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lynderman · 1 year

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Accusations (Finnick Odair)

TW: Mentions of prostitution

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Of course being a victor wasn't easy for Finnick and you took knowledge of that. He'd started having to mentor kids for the games when they happened so he'd leave you alone at the home while he took a train to the capitol for the duration of them. And he'd always come back looking exhausted. Eyes sunken, body trembling, the lack of sleep and basic self care evident in just about every part of him. The first 2 years he mentored neither of his tributes won and that struck something in him. Late at night when he couldn't sleep, you'd ask if he wanted to talk but he wouldn't respond. Just roll onto his side and look out the window. Times like these, you'd comfort him. Running your hands through his hair and tracing shapes onto his back until you heard his soft breaths as he drifted off to sleep; his chest rising and falling instead of shaking as usual.

Although at some point in time, things changed. Finnick was getting called to the capitol more often. He'd always kiss you goodbye when you left him at the train station. When asking him why he left, he'd say: "Victors meeting with Snow. He needs input on new areas, training-" blah blah blah. Whatever. And you believed him. Of course you would. Finnick Odair in the 10+ years you've known him and the 4+ years of dating him, has never once given you any reason to doubt him. He'd never been deceitful or a liar. Quite the opposite. And you know he'd never cheat on you. Anyone from district 4 could tell how starstruck the boy was with you, the same going for your feelings about him. You often laughed with him and indulged in the treats and gifts he'd be sent from the capitol by his 'secret admirers'.

On the day of his 18th birthday, he was brought to the capitol again by Snow. But today would be different. You and his own mentor from his games, Mags, a sweet elderly lady who was sadly mute, decided to surprise him in the capitol. She had pulled some strings, telling you it was about time you got to go with him and experience their lavish lifestyle even if it was just for a day. Yet the train ride took so long, you and Mags had arrived at the station late in the evening. You both found your way to the hotel Finnick was staying at; reassuring her that you'd find her in the morning when you saw him. So you snuck into his room and took the gift you'd kept in your pocket from out and set it on his nightstand. And you waited. And waited and waited patiently for your boyfriend to come back. It seemed like an eternity. It was 2:04 A.M when you checked the clock last. Just as you were about to give up and get your own room, you heard the door click and the lock unlatch. The smile on your face was huge. Finnick had always done so much for you despite being busy and caught up with the world of being a victor and you wanted nothing more than to do the same for him!

Jumping off the bed, you came around the corner as you heard the door shut and lock from the inside. "Happy birthday Fin-" All the excitement and glee left you as you took in the sight before you. Instead of your usual prim and proper boyfriend in his suit and tie he'd wear here or nice dress shirt, he practically naked. His buttoned up shirt was wrinkled and undone. Tie was no where to be found and his hair disheveled. His chest was covered in scratches and cuts. Eyes bloodshot and lips- His lips. They had purple Stains around them. Marks and shapes of another persons lips on them. You knew wore lipstick, let alone if you did it would not be that ugly shade. Arms falling to your side, you felt your stomach drop. "Fin-"

"What the hell are you doing here?" You were taken aback by his voice. His tone was cold and demanding, even rude. Not responding due to confusion, get got closer and asked again; louder and more aggressive. "I asked you what the hell you were doing here." With a gulp you looked at his eyes which were glaring at you with furrowed brows. "Mags and I- We took a train here. We wanted to surprise you for your-" "Yeah? Well you should've asked me first." You scoffed at him. "That wouldn't make it a surprise, Finny." His head snapped back to you at your sarcastic comment. Mumbling something under his breath he bumped into you as he walked past. "I love the surprise. So good to see you here. Happy birthday Finnick! I love you so much that I came up here and crossed a huge boundary with you out of my own self interest!" He said, mimicking you in a way he'd never used before. You didn't like it at all. He was being rude and dismissive after you put in so much effort to-

"Get your stuff and go to home." You paused and glanced at him. "I'm sorry?" "Thanks for the apology. Now go home. Get your shit and leave. Train station. I'll call and make an arrangement for-" "No." That one word made him turn around to face you fully, irritation written all over his face. "What'd you say?" "I said no." You snapped back standing your ground. He came from the bed and stood in front of you. "You don't get to be a dick to me after I came all the way up here to see you on your birthday. Especially not when you come back to the hotel room looking like this." Motioning your hands up and down you referred to his state. "It's not like I asked you to come here and do that." He said back. His words stung a bit. Finnick never was rude or dismissive like he is now. Clearly he was angry but you didn't know why. "I don't know why you're mad at me. If anything I should be mad at you. For fucks' sake it looks like you just went to a strip club or something!" Pausing, you eyed him up and down. "Is that why you're mad? Because I've caught you cheating on me? The Finnick Odair is mad because he's been put in his place as a lousy, cheating, lying, pathetic excuse of a boyfriend who-"

Your words were cut short when his fist went flying past you and into the wall beside you, barely missed your face by a mere inch. There was no point in looking at the damage he caused, knowing there was a hole set in place. His body was close against yours, pure and utter rage written all over his face and radiating off of him. "I have done everything to protect you. All of it. For you." You laughed. A loud and obnoxious laugh in his face. "For me? You've been coming up to the capitol for months, no- years, just to find some other girl to fuck cause you're done with me? C'mon Finny. If you wanted to break up with me this badly you could've just told me-" "Tell you what, huh? Tell you over dinner: 'Hey sweetheart! I've been going to the capitol on orders of President Snow every weekend 'cause if I don't he's going to kill you when I'm not home.'?" Your lips thinned, eyebrow raising in confusion. "Or maybe I should've waited till date night next week. Yeah, sounds like a better option. While we're walking down the street just tell you that I come up here to do his bidding and whatever he asks of me!"

"Finn-"

"Oh, no. no. Perhaps I wait till our anniversary next month. Y'know. While we're in bed, doing the do, I lean in real close, kiss you, and tell you that I've been fucking other people in the capitol because I have to. Because to them, I'm desirable." By now Finnick had left his position of cornering you in the wall. He was pacing in circles, hands in his hair as he tugged at the golden strands. "Finnick, what're you-" Out of no where, he grabs a nearby lamp and throws it against the window, glass shattering and getting everywhere making you shout. Grabbing things left and right, he begins to toss them around, breaking everything in sight. The remotes, the tables, the glasses. Any and everything in his way is gone and destroyed with a matter of seconds. He punches the walls, he punches the mirrors to the point where glass cuts his knuckles and blood seeps out and onto the white carpet beneath his feet. And you do nothing. You stand there in complete shock. Shock of seeing your boyfriend; The sweet, loving boyfriend who breaks and tears everything apart. The same boyfriend who has never been violent outside of the 65th hunger games. The boyfriend who has never once rose his voice at you or done anything even remotely disgraceful or disrespectful towards you. His eyes lock on yours and he slowly walks over, towering over you as sweat drips down his forehead.

"How do I go about telling you, huh? HUH?!" He draws closer to you again, his words long and dragged out until the last word. That last 'huh' he shouts. At you. Directly at you; making you flinch at the volume. "HOW THE HELL DO I TELL YOU? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO YOU?!" As he shouts, you see the anger leave his posture, his body, his face, all at the first tear that falls down your cheek. As much as you hate to admit it, you're scared. You've never seen Finnick act so hostile nor yell at anyone. Especially you. All of the anger is replaced by guilt and regret as he sighs. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just-" He stops talking midway and gives a shaky exhale, a signal that he himself is holding back tears. His body slumps and he sinks to the floor out of pure exhaustion, you following suit and crawling in between his legs. His hands grip his dress pants so tightly his bloodied knuckles turn white. "Finnick.." Your hand come up to hold his cheek and for the first time in years, you see your boyfriend cry. Hot tears flow out of his eyes and flood his face as they coat your hand. His body trembles and you feel it shake against your own. Breath ragged, all he can do is let out choked and incoherent sobs. Broken sobs that make you want to cry for him.

Your heart aches as you see your once confident and put-together boyfriend break down beneath you. His cries echo throughout the room and you swear you've never felt this much pain in your life as you can do nothing more but hold him. Cradle him in your arms like a baby on the bloodied carpet as his tears stain your neck. Shushing him, you try and get his breathing back on track; and after a few minuets he isn't borderline hyperventilating anymore. When you feel his heart beat slow down you raise his head from yours and hold it in both your hands. "You don't have to tell me but at least-"

"Snow sells me for my-body." He pauses. "He has since I turned 16. That's why I come up here so often. I've b-been considered 'desirable' by the capitol citizens. The f-first time he asked I said no and he let me go home. But-" He has to pause to stop himself from choking on sobs again; contrary as your own tears began to fall at his words. "A month later he brought me back and told me if I said no again, he'd-" Another pause. Yet this time he looked at you. His sad and swollen eyes seemed to look at you with such adoration it made your hear sink more. "He'd kill you." He pulled you closer to his chest as he ran his hands up and down your arms. "And I c-can't lose you. You're the only one- The only person I-" "Finnick, stop." You couldn't bear to hear him go one. Hearing why he was here so often broke your heart. The thought of him coming up here to spare your life made you feel bad. Even worse when you'd just accused him of cheating minuets earlier. With a sigh you placed a small and gentle kiss on his lips.

"I'm sorry I accused you of cheating. I was upset and- I don't even have a reason to be upset at you, mines' stupid. But I'm sorry that you've done this for so long. You don't deserve to be treated like this, you're not their property. You deserve so much better, love." If it was possible he pulled you closer, his hands holding onto you for dear life. "No one's ever gonna touch you again, I promise. We're gonna find a way out of this. I won't let anything happen to you, ok?" He said nothing; you squeeze his hands over your hips before helping him off the floor and into the bathroom. As he sat on the toilet you poured water onto a towel and began to dab at his wounds. Leaning down ever so slightly, Finnick gives you a peck with a small smile. "I love you." He whispers. "I love you too, Finn."

#Finnick Odair #Finnick Odair x reader #angst #the hunger games #thg #Finnick Odair angst #the hunger games x reader #fanfic #fanfics #Fic #hunger games

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ashes-in-a-jar · 2 years

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Question to the tma Tumblr community

I kinda want to do a slow and easy relisten to tma, one episode per day (including trailers) starting from Eyepocalypse day, October 18 2022, and ending around the beginning of May 2023.

I was thinking of creating a A-MAG-A-Day blog to record the relisten and open asks and submissions for people to send their input regarding the episode of that day- meta, memes, art, feelings whatever comes to mind

Would people be interested in participating?

#tma #the magnus archives #hmmm i wonder if itll work #and have enough interest

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whiisps · 17 days

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X-Men New Episode Spoilers

No hate to anyone who feels differently than me!! This is just me expressing my opinion. I'm very open to other people's input. This is all solely based on the animated series as a separate entity from what occurs in the comics.

I love and hate the Rogue and Magneto relationship plotline. I feel that it was forced in, but I felt at the same time it could've been AMAZING. It could've been a fantastic opportunity to show how Magneto is still very much a villain. Maybe that's what they were going for and people are just glossing over that because they like Magneto so much?

Because his love for Rogue was definitely predatory. Rogue was so young when they met and had (abusive) father issues. Mags was that kind of figure to her at first and it seems like he took advantage of that as well as using the fact he was one of the only people that could physically touch her.

It's honestly such a very real thing that happens to victims of abuse-> Finding themselves trying to heal that wound through unhealthy means. Trying to fill that void, etc...

Again that was likely the writer's intentions, but I keep seeing so many people that are ride or die for Magneto and violently defending his relationship to Rogue- it's wild. It's okay to like him and it's okay to criticize him.

People are complicated creatures with so much substance and inner turmoil and I think X-Men does a good job of showing that sometimes.

On the other hand I think what could be great storylines and character development gets lost in the tension they try to manufacture. Sometimes it feels like it's put there just to be there-like filler or a soap opera.

Again no hate. If you completely disagree with me- or think I'm just pointing out the obvious that's okay. I just had feelings I wanted to get out because I have nobody to talk to about these new episodes.

#spoilers #xmen spoilers #x men spoilers #xmen 97 #xmen97 #x men #xmen #magneto #rogue

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tamapalace · 2 years

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Input Mag’s Tamagotchi Pix Party Review Boasts Big Improvement over Pix

We love a good review, and the Tamagotchi Pix Party review from Input Mag is one of them. Cheyenne MacDonald is the resident Tamagotchi reviewed over there. They were very critical about the Tamagotchi Pix touch buttons and battery life last year, but this year they’re so excited Bandai has implemented such an improvement with the Tamagotchi Pix Party!

The review is super cute and interactive with lots of pictures and videos that guide you through all the new features including the party feature! They wished that new careers were added on the Pix Party, and we think that’s a fair criticism. Input Mag really boasts the improved buttons, citing that they are now properly aligned and much more responsive. Also the battery life improvements are quite noticeable, the reviewer has gotten over double the battery life of the Pix. They still wish that it had a built-in rechargeable battery like the Tamagotchi Smart.

Input Mag even boasts that the camera has been updated, pictures are clearer, and the light balancing is better. The pictures will still look like you took them on your Motorola Razr from 2005.

They did have some gripes though, which include lack of connectivity to extract the pictures, which Bandai has made clear is due to security and safety concerns. The camera still only recognizes primary colors which seems to be a gripe for them too, if additional colors were recognized then perhaps we could be cooking up even more foods!

Input Mag loves the Tamagotchi Pix Party, in fact they also loved the Tamagotchi Pix. They love the Pix Party more than the Pix though, citing that this is the version to get! Be sure to check out the full review here.

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ascendingconures · 2 months

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I WISH I had my own Michael to speak to me, I'm so jealous.

He's all yours anon.

Just a little note- These are Pre-Distortion Michael. I couldn't get usable results training on Michael Distortion due to the, well, distortion in the sample audio. So if you want Mikey D, you'll have to put the result audio in the something like audacity and distort the output audio from the model (aka add some echo, high pitched noise/static and mess around with high/lowpass filtering) Michael 1.0 is a model trained from the raw data of his lines from MAG 99. It has a lot of noise and a bit of speech slurring due to the cassette tape SFX. it has VERY good magnus-y results, but isnt good for something like singing. Michael 2.0 was trained using audio I heavily edited + the one blooper where his VA speaks without the cassette filter over it. it has the low end of his voice restored that the lowpass filter of the tape recorder destroyed. it makes him sound very different. it was also trained with feature extraction which sort of reconstructs his voice from scratched based on the "features" of it if that makes sense. its more likely to retain an accent when you feed it non accent data (though its super rare due to the nature of speech2speech). I still have mixed opinions on how this model turned out and it has more unstable results than 1.0

But yeah, TLDR, just download RVC, select input audio, select the model, and you can run this locally. its very lightweight and can run on a laptop from like 2014!

#michael shelley #tma #michael distortion #ask #rvc #ai #s2s #my autism #michaelposting

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novankenn · 11 months

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"Jaune Gets A Gun AU - Day 2" Titanfall 2 - Various (Pt1)

Inspired by @howlingday's RU-JA-GUN-CON

????/????: Customers! Welcome!

Jaune: Eh?

????: Ignore Droz... I'm Davis thank you for coming over.

Droz: and Welcome to the 6-4!

Davis: We're not the 6-4 anymore.

Droz: Once 6-4 always 6-4

Pyrrha: Are we interrupting something? We can always come ba...

Droz/Davis: NO! Please stay...

Davis: We have guns... because we're at a gun show, obviously... hehe.

Pyrrha/Ruby/Jaune: (Thinking) Okay... if we slowly walk away...

Tiny Tina: (Thinking) Oh, these guys seem like fun!

Jaune: Alright. I'm looking for a ranged option, I mostly use a Sword and Shield...

Ruby: It needs to be easily maintained...

Pyrrha: Simple to operate...

Tiny Tina: And blows things up!

Pyrrha/Ruby: What? No!

Droz: Well, we have these...

Tiny Tina: And these blow things up?

Droz: Some of the best Anti-Titan weapons we have... the Mag Launcher fires Magnetic Grenades. Great for landing hits on Spectres, Titans, or anything that magnets can be drawn to.

Jaune: Grimm aren't really magnetic...

Droz/Davis: Grimm?

Ruby: Yeah, Grimm. Enemy of human and faunus kind? Sound familiar?

Droz: (Whispering) Where are we again?

Davis: (Whispering) Rembrant... no, that's not it... Remnant.

Jaune: You know we can hear you.

Droz: Sorry, you travel as much as we do, and all the jump locations start kind of blurring together.

Jaune: What about the rocket launcher.

Davis: The Archer. Great fire and forget weapon.

Jaune: That would work for me...

Pyrrha: Jaune, you get one shot, and then have to reload... and let me guess it locks onto electronic signatures? Grimm, don't have those.

Davis: Well, we also have this.

Ruby/Tiny Tina: And this is?

Davis: Sidewinder Micro Missile Launcher.

Ruby/Tiny Tina: Ohhhhhh!

Pyrrha: How about we look at something more manageable, and less likely to hurt Jaune when he uses it.

Droz: (Rubbing the back of his neck) Well, we do have a line of antipersonnel weapons. They can definitely take down grimm. You can see them just over there.

Ruby: They look sort of old.

Davis: Time tested and true. Solid construction, worry free operation. Perfect for a newbie or an expert.

Droz: But DON'T take our word for it. Try them out and see the difference that these fine firearms can make for your kit!

Jaune: Okay, but where...?

Davis points to a pair of what appeared to be fully enclosed simulation pods.

Droz: Climb in. Chose your gear, and try them out. Full body feed back. So you will get a TRUE feel on which of these babies works best for you.

Jaune: Okay, I'm game.

Davis: Anyone else?

Pyrrha: I'll do it.

Droz: This way, please.

Ruby and Tiny Tina watched as Pyrrha and Jaune stepped into the sim pods and the doors closed. They watched carefully as the one called Droz opened up a tablet and input some keystrokes.

Davis: (Whispering) So?

Droz: (Whispering) He's a little rough, but he learns quick. He could be a Gen 3.

Davis: (Whispering) What about her?

Droz: (Whispering) Gen 5.

Davis: Shi...!

Ruby: Swear Jar!

Davis: Er... what?

Tiny Tina: What's this Gen stuff you, two, were talking about?

Droz: Gen stuff?

Davis: (Whispering) Do you think they...

Tiny Tina: Yes, we can hear you.

Droz: Cr...ud.

Tiny Tina: (Crossing her arms, her pistol in hand) So what is Gen?

Droz: (Rubs back of his neck) It stands for Generation. The more Generations a pilot goes through, the stronger and better they are. Right now, the young fella could be a Gen 3, the lady a Gen 5.

Ruby: Okay... that explains very little.

Davis: Your friends would make exceptional pilots... especially after we put them through ReGENeration.

Tiny Tina/Ruby: You what now?

Droz: Be for the best. They are perfect for the 6-4.

Ruby: NO! You can't recruit Jaune! He's already Enlisted with the Mobile Infantry!

Davis: Cool! We've never ReGENed a Trooper before!

Tiny Tina: No, no, no, no....

Droz: Let's do it!

Ruby and Tiny Tina make a lunge for Droz who just falls backwards to the floor letting the pair of young woman sail over him, as he tapped a button on his tablet.

(Okay... this one is getting split, because if I continue it is going to be super long, if it's already not too long. Stay tuned for the conclusion!)

#jaune arc #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #rwby #arkos #lancaster #emerald sustrai #topaz #tiny tina #time bomb #davis and droz #titanfall #the 6-4 #jaune gets a gun au

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keysimash · 6 days

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fuck it. Cringe ass Magolor post from yours truly.

I've wanted to write a proper fic where the tables are turned and instead of Reader petting kitty Magolor, magolor pets and gives physical affection to the reader, but burnout and writers block and embarrassment have mostly stopped me but iys cute and its fluffy and whatever I'm throwing this into the wind, outline and.general thoughts I've had

Cringe incoming

Magolor is always happy to recieve pets from a trusted human with their giant warm hands with long, dextrous fingers that can scritch and pet in ways his own hands cant,

The first time he reciprocates would probably be around 4 - 5 sessions, citing that he "doesn't accept it for free" and that its polite to reciprocate and he wants to look at and examine your weird humanness more closely

if he gets Jealous of His Human coming into his vicinity smelling like Other Fucking Carnivores. Originally in my deleted/reuploaded mag/reader fic this was gonna be a whole thing where the reader was friends with a bunch of Scarfies, and he got PISSED and basically marked the reader by getting super cuddly all of a sudden, the reader doesn't know because humans cant smell like that, and they try to hang out with their Scarfy friends who are like. Staying at least six feet away like "Ummmm. Did you get a boyfriend??? You've got DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH scent all over you lol"

I mean. I've been around mag/reader fics since I was like what, twelve? That sounds right, I dunno I can hardly attach a numerical age to kid memories ANYWAY I've SEEN. how many ppl write him as super possessive and jealous ESP fuckers who are horny for the crowned version you are all sinners none of you are free from sin. This cat is not well adjusted. Anyway

He'd start with your hands, taking them in his gloves, then he'd take his gloves off himself. His hands are smaller under his gloves but still pretty big compared to his own body. Still, though, I think they'd be about the size of a human hand, if Magolor himself is about the size of a backpack, since in official art it seems like his hands are half the size of his body?

I picture them soft and brown, scarred, with squishy pink paw pads on the soft parts of the palm and the last pads on his finger tips. He flexes them, and dark claws come out, relaxes, they retreat: repeat this a few times before he places his gloves neatly somewhere nearby, putting them there without looking or turning, hes already seen the room: hes looking at You, big yellow eyes, glowing a bit. White pupils all wide, taking you all in, making his eyes look lighter.

When he actually starts touching it would be more curious that affectionate, hed definitely be bending fingers and gently moving your elbows, not painful, just Examining, his skeleton is so different after all, and he has no limbs to speak of. he presses deep with his hands until he feels the bones underneath, puts his hands in different spots, on your shoulder, asks you to move and feels the bones move with. Takes a claw and runs it under your fingernail, just barely pressing in, not enough to hurt, just enough tto scrape out any dirt, remarks on how dull your claws are.

The readers own reaction would definitely affect his a lot. He really needs input from others to figure out how to compose himself, a calm and composed yet pleased reaction would fluster him more than anything as he would start to get embarrassed himself doing something so focused on another and yet, he would want praise very badly.

Teasing him would get teasing back:

He would call you silly names making fun of your human features if you teased him lol like "foot-haver" or "magicless loser" etc (he would immediately stop if you seemed actually upset)

but it wouldnt take much to make him into mess ;)

Any flusteredness or embarrassed behavior he will latch onto and tease relentlessly in order to feed his own ego and false confidence, somethin like:

"Hah! You should see your face" "does it feel that good? I havent even done anything yet"

If he gets called out on making petting seem .. less innocent he will accuse you of being the one with a dirty mind lol

The two possibilities here are either his human partner gets more flustered, which might go something like:

he starts purring at the reaction to his own touch, starts running one claw lightly along your arm. Presses up close, close with his head under your chin, purring purring purring, you can feel it and hes like a little furnace. Because he floats he can press his whole weight against a human with little effort, he presses and nuzzles then his hands find the back of your shirt and knead. His face he rubs along your shoulders and neck

OR the tables get turned on the cat egg:

Pointing out his purring, saying something like "you seem excited to do this, dont you? :)" Or commenting on how cute or lovely he is and keeping on doing it, hitting that reward center in his brain so starved for attention -- hed probably make a cute little sound at that -- or if a human touched him and started petting him while he was trying to give affection, that reciprocation would make him pull his scarf down and lick one long stripe up your arm.

I was thinking about Halcandran tongues: carnivores, yes, so barbed like a cats to lick the meat off bones, but: they're not exactly flexible like a cat, they can move but not as freely, they're not exactly egg shaped but still. So grooming would become, either something one did with ones own hands or, a communal activity, social bonding.

He would feel scratchy, his face soft: a lot flatter than a normal cat, he still has a bit of a muzzle but not much. The whiskers tickle, he pauses at the crook of your elbow, looks up at you, licks a few more times, pulls away a bit.

"You taste salty..."

If allowed to continue he certainly will, kneading and laving over the crook of your neck, nibbling curiously at collarbones before nosing into the dips they make under your skin, etc etc. He will examine the shell of your ear with a paw, purring close to it, will lick through your hair if it's short, it would be like fur to him; long hair he would comb through with fingers, hovering around you to nuzzle the back of your neck, purring all the while.

Eventually, he might get to your hands, and he would, well. I should stop before I make a post tha would get me banned from.tumblr, lol.

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sonicasura · 8 months

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Madness Combat: Analog Horror

I just realized that Madness Combat also has potential in the analog horror category. Like on the surface, it's a web series consisting of simplistic looking creatures being violently chaotic to the point reality breaks. The graphics alone makes it even more comical. Until you realize the potential context.

A post apocalypse realm where reality itself is slowly destabilizing, non-stop violence in every flavor that buying a hot dog could get someone killed, scarce resources where cannibalism becomes necessity, the dead roam the earth and not even purgatory is safe. Either you adapt or die in the madness driven Nevada. Now imagine something like that breaking into our world.

Project: Madness

An advanced survival simulator game meant to craft various scenarios for learning purposes. These situations take place in a digital construct based on U.S's Nevada and are based on the user's input. It was originally meant to be a simple game for public consumption. What Project: Madness became would wrought a horror unlike no other... And this was just the start.

In Osceola, Michigan there's a mysterious stop sign that only appears at night. An odd thing where crimson paint meant to embolden it's warning is instead replaced with dead grey. It never stays in one place as the sign will disappear the next night and emerge halfway across the county.

Should you see this particular sight, LEAVE IMMEDIATELY. Do not stop, keep running but never look away. You aren't alone as the sign's owner is always there. Those who invite Tricky the Clown into their homes have a welcome party of blood and horror.

Yalobusha, Mississippi is considered the most religious place in the United States. Churches that worship various forms of Christianity can be found everywhere. Rumors have it there been sightings which revolve the Messiah, Jesus Christ.

A figure who walks the dead of night with a halo that shines brighter than the sun. Many fanatics often sought out their savior in hopes for salvation. The ones who don't find him should be grateful. What they really seek is merely a monster that believes he's a savior. Jebus brings disaster to those who get too close.

In the Appalachian Mountains of Virginia, disappearances involving hikers and campers has skyrocketed. Any investigator who gone searching for these lost souls soon follow the same fate. No leads have been as time went by.

That is until an broken VHS camcorder was found in a pool of bloody gore with a intact tape still inside. Officials call off the search immediately and lockdown the area. Now they know the terror that comes when one runs afoul of MAG Agent Torture.

A string of grisly murders ransacks West Virginia's country side. The Mothman Killer Crimson rightfully earn their legendary name. Piercing blood red eyes are the only warning you have to run from absolute disaster.

Very few survivors cannot even describe their assailant lest they die of sheet fright. A reaper who rules over the dark and heart tainted black maddening bloodlust. The moment you enter the sight of Hank J Wimbleton, it is too late.

And these incidents are beginning to spread...

That's it for now! Until next time folks, continue to thrive in the madness.

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rebeccaberry · 2 months

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Growing Guide For The Bleeding Daisy (Short Horror Thingy)

Hi All! I've got another short horror story, but this one is quite different to my others, it's heavily inspired by The Magnus Archives (Mag 171) and takes the form of a growing guide, here you go!

Growing guide for the Bleeding Daisy.

Introduction: The Bleeding Daisy is a disgraceful, yet plentiful flower that any gardener may want to bring into their garden. It is a small flower that is dark red in colour with occasional black spots, when properly cared for it will be covered in randomly placed cuts from the stem to the base of the flower. The Bleeding Daisy will bring a sense of wildness to any garden and once planted will spread like wildfire unless properly contained.

Pruning: If a gardener is planning on keeping but a single Bleeding Daisy then it must be pruned regularly by the gardener to keep the flow of blood coming. If the cuts heal then the Bleeding Daisy will fill up inside and burst, killing the plant.

If a gardener is keeping multiple Bleeding Daisies nearby then they will take care of pruning themselves by viciously slashing each other to the brink of death, as nature intended.

Compatible Plants: Bleeding Daisies are often placed with flowers that suck lots of nutrients from the soil and won’t be overfed by the amount of blood the Bleeding Daisy is producing, such as the Vampiris Hellebourous (Commonly called the Vampire Rose), although this is not necessary if the gardener of the Bleeding Daisy makes a note to drain the blood on a weekly basis, or if the other flowers are undergoing necessary suffering for their own growth.

Sunlight: Bleeding Daisies, despite their want for sunlight, should never be allowed too much at a time, for this may give them hope for the future. Bleeding Daisies should, however, not be entirely shunned from light, artificial light, specifically white light, is an amazing choice if the gardener has it at their disposal.

Watering: Bleeding Daisies should be watered twice a week, no more than two days apart, the water should be no lower than 78° Celsius, and no higher than 83° Celsius. The amount of water varies based on the size of the plant, a rough estimate that many gardeners use is that the amount of blood the plant is producing is equal to double the amount of water the plant requires.

Cautions A Gardener Must Take: As the Bleeding Daisies are inclined to slash at nearby plants to fulfil their need to be cut up, other plants may receive injury from the Bleeding Daisy, depending on the purpose the gardener is trying to achieve this may be a good thing, and oftentimes gardeners will place Bleeding Daisies in their gardens for this very purpose, but if not taken into account by the gardener, Bleeding Daisies may destroy a garden.

Conclusion: The Bleeding Daisy is a disgusting plant that has a fulfilling place in almost any garden. Caring for the Bleeding Daisy is simple enough, requiring only occasional input from the gardener, making it a great plant for a new gardener who is just building their first garden. Despite the relative ease of growth for the Bleeding Daisy however, cautions must be taken in order to ensure it does not destroy the garden, as if it gets out of hand it easily can.

#author #writeblr #self publishing #writing #authors of tumblr #writer #fiction #horror #horror story #the magnus archives #tma

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ellizablue · 4 months

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Lil sneak peak from the upcoming new chapter of The Anchor Cast Below (an old odesta throwback, iykyk):

I’m hunched over Mags’ kitchen table, my head throbbing and heavy, when the phone begins to ring.

It’s shrill, demanding: I wince and then feel irritation spark inside of me, quick and volatile, and I close my hands over my ears, hoping it’ll work for me like it works for Annie.

I still hear it.

I let it ring, ring, ring, ring— stop. And then it starts again. Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring— stop. Again. Ring, ring, ring—

I lurch up from the table, furious now, and wrench the phone from the wall.

It’s Mags’ phone, so I’m expecting Seeder, Woof, maybe Haymitch or Chaff. They’ll be calling to see how the newest addition to our sad little species is settling in to her new home, her new life, her new prison. Later, as the Victory Tour draws nearer, it’ll be Annora and Annie’s stylist phoning, needing to plan and prepare. Not now, though. Not yet. And after what happened— after how completely Annie’s mind snapped away on that shore following the loss of her family (my fault, my fault)— maybe never. She may never come back to reality, to the world (to me). She’s been lost ever since I carried her shrieking and begging up to Mags’s guest room, utterly unreachable.

“Hello?” I snap, not able to fully mask my irritation. It’s only the knowledge that none of this is my fellow Victors’ fault that keeps me from greeting with, “Shut the fuck up.” Though right now, my heart as raw as it is, I wish pretty much everyone and everything outside of Mags and Annie would shut the fuck up for all eternity.

There’s a brief pause. I notice first that the phone call sounds remarkably clear— there’s usually quite a tangle of static in the background to calls from other Districts, particularly 12, so it’s certainly not Haymitch on the line— and then the caller greets me.

“Good morning, Finnick.”

I feel my stomach plummet, my entire body tense up. I automatically turn and look around the kitchen, seeking Mags instinctively— for her guidance, her input, her comfort— but she’s upstairs with Annie, trying to wash the wounds she gouged into her arms in her sleep last night.

My eyes fall on a piece of paper resting on the small table beneath the telephone. It’s the phone directory for Victor’s Shore. Mags, Caleb, Fisher, Meredith, Pike, Dowell, Irving. Finnick. Annie. Her name has already been penciled in on the blank line underneath mine. The next Victor’s Shore house and phone line to be assigned. The next game piece in this twisted power play of Snow’s.

He doesn’t take kindly to my extended silence.

“I said good morning, Finnick,” President Snow repeats, his voice cold now, intolerant to my rude lack of response.

But it isn’t a good morning at all. There hasn’t been one since I was fourteen years old. And Annie— sweet Annie, who truly did nothing to deserve any of this— will likely never have one ever again as long as she lives, however long that may be.

I can think of only one thing to say.

“She did nothing,” I hiss. I grip the phone tighter. At once, my rage swells and crests. “She did not challenge you— she did not defy you— she did nothing!”

Snow’s voice is calm and level where mine is shaky and swollen with emotion. I hate him even more for that.

“Precisely. She did nothing. Her task was very simple— and yours, as her mentor, even simpler: sit through Mr. Flickerman’s interview, engage in the recap, smile and be grateful for her good fortune to still be alive. I was assured you would both deliver, and you delivered exactly nothing. Beyond confusing your lovers and the Capitol public with your over-ardent defense of Ms. Cresta, and her unsettling comments about feeling like she’s being punished…truly, Finnick, I’m not sure you’ve ever failed so spectacularly before.” He pauses for a brief moment, long enough for his words to sink in, and then he continues. “Her ungrateful comment reeked of confusion, so I thought I would set her right. She wasn’t being punished before. This is punishment. Now she knows the difference.”

The list of Victors and their phone numbers is blurry behind tears.

“She didn’t even know what she was saying,” I manage to whisper, my voice twisted with grief and frustration and anger. “That comment wasn’t rebellious or intended to— to be insulting, it was just…” honest, real. Pure. Annie. “She’s unwell. She’s hurt. To her, wounded as she is, everything feels bad. Everything feels like a punishment. She didn’t mean anything by that comment!”

I’m unsure why I sound so desperate for a moment. What do I think I’ll achieve by making Snow realize this? Do I think he’ll somehow pull her family from the morgue and revive them? That he’ll apologize?

No. I’m trying to protect her from future punishment, future pain, though right now I’m not sure what’s left for them to take. They’ve already stolen her mind and her family.

Just her body, I think. Just her body. That’s all that’s left. And I don’t even have that— they took my family, my mind, my body.

(What a pair we make, Annie and me.)

Something about my comment angers President Snow. He sounds less composed now.

“Then you failed, Mr. Odair. You failed as a mentor. You were supposed to prepare her so when she got on that stage she said what needed to be said, she did what needed to be done—”

“She’s not—”

“Do not interrupt me!” Snow booms, and I fall silent immediately. I’m surprised that he’s raised his voice. Yelling somehow seems beneath him. “You wanted her. You cheated and lied and manipulated her way out of that arena. You did that— you chose that. Did you not?”

I say nothing. We both know exactly what I did. I slept with the Gamemakers, I manipulated the Game, I rigged it and cheated and made that dam burst. And because of that, Annie won. Annie came home. And I did want that— her to come home. I just never intended for her to come home to this.

“Answer me.”

I blink hard, and I feel tears— hot and bulbous— capsize my eyelashes and roll down my cheeks. I watch one drop land and splash over Annie’s newly-penciled in name on the directory.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” he repeats harshly. “And so all of this is your responsibility— she is your responsibility. Everything she does, everything she says. She’s yours, Mr. Odair. How do you find her? Is she everything you hoped? Everything you wanted?”

I think of Annie, lying lost in the bed upstairs, her nails caked with dried blood and her green eyes empty and echoing. And I think of her before the Games, laughing with twinkling, sharp eyes, so there that she saw through my defenses instantly. More tears slide down my cheeks, and there’s a painful pressure in my chest, like my sternum has been pried open. Like something inherent to my survival has been scooped out and stolen. Maybe it has.

I don’t know what to say back to that. He doesn’t really care what I say, anyway.

“You think I am cruel,” he says. He does not ask. “But I know well what I am asking of you. Once, it was asked of me.”

The implication that he has ever had to deal with anything like what I’m dealing with does more than anger me— it offends me. I clench my fists and feel my sorrow turn hard. I forget to watch my words. I forget to watch myself. Flung carelessly and cruelly from bed to bed, my body not even my own, my life, my identity, my words, and now, my heart—

“You know nothing about what is asked of me,” I bite. “Nothing! You know nothing about what I have to deal with, what I have to carry—!”

I’m talking about so much more than Annie, but he’s buttoned up and focused on the issue at hand.

“I’ll remind you again that you chose this. You asked for this. All you had to do was let her die in that arena, but like a fool, you chose your own heart and your own feelings over your duty—”

“I’m not talking about Annie anymore!”

“You should be! You’ve made such a mess for yourself, Mr. Odair. I doubt you even realize how much of one. And because it is your mess— she is your mess— you will clean it up. You will take care of this problem, and you will do so in whatever manner maintains your public persona and maintains the Capitol’s good opinion of the Games. You will control your mentee and her loose lips, you will control yourself and your fondness for her, or I will handle her. And Finnick? You don’t want me to handle her.”

No. I don’t. I want him as far away from Annie as possible.

He continues, anger still writhing between his cold words like serpents.

“You are a young, naive boy— barely a man, despite what your lovers would contend. You act without thinking and you think without acting. I know well what it costs to mentor someone. I know well what it costs to do one’s duty. You’ll do well to never forget that, Mr. Odair.”

Before he ends the call, he adds one last threat.

“You’ll be relieved to know your lapse of judgment at Ms. Cresta’s recap didn’t impact your economic value. You have quite the lengthy list of patrons lined up for Ms. Cresta’s upcoming tour, including some of your particular…favorites.” A swell of nausea. I set my hand atop the small telephone table and lean against it. “Give Ms. Cresta and dear Ms. Flanagan my love. Congratulations again to District Four.”

He ends the call, but I don’t move for a minute or so. I hold the dead receiver and stare down at Annie’s name, now hazy and blurred from the tears that have dripped onto the paper. All I can think, over and over again, is what have I done?

My first instinct is to run to Mags, but she’s upstairs tending to Annie, and I can’t risk Annie hearing about any of this. I don’t want her to know. I don’t want her to worry. Perhaps she’s already too far gone to even comprehend the full gravity of this situation, but I can’t risk it. So I take a moment to compose myself, I gather a few more bandages from the cupboard over the sink in case Mags needs them, and I go upstairs to see if she needs any help tending to the damage that is, as Snow so accurately put it, my responsibility.

#odesta #the hunger games #the anchor cast below #where soul meets body

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