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#blood sacrifice mention
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Look out its a Linkblr Dashboard Simulator!
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🪶 redwingskies Follow
So who was gonna tell me the Surface is Real, huh? Who.
🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow
Where are you from?? What....what are you??? ....God?
🪶 redwingskies Follow
Nah turns out she's my best friend though.
🪶 redwingskies Follow
Hey btw, If I kill a god does that make me one? Is there like. Rules for this? Asking for a friend. (Like seriously. I don't care. He does.)
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🚋 train-life Follow
Today's Fact: Did you know Trains are the reason New Hyrule has Standardized Time Zones? As citizens needed to know when to get to a train station, the council lobbied for standardized time that could be applied precisely for travel by train! The entire modern perception of time is because of the Train!
⌛️ forestchild Follow
Thanks, I hate it. Lets go back to living by the sun rise and set.
🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow
??? We've always had standard time zones??? What are you talking about. Trains didn't invent that.
🚋 train-life Follow
...they literally did. I re-researched this to double check. What are YOU talking about?
🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow
Time zones? Like. The era of Legend, the Golden era, bullfish like that?
🚋 train-life Follow
... you can swear you know? I'm 12 not a baby.
🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow
you're HOW OLD? I thought you were a Royal Engineer???
🚋 train-life Follow
12? It's in my bio?
🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow
I love you but get the hell off of this website why are you here
🌟 excuuuse-me Follow
Can we go back to the weirdo who thinks Time Zones are HISTORICAL PERIODS?
🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow
Haha yea total weirdo, what, are they like 400 years old or something? Lol
🐴 goatman4life Follow
Actually I wanna get back to why a 12 year old has a job
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🐟 indigo-gos-official Follow
Hey anybody willing to lend me bail money? I'm short like 10 rupees and it's really annoying.
⌛️ forestchild Follow
Wait shit wrong account! Wrong account!!
🐴 goatman4life Follow
Why do you have access to a hyper-famous Zora Band's account??
⌛️ forestchild Follow
Their lead guitarist died in front of me and I am very nice. Now get me out of jail goatman.
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🌳 wildflowerwastaken Follow
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#hi #i saw a cool bird today #the camera was left on selfie mode so it only got a picture of me squinting at it #the bird noticed the flash and it pecked me until I fell out of the tree #straight into a malice puddle #the bird was pretty tho #so I say my day went great!
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🌟 excuuuse-me Follow
Hey apparently I need to update people on my boundaries. So. Here is a list of what's okay:
Hugging
Kissing me
Kissing me directly on the lips
👀
Parasocial relationships where you praise me constantly <3
And this is NOT okay
Hunting me for my blood to revive the prince of darkness
Ignoring me
Thank you, that's really all, I'm kinda sad that this has to be said but clarity is wisdom and all.
👑 princess-of-hyrule Follow
Link. This is not what I told you to post.
🌟 excuuuse-me Follow
Well EXUSe ME if my boundaries look different than yours!!
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⚒️ smol-smithy Follow
Hey pulled the Four Sword again so we need help figuring out who gets to run the blog lol.
Thanks everybody
⏳️ forestchild Follow
Lol this loser doesn't know how to make sideblogs
🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow
The poll says "Who gets to be Link on MAIN" though, so maybe they do? They just wanna have one person in charge of the first blog?
⏳️ forestchild Follow
The path to truth is unity. Many voices can be heard within one "main".
-The Diety
⏳️ forestchild Follow
...ignore him, I've made him a sideblog and he refuses to use it.
⚒️ smol-smithy Follow
Hey wait no let him come back, he's the only smart person I've ever heard
-Green (?)
⚒️ smol-smithy Follow
I am going to kill you.
#we have all agreed to not utilize this blog until the poll is complete #so shut up green
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months
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Bestie Deficiency
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#a-qing#xue yang#xiao xingchen#Xue yang is cold because cold blooded creatures can't generate their own body heat#I am skipping over drawing the stories they tell due to the fact this arc is already really dragging#but I think they are very key in understanding the yi-city characters#Even if they are stories that really bring down the slumber party vibes A-Qing was hoping for.#I mentioned some of my thoughts in the tags of no. 76 but to continue on a bit more#I think xxc and xue yangs stories inversely mirror each other on the meaning of sacrifice and what it means to 'deserve' something#to xue yang he has only ever sacrificed - therefore he is in his right to 'deserve' what he wants. And he wants everything.#xxc leaves song lan thinking its the best course of action to atone but my god. No it wasn't. Poor communication crown actually goes to xxc#but it's what xxc he feels he deserves - continued sacrifice to atone. He wants to want nothing.#both are very stuck in the past in ways that are not actually accounting for their actions#It's easy to look at xue yang and go 'dang you need to get over your childhood trauma'#but that very much ignores that fact that we - real human beings - define so much by our childhood pains.#Growth is having to come to terms with it and trying to move past it...and not everyone is ready for that.#I have a lot of thoughts on that matter but I'll let it be for now.#Anyways. Amiguito appears to be one of those words whos meaning change depending on speaker and contextual factors#So as far as I can tell it slides around on the scale on romantic and platonic. Which works for this dynamic. I think.#Native Spanish speakers I am so sorry.
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bugsbenefit · 3 months
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i'm mmmmh still thinking thoughts (it's about the poster, of course it is, been fascinated by that since s4)
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the last few minutes of every season always drop some major hints for the next season that are pretty explicit in hindsight. some examples
s1 shows the baby slugs Will coughs up that come back in s2, hints El might still be alive when Hopper leaves Eggo waffles out in the forest, and gives Nancy a sweet moment with Jonathan despite still dating Steve, s2 has El living with Hopper and J/ancy going canon
s2 shows the mindflayer looming over the school -> meatflayer is the main threat of s3 (as well as s2 having lumax and mleven dancing who will both be established couples by the start of s3)
s3 ends with the Byers moving away and Max sitting alone in Billy's room, s4 then has the Byers living in California be a major plotpoint as well as Max's trauma around Billy's death almost killing her
and so on you get it. in hindsight there will obviously be some pretty major hints in the last 10 minutes of s4
and some already seem pretty straight forward. obviously the gates opening is the big thing, the UD will be a focus in s5. the camera lingering on the church and Jason's bible quote outside also seems like it's a pretty solid nudge at the vibe in town next season. also things like the hill scene in general with the coupled grouping (doesn't even have to be about "endgames" necessarily, would also make sense as main groups of s5, since they're split into adults, teens (now young adults), and kids (teens) again)
but the whole blood thing going on in the last 10 minutes that comes out of nowhere? i want to know where that is going
we already had a ton of blood in s4, with the lab massacre and nose bleeds for the Vecna victims. so why does the donating blood theme come up after all that, what happens in s5 that makes it warrant the blood teaser (that sounds horrible) when s4 already had so much of it? and it's not just blood in general, there's a very specific focus on "giving" blood, however you want to interpret that
the poster in the hospital room already feels extremely foreshadowy in s4 given how bold it's written, how it's the only legible text on screen, and how it's in the negative space of the blocking the whole time so your eyes are drawn to it
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but it's not even just that one poster either. in case you missed that one or didn't bother reading it in the hospital they also give you the blood donations promo table that the shot lingers on, that has so many posters begging for your blood it's not even funny anymore. and hey, even for those not reading background posters, there's 4 separate blood drop graphics so you definitely know they want blood, the show seems to really really want people to acknowledge it
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and now they use the same exact poster from these last 10 minutes again? in another location? that's more focus on it than even i expected what are we going for here
be a hero give blood you say? on the show with the constant allusions to being a hero? "heroes" by david bowie, superheroes and powers, "don't try to be heroes" only for Eddie to die when he breaks his own advice? all of s4 was about how you shouldn't try to be a hero and that running away is okay. Max also almost dies when she stops running to distract Vecna. girl you know someone is fucked with that poster, that's a set up screaming for disaster (it's also not lost on me how even the stage show has a focus on blood and !TFS SPOILER! as far as i know Brenner senior even dies after not being able to receive blood donations due to his now abnormal blood type anymore. so there's some weird focus on blood going on even outside of the in show canon now, even specifically about giving blood, or well, not being able to give blood in this case. no one was a hero and gave blood in tfs i guess lmao. what are they cooking here)
the poster is also so vague there's so many ways this can be horrible for the characters. in the actual blood donation to save someone way? would be kind of tame but who knows what lore/plot s5 will deliver. in the sacrifice yourself/get injured to save someone way? or a secret third thing we don't have enough context to guess yet?
be a hero give blood my ass. who's giving blood for what tell me now. also how bad will "giving blood" be for them
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pixhor · 1 month
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veneror · 10 days
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𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 by 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍
↪ lyric starter for @xluciifer ( currently : accepting )
THERE  IS  A  BOY  IN  HIS  MIND  that lived ages ago  ;  he is constructed of bruised legs and bare feet and calloused, bleeding palms, a cocophany of childish color.  in  another  life,  those young hands would not have been stained with blood that was not his own.  the  CULT  he once remembered acted as a fog around his childhood memories.  all that he remembered was stained in a thick layer of dark  /   that goddamn forest was so intent on ruining every moment he could possibly remember. 
(  you still hear the hymms in your sleep at night, after all of these years have passed and you have not sung praises to your lord in a millennia’s time. you remember the last time you heard the choir.  [  𝐆𝐎𝐃  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔,  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  𝐓𝐎  𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔.  ]   when you skinned your knee at twelve you were patched up by father terrance, and you remembered his voice from the way he told you  HE WOULD  HEAL  YOUR  SIN.   you remember birthdays surrounded by desolate forest.  you are the founder’s son, and god will forever love you like his own, as long as you stay quiet.  )
BUT  YOU  REMEMBER  HIM   /   HE  DOES  NOT  APPEAR  STAINED  IN  YOUR  MEMORY  /  THE UNTAINTED ARCHANGEL !
the memory plays in vox’s mind like a rerun.  (  blonde haired loverboy with a sharp - toothed grin and six ethereal wings.  he is summoned at the slaughter of the sacrificial lamb given to you by your father, the lamb you were meant to drag into the outskirts of the commune and smear its blood across the trees.  [  but you hadn’t, had you?  ]   you were nineteen and you were  EXHAUSTED  and when you pulled open its body you  CRIED.  do you remember it?  you had blood on your hands and you sank your teeth into your lip to stifle the sounds only the forest might hear.  and when he appeared it was as if your life had ended and begun.  )
;     he says :  you must be the one who summoned me. what is it you’re asking ? a favor ? wanna sell your soul to the big guy himself ? ;     he says :  what, did you not expect it to work ? you’ve got the lamb and everything. ;     he says :  what’s your name, anyway? ;     you say :  james.    ( and your voice shakes as you say it, like you’re not certain if it’s the truth. )
of  course  vox  remembers  him.  it would be foolish not to. he’s there at the gala at the pride ring, and despite being  SURROUNDED  by high - class sinners of pride, bodies decorated in the finest silks, speaking of their accomplishments and their plans for the upcoming decade,  VOX  CAN  ONLY  GLANCE  OVER  AT  THE  KING  OF  HELL  HIMSELF.  he looks the same, just touched  by  time.  worn around the edges  ⸺  once  ETHEREAL  EYES  now stained with dark circles. how much had changed between them that neither of them had the time to speak of?  
(   but  he  is  still  the  man  you  thought  of  when  you  washed  the  lamb’s  blood  off  your  hands.  he is still the boy you thought of while silently and tearfully confessing to a sky that felt empty to you at the time. was lucifer not always known as the harbinger of sin and temptation?  what had you expected?  you keep picking at a wound you won’t let heal.  [  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐈𝐓  𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒,  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒  𝐈𝐓  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐒.  ]   )
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vox’s claws sink into the wood of the bar beside him as the two’s eyes meet. they dig heavy into the material, four lines of nostalgia. a part of him almost hoped he wasn’t recognized. he’d rather leave his life in the dirt of a desolate woods.   [   𝐈  𝐂𝐀𝐍  𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐆𝐎  𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊  𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.  ]    but he cannot stop himself from staring, from catching glances across a sea of sinners, eyeing lucifer in an almost suspicious manner. in a horrible, horrible world, lucifer would know exactly what had crossed vox’s young mind every single time he smeared blood over a summoning circle days after the first unknowing ritual.  YOU  WEREN’T  SUPPOSED  TO  LOOK  FORWARD  TO  SEEING  THE  ONE  WHO  DAMNED  ETERNITY  TO  SIN.
;          𝐍𝐎  𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎  𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐌𝐄  /  𝐒𝐎  𝐈  𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃  /  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐈  𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏  𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.
(  and the king is just as beautiful as he had been the first night vox had ever summoned him. and the feeling of acknowledging that feels like a dagger burrowing itself into the bottom of his stomach. to love was his original sin.  )
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Day 12 - Self Harm
Hehehe a little bit of a twist on the prompt, but Mariano is indeed harming himself, along with like 95% of the other people in this building :)
Ping list: @ailesswhumptober, @whumperofworlds, @whump-captain
TWs: blink-and-you-miss-it reference to the threat of noncon, blood, self-harm, hand whump, dislocated fingers, captivity (the moment of escape), death, murder, burns, starvation mention, self-sacrifice, Dimitri being himself about pain
Mariano stood steadfast as alarms blared, the only one of the war mages who'd managed to slip his restraints. Laredo watched as he trembled, knees threatening to give out as more and more people continued to try to take him down. Mariano's magic gathered at his teeth, broken wards no longer keeping the plasma contained. It sparked at his fingers and palms, spitting and hissing in fury and exhaustion.
Laredo didn't remember Mariano fighting like this when he was younger. He was always efficient, and terrifying to see. Luis had picked him for a reason--Mariano could wipe a town off the face of the earth with no hesitation or change in his posture. He'd seen him do it; mechanically tackling every structure, killing every living person inside before he did so that they weren't trapped and waiting for an even worse death. That Mariano was a lot.
But this Mariano put that one to shame.
This Mariano, with scars and eyes that burned with more than just fear, moved like a predator. Laredo realized that it was almost too easy to think that he was some fragile little waif when they usually saw him next to his seven-foot-tall dragon, curled up on the couch to cuddle, or standing as one of the smaller members of their group. This Mariano burned holes through guards' heads without blinking, without missing a shot. This Mariano loomed and leaped, hands wreathed in blinding magic. He pinned the lead guard with little more than just his weight.
They'd seen how that guy had been looking at Manuel, at Mariano. Had heard whispers about what he wanted to do. Laredo glanced at Manuel, and saw the same fury and joy and catharsis in his eyes.
Mariano wrapped his fingers around the lead guards' throat. Mariano didn't let go until the man stopped screaming. He wasn't dead. Mariano didn't seem to care that much.
He didn't seem to care when his magic flickered, either. It shorted out, suddenly dimming before cutting off completley. Laredo's heart dropped. There were still more men to deal with--but they'd been held here for weeks, and hadn't even gotten to free Bastian yet. The starvation seemed like it had taken too heavy of a toll on the youngest war mage.
"Mariano!" Laredo called. Mariano didn't look at him, never looking away from the hallway that the threats had been pouring into. "Cut us free! Let us take over!"
Mariano didn't even seem to hear him.
More men appeared at the end of the hallway. They raised their guns. Suddenly, the hallway was lit by that same brilliant sunlight. For a moment, Laredo thought one of the others had broken free. Mariano's silhouette stood alone, though.
The men fell. They kept appearing. They kept falling.
Mariano was still casting. Laredo saw how horribly his palms were burned. They hung at his sides, loose and swaying as Mariano lurched forward, firing more magic from his teeth.
"Laredo." Dimitri said, drawing Laredo's attention away from Mariano. "Help me out. I'm almost free. I'm not as flexible as I used to be." Dimitri met his eyes, some grim determination filling his expression. His hands were almost free from the cuffs. He just needed a little help to dislocate his thumb. "His nose is already bleeding."
Laredo's stomach dropped. Mariano had already pushed himself too far. Mariano intended to keep going.
Laredo realized how horribly they were outnumbered. This whole place was meant to hold them for as long as necessary. Every single person here had a vested interest in keeping them under control. Many of them would be willing to die for it.
Laredo hooked his shoe up under the chain keeping Dimitri's cuffs linked. "I won't count you down." He saw how the metal bit into Dimitri's hands, into his skin, how it threatened to draw blood.
"Good. You know I like surprises." Dimitri shot him a grin as he leaned forward to give Laredo the straightest shot possible. He didn't scream when Laredo yanked his foot towards himself.
"Mm," Dimitri groaned, and Laredo couldn't quite tell how Dimitri felt about his newly dislocated thumbs. "Yes, I see why he didn't come unlock us after doing that to himself."
Dimitri staggered to his feet, grimacing as he sparked his magic and started slicing through the metal keeping Laredo bound. One cuff fell, and then the other. Laredo's skin smarted from how hot they'd gotten during the removal process.
Mariano was still casting, and people were still coming. His magic started to flicker and short out again. "Rookie, stand down!" Laredo tried as he began slicing through Manuel's restraints.
"He's not able to hear us right now." Manuel muttered, shaking his hands as he and Izan were freed next.
Just as Mariano managed to get his magic back at his teeth, Laredo grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked him off of his feet. The cast fizzled and he stumbled, only avoiding dropping to the floor because of Laredo's arms around his waist.
Mariano blinked hard as Laredo pulled him away from the opening of the hallway, letting Izan, Manuel, and Dimitri take over the attack. "Laredo...?" Confusion was clear on his face.
"Yeah, it's me." He lowered them both to the floor, supporting Mariano's weight on the way down. "Dimitri dislocated his thumbs like a weirdo and slipped his cuffs. You don't have to hurt yourself anymore. We have you."
Mariano rested his cheek against Laredo's shoulder and nodded. "I...okay." He settled on, closing his eyes. His hands rested on his lap, skin burned and bleeding. "Okay." Laredo reached up to smooth some of Mariano's hair back and wipe some of the blood from his face.
Laredo held Mariano there against the wall until Dimitri's triumphant call heralded their victory.
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whumperofworlds · 1 year
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Self sacrificial whumpee who shields a friend/lover/sibling/etc from an otherwise fatal attack. As they're laying there, bleeding, as their friend/lover/sibling/etc places them on their lap and freaking out, Whumpee asks them:
"Are you hurt?"
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wolfpoets · 2 years
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[attaches my izzy hands apologist pin to my vest] kind of fucked up that some find izzy Irredeemable when we have seen him do next to nothing violent or even particularly mean, whereas we know ed made fang shoot his dog and then shrugged at him while he cried about it and also, apparently, regularly forces people into autocannibalism for the smallest of transgressions. which is not hate towards ed! he is a pirate and this is typical pirate behavior, and if ed wasn't prone to violent behavior then that would make his path towards self acceptance and kindness weigh less than it does. but it does seem as if izzy has only ever been the enforcer of blackbeard-slash-ed's Rules and Regulations, and while ed seems happy to abandon all that and turn a new leaf because he fell in love, izzy is left with the harrowing memories of what he has done For Blackbeard, in blackbeard's name, and wondering what the fuck happened.
#our flag means death#izzy hands#like. imagine you are a pirate and yr captain says to you. hey. i need you to kill for me.#and i need you to stand witness to all the horrible things i will do to maintain my status and power#because that translates to (relative) safety and wages for you & all the men under you.#and i need you to enforce my rules - which means execution if necessary. and it often will be.#and you say ... okay. because he's your captain and you're loyal to him above all else.#(and how rare is that? in a culture of mutiny and dog eat dog. a captain who's worth the weight of being loyal to him.)#(a captain so respected and feared that all other ships tuck tail and run at the sight of his flag.)#so you kill for him. and sacrifice your men for him. and when he says to burn a ship full of sailors you burn that ship full of sailors#and watch to make sure there are no survivors.#& then one day ... he decides he doesn't want to do that anymore. he's not into the killing and the torturing and the#overwhelming violence that pirating often requires.#and so you're left standing there thinking. okay. but what about all the killing i did for you? did that mean nothing?#what am i supposed to do with all of this blood on my hands?#on both of our hands?#but you're not allowed to mention that. it's impolite to do so in the face of your captain's new lifestyle#full of people who have never had to bury their sense of morality in order to survive another day.#they might get squeamish. they might think poorly of him. of you.
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talentforlying · 5 months
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thinking today about how i initially wanted to title this blog "sin-eater" instead of "sinnerman" because that is, fundamentally, what constantine is: a consumer of other people's sins, absorber of blame, voyeur of the lowest moments in peoples' lives. except his goal isn't the bestowal of absolution or redemption, it's exposure.
those who see him approach the feast know he's there for a reason — they know what he eats, and why, and he wants them to know what you've done. moreso, he wants everyone to know that you owe him. he'll take up your consequences, he'll eat your just desserts and swallow, but you and everyone else will always see them in his eyes when you look on him. he is not your redeemer, he is consequential. he's a fucking testimony. you might forget when you're dead, your family's eulogy might come out squeaky clean, but it doesn't matter. the sin-eater keeps the score.
most recorded tales of sin-eaters describe that they're paid for their services; the act is his payment. to taste of sin freely and without shame, and be judged not for the dishes at his own table but for his apathy towards the size of the platters he's offered. the chance to establish himself as perennial guest at the banquet rather than host. who knows — maybe if he borrows enough from those worse than he is, when the time comes to partake of his soul, the sins of his own may disappear amidst the heap; unwitnessed, forgotten, and inconsequential. after all, who in their right mind would take up the burden from the most prolific of sin-eaters?
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[Image Description: A 8 panel colored Legend of Zelda AU comic  “Linked Spirit”. Panel 1: Hope sits on the table, while Princess stands beside him and Hero's Spirit floats curled in slightly. Hope huffs a "Sigh" "Have you watching paint dry or something lately?" Princess smiles just a little. Hero looks nervously amused "What?" Panel 2: A purple Darknut slams a sword down against where Hope sits. Hope's legs kick up to avoid the sword, as they look surprised. Panel 3: Hope draws his sword, while the Darknut readies it's sword again. Panel 4: Princess draws a dagger, shouting "LINK!" Panel 5: Hero's Spirit looks eyes-wide, frightened. Panel 6: Princess attacks the Darknut, which holds up a shield. It clashes it's sword against Hope's, who holds it braced to shield himself. "You know, I don't think I want to share with you and Ganon if you're gonna act like this," he says. Panel 7: The background turns red, and the purple ooze's eye comes to the forefront from the visor. "I don't need your blood" it says, "Ganon's followers can collect what they wish after I'm finished." Panel 8: The blade aims to Hope, who stumbles back wide-eyed, expression horrified or panicked. The Darknut continues "I will destroy you and your kin!" End ID]
The joke might not make sense immediately but just reread the last thing Hero said in page 28 and it'll make a little more sense I hope lol.
masterpost
First- Previous (28) - 29^ - Next (30)
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oh-how-she-blushes · 2 years
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Thinking about how Do You Hear the People Sing? takes place before the barricade and how Feuilly sings “The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France,” with hope for what will come after.
Thinking about Eponine dying in Marius’ arms singing “a little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now…and rain will make the flowers grow.” Thinking about how Enjolras solemn reaction “She is the first to fall. The first of us to fall upon this barricade,” and how earlier he sang “our little lives don’t count at all.”
Thinking about Prouvaire’s “She will not die in vain,” and Grantaire’s “Could it be your death means nothing at all?” in Drink with Me, and later Marius’ “here they sang about ‘tomorrow’ and tomorrow never came,” and “Oh my friends, my friends, don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for!”
Thinking about how Les Mis is about the romanticization of revolution versus the harsh realities of it. How taking a stand is a necessity if you want to make change, but that doesn’t negate the pain it can bring or that sometimes your efforts & sacrifices seem waisted. That these things shouldn’t have to happen in the first place.
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cryptidwritings · 12 days
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Dark Water
Chapter 44 : The Liar
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cw: forced to hurt, self sacrifice, restraints, mention of blood, two POV's.
a/n: I don't have the usual pngs with me, so take some dots as separators today :) sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it!
...
A cracking boom shook the ground, and Moss’ eyes snapped open, catching the tail-end of the rumble and a bright flash of light, followed by a clatter of drops on the roof. He relaxed with a sigh, then pulled the covers on top of him.
Wait. His eyes opened again. He was in a bedroom; the single bed where he lay was shoved into the corner. A trunk was in the other corner, opposite the door where the light of a fire flickered underneath; interrupted by a small shadow rocking back and forth with a groaning creak.
Moss sat up, sucking in a breath as his leg pulsed and twitched. On reflex, he bent his knee, registering the clink of metal, and something heavy around his ankle. He flipped the blanket off of him. A cuff with a few feet of chain length was now around his left ankle, the other end attached to a bed spoke. He could feel the slight tug of a clean dressing over his wound, and his jaw clenched, hating that he was grateful for it.
He froze as a shadow appeared under the door with quiet steps. It turned slowly, then opened, and Moss lowered his head as Reid stepped inside.
“Terrible storm tonight, might not pass for a few days.”
The memories were catching up.
“Where am I?” He finally asked.
“My home,” Reid answered from another room. Then he returned, and pushed a bowl to Moss.
It was soup; spicy, warm, and watery. It filled his belly, though. The chunks were some sort of fish he had never tasted. Reid watched him gulp it down, then wipe his chin with his sleeve as he offered the bowl back.
“Ye want another? There’s plenty.”
“Yes,” he looked up and hastily added, “please.”
While Reid served another bowl, Moss could hear a distant thump, like an untethered window shade. Then, the bowl was there again,
Reid leaned on the door jamb. “Caught a catfish the size of my arm,” he smiled, his gaze hitting the back wall as the thumps finally died down, “guess they liked the bait.”
Moss paused, mid-slurp, taking in Reid’s subtle smile. He gulped, then rest the half-full bowl on his lap.
Reid’s eyebrow raised. “Ye look worried.”
Waking up chained to a bed, no matter how much more comfortable than the floor, was more alarming than the howling wind and thunder. Moss reasoned that if he had went to sleep in a cell, then it only made sense that Isidro was somewhere worse.
“I want to know where he is.” Moss spoke softly.
“Why?” Reid took a deep breath, looking down as he massaged the back of his neck. “He wasn’t concerned for ye when he lied about being a sailor, now did he?”
Moss took another slurp of the soup, recalling Isidro’s attempted confession. “Where is he?”
“He’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked-” Moss flinched as Reid’s fist hit the wall.
“It’s the answer ye get!” Reid straightened his back. “Ye not in a position to be demanding anything, savvy?!”
“I’m not demanding. I’m not,” Moss shrunk as Reid approached. “I just- I want to know where he is.”
Reid stared down at him. “Are ye sure that’s all ye want to know? Ye aren’t curious about anything else?”
Moss’ averted his eyes. “No. Why would I be?”
The pirate stopped moving, then took a breath. “Oh, lad. Ye naive son of a gun.”
Moss’ jaw clenched.
“Ye don’t know what he is, do ye? Not even a clue?”
“I...I don’t care.”
Reid backed off his stare. “Well, I think it’s about time ye do.”
...
The pirate exit his house, mumbling, “damn stupid sod, making me come out here in the rain.”
He stomped his way through the mud and towards the cell where Isidro was huddled, pressed into the corner with his arms bent. The sight of what remained of his shivering hand, adorned with his bloodied shirt, was something to behold.
Ried grabbed his blade, and slapped the bars, yelling through the whistling wind. “Up!”
Isidro raised his head, blinking away the water cascading down his face. When he saw Reid, his body twitched like a cornered animal— too hurt to commit to running away. The pirate opened the cell door and dragged him out by the pant leg. He was heavier than Moss, but the change in weight from when he had lift him onto the back of his horse was obvious. He could push him around easily, now. It would only be a matter of time before he was just skin and bones; wasting away to nothing.
When he pulled Isidro toward the table again, the man screamed and jostled around, holding his hands close to his center in protection.
“Shut up! I don’t want ye finger!” Reid yelled, pulling a set of cuffs from the wall before straddling the sailor. He seemed to get the picture; falling still as Reid squeezed a cuff around his left wrist, encasing the edge of the shirt underneath, then stabbed his knife through the knot. The bloodied rope fell, and Reid shoved him to his stomach where he made quick work of the other cuff behind his back.
He grabbed the man’s biceps and pulled him to standing, noticing angry welts criss-crossing scars and tattoos. The sailor’s muscles folded with the strain of his shoulders as Reid pulled him along.
“Ye friend wants to see ye. Behave and I won’t take it with him watching, savvy?” He shoved Isidro forward, smiling as he stumbled down the stairs, then picked him up from the mud.
...
Not a minute later and Reid returned, dragging with him a sopping wet and shivering sailor. His brown hair was water-logged and dripping, sticking to his head over his eyes and all the way down to the nape of his neck where Reid’s hand shoved him into the room.
He shivered violently, looking around the room in a haze. Moss scrambled to toss the blanket to him.
“You had him out there in this?” Moss stared daggers at the pirate as Reid kicked the blanket away.
Reid ignored him, shaking Isidro. “Tell him who ye are.” He snapped.
When Isidro didn’t immediately comply, Reid swept at the back of his knees and folded him to the floor.
“O-okay! Okay...” Isidro’s breath shook. “M-Moss...I-” he swallowed, and closed his eyes, “I’m an assassin for-mmf!” he panted, “for the C-Cathal.”
Moss listened to the low timbre of Isidro's voice.
“An assassin?'” Moss questioned, softly, “with shit aim?”
“I’m an assassin, not a ma-marksman.”
Moss chuckled. “This is stupid. What kind of assassin isn’t a marksman?”
Isidro went quiet. His eyes hallowed out, then were brought back in a click as he again focused on Moss.
“That’s n-ot the point... listen-.”
“Why are you lying?”
“I'm not lying!” Isidro’s voice cracked with desperation as he jostled and sat up a bit more. Water dripped onto the floor. Moss stared at him; trying to figure out what was going on.
He sighed. “If that’s true, then why are you here?”
“To kill someone, obviously. Idiot,” Reid shook Isidro again. He responded with a groan. “Tell the lad why he's here.”
Isidro bit his tongue. The silence was as thick as the rain.
Moss watched the sailor—or whatever he was. It didn't take much for Moss to see the way Isidro’s shoulders slumped, or to hear the way his lungs wheezed and how his voice was stuffed up with blood. He was in pain, and yet he was staring back; his eyes shifting as if weighing the words.
“What is he talking about?”
Isidro shivered again. “I... had to...”
Moss’ brows stitched together. “What?”
“I had to save you.”
“Save me from what?” The question bit.
“Y-you asked me,” Isidro muttered. “You asked me why they’d waste the time to stitch you up, aye? They wouldn’t... not unless they wanted you.”
Moss shook his head, then chuckled. “Wanted me-? They accused me of being a spy.”
“A lie,” His voice wavered. “I knew... the m-moment Jacobsen called you out on deck. I saw the look in his eye. He wanted you, but first he had to hear you. How you beg and how you s-scream, what makes you angry... and what would make you spill your guts.”
“Reiss shot me.”
“I know. Reiss lost control,” Isidro looked at Moss, his eyebrows up in distress. “I tried to stop them-”
“Ha!” Moss leaned back as if laughing with contempt to the sky, “You’re the one who handed me over!”
The silence stretched.
“I... I ha-had to.”
Moss’ jaw clenched. “So none of this is your fault? You just had to?”
“I was trying to tell you before-”
“-and what good would it have done?!” Moss stood on his right leg, the chain rattled from his left, tethering him to the bed as his gut wrenched. "Why didn’t you just leave me!” He growled. “I've been surviving my whole life for nothing. At least then I'd be someone!”
“You'd be a ghost!” Isidro’s breath caught in the effort. “Yo-you were accused of being a spy on a g-overnment ship. There's a trial at sea, you're found guilty and sen-tenced to death. Mmf!” he took a breath and repositioned, “You become who they need, you do what they want, they plan it, they g-et you out!” he took a shaky breath, “until they don't.”
“Fine!” Moss threw his hands up. He rubbed his head, then froze with realization before looking at Isidro again. “They were going to kill you, weren’t they?”
Isidro's face fell, then he shook his head. Moss’ blood boiled up his chest.
“Really? Then why haven’t you killed him?!” Moss pointed to Reid. “Why haven’t you done anything to help us get out!”
The answer came as a whimper. “My family...”
Moss rolled his eyes, “Spare me.”
“They’re all I have, Moss!”
“Only a coward would use that as an excuse!"
Isidro’s lips curled as he looked up. “You don’t understand because you hate yours!”
The insult rung out. Moss squint his eyes, “what?”
“You heard me.”
Reid began to laugh, and pushed Isidro’s head down again until it kissed the floor. Moss’ eye was trained on the man while his own hands balled into tight fists as his chest rose and fell with the huff of his angry breath.
He could feel the reverb of Reid’s deep chuckle fall over his skin, breaking up Isidro’s whimper’s of pain as a red-stained cloth rose over the curve of his scarred back.
“Ye see, lad?” Reid looked down at Isidro, “what did I tell ye? He’s not worth the mud on ye feet.”
Moss’ mind was reeling, barely latching on to Reid’s words, until:
“I’ll make ye a deal,” Reid smiled as Moss looked at him, “I’ll let ye have free run of the place, if ye don’t try to run again.”
The lad scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I swear it,” Reid held up a hand, “on my brother’s grave, savvy? I swear.”
Moss grit his teeth. “What do you want?”
The gold teeth glimmered again as Reid stood, shoving Isidro recklessly to the ground in the center of them both.
“Beat him.”
“What? No... I can’t.”
“-of course you can’t,” Isidro said from the ground. He grunt as he got to his knees, and his bare foot slapped at the wooden floor. “You have to keep pretending, aye?” He pant, his face flushed as he stood.
“You want to call me a coward? Well the sad lad story won’t fool me!” He stepped forward, his teeth barred, catching Moss off-guard as he lowered his voice, “there’s something wrong in your head, isn’t there, Moss?”
Moss’ brow twitched.
Isidro took another step, stuttering a bit on the approach before he caught himself. The rattle of his chain followed his uneven gait until he was a few inches from Moss’ face.
“I was wrong before. To hate would mean you could feel anything at all. That’s why I had to explain it to you, isn’t it?” His face twisted in cruelty, “You can’t care for anyone but yourself. Is that why you ran? No one could love a selfish little brat?!”
Moss screamed as he tackled Isidro to the ground. The man landed on his back with a thud. He shrieked, craning his head back in anguish as the veins in his neck darkened.
“D-do it then!” Isidro growled as tears filled his eyes, “Do it you pathetic piece of SHIT! HIT ME! HIT-!"
Isidro’s face whipped to one side, then the other, his goading drowned in screams of pain when Moss’ fist connected to his left temple. His body twisted away, shoulders moving as if to try and shield himself. On the third strike is when Moss stopped, feeling a tightness in his chest that made him want to puke.
He scrambled away, pressing himself to the foot of the bed as Isidro rolled to his right side with a cough that sprayed dots of red onto the floor.
Moss’ whole body shook, staring at the singular, unfocused, orb in the man’s head before Reid dragged him out with a laugh.
“Deal’s a deal!” the pirate cackled. “I’ll be back.”
...
taglist: @sparrowsage @kixngiggles @honey-is-mesi @annablogsposts
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whumpacabra · 1 month
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45. Play
Panic, anxiety, confusion, fear for others safety, past trauma, dog mention, implied past dog attack, implied past self sacrifice, implied minor character deaths, implied military activity, blood
AU Masterpost / Previous / Next
Harrison’s brain caught up with his body after he tackle-hugged Wolf - half relieved and half enraged as he pulled back to grip the taller man’s shoulders. Wolf looked down at him, glassy eyes blinking to brightness as he avoided Harrison’s stare.
“Never do that again.” He didn’t look away until Wolf finally gave a stiff, unsteady nod. Harrison hugged Wolf again, surprised how desperate he was to know Wolf was still there, how terrified he had been.
(Not for himself, not for Thomas, but for Wolf.)
Who was barely breathing, the dull thump of his heartbeat too fast in his chest.
Harrison could tell Wolf was looking at Anders, the dog -
Fuck. Right. There was a fucking dog.
Harrison spun around, back to Wolf’s chest as he stared at the animal. Big - it was bigger than any dog he had seen, but vaguely husky-ish. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was part wolf. It wore a now bloodstained vest, pale white and beige camouflage wrapped over the dog’s tawny coat. (The white of it’s throat was dyed red, jowls dripping with blood and saliva.) It stopped growling over Anders’ bloodied body long enough to look up and meet Harrison’s eyes - it’s own a startling yellow.
Definitely part wolf.
Now Harrison was barely breathing - short gasping breaths - and his heart was racing against his rib cage. Because all he could see was that rabid mutt snarling over Merrick’s still breathing body and all he could hear was the screams echoing against stone and steel -
And a short, sharp whistle that had the dog dutifully and delicately trot away from where Anders lay bleeding to sit next to the person who was helping Thomas stay upright.
It didn’t calm the (rational?) panic blooming in Harrison’s chest to see that it was well trained and loyal to the mysterious soldier. Wolf didn’t seem to find it comforting either, a tentative hand on Harrison’s shoulder, peering over his head. Their eyes met briefly, a question and an answer.
Are you okay?
I don’t like the dog.
(Funny, how fast you learn to read a stranger when you’ve seen each other bloodied and near death.)
“Dog is good. Don’t mind him.” The soldier leaned over to scratch behind the dog’s ear. (They didn’t have to lean far - the massive animal sat higher than their hip.) Harrison squinted at the stranger, short and stocky in their pale camouflage. Between the sun glare glasses covering their eyes and the scarf pulled up to cover their mouth and nose, he could hardly tell more about them beyond the tactical vest filled with knives, glow sticks, grenades, and - apparently - dog treats, which they gave to the beast by their side.
“If they’re touchy about the pup he can ride with me. I don’t mind your coileáinín - he doesn’t shed does he?” His eyes drifted to follow the redhead who had dropped her admittedly impressive Russian accent for a thick Irish brogue. She shot Harrison a smile, emerald eyes chipped with something between curiosity and…sadness? “Regardless we best leave before those fuckers get their heads on straight.”
“Solid copy.”
“W - wait - who - ” Thomas stumbled over his words, weakly trying (and failing) to escape the mystery soldier’s grasp.
“RJ. She’s Liza. Sniper is Walker.” They looked Harrison and Wolf up and down unsubtly before looking at their dog. “This is Dog.” (Was it’s name really just ‘Dog’?) “We’re the ones that want you alive.”
“That’s encouraging.” Harrison could feel his hackles raise, sarcasm thick in his throat. Wolf’s presence at his back was steady, comforting, emboldening. “Why do you - ”
“I already told you. Jaybird asked for you alive.” There was a dull impatience to their tone as they half dragged Thomas along toward the truck. Harrison’s brain finally caught up with their words, suspicion flagging to relief.
“Jennings sent you?” Harrison had only ever heard Jennings' grandmother call them ‘Jaybird’ - it was unnatural hearing them called all these years after her death, let alone to hear it from the mouth of a stranger.
“Yes.” They paused, Thomas groaning as they settled him into the passenger seat. “Liza is here because - ”
“Because you pulled me off a bloody Vegas job to help you ruin some Yankee’s day. Which I’m happy to do, but you owe me.” Liza gave a quick whistle, Dog bounding to her side and jumping into the convertible with practiced precision. Harrison couldn’t help but flinch at the movement, but Wolf’s hand gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, grounding him.
“Put it on Ghost’s tab.” RJ shut the door with surprising softness, quickly making their way back to the circle of corpses in the street. “What are you two waiting for? Get in the truck.”
“We can’t - how do you plan to outrun them? The helicopters - ”
“We have exfil secured at the property with the cattle fields to the south. We’ll be airborne before you know it.” They gave Liza a nod as she stepped back into her convertible, the sports car’s engine purring as it turned over. “Regrouping at Duck Creek with Jaybird and your contingent of refugees. I assume that’s where they’re headed?”
“Y -yeah. Yeah, okay. Alright.” Harrison took a deep breath, looking up at Wolf. “Sound good?”
He gave a nod, eyes sharp as he glanced between the stranger and Harrison. Harrison smiled, nodding to himself as he glanced around -
“Right - the - the files - hang on, let me grab the hard drive.” Harrison broke away from Wolf (already missing the warmth) and stepped over the corpses to reach the duffel bag abandoned by the garage door. The heavy brick of the databank in his hands felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders as he clutched it to his chest.
Looking back, Wolf had taken the initiative to gather the paper files, the folder splayed on the ground and spattered with Anders’ blood -
Anders wasn’t dead yet.
His intact arm twitched, and Harrison felt his heart drop to his feet.
“Don’t - ”
AU Masterpost / Previous / Next
(An AU of my Freelancers series)
Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @whumpy-daydreams @stargeode
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squigglywindy · 1 year
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Throwback to about five years ago when I was in an emergency first aid training course and the instructor asked: "If someone's bleeding from a head injury, can you put a tourniquet around their neck to make it stop?"
And some guy in the back row stated, loudly and confidently: "Yes. Stopping the bleeding is the most important thing."
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whumperofworlds · 1 year
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The team forced to leave Team Leader behind after Leader sacrificed themself to buy them time to escape. When the team fled, Team Leader gets captured and tortured to draw out the team. Bound, beaten, and bloodied, Team Leader was defiant that their team won't come for them, that they're useless as bait.
To their surprise and horror, the team returned to fight Whumper and Co, ready to save their Leader.
"No one gets left behind," one of the team members said.
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commonghost · 10 months
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one day i will make a coherent post about how similar hohenheim and ed are and why that makes me go insane but today is not that day. brain GONE i will be thinking about that amv for the next few hours. however many that is.
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