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zombiee-reviews · 4 months

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Page 832 Discussion

… God. This page is full of bad decision making above the max limit lol.

My first point on the subject is why are they relocating to Rogio’s old territory? If I remember correctly, didn’t someone mention the land is cursed? How does Rogio know that the spirit isn’t lurking around still? Laying dormant for another victim?

Also, it’s stupid for Ronja to not merge the tribe cause “they’ve come too far.” Girl. You have pups that need to come first? I would have figured she would want to merge with Fraujar since Kique has hinted a pairing with them at some point. Which btw what even happened to Whispervale, did they just poof outta thin air? Not sure what Kiques intention was with showing Fraujar being interested in Ronja, when he’s doing everything to not pair them up suddenly. Probably because it’s not a male x male pairing. I also wonder what Fraujar is going to think when they do end up moving. Is he really going to want to trek up the mountain? Brings me to another point, again, Ronja has pups, she should be considering how rough the journey would be on her pups and it’s stupid to move right next door from their old territory. They’re not exactly out of imminent danger.

Again, with such a “dangerous” journey, how are they going to get their cattle up there? Their stuff? It’s a waste of energy and how are their cattle going to survive on a mountain?? How are they going to be able to endure harsh winters on a freakin mountain? There’s so much land elsewhere they can claim and yet, they claim the Meteor summit? Lmao.

And yet again we see Ronja unable to make a decision for her new Tribe. You would think she would jump on the opportunity to make a name for herself and her members, but yet again, she can’t make a damn decision. Always relying on her members to help her.

Also, aside from Roamer is Ronja even aware about the supposed spirit that obliterated Rogio’s old tribe? Or is sweet Rogipoo not mentioning that important bit. It’s almost like it was completely forgotten by the writer. Why Rogio would want to return to that area anyway, is beyond me honestly. It feels wrong to me as well, that you’d want to return to your family/ friends graveyard. DUNNO MAN.

To be completely honest with you, I wish Kique made Rogio an antagonist, because this would be a perfect opportunity to show how evil Rogio is. Could imagine for a moment, that Rogio fails to mention the spirit and puts the Tribe in danger? That would add some juicy story telling, but we all know that Kique put Rogio on a pedestal and even if that DID happen, it wouldn’t come back on Rogio at all. I mean hell, Ronja still hasn’t addressed Roamer for him going against her word. But this is Kiques world and nothing bad can happen to the R trinity. 🙄

#kique nordin #kique7 #asmundr #bad dog comics #comic review #asmundrcomic #asmundrhome #comic #homeasmundr #homecomic #bad writing

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the1920sinpictures · 1 year

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1925 Trinity Church, New York City. In the graveyard on the left is the grave of Alexander Hamilton. From New York City-Vintage History, FB.

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blorb-el · 6 months

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trick or treat (your pick of fic)!

another lil writing exercise wip form the fic graveyard! clark has been whammied with some sort of... magically infused fear toxin? iirc? and has locked himself away about it :) i'd have to check the kryptahniuo here, wrote it a long time ago partially to practice using the language.

gen, 530ish words, no particular warnings, trinity

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The earthquakes had been mild. They’d begun thirty-six hours after the dosing, and had tapered off five hours after that. The scientific community was still mystified at the small scale of the earthquakes and their origination point deep in the Arctic, far from usual tectonic plate activity.

Bruce enters the main hall, eyes darting around. There, between the states of Jor-El and Lara, lies Clark’s cape. It’s crumpled small, alone on the floor, brilliant splash of red against the serenity of blue and glowing white.

“Clark,” he calls out. No answer.

“Fortress. Show me where Kal-El is.”

The ever-shifting low chimes turn down in volume for a moment, then return, and a soft glow blooms under the floor leading to the main body of the building. Not Clark’s quarters.

He follows the path. Under the globe of Krypton, through the man rows of mostly-empty animal habitat. To the main laboratory, and there’s another arched doorway at the end that Bruce has never been through, that’s never been open while he’s been here. It’s closed now, and the cool refracted light plays across the door, then slowly fades like starlight.

Bruce knocks, mouth dry.

“Please hold,” the cool Fortress voice says. “Announcing your arrival.” And then the cool tones shift into the lilt of Kryptonian.

Bruce has, sometimes, in moments between stakeouts and shareholder meetings and chemical analysis, thought about learning Kryptonian. He’d been on his way to take over monitor duty from Diana, and she and Superman had been speaking. Clark had been leaning back, arms crossed behind his head. As he’d entered Diana had ventured a phrase and Clark had chuckled, low and, Bruce thinks, happy.

“.Ehrosh :bem khaehtiv :bysh,” he corrects. “m-bysh, with the stress on the back, just like khaehtiv.” He’d looked up then, smiled at seeing Bruce. Diana looks up as well, and smiles, and he nods at the two of them. “There, try it on Batman.”

“.Ehrosh mbem khaehtiv mbysh,” Diana says, a little slowly.

Bruce pauses for a moment, then echoes back. “.Ehrosh… mbem?,” He sees Clark’s lips part just a tiny bit in surprise before they curl up. “What’s the second part?”

“My friend,” Clark answers. After a half second he adds, almost tentatively. “But for you and I, we’d use the masculine - .khahtiv :bysh.”

Bruce forms the syllables in his mouth, cautious. “…khahtiv mbysh,” he says. And the little smile of Clark’s reaches to the corners of his eyes, something unnameable but warm there.

Around him the Fortress is murmuring words beyond what he can make out, but it repeats .nahn rrutiv :bysh .nahn rraop zhachahvymahehd .nahn rrutiv :bysh .nahn rraop suzehdh

It falls silent for a moment, and Bruce strains his ears though there’s nothing to hear. Moments pass, nothing but the soft shimmer of the crystals around him. Then, softer still, the Fortress AI speaks again.

.kaoshahrodh kahl-ehl

Shahr. Shahrrehth. He knows that word; the world knows the word, blazoned as its ideograph is in red and yellow across Clark’s chest. Bruce pockets the Kryptonite, lays his hand on the door. “Clark. Kal. I’m here to help you.”

And the door holds a moment longer, and then sinks into the floor.

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rough translations...

.ehrosh :bem khahtiv :bysh - hello, my friend .nahn rrutiv :bysh - he is your friend .nahn rraop zhachahvymahehd - you are not alone .nahn rraop suzehdh - you belong here/you are at home .kaoshahrodh - you must continue to hope

(I think the possessives are off, i'm missing some particles, and i'm not sure -ehd is the right suffix to change chahvymah from an adverb to an adjective. but yeah. rough drafts!! fun fact i kind of want to get a tattoo of the symbols for the word kaoshahrodh.........)

#thanks for the ask :^)#my writing #clark and diana teaching each other themysciran greek and kryptahniuo is Important 2 Me.......

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omori-headspace · 7 months

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〖 HELLO! WELCOME TO MY BLOG! 〗

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☞ SELF TAUGHT ARTIST! (ROBUX ONLY! MSG ME FOR PRICES!)

hey there, welcome to the graveyard! aaaas you already know, my name is comet and/or ghost. and this is my blog! i will reblog any of my current interests and/or special interests.. like, all the time. so look out for that.

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my dms will be open if you want to commission me, and please do ask me about my prices! i haven't made a sheet for them yet, but i'll get to it. if you're simply here to see my art, search 'comets doodles' on the search tab. you'll find most of my art there!

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〖 THAT'S ALL, FOLKS! 〗

#welcome to my blog #comets doodles #favs #super favs #funny #me

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lizahamilton · 6 months

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Legacy. What is a Legacy?

On November 9, 1854, I died. It was in Washington D.C and I was 97. I outlived my Alex by 50 years and had outlived all but one of my siblings; my sweet youngest sister, Catherine. I was buried near my Alex in Trinity Church graveyard in Manhattan. I like to think I had an impact on this world and my new country. I pray that you will remember me as a woman of determination, love, forgiveness, and service.

Rest in Peace, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton. You will be remembered. 🇺🇸

#eliza hamilton #death #legacy of love #rip

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myhauntedsalem · 9 months

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The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951

The summer of 1951 was a weird time in the city of Baltimore. The city sweltered under a heat wave and only the wealthiest residents of the region could afford air conditioners at the time. And there were no air conditioners to be found in O’Donnell Heights, a housing project on the southwest side of the city. This was a place where steel mill and shipyard workers lived with their families. For those folks, though, the steamy heat was less of a worry than the specter that was stalking their streets.

At some point in July, a tall, thin figure, dressed all in black, began sprinting across the rooftops of O’Donnell Heights. It leaped on and off buildings, broke into houses, attacked people, enticed a young girl to crawl under a car and played music in the nearby graveyard. Groups of young men patrolled the streets, while others waited by their windows at night, keeping a sleepy watch for the “Phantom Prowler” that eluded his pursuers and vanished into the cemetery before he could be caught. By the end of the month, police were arresting people for disorderly conduct and carrying weapons, but the phantom had disappeared and was never seen again. What in the hell happened in O’Donnell Heights in the summer of 1951? To this day, no one knows.

O’Donnell Heights was only eight years old when the mysterious stranger began making his appearances. Built as a housing project for defense industry workers at Bethlehem Steel, Martin Aircraft and Edgewood Arsenal during World War II, it was never meant to be either durable or attractive. Tightly-spaced, two–story row houses went up on sixty-six acres of what used to be farmland, a brickyard that belonged to the Baltimore Brick Co. and part of St. Stanislaus Kostka Cemetery, one of several graveyards in the immediate area. The others included Evangelical Trinity Lutheran Congregational, Mount Carmel, St. Matthew’s and Oheb Shalom Congregation Cemetery, but the phantom would show an affinity for St. Stanislaus and often appeared nearby.

By the time that the local newspapers realized that something very strange was happening in the Heights, the panic was almost over. Most of the stories that remain today come from the back pages of the Baltimore Sun and Evening Sun, which printed a handful of articles between July 25 and July 27, when the sightings came to an end. Reporters approached it as a “tongue in cheek” story with cartoon illustrations. No one seemed to know when the events had started, but on July 24, Agnes Martin told a reporter that the phantom had been seen for “at least two or three weeks.”

The first definite date discovered by researcher Robert Damon Schneck was on July 19, although the figure had undoubtedly been seen a number of times prior to that. On this date, though, there was a full moon and nighttime temperatures were in the 70’s. It was around 1:00 a.m. when William Buskirk, 20, ran into the phantom. He reported, “I was walking along the 1100 block of Travers Way with several buddies when I saw him on a roof. He jumped off the roof and we chased him into the graveyard…” One of the other boys interviewed with Buskirk stated that, “he sure is an athlete. You should have seen him go over that fence – just like a cat.” The fence that surrounded the cemetery was six feet in height and trimmed with barbed wire around the top. According to the witnesses, the figure in black had leapt over it with ease.

Hazel Jenkins claimed that the phantom grabbed her some time the same week. She saw it twice at close-range and may have been attacked when the figure tried to break into the Jenkins home (the article isn’t clear) but her brother, Randolph, saw it soon after. He told a reporter, “I saw him two nights after he tried to break into our house… He was just beginning to climb up on the roof of the Community Building. We chased him all the way to Graveyard Hell.”

The phantom next visited the family of Melvin Hensler, breaking into their house on July 20, but stealing nothing. After this unnerving experience, the family went to stay with Mr. Hensler’s brother, but Mrs. Hensler returned to the house the next day and found “a potato bag left on the ironing board,” which she was convinced belonged to the intruder. Mr. Hensler was so exhausted from staying awake that his eyes ached and he had started talking in his sleep.

Storms on July 23 lowered the temperatures, but had no effect on the phantom. In fact, on July 24, he was especially active. Newspapers reported, “At 11:30 p.m. officers Robert Clark and Edward Powell were called to the O’Donnell Heights area where they were greeted by some 200 people who said that had seen the oft-reported ‘phantom.’ Clark said that they pointed to the rooftops and someone yelled: ‘The phantom’s there!’” The police drove around and arrested a twenty-year-old sailor carrying a hammer. He was fined $5.

A reporter from the Sun found thirty of forty people waiting around the back stoop of a house on Gusryan Street, waiting for the sun to come up. One of them, Charles Pittinger, had armed himself with a shotgun. He interviewed several of them, who passed along rumors and told of their own experiences. Some of them claimed the phantom lived in the graveyard and a woman who lived on Wellsbach Way, adjacent to St. Stanislaus, suggested that the phantom was doing more than jumping fences and breaking into houses: “One night I heard someone playing the organ in that chapel up there. It was about 1 o’clock.”

The phantom was also reportedly seen beckoning to Esther Martin from underneath an automobile, saying, “Come here, little girl.”

The consensus of the crowd was that the phantom easily leaped from two-story buildings, flew over fences and was a general nuisance in the neighborhood. A man named George Cook admitted having mixed feelings about what was happening. He did not deny the reports of the phantom, just the possibility that something extraordinary was involved. In the end, he blamed the media. “It’s ridiculous to believe that a man can jump from a height and not leave a mark on the ground. Yet this character does it all the time. It’s my idea that when this thing is cleared up… it’ll turn out to be one of these young hoodlums who has got the idea from the movies or the so-called funny papers, and is trying to act it out. This sort of thing appeals to detective story readers who are mainly looking for excitement.”

Meanwhile, the police were busy ignoring the phantom and rounding up the “usual suspects.” On the morning of July 25, they arrested four boys on disorderly conduct charges at an unidentified cemetery. Around 10:00 p.m. that same night, officers arrested three boys on an embankment near the cemetery. Their six companions, all on the lookout for the phantom, fled the scene. An hour later, the police responded to a call from a resident who heard footsteps on his roof, but nothing was found. At some point the next day, Mrs. Mildred Gaines heard the sound of someone trying to break into her house and ran outside barefoot screaming, “It’s the phantom!” It was actually the police breaking down the door to serve a search warrant on the premises. Mrs. Gaines and four male companions were arrested on bookmaking charges.

By this time, the newspaper coverage – which had started off with reporters as baffled as the residents of O’Donnell Heights – turned humorous. The stories poked fun at the sightings, reported pranks by neighbors pretending to be the phantom, and carried a story about a phantom sighting on a rooftop that turned out to be a ventilation pipe. On July 27, the Evening Sun announced there were no more reports and that, “Police think it might be a teenager.” The phantom was gone, but the heat was back, with high humidity and temperatures in the middle 90’s. Like most bizarre “flaps” of this type, there was no satisfying resolution to the panic created by the Phantom of O’Donnell Heights. An unofficial version claimed that residents finally chased it into the cemetery, where the phantom jumped into a crypt and vanished for good.

No one can say who, or what, this figure may have been, although based on the sheer number of sightings, something weird was happening in the neighborhood. Descriptions of the phantom were fairly consistent, considering that that the encounters were brief, took place in the dark, and he was usually moving at a good clip. William Buskirk said, “He was a tall thin man dressed all in black. It looked like he had a cape around him.” The only one who mentioned the phantom’s face was witness Myrtle Ellen, who said it was horrible. She also agreed about the dark costume. The newspapers described the phantom as “black robed,” suggesting long, loose-flowing clothes. Mrs. Melvin Hensler, discoverer of the discarded potato sack, saw the phantom three times and said that during one sighting, it looked as though he had a hump on his back.

Theories abound about the “Horror of the Heights.” Sociologists have described the events in O’Donnell Heights as an example of an “imaginary community threat,” suggesting that the 900 families living there experienced some type of mass hysteria, whipped up by rumors and the media. It’s true that misconceptions undoubtedly played a part in the events, but they don’t explain the relatively straightforward experiences described by William Buskirk and other witnesses. The police never denied that people were seeing something but, like George Cook, thought it would turn out to be a “young hoodlum.” But if it was, he was never caught, exposed or confessed.

It’s also hard to accept that the newspapers played a part in creating any hysteria. The two local papers ran only six articles on the phantom, two of them mere fillers, and they were printed as the sensation was coming to an end. The only one that might be called “sensationalistic” ran on July 25 and included the experiences of a number of witnesses. However, it ended on a sober note: “The question of the prowler of O’Donnell Heights continued to be not one of the phantoms, but of people reacting to (and possibly creating) the unknown with their imaginations.”

Some have taken the phantom’s affinity for St. Stanislaus as evidence that it was an actual ghost. Part of O’Donnell Heights was built on land that once belonged to the cemetery, which contains a great many unmarked graves from the influenza epidemic of 1918. Also, bodies were exhumed and reinterred when Boston Street was extended in the 1930s, but it’s hard to see how this would stir up a spirit in July 1951.

There has also been the suggestion that the phantom was some sort of mysterious entity like the “Mothman” of West Virginia or the “Mad Gasser of Mattoon,” which plagued a small town in Illinois in 1944.

Whatever it was, it remains a mystery and one that – like far too many others – will simply never be solved.

#The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951 #paranormal #supernatural #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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