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ghoulystay · 9 months

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No.

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley and Y/N (Female) Female reader.

Smut. Flashbacks. Memories. Bad news. Reunited.

18 and over!!

You hear a faint knock on the door. You look through the peep whole and see two soldiers standing there. Your heart began feeling heavy when you noticed what one of the soldiers was holding in his hands. His mask.

You don't know how to react. Your heart sunk a million miles. You try not to cry, but you know what they came to tell you. You open the door, and you feel like you've been holding your breath. The two soldiers look at you. "Ma'am, we're so sorry to break this news to you. Ghost is no longer." You feel your knees weak as you fall to the floor, tears streaming down your cheeks. The soldier kneels down to you, trying his best to reassure you. "Here's his mask, Ma'am, and also, this was found in his pocket." It was a necklace with a ring. You gave him the ring a year after you both began dating. He had also gifted you one that you wore on your finger. You take the mask and necklace from the soldier. Before the soldier was about to leave, you stopped him. "Wait, um.. how..." You couldn't finish the sentence. You didn't want to say it out loud. "He was KIA, Ma'am. I'm very sorry." You were in disbelief. You didn't want to believe any of it. "This can't be true!" You yelled out. The soldier looked back at you one last time before leaving. "Look, you're more than welcome to speak to the captain Ma'am." They both drove away from your home. You stand in the driveway, looking at the car drive away. You pull out your cellphone from your back pocket and scroll through the contacts. You couldn't help but feel disbelief but also anger, you couldn't understand it. You look at the contact and press the call button. Captain Price.

The next morning.

You meet up with Price at the base. You step into his office, and there he is, sitting at his desk waiting patiently for your arrival. You approach the desk. He stands. "Y/N, have a seat." You obliged. He sits back down on his chair. He waits for you to speak. "Please tell me it's not true." You're voice cracks a bit. He sighs. "Look y/n, I know this is a difficult thing to get through, but Ghost is, in fact, deceas..." y/n ubruptly stands, placing her hands on his desk. "Don't! He's not dead! I know he's not!" You screamed. Price stood up. "Y/N, stop. You have to accept it!" You fell back to your chair, burying your face in your hands. You look up to Price with tears in your eyes. "I just don't feel it, John, I know it sounds weird, but I dont, I can't..." You cry, tears streaming down your face. You notice John writing on a piece of paper, scribbling sentences, as he finishes, he folds it and hands it to you. "Not here, wait until you get home, okay?." He whispers. You place the note in your purse and stand. John speaks normally again. "I'm y/n the faster you accept this, the better." He winks and gives you a head bop to exit. You walk out of his office, and you notice everyone outside the office stare at you and whispers among them. You hurry out of the base to your car and drive back home.

At home. Late night.

You sat on your bed holding on to Ghosts mask and the necklace that he wore under his uniform. The note that Price gave you was lying beside you. You feel nervous, but you know you have to read it. You have to find out the truth. You need closure, but is it something you can really face?

You put his mask and necklace on the nightstand, and you reach for the note. You slowly unfold it, revealing John's message.

"He's not dead. He's in hiding. That's all I can tell you for now. Trust that you will both see each other again, just not now. I'll tell him we spoke. Please be patient. Destroy this note."

Your heart felt like it froze. You knew it. Your feelings were correct. You immediately stood up and ran to the bathroom. You begin ripping it up, and you throw the pieces in the toilet. You flush the remains. You walk back to your bedroom where your body collapses onto the bed. You had tears of relief in your eyes. You believed it. You knew, just knew it. You slowly drifted to sleep.

Later that night

As you were sleeping, a hand caresses your face slowly. You open your eyes in a panic before you think to scream, the hand covers your mouth. "Shhhh.. it's me, it's me, love." You reach over to the lamp to switch the light on, but he stops you. "No, it's better this way." He says, holding onto your hand. You embrace him in a tight hug. You feel tears in your eyes, an emotional reunion. You never thought it would come so fast, but you hoped. "I'm so confused, baby. What's going on?" You say still holding on to him. He takes a deep breath, and he pushes you away, holding your face in his hands. "I can't explain all that now. "All I can say is I had to fake a KIA. Someone we thought was friendly turned out to not be...." He looks down. "Who?" You ask him. He doesn't say right away. He continues looking down. You grab onto his face with your hands, and you feel confused and frustrated. You feel like you're being put in the dark. "Answer me, Simon! What the fuck is going on?!" He looks up at you. He wants to tell you, but you know deep down that he can only say so much, especially if he's ordered to do so. "I can't live here anymore. People think I'm gone, so I have to play this role correctly." You're taken aback. Almost speechless. You feel like you've been kicked in the gut, a knife piercing through your heart. "Whaa..t.... and what about....us.." You say faintly, tears streaming down your face. He holds you in his arms this time. "Come with me y/n, that's why I came here tonight. Pack and go. The men are waiting on standby for us." You couldn't believe it. You were happy you reunited but sad because that means leaving everything you and Ghost built behind to run away. "The choice is yours y/n." Ghost said. You push back from his embrace. "It'll be sad to leave our home here behind, but yes, of course I'll go with you, baby." As you get up to get ready to go, you notice he's not moving. "Simon? What's the matter?" You approach him standing inches from where he's sitting. He looks up at you, his hands grab your waist. "How about we fuck one last time in our soon to be old home, here on our soon to be bed?" You're puzzled, Ghost thinking of sex was never surprising but given the circumstance at the moment your shocked. "Are you sure? What about the men, I thought you said they were waiting for us." Ghost releases you as he stands up he takes his shirt off, and he pulls you closer to him. "They can wait." His lips crash to yours, tongues dancing in each other's mouths. You both undress each other and fall to the bed. Bodies tangled up with each other. He begins spreading your legs open with his legs. He inserts inside of you, not holding back. You moan out loud. "Oh... Simon..." Your nails going deep in his back. He holds your legs up to his shoulders, and his thrusts become harder and rougher. Your moans get louder. "I'm gonna... Cum... ooooh..." His hand finds your neck as he continues thrusting faster and deeper. "Say my name, love.. scream it..." Your head goes back, you scream so loud it echos in the room. "FUCK!!! SIMON!!!!" You both climax together.

Afterwards

You're all packed and ready. You head downstairs and see Ghost waiting patiently by the front door. He takes your suitcase from you. "Ready, baby?" He asks. You look back at your home one last time, and you take a deep breath. "Yeah, as long as I'm with you, Simon." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. "I'm nothing without you, y/n." He says. you both begin walking down the street. You see a dark vehicle with tinted windows parked by the sidewalk. You both climb into the back of the vehicle. You're surprised to see the two men sitting in the front seats. Captain Price on the driver side and Soap in the passenger side. Soap sits up, turning to you and Ghost. "About damn time you two, could hear you loud and clear on the ear piece, hahaha." You blush as you look at Ghosts direction he takes your hand. "Don't be jealous, mate." Ghost responded. They both laughed. Captain Price turns the engine on and drives off. "Alright, kiddies, let's get you both outta here." He says. You rest your head on Ghosts shoulder, and he kisses the top of your head. "Rest, lovie, we have all the time. We're together now." Your eyes become heavy, you drift off to sleep. Nothing or nobody will ever get in the way of you and Ghost. You're where you're meant to be, where you belong. With him. With Simon.

The End.

#ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #love story #love #lovers #cod ghost #cod smut #ghost cod #cod x reader #Spotify

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grislyintentions · 4 months

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|| Open Starter - Tsaritsa ||

With the end of the Hydro Archon's performance and the subsequent acquisition of her gnosis, matters within Fontaine have been concluded as far as the Tsaritsa is concerned.

No, her attentions now lie with the loose ends outside of the nation itself.

"How many of our own have we lost in the flood?"

Per custom, the families of the deceaed will be informed and given compensation, although she knows no amount of compensation can make up for their loss.

"Fetch me a list of their names... Were there any personal items that were retrieved alongside them?"

#[openers]#[For any Fatui aligned muses . If you are interested in interacting with her #But Don't have a fatui verse feel free to dm for plotting]

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edgeofmyniall · 1 year

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okay so I am TERRIBLE at math so the flashback dates maybe wrong I will make a post putting them in order lol

The Arrival: Part One

Poppy Horan knew two things: one, life sucks in the manner of doing taxes and avoiding death at all costs, and two, she would rather stick a dull, rusty spoon in her eye than to get out of the car.

Poppy sits in her car as the white crystals fade down on the steaming metal. Even though the heat is set on high, she still feels the biting wind through her car. In reality, Poppy knows her heating system works perfectly fine, but it is the anxiety that makes her bones shiver under the many layers of clothes that she’s bundled in. She had packed light- she never truly intended to stay long, but the fur coat barely keeps her trembling at bay. The steering wheel seems to almost freeze under her gloved hand as she grips it tighter. With her elbow propped on the middle console, her other gloved hand taps her temple rhythmically as she awaits for the dreaded moment to appear. Something she wished never happened. Losing a friend is terrible, but the parts that precede and follow the mourning was something Poppy wished she could resign from. She couldn’t help but feel that her skin was ice- transparent and breakable.

She looks out the window when a pair of headlights pulls onto the snow covered street and without realization, her heart skips. The lump in her throat grows suddenly and her body freezes. She can’t move, but only to watch the approaching car slowly passing her own and that sudden fleeting moment of hope or despair, Poppy didn’t know, went as quickly as it came.

It isn’t often that Poppy is able to sit and enjoy the weather, but as she reflects on her life, everything that has led up to this very moment and the what ifs that follow, and tries to convince herself to go inside where her friends are waiting for the rest of the party to join, she can’t help but to hate the position she’s in now.

A position she never saw herself being in. A position she promised herself from a young age that she would never experience. A promise all too easily broken.

Because if she got an invite, so did he.

That’s what happens when you marry inside the friend group. You get invited to places and events together even if the two parties are, in fact, divorced.

To give her friend’s the benefit of the doubt, Poppy knows that none of them have the slightest clue about the divorce. There were merely rumors and claims floating around news articles and social media. None of them know about the constant fighting and the arguing that ensued all hours of the night when Niall would come home late smelling of perfume that Poppy would never dare wear. The yelling turned into crying which turned into silent treatments that remained until they both signed their names on the piece of paper that quoted irreconcilable differences as the reason why the two should no longer be together.

Irreconcilable differences was only a code phrase for infidelity. An nonchalant word that only covers the icing on the cake when it came to the downfall of their marriage. She tried, at first, to keep the marriage together, but after getting the same excuse and blame constantly, Poppy knew that it would be only a matter of time before she was served. Niall had moved on from her like a bad habit he was quitting. She wanted to work things out: she suggested therapy, time away, anything that would get them to talk, but Niall only wanted to put up a wall, and when the barrier came down, it was nothing but screaming and blaming the other for how miserable their lives had become. As if she was the reason for the loss.

She looks at the text message again, reading it over and over. His name is still the same in her phone minus the red heart next to it, but there in plain English was their invitation to speak at Justin’s funeral. Poppy declined, naturally, as she was only friends with the deceased through Niall, but Justin had helped her through some of the toughest times, even when Niall was nowhere to be found. She would rather stick behind the articles of her interior design magazine than to speak in front of strangers. But were they really strangers? The people inside were the same people she grew with. From the early twenties to now, those people grew together, celebrated together, cried together, and now are grieving together. Even thinking of Justin led to thoughts of Niall and their life together crumbled and spiraled out of control.

Would Niall bring her? The woman he left Poppy for? He couldn’t be that naïve to bring the absolute chaos to Justin’s wake, but it would be like Niall to pop the surprise on every one at a time that they least expected it. It would break the contract that Niall’s lawyer insisted that the two parties sign. She didn’t know the repercussions that would ensue if the contract was breached, but she didn’t want to find out either. Poppy had thought about calling the closest hotel to book a room, but what if Niall had done the same thing? Would he bring the bottle of wine that made Poppy first question the health of their relationship?

Her finger taps on the window trigger, debating if she should at least step out for a quick smoke. She hated the thought of the musky smell lingering where his cologne still hung to the leather almost as if she was ruining the memory of Niall. The Niall that once loved her. She can still see him sitting in the passenger seat singing along to whatever song played on the radio as they traveled across the country. It was her car that they had spent many moments of unwavering love in. Poppy sighs before shutting down the engine and steps out into the winter morning. The quiet suburban street watches Poppy as her car chirps at her, the familiar neighborhood in Hell’s Kitchen that she watched herself grow from a young college student to now the editor and designer of her own interior design magazine and company. She leans her back on her passenger door and lights up a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine. Her body falls into an ease, letting the tense aches of her muscles relax and her hand finds the two silver rings that hang around her neck. She keeps them on a low chain, a secret that only she knows about, not daring to let the world know of her failure and shame that she couldn’t make a love like the romance novels work. They had been picture perfect in almost every way before she gave up the fight. As her fingers play with the cool metal, her mind wanders into a place that is dangerous:

The past.

Five Years Ago

“And do you, Niall James Horan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest looks over to Niall who stands proud in his tuxedo as he looks his bride in the eyes before he answers the easiest question with a smile.

“Yes.”

“And do you, Penelope Jane Myers, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest turns to Penelope who is glowing from happiness as she looks at the man of her dreams. The world stops turning as she takes in this moment: the way the one curl of Niall’s hair won’t stay in place no matter the amount of gel he uses, the way his blue eyes are shining at her, the small croak of his voice when he read his vows of the crumpled, folded paper- a sure sign that he had rewritten everything he was trying to say. They had spent months planning the wedding: getting the invitations right, the seating charts, the ordering of decorations. Niall insisted that Poppy make the whole idea of the wedding a big deal, but over and over again she told Niall, “I could care less about what it looks like as long as I’m with you. Forever. That’s all that matters.”

In hindsight, she should have known better. She looked at Niall for the last time as a single man before saying, “I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Niall cupped Poppy’s cheeks and pulled her in swiftly for a kiss that would seal the promise they both made before the crowd and God. Niall, in his soul, felt that he could die in Poppy’s kiss now as his wife for everlasting life. It couldn’t get any better than this.

Niall had carried Poppy from the altar to the small room upstairs after walking out of the chapel, and when they were alone, they breathed a sigh of relief. They were both nervous to start their lives as a married couple even though for them nothing changed except for the legal matters. Niall never asked Poppy to sign a prenup. She had helped Niall start his business so he felt that she should get at least half of everything that he had because without her support and encouragement, they would not be where they are today.

The dust of the Big Bend desert had traveled with them. Poppy gently knocks off the clay dirt as she looks her husband over. They had been married in the middle of nowhere, and their future was any possibility that they wanted. Niall unbuttons his jacket, sliding it off his arms, and carefully placing it in the chair behind him, hoping the dry desert air cools him down.

“I’ll call Sam in the morning to get everything set up at the office. You just need to come by whenever to sign the papers,” Niall whispered as his hands rested on the crook of Poppy’s hips. “After we come back from Hawaii, of course.” Her heart fluttered as Niall caressed the falling blonde tendril out of her face. His forehead rested on hers, breathing in this moment. Soon, they would be celebrating a lifetime of happiness with their closest friends and family. Poppy was surprised at how well her parents had gotten along on her big day. It was the first day of twenty years that she had witnessed the miracle.

“I don’t need any of that. Just you is all I want,” Poppy breathed, her breath hitched as Niall kisses her fully, his tongue tasting of mint. It was something special, sharing a private moment after being hidden away all day. She only wanted to get her hands on her husband and into bed, but this moment, she was completely satisfied with her husband. They had made it. After all the doubts, they had made it to the point in their lives that forever was at their finger tips.

“I love you times infinity, my darling. Forever.”

Forever came sooner than intended. On the breath of an everlasting promise, the word forever suffocated and shattered all over the hands that tried to keep a marriage from falling apart.

“Jesus, Penelope, you’re still going at it with those things?” A sudden familiar voice pulls Penelope out of the dream she was reliving. Her hand clutches the rings as she throws out the half lit cigarette, her heart racing. “You’ll end up killing yourself with those.”

Niall stood in the snow just a few feet from her in a gray trench coat with snowflakes that had caught in his hair from the short distance he walked from across the street. The week old scruff and dark circles under his eyes were a given sign of no sleep. Stocks had fallen and the business hadn’t been doing so well in the past couple of months. There had been frantic emails that Poppy was still receiving about emergency meetings from the decline of sales. The board of directors, including Poppy, were called to meet in person to discuss options. Niall had always poured his heart and soul into his work so much so that two had become one, and now as he stands in front of his ex-wife, she witnesses the perfect example of an ill fated work marriage. His body seems to want to lunge forward, to wrap his arms around his once best friend, but he stops himself and looks at the woman with the permanent sad face. “How are you?”

“Been better,” Poppy, still clutching the rings in her hand, turns to her ex-husband. His hands were stuffed into the silk pockets of his overcoat as the cloud of breath left his body. He looked irritated at best, like coming to one of his best friend’s wake was an inconvenience to him, but that was no longer Poppy’s worry. “You look like shit.”

It was a lie- a completely false statement that she said aloud to convince herself to stop looking at him in the way she once did. His dark hair was now specked with grey hairs throughout, but his eyes still shined blue and held so much wisdom. He had kept up with his workout regime. It was evident that nothing really changed in his life, except who he came home to. He looks just as good as the day he left her. He looks just as good as the day she met him.

Seven Years Ago

Poppy trudged against the rain, hoping to make it to her professor’s office on time. She had been running late due to the fact that she overslept after pulling an all-nighter to finish the essay that was due only a few minutes from now. Pen and paper, the professor had said, he would not accept anything less than pen and paper. She had only five minutes to cross the muddy lawn and run up three flights of stairs to hand in the paper in person to either her professor or the aide. Her heart racing, she ran as fast as she could across the slippery grass that would only stain her sneakers that she had gotten from her mom on her past birthday. She hated running across the grime, but it was the fastest route to get to the gray stone building that lurked over her, awaiting for her to fail.

Stepping inside the building, Poppy nearly slipped on the mat that was wrinkled on the newly polished floor. Her shoes squeaked as she began the trek upstairs taking one last look at the elevator in hopes that someone had fixed it after all the days it had been broken. The faded paper sign was still hanging on the metal doors as Poppy’s heart lurched forward. Two minutes left and the biggest grade she needed was about to be late.

A group of freshmen descended down the stairs in a form that could only be the walk of shame. They didn’t move over to let Poppy pass so she let them push past her. Her back arching into the railing as she watched the clock tick forward. It was as if time stood still in the final seconds of her deadline. Finally free, she ran as fast as she could, pushing past students and professors, unbeknownst to her she nearly pushed over her own, and left wet puddles on the floor when she reached the darkened office of her professor.

Closing her eyes, she sighed as she slid down the wall facing the office. Bringing her knees to her chest, she dropped her head in the sanctuary of herself and began to cry softly. She hadn’t made it on time and surely now, she would fail the class she needed the most to graduate.

A small whistle came from around the corner. Poppy peered over her arms with blurry eyes to see the aide coming back to the office. He hadn’t noticed one of his students on the ground when he turned the key. As he turned the lights on in his small office, he quickly grabbed his jacket that he had come back for. It was when he was leaving that he saw the tear stained face of one Penelope Myers.

“Penelope, what are you doing here?” Niall squatted down in front of Poppy and offered a hand to help her up. His touch was gentle as Poppy stood and wiped her tears. “I’m too late, aren’t I? Now I’ll never graduate on time and I’ll have to repeat the class again and hope to God I’ll never oversleep again which is a big, fat lie to you, me and God himself.” Niall cupped Poppy’s arm and gently squeezed.

“Late?”

“The paper. The one that’s worth half my grade? I’m late.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked as he looked Poppy in her reddened eyes.

“Why does it matter? It’s late. Professor Lawrence won’t approve of it. First rule of his stupid syllabus.”

“Do you have it?” Niall asked again. His blue eyes seemed to flicker as a smile crept onto his face. Now was not the time to laugh at Poppy’s failure.

“Yes, but it’s probably wet from the stupid fucking rain.”

“Let me see it,” Niall smiled. Poppy’s brow furrowed in confusion, but bent down to retrieve the paper anyways. Only the corners seemed to have gotten wet and as she gave her essay to the man who comforted her, her heart raced. He had always been attractive- his dark hair and light blue eyes. Poppy was taken aback by him the first day of class as he sat in front of class playing the drums on the desk with the dry erase markers. He had flashed Poppy a toothy smile as she sat near the back, but that was the extent of their relationship. They hardly spoke to one another, but he was there every day with a smile waiting for her.

Tapping his watch with his finger, Niall says, “By the looks of my watch, it says you’re right on time.” He winked and turned to place Poppy’s essay in the mix of the other essays that had been turned in on time.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Poppy didn’t realize what she was doing until she had done it. She wrapped her arms around Niall and buried her face inside the crook of his neck, taking in the deep musk of his cologne. “You are a lifesaver Niall. I owe you big time.” Poppy pulled away suddenly and straightened her clothes as Niall’s gentle grasp lingered. She hadn’t wanted to let go.

“You can treat me to some drinks later on. My friends and I are going down to the Landing Mark. It’s a local pub near downtown-”

“I know where it’s at,” Poppy smiles, knowing that whatever makeup she had on was now dripping down her face in a dark mess.

“And you buy me a round and we’ll call it even.” Niall extended his hand so Poppy could shake on their business agreement. A smile, wide and eager, spread across his face. Niall bent down to pick up her bookbag, and when she let go of his hand, he wanted nothing more than to grasp it again and never let go.

“The name’s Poppy, by the way,” she said after shaking her newfound friend, pushing her backpack on her shoulder. She pushed her wet, tangled hair out of her face as they begin walking down the hallway. She looked up at him, a smile growing on her face. A thought of what his lips taste like lingered in her brain. “Only my grandma calls me Penelope. It’s too old for me.”

Niall turns to open the door leading to the stairway and smiled, “Old or not, I like it.”

“You might want to put those on,” Niall nods to Poppy’s closed hand. “Still gives the façade.” Poppy swallows the last bit of pride that she has left and nods. Her hands shake, not from the cold, but from the fact that it’s been over a year since she last saw Niall. It was when he had the movers box all of his stuff and take it away in the moving truck that she saw him. He had gotten a tan from his vacation down in Cabo and he had thought Poppy wouldn’t be home.

“Thought you were gone to Amelia’s so I was going to leave this instead.” Niall handed her the wrinkled note and walked to his car without another word. It was when he was pulling out of their driveway that she read the scratchy handwriting.

Poppy entered the house alone and was left with all of their belongings staring at her broken heart. She could hear them laughing at her failure and every vase, picture, and wall decoration dug deep into her soul watching her as she slid down the bare white wall of their living room as she cried with rage filling her body. She never wanted these things, but Niall gave them to her anyways. He always wanted her to have the nice things in life, but Niall had been so consumed with the warped accusations and thoughts that Poppy only loved Niall for the things he gave her that he overlooked the value of their friendship and relationship. Poppy grabbed the blue and yellow vase that Niall gave her for their first year anniversary after their wedding, the one they made in a pottery class in New Orleans, and threw it as hard as she could against the wall that held their wedding picture. The one where he cradled Poppy’s face so delicately that one would assume she was made of glass while he looked at her with life and love, all consuming and enduring, like she was the only person in the world.

It was never the same.

“Can you help me? I can’t seem to get it.” Poppy’s fingers tremble against the cold as the clasp falls out of her grasp.

Niall sighs and walks over to his ex-wife, snow crunching under each step. He could hear his heart roaring against its cage. He had locked his heart away when it came to Penelope, tortured it for still feeling the way he does for her- for her shallow love. “Always something with you.”

“Weather’s supposed to get bad. Heard on the news it might be a storm later on,” Poppy’s voice cracked under the slender touch of Niall’s, ignoring his latest comment. He’s trying to steady his breathing, to keep himself under control, but the smooth skin on the nape of Poppy’s neck brings back too many memories he thought he washed down with alcohol. “But we should miss it after the funeral.”

“Since when do you watch the news, Penelope?” he quips, a small smile growing on his face. She’s trying to make an impression that she’s grown from the divorce- that she is independent, but Niall sees through the façade. She’s always been independent in her own way, and that was one of the many things that Niall loves about Poppy. Loved. He reminded himself. He loved her. He now loves Shelby. “The meteorologists are almost always wrong.”

“It was on the radio, meathead. I hope you know that people can change, Niall. They do it all the time.” The way his name hangs on her lips burns her- the taste of yesterday drowning in today. He unclasps the necklace when the front door of the blue townhome opens, letting the roaring laughter and music flood into the quiet snowy street.

“There’s the two love birds. Thought we might have missed you. Come inside before you both freeze,” the olive skinned woman that they both knew as Amelia shouted. The dark curly hair poked out into the white weather. Her shawl was wrapped around her body to hold off the harsh cold wind for the few moments her head had poked through the door. Niall’s smile vanishes as quickly as it came before Poppy turns to look at the dismal face of her ex-husband.

“Put them on quick. And put on a happy face; we’re the love birds, after all,” Niall growls as he picks up his luggage, the leather duffel bag that Poppy bought him for one Christmas- the same duffel bag he used to spend many nights away from his wife and under someone else. Poppy pops the trunk open and Niall quickly takes a hold of her bag, pushing it up on his shoulder. They walk up the front stairs in silence and before pushing the red front door that was left ajar, Niall places his hand on the crook of Poppy’s back and she swears that Niall’s eyes flickered with natural joy when she looked at him. Swallowing hard, Poppy feels as if this weekend is about to be an endless cycle of boxing matches with the odds stacked against her, and with no one in her corner, she is about to step into the hardest round of her life.

Three Years Ago

“Where were you?” Poppy stands at the top of the stairs. Her robe was pulled tight against her body as she looks down onto her husband, darkened eyes sunk in as his hand straddles the white railing. It was three in the morning, and Niall’s head was pounding. “You should have been home hours ago. I called you multiple times. I thought-”

“I went out for a few drinks, Pop. ‘S not a big deal,” Niall takes a step up, but the room is spinning, and he doesn’t remember driving home or how he wound up at the base of the stairs being scolded by his wife, but he remembers her. Her ruby red lips, the perfect pout, as his name fell between them. He could remember her honey brown eyes and black raven hair. He remembered her.

The way her body moved closer to his as the alcohol loosened their guards. He shouldn’t let her get so close, but he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t toeing a line; it was full on trampling the boundary that he never intended to cross. There’s a thin line between love and lust, Niall knows, but her doe eyes pulled him in faster than he could think.

He thought he had pushed her off. He had a speech ready, and maybe he had said it in his mind and that was supposed to tell her without saying any actual words, but weeks and months of her teasing and wearing tighter clothes, he was in agony.

“A few?” Poppy crosses her arms against her chest, anger bubbling inside her. “You could have gotten hurt or…worse, Niall. Did you drive home?” Poppy starts to take a step down, but she stops herself. She could smell the heavy liquor and cheap perfume. It was like all of the air had been knocked out of her lungs and the filter that is instilled in every person caught flames. “You reek of booze and drug store perfume, Niall. Who the fuck were you drinking with?”

“You ask too many questions at once woman. I- I can’t think straight when there’s three of you,” Niall puts a foot on a step, heavy and with intention. He only wanted to lie down in bed, dreaming away any hangover that would be there in the morning. Niall winces when he hears his wife raise her voice.

“WHO WERE YOU DRINKING WITH NIALL?” Poppy felt the words come out like vile as she projected her anger at her husband. For hours, there wasn’t an answer from him between texts and calls. His location was still at work, and then it was at a bar on the other side of town that Poppy didn’t recognize. She almost drove over there, almost made a scene at Niall’s embarrassment, but she stopped herself. He would show back up...eventually.

“No one,” Niall closed his eyes, the room was swimming. “I just wanted a drink after work. Jesus, do you need to know my every move?” Niall began to make the perilous trek up the stairs. The white carpet reminded him of clouds and he would rather be anywhere but here in his home. He stood in front of his wife, her face red with anger and he noticed the small details of her furrowed brow. He smiles softly and laughs to himself. “You worry too much, darling. No woman will ever take me away from you.”

She thought he would kiss her on the cheek, but he only shuffles toward their bedroom down the hall. He had laughed at her. He didn’t need to answer her questions for Poppy to know the full story. She saw the evidence. A perfect tracing of red lips on the inside of his white shirt collar.

####

@niallsguitarsthings @theresnooneheretosave @niallerlover @niallsguiness @beautyispayno @therealniallgrande @lovelywordsblog @kare38

#Niall Horan fic #niall Horan fan fiction #niall 1d #Niall Horan #niall james horan #niall Horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan angst #1dff #1d

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blueiskewl · 1 year

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Tomb with Greek Mummy Unearthed in Aswan, Egypt

A Greco-Roman-era tomb with a Greek mummy was unearthed in Aswan, Egypt. And in an extremely unusual discovery, the archaeologists found a copper plaque with the man’s name — Nikostratos — near his body.

The amazing find was made as part of excavations undertaken by the Egyptian-Italian Mission at West Aswan, in the area of the Aga Khan Mausoleum, as reported by the University of Milan on Monday.

Although the tomb complex had been raided in antiquity, the mummy of the Greek man was intact, with grave goods such as elaborate pottery found with the body. An altar for sacrifices was found at the entrance of the tomb, which contained a total of 20 mummies.

Greek man Nikostratos had been buried with copper necklace with name on it

The tomb, which the archaeologists say in an announcement was “very large,” is part of the Aga Kham Mausoleum complex but had been previously unknown to historians.

The archaeological mission that took place in 2021 was directed by Patrizia Piacentini, Professor of Egyptology and Egyptian Archaeology at the State University of Milan, and Abdelmoneim Said, the Director General of Aswan and Nubia Antiquities (SCA).

The incredible discovery was made during the digs that took place between May and October of 2021.

Greek mummy, funeral goods, altar found in new tomb complex in Egypt

The joint Italian-Egyptian team has been working since 2019 in the area surrounding the Mausoleum of the Aga Khan, on the western shore of the Nile at Aswan, where there are more than 300 tombs dating from the sixth century BC to the fourth century AD.

This encompasses the Ptolemaic era of Egyptian history, when the Egyptian royals intermarried with the Greek Ptolemies, the rulers who took over parts of Alexander the Great’s conquered lands.

Archaeologists found the mummy of a man adjacent to the east wall of the structure; next to it, they discovered a copper necklace with an engraved plaque in Greek with his name, “Nikostratos.” They believe that his body had originally been in the tomb that had been uncovered soon afterward under the rectangular structure and later taken out by looters in ancient times.

Unique “rectangular structure” protected tomb of Greek mummy in Egypt for many centuries

Their latest find is a large tomb (designated AGH032) dating from the Greco-Roman period, was hidden by a well-preserved rectangular structure that shows important traces of a mysterious fire that the archaeologists believe also affected the burial site.

A large pile containing animal bones (mainly those of sheep), as well as pottery shards, offering plates and slabs inscribed in hieroglyphics covered the east wall of the structure, suggesting its use as a votive site, the archaeologists state in their report, which was released by the University of Milan.

The archaeologists declared that this is the first structure of its kind found in the Aga Khan necropolis.

Mummy’s wrappings slashed by grave robbers in antiquity; knife found at scene

A staircase partially flanked by carved blocks and covered by a mud-brick vault leads to the entrance, which was enclosed by a complex system of slabs and stone blocks above the staircase. A large offering table, or altar, was found in pieces at the entrance; hieroglyphics are still clearly visible on its surface.

A heavily-decorated bowl decorated “à la barbotine”, or with ceramic slip decoration applied before firing, was found, also in fragments, in the newly-discovered tomb as part of the grave goods of the departed.

The tomb complex is comprised of a hall overlooked by four burial chambers carved deep into the bedrock. In the hall, opposite the entrance, an earthenware sarcophagus containing the mummy of a child and a beautiful cartonnage (a kind of decorated papier-mâché that covered the mummies) was discovered by the archaeologists.

Another child’s mummy, found in one of the burial chambers, has been X-rayed and shows a plaque atop the chest of the deceased.

Archaeologists found the 20 mummies, some in what they called “an exceptional state of preservation,” inside the four galleries carved into the rock. Others had had their wrappings and cartonnage slashed by ancient thieves; in yet another astounding discovery, the researchers found a knife amongst the mummies that they believe was used for this purpose.

Well-reserved sarcophagi still had brightly-painted colors

Some of the mummified bodies were of elderly people, as evidenced by the visible signs of arthritis in their bones; others were of women or small children, including an infant.

A radiological analysis of the head of a mummified child was performed on the site of the necropolis with a portable X-ray machine by members of the Egyptian-Italian Mission at West Aswan.

They also carried out anthropological and radiological analyses on 45 individuals that had been discovered in 2019 in the tomb called AGH026 in addition to the 20 individuals found in 2021 in tomb AGH032. (See video below).

The aim was to assess age, sex and possible diseases t he people may have suffered from.

The team discovered that in tomb AGH026, 30% of the individuals were children, from the neonatal period to an age of about 10 years. Many of the remaining bodies were female. At least three families were found, with mother, father and son buried next to each other in one case.

Analyses of the bones showed that some of the people had suffered from infectious diseases and various metabolic disorders. The femur of one adult showed clear signs of amputation, which the person must have survived since there is evidence of the bone self-repairing after the event, the archaeologists note.

Other bodies show evidence of arthrosis, which is a sign of death that had taken place in old age.

The initial survey of the area led to the discovery of several well-preserved sarcophagi, made of stone and clay, dating from the Late Pharaonic to the Roman period, with some of them still showing beautiful colors, the archaeologists say. Two sarcophagi of children and three of adults, together with parts of other sarcophagi, were collected from the site and have been secured offsite.

By Patricia Claus.

#Tomb with Greek Mummy Unearthed in Aswan Egypt #Aga Kham Mausoleum complex #ancient tomb #ancient grave #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient egypt #egyptian history #long reads

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slytherinqueen123 · 10 months

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a riddle, a malfoy, a zabini and a y/l/n

“riddikulus!”

i share a glance with blaise and mattheo before we blurt out in perfect unison, “this class is ridiculous!”

i double over laughing at the face malfoy makes, a hideous composition of anger and spite, with a little inkling of sarcasm.

“ha ha, very funny, you three. shut up about it. it’s been three years, it’s not even funny.” he says, rolling his eyes.

mattheo starts. “well, you see mister malfoy-”

“-we can’t really stop now.” blaise finishes.

malfoy makes another face. i lean back in my chair and toss a pen in the air. it narrowly avoids clashing the light, which earns me a steely glare from professor flitwick.

“sorry sir, i’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again!” i call, before turning to the boys and scoffing. “more like i’ll make sure it does.”

mattheo gives me a look. “that’s ridiculous.”

“this class is ridiculous!” blaise and i yell again, both collapsing in hysterics as malfoy makes to whack us.

“what? your iconic now, dray, you can’t deny it!” i shriek, dodging another hand flying in my direction and taking the opportunity to pin him back with a solid punch to the arm. he rubs the site of his injury and gets up.

“stuff you idiots. i’ve got better people to talk to than three loose canons who bully innocent-”

“ferrets?” i finish. he glares at us and struts over to pansy and her gaggle of princesses.

i sigh and lean back.

“how long till he comes back this time?” mattheo asks, watching draco sky away from the crowd of girls clambering for his attention.

blaise takes a moment to think before we all lock eyes.

“literally an hour.”

“like, till tonight.”

“not very long.”

we all know he’ll be back in no time. after all, he’s our best mate. we’re best mates.

• • •

a riddle, a malfoy, a zabini and a y/l/n. honestly, i don’t know why it didn’t happen sooner.

we met when theo, draco and blaise where 7, and i was 6. fancy purebloods throw parties all the time, and it just so happened we where all there at once.

being the tiny only daughter of my father, and him thinking i’m a fragile princess, i’d been dumped in a random room a hallway away from the party.

i’d tried everything. break out, scream, cry, beg, plead and even jump a window, but to no avail. i’d given up. exhausted from my failed mission, i’d flopped on a couch and waited for someone, anyone, to let me out.

i was sick of my dress, i was sick of my hair, i was sick of my loneliness and i was about to kick that door down myself, find my father and fight him.

i was practically asleep. uncountable rounds of exhaustion, anger and energy had worn me out, and i was staring at the ceiling wondering if i could smash the chandelier and whether or not it would attract enough attention if i acted dead. until i heard the tell tale creaking of the oversized door trapping me in, opening.

i was up in a flash, barreling towards that door, ready to beat up whoever had taken so long to get me.

“WHY HAS IT TAKEN YOU SO LONG? I’M PRACTICALLY DECEAS-” i was cut off by a hand covering my mouth, shoving me back into the room and slamming the door shut. i was mad, but scared too.

who had grabbed me?

i followed the hands arm and was met with a pair of dark brown eyes staring back at me, glassy and nursing a bloody cut halfway up his nose.

“can you help me?” the boy in the suit said. i stared back at him, confused. “i-”

“merlin, mattheo, that’s y/l/n’s daughter!” another voice said, emerging from behind bloody nose boy. he had rich dark skin and a puff of tight black curls.

“are you his daughter, girl?” the next voice belonged to a boy with pale skin and platinum blonde curtains. all three where wearing suits, each without ties.

“yeah. i’m his daughter, y/n. who the hell are you? and why’d you trap me back in here, you douchebags!” i shrieked, realisation dawning that they’d gotten me stuck back in my opulent prison.

“mattheo riddle.” bloody nose boy offered, smiling slightly under a mess of curls.

“blaise zabini, miss y/n.” curly hair said, giving me a slight nod and bow.

“malfoy. draco malfoy.” ghost man added.

i grinned. “cool. y’all wanna be friends? i’m kinda lonely, and i’m only six. not gonna lie, you’s don’t look like you’ve got all that many friends either.”

blaise shrugged. “just my dads bosses employees kids. i don’t know what they do. there’s a lot of them though. i hate parkinson, though. she’s annoying.”

draco shoved him. “oi, leave her alone. she’s not that bad.”

“you only say that because you’re in love with her, malfoy. no one in their right mind likes pansy parkinson.” mattheo shivered and spat her name like a curse.

i laughed. blaise turned around from his little fight with malfoy.

“she’s pretty. and smart. she looks fun. you can be friends with me, if you want.” he stuck his hand out and i shook it.

“you seem gutsy, miss y/n. i’m down if you are.” mattheo added. i nodded and smiled. “course’ i am.”

we all turned to malfoy. he was trying to smooth his shirt and didn’t notice us all staring. “what?”

mattheo knocked him on the head, still holding his bloody nose. “do you even listen to anyone but your old dad? do you wanna be friends with y/n or not, dumby!”

he looks me up and down. i do the same. “deal.”

i grin. “cool. then we’re friends.”

blaise shakes his head. “not just friends.”

“oh yeah?” draco asks.

“naw. best friends.” mattheo finishes.

• • •

that’s how it’s been ever since.

a riddle, a malfoy, a zabini and a y/l/n.

and that’s how it’s gonna stay.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #mattheo x y/n #blaise zabini #draco lucius malfoy #draco x y/n #rich kids rp #pureblood boyfriend #boys #pretty girls #y/n x character #y/n y/l/n

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pikslasrce · 3 months

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dont quote me on this but i think this one is deceas-ed 😭

#they dont make slightly off color humor mid budget comedies that are ultimately abt love and acceptance like they used to....#piksla.txt

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bighermie · 6 months

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SICK! Vegas Teens Who Mowed Down and Murdered Retired Police Chief on His Bike Laugh in Court, Flip Off Officer's Family (VIDEO) | The Gateway Pundit | by Cristina Laila

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selturnia · 4 months

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announcing [ ASYA MIKHAILOVNA ROMANOVA ],the [ GRAND DUCHESS ] of [ RUSSIA ]. people would describe them as a [ KING ], maybe that is why they are [ INDIFFERENT ] to the kingdoms working together. they remind me a bit of [ THE GIRL WHO LOST THINGS, THE FEAR OF NEVER BEING GOOD ENOUGH, A QUIET REBELLION BUILT ON HOPE ].

tw: death mention (hinted)

[ statistics ] ⸻

full name : asya mikhailovna romanva

nicknames : asy

age : 27

gender + pronouns : cisfemale she/her

orientation : bisexual

[ appearance ] ⸻

height : 5'8

hair colour : brown

eye colour : brown

dominant hand : left

distinguishing scars : not necessarily a scar but a reoccurring scratch on the inside of her left arm from scratching a herself as a nervous tick

brown hair, either in some elegant up-do or loose braid. her outfits consist of mostly blues as it's her favourite colour.

[ background + family ] ⸻

birthdate: october 8th

rank : grand duchess

mother : n/a (deceaed or something)

father : mikhail (deceased)

sibling(s) : matvei (deceased), alyosha, ekatrina, nikolai

[ introduction ] ⸻

in the opulent chambers of the russian royal family, you were born amidst grandeur and high expectations. you arrived as the third child yet the weight of being the eldest daughter, destined to uphold the family's honour. from the moment you drew breath, an invisible crown seemed to rest upon her head, burdening you with immense responsibility.

your upbringing was a tapestry woven with the threads of perfection, an expectation that you effortlessly carried upon your delicate shoulders. the weight of setting an example for your younger siblings loomed over you, demanding flawlessness in demeanor, etiquette, and wisdom beyond your years. as the eldest daughter, you were entrusted with the unenviable task of maintaining harmony within the royal household, serving as the glue that held your family together.

your days were painted with rigorous lessons in diplomacy, protocol and the intricate dance of royalty. yet, beneath the facade of regal grace, your heart yearned for moments freedom, for a chance to embrace spontaneity and forge your own path beyond the confinements of tradition. you found solace in stolen moments, relishing the simple joys that whispered of life unrestrained by the expectations of your station.

despite the pressures, you grew into a portrait of resilience, embodying grace in the face of adversity. you spirit, through tethered to duty, held an unyielding flame of determination and compassion. you navigated the labyrinth of royal obligations with poise that belied your tender age, earning admiration even as you longed for a life beyond the gilded walls.

now in england, your desire for freedom and your commitment to your family will be tested. you can only hope for a favorable outcome.

[ hooks ] ⸻

tends to be by herself. usually with a journal that she draws in.

has a sharp tongue, and isn't afraid to use it.

her family is very dear to her. she will do anything for them, even if that means sacrificing herself for them.

has a nervous tick were she obsessively scratches the inside of her arm. doesn't realize she is doing it till afterwards when there's a cut there or someone points out she's doing it.

the death of matvei left a bad taste in her mouth, and while she does not want to suspect her older brother, she can't help but too.

has a love for the arts.

@royalhqzstart

#royalhqzintro #Ⅰ. ⸻ › 𝒶𝓈𝓎𝒶 ‹

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ohghxst · 9 months

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— dear all nations, OSKAR ASULF has crossed the city borders to edinburgh to the sound of DAYLIGHT by DAVID KUSHNER. the CLAN MEMBER of HALVEN MADSEN CLAN is known to be AGAINST making peace. HE reminds me of BLOOD STAINED TEETH, AND SCARS OF BATTLE STITCHED ACROSS SKIN; THE SMELL OF COAL AND IRON however did you know that DURING ONE OF THE RAIDS, OSKAR SPARED/SAVED A GIRL BY HIDING HER UNDER DEBRIS. HE IS ALSO FOR MAKING PEACE BUT FEARS HE WILL LOSE HIS PURPOSE IN LIFE ?

tw: death, illness mentioned, injury

[ statistics ] ⸻

full name : oskar asulf

nicknames : os

age : 29

gender + pronouns : male he/him

orientation : heterosexual

[ appearance ] ⸻

height : 6'0

hair colour : brown

eye colour : deep blue

dominant hand : left

distinguishing scars : small scar underneath his left eye, many deep scars that run along his left leg from when they had to cut the arrows from his leg.

brown usually in some sort of braid. the only time it's not is when he is getting ready for bed. since getting injured now has a slight limp to his walk, he refuses to a cane. wears a scorn look on his face for the majority of time. tattoos decorate his body, one on each shoulder.

[ background + family ] ⸻

birthdate: january 9th

rank : strategist, viking

mother : astrid asulf (deceaed)

father : ubbe asulf (deceased)

sibling(s) : n/a

[ introduction ] ⸻

amidst a frigid blizzard, you made your grand entrance into this world, unleashing chorus of cries that echoed through the night. your arrival was not without its challenges, for it came at a great cost - the life of you dear mother. your father, once a loving man, became distant and cold. he was present only at meal times, until you grew tall and strong enough to wield a weapon.

warriors ran in your blood, a legacy passed down from your father's father's father. he was legend, or so the stories went. and your father was determined to carry on that legacy through you. he trained you relentlessly, never once praising you unless you were perfect. but perfection was an impossible standard in his eyes.

when your father fell ill and passed away on your nineteenth birthday, you were left to fend for yourself. you joined the halven madsen clan in their raids on england, , not for the sake of land ownership, but for the thrill of battle. fighting was all you knew, thanks to your father, and thanks to him, you were a force to be reckoned with.

but you were not just a fearsome warrior on the field. you were a clever one too. when a few sharp arrows found their way into your leg, your career as a soldier shifted, you became a strategist, or perhaps you were already one, planning not just the next five moves but the next twenty. though you now walk with a limp, and cannot participate in battles as much, you are far from an easy target.

you were raised to be nothing more than a warrior and a warrior you shall die

[ hooks ] ⸻

it's been just bit over 7 months since his injury. while normally a grumpy person, his leg sometimes throbs in excruciating pain making him in an even worst mood.

has always been one to outsmart his opponent. yes, brute force works just as well, but seeing the look of disbelief of being outdid on enemies brings a smile to his face.

is aware of the amount of hate he has gained over the years, and does not care.

is only soft toward animals and very, and i mean very, few people. would rather be alone.

being raised for one purpose, oskar doesn't know what his plans are for the future should there be peace. secretly, he wishes for peace, but what does someone who smells of war do in times of peace?

#nomad.intro #tw: death #tw: illness #tw:injury #Ⅰ. ⸻ › 𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒶𝓇 ‹

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mossyriverrocks · 4 months

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Emery and The Messenger absolute W m/f friendship

#The moss speaks #Emery and Decea too #Emery Kiyo (oc)#The Messenger (oc)#Decea (oc)

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myhauntedsalem · 2 years

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Victorian Death Customs and Superstitions

During the 19th century into the early 20th century both Americans and European had similar, sometimes odd, customs that were practiced after a loved one died.

One custom many today find “creepy” was Postmortem Photography also known as memorial portraiture. This practice involved taking a photograph of the recently deceased.

This practice was common for the middle class for it was a way for families to remember their deceased loved ones. With the invention of daguerreotype in 1839, these photos became an affordable alternative to the more expensive painted portraits that the wealthy commissioned.

Many also felt they helped with the grieving process. By far, most of these photos were of infants or children. These portraits sometimes were the only photograph the family had of their deceased loved ones.

Another common practice was wakes or waking. This custom was to keep a close watch over the deceased until they were buried. Most wakes lasted 3 to 4 days in order to provide out of town relatives time to travel in for the funeral.

Wakes originated from the practice that was considered a safeguard. Time was allowed to pass before the deceased were buried in order to make sure they were really dead and not just in a coma.

A practice related to the one above was “the fear of being buried alive.”

Coffin makers in this era addressed this issue by designing warning systems. One of these was a bell on the grave that was attached by a chain inside the coffin. The expression, “saved by the bell” evolved out of this practice. Another post that focuses upon this topic is located here.

Grave Robbery was common in this period—mostly because the medical profession needed fresh corpses for their dissecting classes. Young doctors often robbed graves.

The fear that a loved one’s corpse might be robbed led to many family’s “bricking-over” graves in order to insure their security.

Other often practiced customs that surrounded death and burial in the Victorian age included:

Curtains were drawn and clocks were stopped at the time of death.

Mirrors were covered in crape or veiling to prevent the deceased spirit from becoming trapped in these looking glasses.

A wreath of laurel, boxwood or yew with black ribbons was hung on doors to announce or alert those who passed by that there had been a death in the home—this was to insure the proper respect was shown.

The use of candles and flowers were used to mask any unpleasant odors in the room where body was displayed—this was before the practice of embalming became common.

During this era the dead where carried out of a home feet first to prevent the deceased from looking back—which might lure other family members to follow them into death.

Family photos were placed facedown to prevent close relatives or friends of the deceased from being possessed by the dead person’s spirit.

Lavish meals were often served after internments.

The color black was used to denote someone was in mourning. While the color white was used for the funeral of a child—including white gloves, white ostrich plumes and white coffins.

In cemeteries, the majority of the graves had the deceased laid out with their heads to the west and their feet to the east. This custom can be traced back to Pagan sun worshippers but is more often associated with the Christian belief that the final summons to Judgement comes from the east.

There are many superstitions that surround death. During the Victorian Era many of these beliefs were off putting to say the least.

Europeans and Americans during this era believed it was bad luck to meet a funeral procession head on. If one saw one approaching, it was recommended they turn around. If this could not be done it was said this person should hold on to a button until this funeral cortege passed.

If a clap of thunder was heard it meant the deceased had reached heaven or if a raindrop fell on a funeral procession it meant the departed would go to heaven.

If the deceased had led a good life, flowers would bloom on their grave, but if they had been evil only weeds would grow on their grave.

If a person smelled roses and there were none around, it meant someone was going to die.

If a person saw himself or herself in a dream, their death would surely follow. In another post the result of a dream like this that Abraham Lincoln had is shared.

If a sparrow lands on a piano, someone in the home is going to die. Or if a picture falls off the wall, someone close to them will die.

Never wear anything new to a funeral, especially shoes.

If a person heard three knocks and no one is there, it usually meant someone close to them had died. This superstition is known as “the three knocks of death.”

A single snowdrop in a garden foretells death as well as the hoot of an owl. If a bird pecks at or crashes into a person’s window there has been a death.

Large drops of rain warned that there had just been a death.

If a person spills salt, they should throw a pinch over their shoulder, to prevent death.

If it rains on an open grave it means another family member will die within the year.

One should never speak ill of the dead because they will come back to haunt that person or at least will bring them misfortune.

#Victorian Death Customs and Superstitions #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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