#immolation tw

[heathercollinsmd]

"I heard about this one vampire... Crazy Bloke." | tvd 1x14

Stefan "the gothic villain with humanity" Salvatore (?/?)

[unforth]

My son (age 8) really wanted to watch the LA ATLA even tho my wife and I warned him that general consensus is that it's not very good.

The first episode is on right now.

And, from the bottom of my heart, wtf is this obsession with showing people getting burned alive in a show derived from a children's media???

[corvuschriisti]

The villagers do not dare disturb the raven's wake, but Ephidel cares not for such selfish mourning. "A pyre is all too fitting. You'd burn the world sooner than let it have him."

Naesala has not looked away once from Reyson's body since he lit it on fire. The gold hair curls and singes, bubbling his skin and eating away at what parts of his body remains.

Reyson was a holy thing, once. Coveted and loved and torn apart for it -- whatever pieces others wish to carve from his flesh will be taken with little resistance. Tibarn would have kept him safe. Naesala could not.

He vows to find the wings. Add them to the fire, if he can.

"Beorc will do such violent things to herons who cannot retaliate," he says, and his voice is cold. "They cannot have him. They don't deserve him."

[sins-of-the-sea]

>Could have drawn another cute Christmas art

>Could even be fucked up like the Master decorating bleached coral like a Christmas tree and the Seven are the decorations

>Even have a starfish as the tree star

>Nah, even more fucked up shitpost because writing and drawing anything is hard when you're marathoning Christmas movies at work

Merry Christmas, everyone.

[gildead]

Gold has a... healing factor, of sorts. His body is permanently fixed in the state it was in at the time of death by default, and it takes approximately 48 hours at minimum for it to reset back to that state should he be injured or otherwise. It could take longer depending on how severe of a state he's been left in, but it will reset itself eventually.

This includes his hair, unless he has far more severe injuries to heal first (ie. if you set him on fire).

[krakensmaw]

spotify wrapped, 69 : villains pt. 1, emma blackery. @pyratezlife / jack.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃, 𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐈𝐀, 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆. screamed at them to stop, its voice lost to the void. there was just enough of himself gone now to PERMIT IT ; to ever stop him from resisting the pull toward violence, like waves crashing in 'pon the rocky shore, eternal.

a dark gaze levelled with jack, more black than brown in the moonlight. knit brows and the tight line of their mouth betrayed CONCERN despite his best efforts at neutrality. even as deft fingers tied off the last of the knots keeping the man snug to the mast. even as they sealed jack's fate. ❛ i'm sorry ... ❜ hushed beneath their breath, close to him.

one step back, then another. every inch that separated him from jack felt a mile. then, a hand clasped about their shoulder in a mockery of comfort, dragging them back down, down. back to the depths of their shared horrors. he felt the soft press of lips to his temple, the SWEET NAMES whispered to the shell of his ear. the man who took him in when jack had all but discarded him. the man who had shown him such tender love and care, when all jack could offer them was heartache and bruises.

GO ON, EDWARD. everybody's looking at you. 'cause you'd set yourself on fire, just to light up the room.

❛ the villains on my list they're what turned me into this. you should know. you're top of the fuckin' page, babe. ❜ words and tone alike were confident, COLD as winter's breath. but tears shone in his eyes. ❛ ... welcome to the show. ❜ breathless as they were passed the lit torch. their baggage ; their own mess to dispose of. a slew of expectant eyes settled 'pon him, their captain's most heavy of all. with a hitched breath, edward tossed the torch to the PYRE at jack's feet and watched the rush of flames go up.

[therainscene]

S2 shed scene -- Will/Vecna POV -- part 2 of 2.

[Finally finished the Bylerween comic! And only *checks watch* six months late!]

[eyeless-smiles]

The Nightmare remains silent as it waits. Each passing minute drives another gouge into the pit of apprehension it feels for his mortals wellbeing. Marrake shouldn't be able to hurt him, now. Not with the deal they made.

Rashads ring is fidgeted with between long fingers. A part of himself tempted to call upon the Patron to whisk him away like he had Rashad, just so he can see whats going on.

Upon the light tingling felt across his neck, the monster freezes. A hand tentatively reaching out to brush fingertips over the back of his neck where he feels his sands begin to burn.

And as the pain begins to slowly spread, the Nightmare tenses. His jaw set tight and ocular maws gaping wide when the bitter taste of Efreeti magic floods his palattes.

The searing pain spreads, and the Nightmare grimaces as the hand on his neck lashes out instead to grip the edge of his seat. White knuckles squeezing with enough pressure to splinter wood.

He barrels over, clutching the ring against his stomach and seething with white hot agony as the monster tries not to scream. Tries not to draw the attention of the slumbering passengers. But the burn just keeps on spreading.

The magic riddles his body with the sensation of the sands of his being crystallising. Hot enough to turn to glass, and shatter back into grains to only begin the process again. Heated beyond anything dreamsand was created to withstand. By the time it grew hot enough, the Nightmare had doubled over into a foetal position. Biting down into his fist, if only to stifle the screams that try so desperately to escape his main mouth. His ocular maws are paralysed wide open. Staring into nothing at all as his entire world in that moment becomes nothing but the all-consuming embrace of devouring hellfire.

@thecreativeforge Closed RP

The sun had begun setting on the harsh desert, easing up the beating heat of the sun upon the traveller's heads. The Corinthian kept his hood raised during the day to blend with the other mortals who shielded themselves from the sun's unforgiving rays. But now, as the temperature drops, he shrugs off the hood to allow the deserts cooling breeze to muse his blond locks.

An arm has remained wrapped around Rashad's waist for most of the journey. His fingers resting just above his partners waistline to feel his pulse beating softly against his skin.

It occasionally will turn its head to press his visage against Rashad's dark locks. Taking in his lover's scent. Purring with a low contentment when satisfied with experiencing a little of Rashad's humanity before his gaze returns to the dimming desert.

[everchased]

so, Astarion and Finch. which one of them watches the other fight and thinks "that's so hot"?

finch finds astarion's skill and deftness with a blade VERY sexy admirable but i think the person who has that immediate "HOT" moment is astarion himself.

there is probably something immediately attractive to astarion "technically not a murderhobo but only because he dresses nice" ancunin about seeing a man who (for the most part) tries to favor persuasion decide that a situation is bad enough to call for killing someone

and swiftly, effectively, and mercilessly

following through with that decision.

[sins-of-the-sea]

All toasters toast toast!

[sins-of-the-sea]

"Oh, come now, Phoebus…" the Master begins as the fractal arms retreat into the shapeless dark. The waters sway to and fro as the souls that light up the night swim towards his direction, obscuring his view until a single humanoid 'foot' steps forward. Seemingly human. This form is still hidden beneath a kelp-like shawl that obscures his features. Mayhaps he has shed off the form he typically appears within the Locker for Phoebus' sake.

"Phoebus. Son of Avignon. Little Phi. Wake up, child."

No response. There barely is a breath.

"Ohhh… yes, yes. I have… forgotten a part." The Master then extends a hand towards Taryn… and presses the tips of his middle finger and thumb together, the index pointed towards his new thrall while the rest tuck in. Readying for a snap.

"As part of the deal. This is what you asked, Miss Nargarian."

-=Snap.=-

Like a flick of flint, Fire and Brimstone has landed upon Taryn. The very flames of Sodom and Gomorrah. The punishment for Lust. And his gift.

As Taryn burns, she not only feels the fires upon her skin. Not just on her flesh. Not just on her bone. For with normal fire, the deepest of burns wouldn't have any feeling at all--after all, the nerve endings would have been destroyed. This is beyond what Taryn's nerves or fibres can even fathom. More than smoke in her lungs. The curling of ash within her fingertips, the crumbling of every cell in her body.

What she felt was Phoebus' pain of betrayal from his brother… added on top of Taryn's own history of neglect, abuse, manipulation, and treachery. From the incident of the bridge to the affliction that haunted over his mother, from starving in South America, to almost truly tasting death in Mactan.

Soul fire. The fire of malice from one brother to another. Not of wrath, but bloodlust. An act not of retribution, but harmful desire.

"Ahh, my apologies, Madam," the Master says mockingly. "You said so yourself, on certain terms--that you wish to bear his immolation upon your own self. I'm afraid it's a bit… difficult to separate the fire that burned his flesh from the one that burned his soul." He grins. "I pray you do forgive me," he says with a smug chuckle.

All while this is happening….

Phoebus' stare is blank. He is here. He is breathing... a little. He is alive. But there is no blinking. Not even as embers fall on his skin.

----- HOW terrible it should seem that the pain is familiar to the woman.

So many years, so many times, on so many countless occasions and for so many reasons and by so many people had similar sensations burned and ripped through the very fibers of her being. Teeth gnashing, back arching, enough to bring a grown man to his knees wailing for mercy, and yet all that escapes the newest tortured soul is an elongated groan through teeth clenched so tightly they almost threaten to shatter.

And then... the nothingness. The stillness. The betraying peace that brings wonder of if the pain is over.

She shivers despite the lingering heat emanating through her veins as if her blood were suddenly replaced with magma. A sensation that sends a sharp memory jolting through her mind, of a terrible fever she fought to overcome. A fever that had been brought on by the sea.

The Master's hand upon Taryn's neck is a stark difference to how her body currently feels, but that doesn't seem to be a focal point of concern any longer, and her mouth doesn't even quiver to form a response. Her head suddenly lifts; slowly. Large ears park up and tilt to and fro, and her gaze moves towards the wisps of light that have been allowed through the curtain of the waves.

Sure enough, there lies the other half to this tragedy of crimson-haired lovers, restored to flesh as agreed upon. She blinks, silently noting the soft breath, the movement of his chest and shoulders as he comes to terms with breathing once more.

But there is no movement from the woman's end. Not a twitch, not a waver, nothing more than a blink or two.

For, as promised, Taryn Nargarian was no more. The fever was the last glimpse of memory allowed to the freshly reset mind of this being. There was no more pain, no more heartache, no more anger that riled in the woman's chest from simply hearing the name Phoebus Duchamp.

For, as promised, all the remained was a beast, a hunter, a tool that bent to the devil's will until it was deemed her time to face the unforgiving flames.

[fmluder24]

Denver DSA allowing blatant support of a man who tried to burn multiple people alive in Boulder, CO this afternoon. While there is some pushback in this conversation, you can see the main response is about Slack etiquette and a blatant CYA to discourage POSTING such comments, with no addressing of the underlying rot in the heart of the organization.

[noughticalcrossings]

Dr Stephen Stanley

Look forward to the party, Mr Collins

[the-amazing-boop]

This is the first I'm hearing of this today so I'm waiting for news outlets to confirm his death so I'm still looking for more information.

Regardless, Aaron Bushnell, thank you for your sacrifice. Self immolation is the most severe form of protest. I'm sorry it came to this.

First, the man in Congo, now this. Every single day, I feel ill.

Edit: several reports confirm Aaron has passed. I don't know if I'll stop crying before I go to bed. I may need day to take a break and sit with this. We haven't seen this much self immolation protests documented so forwardly since Vietnam.

[littlestpersimmon]

Dude lights himself on fire as the ultimate sacrifice and everyone online will lionize, fictionalize, speculate, demonize, pathologize and do everything else except the one thing he literally asked people to do(care about Palestine) clown planet. Anyway.

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

Remus: How am I going to kill this monster you’re asking? Well, that’s simple - I’m going to douse myself in chemicals and gasoline, light myself on fire, and tackle it!

Virgil: ok but genuinely why the fuck would you do that