns. She will need another transplant but that can wait for now. We had to break her ribs again so they can heal properly, they grew together incorrectly and she had a lot of very fresh injuries, including some internal bleeding. We suspect that Deimos suspected something or we just had damn good timing to get her out of there."

I felt sick at the thought of what he had done to her, everything spun for a brief moment and I had to sit down. Anger, despair, an irrepressible desire for revenge spread through me.

Gustave handed me a glass of water.

"Is everything okay? Shall we continue tomorrow and I'll go now?"

Still breathing heavily, I looked up at him and shook my head.

I wanted to know everything, I had to know.

"Please just go on."

He eyed me anxiously but then continued talking in his formal doctor voice.

"Where was I? Oh yes, I guess we got here just in time. We also tested her for various substances but he didn't seem to have given her anything, which indicates that she was fully conscious most of the time. We have given her enough care for now, we are still ventilating her until she wakes up on her own which should happen in the next 5-10 hours. We need to keep her under constant observation."

I just nodded, I didn't have much more to say, I just wanted to make this all go away. Only one question was burning on my tongue and I wondered why Gustave didn't mention it.

"Is she really pregnant?"

Gustave closed his eyes, his professional facade crumbling a little. You could tell it was getting to him too.

"Yes I'm afraid so. She's 16 weeks along, so almost five months."

He put a hand on my shoulder again and then left the room to leave me alone with Eliza. Powerless, I slumped further into the chair. Tears formed in my eyes. Deimos would die, but first he would suffer. Everything he had done to her, all the pain, the torture, the psycho terror, the humiliation, simply everything he would feel only a million times worse.

I hardly dared to look at Eliza, let alone touch her, it scared me a little. What if this was all just a dream and I woke up and she was gone again, irretrievably and permanently.

Slowly I reached out my hand and brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead. She was real, she was here, alive, with me.

A knock snapped me out of my trance. Yumiko and Jordan slowly entered and approached us. Concerned and at the same time relieved looks on their faces.

"We could hear what Doc was saying and we truly feel the same way you do, but please don't do anything rash. Liz needs you now."

They knew me too well, but I wasn't going to do anything anytime soon, besides keeping our heads down for now, Eliza was my number one priority. There was nothing more important now.

Together we sat around her bed, looked at her silently and processed everything that had happened. Never would we have dreamed of seeing her again, we were just getting over the goodbye and mourning phase and now it was all in the past.

For a while we sat together in silence until the two of them said goodbye and went to their room, leaving us alone. Even though they couldn't show it yet, I knew they were happy. Not only had they gotten a loved one back, they didn't have to feel guilty about being in a relationship anymore. They never had to feel guilty about it, but it had happened shortly after "Eliza's death" and they were afraid it was the wrong time for it but Yumiko and Jordan deserved so much to be happy together.

I stroked through Eliza's hair as my eyes grew heavier. I knew how much she loved this and hoped she could feel it. I was here, with her and nothing would ever separate me from her again.

#rainbow six siege #ash #r6 ash #tom clancy #eliza cohen #mira x ash #r6s mira #mira #ash x mira #mirash #r6 fanfiction #fanfiction

[scribble-dee-doo]

whumptober day 14: "die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" / failed escape

have a little steve and robin getting snatched up by vecna during the s3 finale

Dustin knew there was no way he should have left Steve and Robin behind. He’d said he’d never forget them because that’s what you did when you were splitting the party in dire circumstances, you let them know that, worst case, they would be avenged, but you only did that because you were always going to come back and rescue them. It was so stupid to say that when all he had on him was his backpack and Erica and what he could scrounge while wandering the halls of a secret Russian base.

“If you die, I die.” He should’ve stood by that instead of leaving Steve when he wasn’t completely sure of a rescue. 

By the time the Mindflayer and his army are piles of absolutely foul smelling sludge, Hopper, Steve, and Robin are gone.

The absolute worst day of Eddie’s life is also the most utterly confusing on multiple terrible, terrible levels. Chrissy – Chrissy, obviously, and the way the lights flickered, and how – she started floating, there was nothing in his system, he hasn’t taken anything stronger than cigarettes in a week because he’s been really fucking trying this year, and Rick’s in jail anyway so when he gets that itch there’s nowhere for him to go and he can ride it out without doing something stupid, so he knows that he saw Chrissy Cunningham floating to the ceiling.

Steve Harrington busting down through his ceiling, however, he’s still not sure about.

He has a long, sleepless night to think on it, and a long sleepless morning, and probably a long, sleepless rest of his life coming up, and he can see himself spending a lot of it thinking about the spear of bone, the emaciated dirty-gray arm behind it, and the hollow-cheeked face behind all the rest of it.

Wondering whether the dead former King of Hawkins High climbed out of a crack in his ceiling like a demon being birthed from the plaster is better than thinking about literally anything else that happened that night.

#stranger things #whumptober #whumptober 2022 #stranger things fic #fic snippets #noodle scribbles #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4

[disgracedfaeprincess]

– How... How big does it have to be to work?

The young lady asked herself, looking at the mess of papers, drawing materials, candles and spices all over her room.

This was the third attempt. Well at least at pentagram summoning. Bloody Mary rituals, ouija boards... Hell, even praying or finding a crossroad, she has tried everything, and noted down each failure with all the academic rigor a secluded teenager could afford.

After all, if she succeeded there was nothing to loose.

She took the hair out of her face, and opened the window, just in case.

– Ego te daemonium... - black smoke exhaled from the candles when she started speaking the room felt suddenly dark as her words glew green in her mouth, she could taste them. Rotten, the last words fell from her mouth. - voco, da mihi custodiam!

The last of the glow fell from her mouth and ignited the pentagram. Her watery eyes didn't let her see. As the coughing fit receded she saw that a man was standing in the middle of it.

Well maybe man wasn't the word. It dressed all red, the same colour as its gravity defying hair. His smile was filled with endless pointed teeth that could no doubt maul her in a second. And the air had fallen to the undistinct sound of radio static.

– Oh.. Hello..? - her voice so small it was almost unaudible.

The red man looked down at the pentagram. Some assorted old objects, clearly mostly acquired from the trash, were scattered across the room.

He inspected the pile, looking for something familiar that could've summoned him here. There was a piece of an old wooden radio, so he changed his attention to the girl.

She looked tiny. Not becouse of being short, but becouse she was emaciated. The bones peeked through her movements, barely any meat to hold them together. Her eyes were sunken, dark rings surrounding them. Her hair was matted and thinning. It was difficult to tell her age. She looked so sick that he couldn't tell if she was 25 or 14.

– Quite a pleasure to be meeting you dear! I'm Alastor, infamous radio demon and best entertainer in hell! - a faint musical upbeat followed him around - May I ask where I am? Or... More exactly what am I doing here sweetheart?

His musical thread went through several compasses before she reacted, opening her mouth, almost shell-shocked.

– This wasn't meant to work. Like This - her hands signaled all over the room - It- it was just another dumb experiment, another failure to archive. You shouldn't exist! Only darkness after dead right? - her eyes grew bigger and desperate – It was supossed to be a ghoul!

He straightened his raggedy suit, unphased.

–Oh dear, my business is souls dealing!Don't be scared kiddo - he gets real close to her, passing an arm through her shoulders, they felt so fragile he stopped midtrack to squeezing her - I'll make it worth it, what you want, A sirens voice? Riches? or maybe someone you want gone? - he was cheerful and energetic - Or… you have another deal in mind? Because I'm not leaving without a Deal or a Soul, dar-ling.

The gutural voice glitches through heavy filters, as his neck cracked to an unatural position and his scleras where totally black.

The girl was terrified, but, noone that tries so hard to summon the supernatural is unprepared to make a deal. Besides her soul can't be worth much.

– I have one. - She didn't miss how the demon arched it's brow, surprised. She looked serious- I want protection. I want to live until it's my time. It shouldn't take too much, as I'm sure you've noticed, I reek of death, I've got a few months left if I'm lucky. And i want some fun, so my proposal is. You come by once a month. We have fun, I don't know, eat something or you get me a gift or something. And when I die my souls yours, but, only if I don't die of 'nything else than my illness. Also you can't hurt people without my permission, don't want to have that on my conscience. - The entire discourse was clearly well rehearsed, so much that she had relaxed repeating it After it was done though she returned to reality. Her eyes were confronted by an amused look from the radio demon- Um... Yeah that's about it. Do You want to add any clauses..?

– Quite impressive indeed, such a young lady... Your name is?

She swallowed before answering

– Lucía - the roll of the name in her mouth was clearly foreigner.

– Very good Lucía, we've got a deal then. - his smile stretched impossibly as he offered his hand forward neon energy overflowing

Her hand trembled slightly but picked up determination as it approached him.

– We've got a deal Alastor... - the house rattled. Shadows dancing through the room as pink and green magic exploded. The sheer force sent the girl flying to the floor.

Interesting, he thought, but he didn't have the time to think about it, the pentagram was lighting up, reclaiming him to hell.

– It's been a pleasure my dear! But I've gotta go back, see you in a month, Toodaloo!

#Hazbin fanfic #alastor #original character #ask to tag #I'm new to both writing and posting #non romantic #alastor hazbin hotel #Writing Beyond The Fae Ring #Writers of tumblr #writblr

[random-movie-ideas]

Supergirl (Movie Outline)

This movie is part of the same series as the Superman trilogy I laid out earlier, thus part of the same cinematic universe, and would fall shortly after Superman: Son of Krypton, after Superman and Supergirl defeated Brainiac and freed the citizens of Kandor.

The story would open with an "old folklore"-like telling of the Tragedy of Siobhan MacDougal, otherwise known as the Silver Banshee, an evil spirit that haunts an old manor in Scotland. The tale tells that the manor was once owned by a cruel and ruthless baron who had two children, Siobhan and Bevan, both as nasty and mean-spirited as their father. As they grew, Siobhan, being the oldest, believed she would inherit ownership, but her father, a traditional man, chose to give it to her brother instead. Siobhan turned to dark magic for answers, and planned to cast a spell to destroy her father and brother and take the manor for herself. Her father and brother tried to stop her in the deed, but she succeeded in killing her father, turning him to dust with a deathly screech. Her brother, by sheer dumb luck, managed to move one candle out of place and threw off her spell. The demon she had been drawing power from grew angry, and so dragged Siobhan's soul down to hell.

Bevan, believing he had seen the last of his sister, carried on with his life. He married, and had children, and lived in the moor into old age. Then one night, the spirit of his sister returned, bathed in silvery light, proclaiming vengeance upon him and all of his descendants, decreeing that every first born of his line would die a cruel death at the age of twenty, unless they sacrificed their mortal body to her so that she might live on the Earth once more. This happened first with Bevan's daughter, who refused to sacrifice her body and was thus found emaciated in a pond nearby on the day of her twentieth birthday.

In the present day, Kara Zor-El is living both in Metropolis and on board Brainiac's former vessel, where the citizens of Kandor live while they search for a home. Kara has come to love the Earth, as Clark does, and wants her family and friends to stay with her, but many are not so eager, some fearing the intense powers Earth's sun gives them, while others see the rampant prejudices on Earth, and feel they will always be viewed as outsiders. Kara pleads with the city council, and the council gives her an ultimatum. Find them a place where Kandor can be placed, with a dome of protection from the Earth's sun so that the citizens can live normal lives if they so choose, and they may decide to stay.

Kara becomes determined by this and sets out to seek a place, Clark helping her a bit by getting her in contact with people like Amanda Waller, Batman, Aquaman, and Wonder Woman to see if they know any place. It ends up being more complicated than she thought, and she ends up returning to Metropolis and stewing in the park for a little while.

While there, a teenager sits down beside her and offers her a smoke. Kara turns her down, but introduces herself as Supergirl. The teen already knows her: "One of those friendly Kryptonians, right?" The teen introduced herself as Linda Danvers, and the pair become friends. Kara talks with Linda about her concerns, about finding a place for her people. Linda makes a suggestion.

Linda tells Kara how she had an aunt that died at a young age, and left her a manor up in Scotland, with a fairly sizable plot of land that nobody wanted to touch. Linda says she has no interest in it, but if Kara and her people were interested . . .

Kara takes her up on her offer. Inviting a couple of her friends from Kandor, she and Linda travel out to this manor in Scotland, a huge run-down castle with lush fields and forests and lakes all around it, just big enough for at least some of the people of Kandor to live. Kara feels excited enough to almost say she'll take it, but almost immediately, she feels a chill down her back, like an intense presence is watching her.

We get some standard horror movie stuff throughout the middle of the movie, she and her friends staying there a few nights, while strange and mysterious things happen here and there, even one scene where one of Kara's friends is scared so badly she loses control of her powers and does a lot of damage to the grounds. Linda is evasive every time Kara tries to talk to her about any of it, and a lot of the staff and local villagers seem to be watching them. During this, we also do see Kara bond with Linda, Linda mentioning she'll soon turn twenty.

After a recurring nightmare of a silvery skeletal woman, and a couple more incidents occur, Kara and her friends go searching the grounds for answers. They come across an ancient tomb with an underground chamber that they can see with their x-ray vision and go down inside it, discovering a circle drawn on the floor, a strange book apparently of magic, and a scroll written by Bevan MacDougal, detailing the history of his sister and the curse she laid on their family.

As they read, Kara and her friends find themselves surrounded by Linda and the staff and villagers, dressed in robes. As Kara tries to escape, the villagers reveal little amulets made of green Kryptonite and force them onto the Kryptonians, knocking them out.

Kara comes to, strapped to an altar, in the middle of a large room with the kryptonite amulet around her neck. Linda stands over her, looking genuinely apologetic. Kara shouts at her for her betrayal, but Linda says its the only way. The Banshee has never been able to last long, inhabiting a human body, and the hosts that have sacrificed themselves to her have withered and died after only ten years or so. But the cult believes that a Kryptonian body like Kara's just might be able to hold the Banshee's power and allow her to live again on Earth.

Linda walks away, and the ceremony begins. The cultists chant, summoning the Banshee. Siobhan looks over Kara, admiring her body and saying she's heard of her and her Kryptonian kind, admitting to lusting after the power that she holds. Siobhan reaches out to touch Kara and take her soul, when one of her friends breaks free, their amulet having come loose somehow. The friend breaks the others free, including Kara, and takes out the cultists. Siobhan turns on them, unable to be hurt by their powers. She casts a spell at them and ends up striking Kara, hurting her badly. Both the Banshee and the Kryptonians are surprised to learn that Kryptonians are weak to magic.

Encouraged, the Banshee throws spell after spell of dark magic. She ends up grabbing one of Kara's friends, nearly draining the life out of them completely, when Kara chooses to make the sacrifice, telling her she'll let her take her body. Siobhan smiles, and reaches out with her finger to touch Kara's chest. She immediately erupts in flames, howling in pain, kryptonian power turning out to be a bit too much for her soul. She screams something about "That stupid girl!" and bursts, disappearing back to hell.

Their one friend badly wounded, Kara lowers her head as her friends all agree that they won't be staying here, and will go with the rest of Kandor to the small planet far away the Green Lantern Corps has located. Kara confronts Linda, who says nothing, but hands back Kara's things, all packed up, and apologizes for being a bad friend.

Kara returns to Brainiac's ship, where she is comforted by her father and mother. In her bag, she finds a letter from Linda, explaining that, hoping to save her own life, she had struck a deal with the Banshee, offering to find her a body that would last her more than ten years. Naturally, she had selected the Kryptonians. However, when it came down to it, Linda had come to care for Kara and couldn't bring herself to go through with it, cutting the amulet from Kara's friend's neck. Kara remembers details about how Linda's aunt had died at a young age, and how Linda had been about to turn twenty. In fact, she realizes that Linda's birthday was that very night.

Kara races back to Scotland, to the manor, where she finds Linda in the ritual chamber about to be sacrificed to the Banshee. She knocks out the cultists, and breaks Linda free. Linda is confused, but Kara says she wouldn't abandon a friend to die. It is too late, however, as the Banshee rises again, going after Linda's soul. Linda says that it's hopeless, but Kara asks her if there's anything in the spell book that can get rid of her forever. Linda says she can't do magic though. Kara tells her she needs to try, or else she's dead tonight or ten years from now.

We see Kara do battle with the Banshee, doing her best to avoid her magical attacks while keeping her away from Linda. After her first experience, the Banshee is hesitant to touch Kara, so this helps a bit. Just as Kara takes a serious hit and is about to be killed by Siobhan, Linda finds the strength within herself and casts powerful magic (momentarily showing her with angel wings as a reference). This ends up blowing Siobhan back and subduing her. Siobhan lashes out at them impotently, enraged. She reveals that she is in constant agony, as her original demise left her in a state of limbo, tethered to both worlds. Kara and Linda choose to take pity on her and Linda finds a spell to free her soul, letting her finally rest.

After the battle, Linda apologizes again to Kara, saying that she just didn't want to die. She tells her that the land should be curse-free now, and the land belongs to her people, if they want it. Though many choose not to, and leave to the other planet, including two of Kara's friends, enough do choose to stay, convincing the council to let her place half of Kandor there. Kara brings down the bottle, opens it, and the city is restored to its full state, taking up the lands of the manor with the castle in the center.

A post credits scene shows a little imp looking through a small looking glass at Kandor, giggling to himself that Kryptonians are weak to magic of all things, stating that he'll have such fun with them.

What do you think? Next time, Kara finds herself in an alternate universe, courtesy of a little imp.

#kara zor el #supergirl #supergirl movie #linda danvers #siobhan mcdougal #silver banshee

[ghostwood7]

Rudolph Valentino still haunts his former estate, Falcon's Lair, as well as Hollywood Forever Cemetery (in the Cathedral Mausoleum where he is interred in crypt 1205) because he had unfinished business at the time of his death. He was set to star in a movie called "The Hooded Falcon" to play the part of "El Cid". This was his obsession. The project fell apart when his wife and fellow Producer of the movie, Natacha Rambova, suddenly left him. This must have been what lead to his perforated ulcer which finally resulted in his death. He died on August 23, 1926 with his dog Kabar (a Great Dane) by his bedside. The story goes that when Valentino's spirit passed into the Afterlife, the dog began to howl mournfully, as though sensing his masters farewell. Valentino's body was shipped from New York City back to Hollywood where his emaciated body lay in state for his thousands of fans to view. Ever since his death, a mysterious Lady In Black has made visits to his crypt to leave roses. To this day, no one knows the true identity of the original LIB, though some speculate that it was Valentino's first wife. Others speculate that it is the ghost of a woman who idolized Valentino as a young girl and became ill. Valentino went to see this girl in the hospital one day, bringing her roses. She told Valentino that she would die soon but he gently rebuked her, saying that she would outlive him. Valentino's restless ghost has also been seen walking the studio lot of Paramount Studios which is right behind Hollywood Forever. A Security Guard once reported seeing a man of about 30 years of age walking on the studio grounds after the studio was closed. He told the man that the studio was closed, so the man tipped his hat to the guard and walked thru the wall…back into the cemetery. In regard to Valentino's dog, #Kabar, he too haunts the cemetery where he rests, the Los Angeles Pet Cemetery where Hollywood Celebs have buried their beloved pets. Petey, the cute dog from "The Little Rascals" rests there, as does Mary Pickford's dog and Hopalong Cassidy's Horse. It is Kabar, Valentino's Great Dane, who does the most haunting here, however. Kabar died in 1929, three years after his master. Its playful ghost has been reported being heard panting or even licking those who wander near his grave. #Hollywood #Cemetery #HollywoodForever #Ghosts #Paranormal #Hauntings #Valentino #LosAngeles #LA #SoCal #California #Taphophile #Travels