#cw: potential death

[ominouspuff]

Gift-piece for @ghosts-of-rishi for some ideas we were playing around with. Fives discovering Echo is alive but possibly even more cursed than they already were.

They say there’s no good that can come from making deals with the Piper, but what Jango’s after is hardly what most people’d call ‘good’.

(Featuring Cursed!Jango, who went looking for a son in the wrong places, made a deal with a sea-god, double-crossed said sea-god, and now has three million cursed children.)

“Flesh and blood, you said,” the sea-witch taunted, gloated, condemned. And they are, they are — Jango’s split up, every bit of him, flesh and blood he never even had, divided between every blessed child — but no amount of clever carving of meat can account for a soul, and that’s the real curse. It is not Jango, not Jango alone, who is caged within the unnatural ribs and skull and pounding veins. “Watch them grow, fool; nurture them.” The sea-witch sentenced, and Jango does, he does; silently screaming, unable to separate himself from a single one, unable to sleep even when they sleep, too split up in too many inhuman ways to speak or think beyond wishing it was over… but they know he’s there, and speak to him sometimes. He can hear them cursing, over three million souls better left dead at the bottom of the seas, plucked and borrowed and wiped clean with new flesh sewn together. Why didn’t you leave us be? One is sobbing because he knows he should be dead and they say that’s as good as being at peace, and he is neither of those things.

His children are his spitting image, but they have old, old eyes and no memories of how they came to be that way, and there are three million of them — and not a soul that ever knew Jango Fett before — before — before — can explain it. He watches them all try through six million eyes.

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

I think something that often gets overlooked about the Lonely is that it isn’t just the fear of being rejected, abandoned, and unloved.

It is that, but it’s also the heavy sense of dread that settles in your bones when you realize that whatever danger you’re in, you have to deal with it on your own. It’s the realization that no one is around to hear you scream and that no one is coming to save you. It’s the feeling of calling emergency services (911, 119, etc.) and asking the operator when help is coming, only to be told that no one is coming, because they’re all tied up on other calls right now, so it may be another hour or so before anyone gets to you. It’s the visceral terror you feel when you finally realize that the help you need is never going to come, or if it does, they won’t be there until it’s already too late for you. It’s realizing that you’ll never see your loved ones again, and wondering if anyone will ever find your body, if anyone is going to care that you’re gone, if anyone is ever going to find out what happened to you, if anyone is even going to realize that you’re dead.

[bitterseaproduction]

Angsty Bilbo dying Bagginshield art giving me another story idea~ 😂😭💕

But no, seriously? A play on the popular time travel fix-it, but one where Bilbo dies protecting Thorin during the Battle of Five Armies? And Thorin is inconsolable, I can’t even. And he might pull himself together long enough to stabilize Erebor, but there is No Way he can be a good ruler in his grief, so he has to pass it on. (I was going to say to Dain just to twist that knife a little harder, but actually there are reasons hinted below on why Fíli & Kíli must have lived.) And Thorin just… he wanders, probably. A shell of himself for the rest of his days.

And yet, when he inevitably passes away, he awakens on the road to the Shire. And he’s younger. And he’s so confused, quickly suspecting he must be dead and this is nothing like what he was taught to expect. But then his instant impulse to check Bag End has him walking in on that same meeting from so many years ago, his Company intact, the wizard smiling at him, introducing him to… to…

Bilbo. His Bilbo. The sight of him makes Thorin want to weep and hold him and never let go again, but he is instantly terrified to do anything, because is this a dream? Will he wake? What happens if he says something new, will ‘this’ be ruined somehow? He doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to change anything, save for the end. The very end.

But, even as he strives to mimic himself, he knows something is wrong. He’s off-script from the start purely due to his shock, but he tries to recover, get back on track, and within words, he’s managed it. The discussion is righting itself, and no one there could possibly know the difference, right?

And yet, Bilbo stares at him. From the instant Thorin walked in, Bilbo was staring, looking lost. As he had before, that first time, but it wasn’t the same. Bilbo had been confused then as well, but it had been a light, anxious uncertainty then. This time? He was frowning, his expression tense.

His eyes haunted.

Because Bilbo has also lived that night before. Just once as far as that night was concerned, but it was familiar to him. So familiar. That first night had haunted him for decades, to the very end of his long, long life, when he thought he might know rest, and perhaps — if he was truly as lucky as some once claimed — he might get to see his friends again. See Thorin again.

Instead he had slept, drifted away, and awoken to a battle about to start.

And he had questioned it, had stumbled that first time, but he adjusted. He tried to save Thorin. To save them all.

And he failed. Again.

Then, when he finally slept for the first time afterwards, he awoke to the battle starting again.

And again.

And he tried, over and over, day after the same horrid day to find a way to get through. And sometimes Thorin lived. Sometimes the princes did. Sometimes, new people died. The wrong people.

Once, in his darkest moments, he thought that perhaps someone was trying to teach him humility, teach him to accept fate as it was and not try to fight it, not change anything. And so he went through the motions as well as he could remember them after all those years, following them to the letter, save for when he sobbed all the harder when it was done.

He sobbed again, the relief bone-deep, when he awoke again the next day, the battle still awaiting him.

He lost count of his attempts, and no one could rightly vouch for his state of mind when he finally resorted to the one thing he had refused to try: Not since that fourth (or fifth?) time, when he managed to be there for the fight and threw himself in Azog’s way, but Thorin pulled him out of the way, and screamed at him with such outrage and fear and despair in the few beats he bought by pushing Azog over, that Bilbo never attempted it again.

Until that final day. And that time, Bilbo didn’t give Thorin a chance to stop him.

And it broke a heart Bilbo thought long since shattered to hear Thorin scream, to feel him pick him up and hold him close and hear his voice like that. But the words faded soon enough, and he couldn’t feel anything, nothing except for regret and acceptance, because this was different. He felt it. This time, he would not awaken again, and that was fine. He had saved his king, kept all of his dwarves safe that last time. If that was to be the last, then that was all he could ask for. It was alright. He could sleep.

Then he woke up.

Not outside Erebor, but inside a hole. His hole. Bag End.

He walked outside, stood in the sun, and watched a wizard walk up the road to his door.

He did not understand.

[angelsdean]

lol I mean, first of all I take anything some random person says abt the pre-covid finale with a grain of salt. Second of all, any heaven endgame is still shitty imo, it's sending the message that queer characters can only be happy in death which uhhh sucks. Third of all, any resolution where dean “suddenly” realizes his sexuality just does not jive with me bc that man has been flirting and sleeping with dudes and comfortably bisexual for decades. But anyways.

[possumsarenice]

now I’m imagining Bloodmoon finding a rabid dog doing rabid dog things and thinking “I like this one” and keeping it.

[bugeyedfreaks]

I found an article a month or two ago (this was in my drafts, oops) about Diablo Cody’s comments about the PPG live action show… so here are my comments about some of her comments.

Okay, the part about making them tackle Gen Z problems is probably the only thing here that makes me cringe a bit. I hate when writers try to make characters relatable by saying whatever ageist buzzword’s popular at the time and not just, y’know, make something that could be relatable for anyone who was whatever age at whatever time (but I guess you gotta say those kinds of things to sell the show to the not-so-clued-in actually ageist executives, I dunno).

…but like I did when I read Dove’s comments about the show, yeah, I mean, I agree! I like weird! Weird is good! The script had issues (to put it, uh, VERY lightly) but I was happy that there were some attempts to make it different. And she’s right: it IS fun to write the girls at different ages. Thousands of fanfic writers would agree! However, the problem is that, when you’re making an actual television show, you can’t just do whatever you want or pepper in a bunch of sex jokes or whatever the hell people in Hollywood assume is “normal” behavior for people to have. 🙃 You should probably watch the show more than once (preferably, damage your brain with repeat viewings like I have, highly recommend 👍) and thoughtfully consider how the characters would act, in a way that multiple generations could relate to since it was a show originally meant for people of all ages. And again, so many things set the girls apart from other superheroes. Explore those things! I think a live action adaptation like this would rule, but I think there are a lot of little footnotes attached to that.

ALSO:

Diablo Cody, I love you, please deliver fan service to me and send me the other drafts if your NDA allows it I AM BEGGING YOU I LOVE YOU GIRL PLEASE. 😭🙏

[tillychmo]

Holy sh*t, guys I just had a massive brainwave concerning Izzy’s ring on his necktie and what Con told us/let slip about it the other day … !

A timely TRIGGER-WARNING for violence, gore, heartbreak, dubious consent, and torture, before you move on from here.

In episode 109, when Stede is about to be killed by the firing squad, Izzy has his smaller tirade about it being “quick and humane” – on which I have seen multiple takes, usually responding to the fact that it sounds like he is still calling Stede a pet, and referring to him by this animal-coded language. (This was my original take as well. That he was literally comparing 'Stede getting shot by the british' to the humanity of 'putting down your dog, so it doesn't have to suffer'.)

But the brainwave that just hit me is this:

I think – in fact, in spite of this only hitting me like 38 seconds ago, I feel convinced – that these words are not referring to the ‘pet’-thing at all.

Izzy is talking about the love that HE lost.

Think about these lines:

“This is a humane way of ending it. It’s quick. It’s clean. Edward you know that!”

The man/person Izzy loved was killed – in an inhumane, slow, non-clean way. It basically sounds like he was tortured to death.

And I think Ed and Izzy both bore witness to this — that’s why Izzy is saying “Edward you know that!”. He is trying to remind him of the horrors they witnessed when HE lost his one great love. He is trying to protect Ed from going through the agony of what he went through.

(Note: This excuses literally none of Izzy’s actions in s1. I am only talking about how Izzy himself might’ve seen his actions – and what approach Con O’Neill might have had to this specific scene.)

Post-writing edit: The following almost became a very gory one-shot. So please only read on if you’re okay with that. (Same TW as at the beginning — gore, violence, torture, dubious consent, and massive heartbreak.) I wanna be quite clear – this is not entirely what I think happened; this is just what jumped into my head, as I had this brainwave. I am going to be writing a second version of this at some point, where I move A LOT closer to the points already made in canon (especially regarding a named character and a named animal, which does not appear in the one shot underneath here).

ONE SHOT:

I have this vivid image of Ed and Izzy standing in a crowd of pirates – with their captain front and centre, along with this young man who has done something that displeased the captain. The young man is a friend of Ed & Izzy – and he is also Izzy’s great love (though Izzy hasn’t dared to commit to him). It’s a sort of ‘trial’ but there’s nothing fair about it. The young man is being whipped, tortured and beaten – the crowd is excitedly yelling, egged on by a ruthless captain. Izzy keeps wanting to help the young man, but Ed is restraining him, knowing full well that if Izzy does anything that could let the captain know how he feels for the young man, Izzy will be killed too. Both of them feel like their insides are on fire, being forced to watch this. It escalates and the poor young man is turning unrecognisable – misshapen from the violence enforced on his body.

When the captain finally decides it’s time to disperse, the young man is still breathing, though barely. Other pirates are being warned not to go near him, or they’ll “feel the captain’s wrath”. Ed and Izzy are some of the last to leave – their faces dissolved in silent tears and agony for their friend. Ed is holding on to Izzy, to keep him upright on his feet. Izzy has lost all feeling in his body. The deck is covered in blood and water. The air is salty and smells distinctly of iron.

A few hours pass. The captain and the rest of the crew seem merry. Like it’s any other day. A couple of them only half-heartedly so, but they’re still joining in – not wanting to pull attention towards themselves. Ed and Izzy are there too. They’re not joining in, but they’re not sticking out either. Ed made sure they sat down at the corner end of the table – furthest away from their captain, and mostly in shadows. Close to the door, so they can sneak out when they dare to do so. Izzy’s not speaking. Neither is Ed – though he gives a cursory nod here and there to people handing them food and drink. Ed pours a glass of rum and hands it to Izzy, but Izzy grabs the bottle instead, not looking at Ed – not looking at anybody, in fact, but the captain. Ed drinks the rum in the glass himself, as Izzy takes a swig from the bottle.

At some point the captain – full of food and drunk on rum and spirits – starts nodding asleep at the end of the table. The other pirates are rowdy and don’t pay attention to anything other than rum, cards, and drunken singing anymore.

Ed and Izzy take the opportunity to sneak off and see their friend.

It’s after nightfall. As they move outside, they’re met by someone claiming to be standing guard (for sh*ts and giggles let’s hc that it’s Calico Jack – and he’s not actually standing guard over anything, he just went outside to take a leak over the side of the boat and now that he’s seen Ed and Izzy, he wants to see if he can convince either of them to ‘celebrate the night’ (barf, sorry guys, I really hate him 🤢) with a bit’o’buggery …) – neither of them is in the mood for CJ’s sh*t, but they also know that if anyone on this ship would be able to wake the captain from his slumber now, it’d be Calico Jack.

“Nah, man, we just wanted some air —” Ed says, putting a hand on CJ’s shoulder in the hopes of steering him back inside. Calico takes the opportunity to slide underneath Ed’s arm and press himself up against him, grinding his groin against Ed’s hip. Ed sends Calico a ‘flirty’ grin that Jack is too drunk and careless to realise is anything but that. Jack grabs a hold of Ed’s arse, and continues to grind up against him. Ed manages to motion to Izzy that he’ll distract Jack, so Izzy can go to the young man still lying on the deck. Izzy sends Ed a pained expression – but Ed waves him off, annoyed that he’s wasting the precious time Ed is buying him right now.

Izzy managed to sneaks off undetected, as Calico drunkenly leads Ed below deck.

The moon is showering the deck in misty blue-tinted light. As Izzy reaches the furthest end of the deck, he nearly slides on something, looks down and is stopped in his tracks. He has stepped in a trail of thick blood. He follows the trail with his eyes, and is met by the sight of the young man (I’m headcanoning here) – Izzy’s great love – lying before him, motionless and covered in blood, his limbs in horribly awkward positions.

Izzy’s legs give out and he falls to his knees. It’s like the air has been forcibly removed from his lungs.

He tries to take it all in, but everything is clouding his mind. His breath is ragged and the tears are running down his cheeks.

Without thinking about consequences or what would happen if anybody found him, he reaches out, grabbing the nearest part of the young man – his leg. The young man lets out the tiniest whimper of a moan of agony. Izzy’s mind goes into overdrive –

“Felix?? Can you hear me?” he whispers loudly.

The young man stirs and makes a noise in return.

Izzy scrambles – crawling as fast as he can – to reach the part where the young man’s head is lying.

“Felix – I’m here. I’m here. Can you hear me??” Izzy strokes the young man’s head – trying to be gentle, but so out of sorts, hyperventilating and shaking all over, that it’s still a little too rough.

“Ough, I - Iz … is … that you?” the young man somehow manages to get the words out, though it’s clear that it’s costing him everything he has.

“Yeah – yes. It’s – I’m, I’m here,” Izzy smiles through his tears, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere –”. Moving to cradle him in his arms, Izzy’s hanging onto every bit of the young man’s mangled body that he can.

The young man opens one eye as much as possible – the other is too swollen and bruised. He meets Izzy’s eyes and even through the pain there’s a clear moment of recognition between them.

“Hi –” he says softly to Izzy, nearly managing a smile.

“Hi –” an exasperated laugh, through uncountable tears, escapes Izzy, before his hyperventilated breath turns the laughter to sobs, “I’m so sorry – I’m so sorry. I should have done something. I should have been braver. I sh- I should have stood up for you – I-I —”.

“N-no,” the young man’s voice was coming in ragged breaths, “there was n-nothing you cou-could’ve done n-now … n-not when it came t-this f-far …”

The young man rested his head against Izzy’s chest.

“We have to do something, I gotta get you to shore – I gotta —” Izzy was floundering, trying to force reality to make up a way of saving his love.

“I-I’m d-dying, Iz –”

It felt like Izzy’s heart was slowly sliding out of his chest – it only made him act more frantic.

“No. No, you’re not. I won’t allow it – I-I’ll get someone – I’ll …”

“Iz. It’s over.” Felix said in the softest voice, and Izzy stopped in his tracks. The unwavering finality of those words made the hairs on the back of Izzy’s neck stand on end.

He took a breath, before looking up at Felix again.

“Please don’t leave me.” Izzy pleaded.

“I’ll s-see you again …” Felix eyes was starting to slide shut. Izzy was crying in earnest now.

“L-look at me, Israel …” Izzy met Felix’ eye, “I l-love you –”

Izzy’s eyebrows narrowed and for a brief second he closed his eyes in agony at the words. Those words he had never dared utter. Everyone he loved left him. His dad, his mum – and now Felix … But this was the end. He had to say them now, or Felix would never hear it.

Meeting Felix’ eye again, Izzy gathered all his courage and took in a breath, “I lo—”.

But the sentence got quenched on the way out of his mouth, as Felix’ whole body became limp.

“I - Felix?”

Izzy’s brain couldn’t compute. It was like someone had just ripped reality away from under him, and he was floating into the limbo of infinite space.

The he realised what had happened.

Izzy’s eyes widened, staring panicky at the young man in his arms, “Felix?”.

He tried shaking him gently, but no response. He shook him again, a little more desperately, but no response.

He shook him again – and again – and again — every time a little more vigorously, calling out his name, his panicked desperation rising with every shake. But no response.

“Felix? — F-Felix … ?”

The realisation flushed over Izzy and the overwhelming grief hit him like a tidal wave. Crying, his whole body shaking, and his breath a mess of hyperventilated sobs, he grabbed Felix’ limp body and squeezed him as close to him as he would.

“I’m - I’m sorry”, he heaved in a big breath, “I-I’m s-so sorry, F-Felix”, he wailed, crying so hard he could hardly get the words out.

“I l- … I lo- …” Izzy swallowed and kissed Felix’ forehead, “I love y-you.”

Finally saying it, but knowing that Felix couldn’t hear him, made the words feel hollow, even though Izzy knew it was the truth.

“I l-love you.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry sorry, Felix –”

He cradled him closer. He could have sat like this, just holding him, till sunrise if it wouldn’t have been too dangerous for him. But he couldn’t leave him. Not yet. How was he supposed to get up? How was he supposed to leave him here, lying in a pool of blood, knowing full well what would happen when morning came and everyone else, including the captain, woke up. He needed to get up and out of the way. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t —

“Iz?” a soft voice spoke rang out clearly behind him.

In a panic, Izzy lifted his head and stared in the direction of the sound.

It was Ed. He looked slightly disheveled, and had a concerned look on his face.

“How long were you standing there?” Izzy asked, trying to hold in his crying.

“A little bit …” Ed answered gently and knelt down next to Izzy and looked at Felix with deep sorrow in his eyes.

But the gentleness scared Izzy more than anything. Felix had been gentle. Gentle would get you killed on a pirate ship.

Izzy let Felix slip slowly out of his arms and immediately got to his feet. Without a second glance he just said, “I’m gonna go clean up” and left Ed sitting on the floor next to Felix.

“Iz –” Ed called after him in a whisper. But no response. He turned his head back to Felix.

“I wish this wasn’t the end, my friend. Thank you for everything.” He stroked his left hand over Felix’ hair and placed his right hand on Felix’ chest. Ed sat like this for a moment, before deciding that Felix’s hands should be folded on top of each other.

As Ed placed Felix’ right hand on top of his left, Ed noticed something on Felix’s finger – he stopped for a moment, looking back and glancing after Izzy.

“I recon you’d still want him to have it, wouldn’t you?” Ed asked the body that used to belong to Felix, “yeah, I thought so.”

—

There was a knock on the door.

“Fuck off.” Izzy said annoyed, trying pulling a pair of trousers on his damp legs.

Another knock – and another, slightly more insistent one.

“Fuck OFF!” Izzy shouted incensed, “Can’t a man get a second of peace to take a bath on this fucking ship??”

“I’m not leaving till you open the door.” Ed said calmly from the other side of the door.

Izzy stopped and looked at the door. For a moment incapable of moving.

Then the door unlocked. And Ed looked at Izzy, no more blood on him, and dressed only in his trousers.

“What do you want?” Izzy asked.

“To give you this.”

Ed held out his hand and uncurled his fingers. Resting in the palm of his hand was a ring with a small, green stone. A ring Izzy knew well, because he had held the hand on which it had resided. Izzy’s eyes shot up to meet Ed’s, his expression unreadable.

“What the hell is this?”

“You know what it is.” Ed answered calmly. He knew that this whole situation was too much for Izzy to handle.

“Why the fuck are you giving it to me?” Izzy couldn’t believe that Ed of all people would have dared stealing from Felix like that.

“Because he wanted you to have it.” Ed answered plainly.

Izzy’s mind went blank.

“I’m sorry, what?” Izzy asked breathlessly.

“He wanted you to have it. He told me. A while ago.”, Ed was trying to relay the information as non-emotionally as possible, because he knew Izzy didn’t want it any other way, but Ed’s voice was slightly wobbly, “It was his mum’s ring, and he wanted you to have it.”

Izzy looked at the ring. Swallowed. Took a breath. Swallowed again. Then looked up at Ed.

“What a fucking arsehole.” He said affectionately, quelling the grief that was about to rise to the surface again. He and Ed both chuckled briefly.

Izzy looked back down at the ring in Ed’s hand, holding his gaze on it for a moment. Then swallowed. Ran a hand over the bridge of his nose and over his face, before reaching out and quickly grabbing the ring, as though he didn’t want Ed to see that he took it. He couldn’t even look at Ed.

Izzy reached out his other hand to shut the door again, but stopped it —

“Thank you, Eddie.”

Izzy met Ed’s eyes for the briefest second. The a sob threatened to escape his mouth, and he let the door swing closed.

When Ed saw Izzy the next day, neither of them said a word about the events of the night before.

But Ed saw that Izzy had placed the ring around the knot of his necktie.

The End.

(Literally sharing this within an hour after writing it. And a second version will follow at some point!)

[cherrirui-official]

!! Cw // blood + knife ... Yeah that's pretty much it ahaha !!

Waltz

[jichanxo]

call to a witch song

[tacagen]

hunter zolomon, what in the ever loving fuck is going on in your head.

i absolutely fucking love the way he spent so much time working with thawne, had access to every single bit of info in the museum's archives, claims to be an even better flash expert than thawne, SURELY has to KNOW how much of a time altering genius he is from numerous examples (and i doubt any of the 2 epic cringefails are now known to anyone but thawne himself) but still questions eobard's intellectual abilities even more than me here.

hunter. bestie. please name one single thing you were right about besides the clown. please

[dolliecworpse]

🩸 ✩࿐ PEACEFULDECAYIC

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ PEACEFULDECAYIC : a gender connected to rotting flesh, empty eyes, sunken skin, and the beauty one finds in it—the beauty they find in decay and its peacefulness

⋆˙⟡♡ term and flag by the virtual pup ｡｡｡ coined for day two of @lovesse ‘s event ｡｡｡ tagging @accessmogai for a flag id !

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Full 3 dead body pixel art w/ no concept sketches this time

[arachnidanon]

Cw: talk of child murder, abuse, etc… ancients are fucked up. just talking about how ancients might’ve treated kids :(

I think about the ancients and how they treated their children a lot. In a society where friends, creativity, and straight up existence is illegal, when someone would have a child, either it would be taken away from the parents to be killed immediately before the kid became a part of the cycle (they would likely call it a mercy for extra fucked up™️ points), or be sent to an orphanage type building so the ancients would eventually have more people to work on the latest iterator or something.

The parents would be shunned, even punished. Like, being tortured and not allowed to die until the end of the cycle to “teach them a lesson.” The parents’ names would be removed from logs of the incident to protect them and the kid. More “religious” (think of belos from the owl house. that kind of “religious” person.) and angrier ancients would likely go after the kid to kill them before they become a part of the cycle if the name wasn’t censored.

generational trauma is literally what the ancient’s society was built on. the orphanage would be so fucking depressing. Like imagine a ancient kid drawing or writing and being told that being happy and doing things that they like and liking things is a sin and they weren’t ever supposed to exist and they should die permanently while they still can because the ancient “educating” this child was told the same thing and that they shouldn’t exist and that they are a sin and that they should die while they still can and so so much more.

I fuckjng love the ancient society because holy shit. it’s so dystopian. ancients killing their kids reminds me of that scene in The Giver where the main character finds out what his dad’s job really is. so messed up jesus fucking christ

[carminekings]

— ❛ i told you, we’ve been doing this together. you’re a part of this. ❜ @tragedyrich

he remembers fannigan. the shriek in his voice, the taut rope, the swinging legs -- how alive he'd been right up until he wasn't. then arm -- burly and big from the outside, but soft spoken where it mattered -- a fighter turned machine. arm who was still, who didn't kick, who didn't scream, who faded, who left dympna alone. arm who was an idiot -- arm who cared too much about respectable morals and being good, than he did about dympna -- than he did about them. his ribs are rattling, nerves shot. decades with paudi and hector should've made him numb to it all really. he didn't even know the guy -- didn't pick up on a name before bobby went and got him -- but dympna's stiff anyways, heaving, swallowing bile at the back of his throat. wide, affected eyes dart over, wary only then -- of the danger he's in. " -- what the fuck. bobby -- what the fuck! yer -- feckin' insane! he din't do none!"

[seventh-district]

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[strides-art]

Tungsten Casket

"Upon the mind of the soldier was naught its own life, but the honor of its Gods. They are incapable of any other thought. To even hold a gun before death, prepared to slay any enemy caught unawares. That is the sole joy of Olympus United's military unit." - Unknown User, 4800u

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