#there’s something so gut wrenching about watching flashbacks

[thychesters]

Girl you’re starting Robin’s past?

Oh you’re going for a ride.

Just to tell you all one piece fans were break about that one. Oda really went on that one.

We are here for you and excited you are going with the adventure

i am! i just finished up the last scene with saul getting her to try laughing more and i was :’) i just want to protect her. and then there’s the fact you’re back on this island with her, KNOWING that it’s been obliterated and there’s nothing that can be done about that so i’m about to dig my heels into denial

i thought the flashback scenes with noland and kalgara hurt because those two died never knowing what became of the other! but with baby robin and ohara about to be blown off the map i feel like i’m about to be beaten with a steel chair and i’m sooo not ready

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟏𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟕𝐤

⤥ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐦𝐚/𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐦.), 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟. 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫/𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐭𝐰

⤥ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤.

Sunghoon has always struggled with his emotions. He knows it's because his father never allowed him to live, express or even feel any type of emotion, yet the older he gets the angrier he becomes whenever he realises just how difficult it is to handle everything that's going on inside of him.

There are quite a few things he can't put a name on, but if there's one he's known and stood behind for over a decade now then it's the fact that he hates you.

He can't even remember what it feels like to associate you with anything else besides that burning rage in the deepest parts of his chest. Your voice, your eyes, your face, your mannerisms, your body, everything about you irritates him. Even your choice of words makes his blood boil to the point where he feels deeply uncomfortable whenever he has to listen to you speak for longer than necessary.

He's grown so used to his hatred for you, Sunghoon has actually started finding comfort in his anger and frustration.

And maybe the fact that he's currently tiptoeing on the line of his comfort zone is the reason why he's so angry over the rock hard bulge in his sweats.

You're not supposed to turn him.

This is not how things are supposed to be.

He hates you. There's never been a person he's despised and disliked with the entirety of his heart the way he does with you.

So why the fuck has he not stopped thinking about the way you taste for the past two weeks?

Sunghoon has lost count on how many times he's had to force himself to watch something – anything to push you all the way into the back of his mind just for you to be the one and only thought in his head every single time he comes all over his fist like some horny teenager.

He just doesn't understand how a single moment of sex with you could have possibly altered his whole way of thinking about you to the point where he physically can't stop himself from moaning your name into his pillow.

He hates you.

You made him go through the worst and most gut wrenching experience he's ever had to endure, yet he'd do anything to get another taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had.

Sunghoon's been trying so hard to understand his body, his train of thoughts, his emotions and yet every attempt turned into a failure because despite his efforts, he always found his way back to you.

At one point he's managed to convince himself that the reason for his body's reactions is the fact that he's been around you more often than he's initially been used to. Before you became the team's manager, he's had to endure your presence maybe once a month or every few weeks because of a mutual friend's birthday.

But now?

Now you're everywhere he goes.

Whenever he walks into the trainer's office at the ice rink, Hoon catches himself eyeing your body up and down, flashbacks to the way you felt, sounded and tasted washing over him every single time. The fact you've been wearing less and less to practice with each day passing by definitely plays a big part in his current state of frustration but no matter how much he tries to deny it, deep down Sunghoon knows it's because he still wants you.

No, it's actually gotten even worse than before. His attempt to "fuck you out of his system" has failed miserably and never once in his life has he regretted anything as much as listening to his body's urges on the day of Heeseung's birthday party.

If only he didn't ignore the rational voice inside of his head that day, maybe he wouldn't have to fight the urge to fuck his fist to the memory of your perfect pussy every god damn day.

Sunghoon's been in absolute denial the first few days after he had gotten his first taste of you, but after his third tinder date had gone wrong because he simply couldn't get it up, his body gave up and his mind quickly followed.

That's how he's come to accept his fate.

And just as usual it doesn't take long for jolts of heat to rush through his veins as soon as his eyes scan the picture you had posted in your story.

It's feels like you're taunting him but Sunghoon knows he broke you with his reaction to the aftermath of your intimacy. He purposely chose to hit you exactly where it hurts because he wants you to be in emotional pain. Everything he says, every comment he makes, every little thing he criticises about you is said and done with the simple intention of hurting you.

There's no point in responding to your stupid yapping if it doesn't end with a blow right under the belt.

Hoon's never played fair when it came to you, simply because he doesn't care. He never cared about you. Not after what happened almost a decade ago, so why would he care about you now?

To say he doesn't care feels like a lie, because someone who claims that would never follow and beat up said person's disgusting boyfriend just because he felt like it.

But to Sunghoon it makes sense. You and your existence are not of relevance to him. The only reason he puts up with you is because of his boys, that's it.

For a moment the thought of just going to the gym and taking his frustration out in the healthiest way he knows crosses his mind but it'd be the fifth time this week and his muscle would give up on him, regardless of how badly he wants to do anything but actually do what he knows his body is craving.

Hoon can't really remember how many days it's been since he came and he doesn't want to anyway, because whenever he remembers how confused and surprised the cute blondie he had matched on tinder with looked when he had decided to leave after giving her head, he just wants to dig his own grave and sleep forever.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't even enjoy the oral intimacy the way he'd usually do, the reason behind that being the fact that never once has a woman reacted to his touch the way you did.

You were so wet, so ready, so needy for him. It was like your pussy had been waiting for him and his touch all this time. Of course he'd never, ever tell you about these thoughts because he'd rather jump off a bridge than tell you just how good you felt but the frustration has slowly been catching up on him.

Within just a few seconds the pain of his erection has left him in a state of actual panic because Sunghoon's been denying himself the relief to your memory to protect his own dignity, but the sight of your body clad in that tiny piece of cloth you dared to call a skirt was enough to drive him into insanity.

Before the rational part of his brain can even fight its way through the thick fog of arousal, Sunghoon has already pushed his grey sweats down his tense thighs, a deep groan escaping his throat as soon as the cool air of his room hits the wet tip of his hard cock.

After what feels like an eternity, Hoon finally decides to give in. He's a victim to his own pleasure and he hates himself for it, yet the feeling of stimulation sends the sweetest waves of relief through his body, leaving him utterly confused and lightheaded.

For the first time since he's gotten a taste of you, Sunghoon doesn't force his mind to focus on other things, he actually indulges in the sweet memory of how good you made him feel. He doesn't even have to do much as his thoughts wander to the sound of your moans and whimpers, to the warmth and wetness of your cunt.

One thing in particular that has yet to leave his mind is the mental image of the way you didn't even hesitate to obey him, quickly parting those pretty lips and sticking out your tongue like you've been waiting to please him.

Every time he closes his eyes and strokes his cock just a little faster, Sunghoon thinks of the way you swallowed his spit and whimpered his name, your pussy dripping wet and ready for him and him only.

With every single minute passing by, Hoon's grip around his phone tightens, a screenshot of your most recent instagram stories on full display for his hungry eyes, something he's not quite proud of but is too fucked out to even think of in that particular moment.

With sharp movements of his hips, Hoon continues to thrust his cock into his tight fist, in desperate hopes of recreating the sweet tightness of your perfect cunt, only to let out a deep grunt of frustration when he realises his failure.

Why did you have to do this to him? Why did your pussy have to be the best he's ever fucked, the sweetest he's ever tasted?

Life has never been good to him but this feels too much. Sunghoon feels overwhelmed and frustrated, yet relief and pleasure continue rushing through his veins with every stroke.

As the young man catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he hates how much he likes what he sees because to his utter shock and displeasure, he's never actually seen himself as ecstatic as in that very moment.

Bleached hair falling messily into his flushed face, a thin veil of sweat covering the entirety of his skin as moan after moan falls past his bit swollen lips.

To his luck Jaeyun had decided to go on a late night snack trip with the other boys, leaving him enough privacy to be as vocal as possible. The worst thing about this, however, remains the fact that Sunghoon has never been the type to make that much noise.

He still remembers how Jakyung had always asked him to be a little bit more vocal about his pleasure, yet for some reason he never had the urge to, whereas now he can barely hold himself back.

Every time his eyes roll into the back of his head, Sunghoon thinks about your little whimpers and high pitched moans.

Mental images of burying his face in your sweet cunt suddenly start overwhelming him, turning into his new favorite thought as he remembers just how hard you kept clenching around his tongue.

It's been almost two weeks since you let him eat you out upon revealing your lack of oral intimacy to him, yet the taste of your sweet juices still lingers on his tongue like it happened yesterday.

The first few days Hoon was convinced that he had gone crazy. His mind was playing tricks on him as he tried to erase your menory with other girls but no matter what, at the end of each and every single hook up, he found himself with his forehead pressed against the wall of his shower, hand as firmly wrapped around his hard cock as he's currently doing, only for your name to fall past his lips the second he reached his sweet relief.

"S-Sunghoon. Please, I need to cum. Don't take this away from me."

That line has turned into a mantra that stupid voice in the back of his voice has been chanting for the past two weeks, driving him into absolute insanity.

But he physically can't deny just how much he liked the sound of his name coming from your lips.

Every time he sees you at practice, he has to force himself to stop imagining how good you probably looked as you begged for his cock, for his tongue and his fingers. For him.

The loud noise of his fist hitting the bare skin of his thighs mixes with his deep grunts and guttural moans, a few whimpers of the nickname he had given you all these years ago, the one you hated with your entire being, easily filling the emptiness of his room.

As Hoon tightens his grip around his cock to simulate the tightness of your perfect pussy, his head falls against the headboard of his bed, jolts of hot pleasure blurring his vision the closer he gets to the relief he's been chasing for what feels like hours.

And Sunghoon knows it's because he wants to spend that much time and even longer just pounding you into your mattress. He hates how badly he wants to watch the way your stupidly beautiful feature contort in a mixture of pleasure and light pain from how much his big cock is stretching you out.

But fuck, does it feel good to just let those thoughts and fantasies fill his head.

And every time his brain reminds him of the fact that you're currently out with some random fucker, hoping he'll give you what only Sunghoon is capable of elicits a row of moaned profanities to leave from his lips.

But in the same moment he won't allow his brain to think of the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you're still as indifferent about him as you were before he fucked you.

To stop his raging boner from dying, Sunghoon shifts his attention back to his phone screen, his soft whimpers echoing in his room as he zooms in on your bare thighs, reminding himself just how good it felt to have his head between them.

There's no way any other guy could ever make you cum as hard with just his tongue, Sunghoon simply refuses to accept the mere possibility.

Your cunt was made for him and him only.

And as he continues to dwell in the sweet memory of your juices dripping out of your tight hole and coating the entire of his tongue like actual honey, Sunghoon has to put his phone down.

Before his brain can even register what his body is doing, his hand finds home in his now slightly damped hair to pull on the thick strands with force, knowing it's exactly what he needs to finally cum. Just like you had done it that night.

With his head full of images of your annoyingly pretty eyes and your dripping cunt, Sunghoon throws his head back with a loud moan of your name and stumbles right into his orgasm.

Waves of pleasure overwhelm his body as he cums all over his bare stomach, coating his flushed skin in three thick stripes of white, yet not ready to stop his hand from stroking his overly sensitive cock.

"F-Fuck", Sunghoon grunts, lets his eyes roll into the back of his head and his lips stretch into a lazy smile when his body finally relaxes underneath his own touch.

His heavy breathing remains the only sound for about five minutes as the blood slowly stops thrumming in his ears and his vision clears up again.

Never once in his life has anyone ever managed to make him cum so hard to the point where actual tears have threatened to fill his eyes and the fact that you, of all people, are the reason behind his current state is something Sunghoon will take to his grave with him.

Yet, he's determined to turn his fantasies and memories into reality, certain you're craving his touch as much as he does with yours.

Sunghoon knows this isn't one sided. There's no way in hell you didn't like fucking him just as much and even if you forgot about him already, which he highly doubts, he's determined to remind you what only he can make you feel.

Because no matter how much you hate each other, at the end of the day your bodies will always betray you.

No matter how hard he tries to deny it:

He wants, craves and needs your body.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: here it is, just as promised 🫠 ngl i havent written a fist fuck scene in so long so pls bear with me 😭 thank you so so so much for all the love and support my angels, i love and appreciate you all so much!🤍🫧 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!)

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[fr3akingtf0utrn]

“everything’s going to be okay, i promise.”

swiss ghoul x gn! reader

warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, past sh scars, thoughts of relapse, relapsing, ed, etc.

- buckle up bitches, i’m sad, so this is sad. this little blurb is exactly how i feel rn.

——past memory/flashback

//switch pov/person

————————————————————————

The screams felt overwhelming at the end, and you have no idea why. They soon we’re blurred and you barely remember even leaving the stage and being the first one on the bus.

Everything was going so well. The rituals were amazing as usual but suddenly you got that feeling.

That feeling where you can’t anymore. That feeling that takes over your entire body, controls it.

You recalled getting this feeling in the middle of the tour while hanging out in one of the ghouls’ hotel.

You guys planned on watching many movies that night but yours didn’t last long.

It was during the 2nd movie, a triggering scene came on. The scene almost being the exact same situation you bad time through.

That causing you to be zoned out throughout the entire night, staring off into space. During that, these thoughts came back. Too many thoughts.

You felt suffocated. Not because of the ghoul pile, never, but these malicious needs egged you on more and more.

Your breathing picked up and you knew Swiss noticed since he was literally on you. You tried you best to calm down but nothing worked.

Swiss moved himself to turn to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. He was between your legs, his head was resting on you abdomen.

He placed his hand on your thigh, and gave you a look, asking you quietly if you’re okay. You felt yourself get choked up, and shook your head.

Swiss removed himself from you and you quickly sat up, breathing. You slowly felt yourself become disgusted with your reaction and you frowned.

Swiss went to comfort you but without noticing him, you went to leave.

You quickly hopped over each ghoul and announced how you felt tired and wanted to get some rest. Everyone except swiss said goodnight and love you’s, not taking notice of your disheveled body. You took your leave and carried to your room.

Swiss sat there confused, multiple thoughts going through his head. Then it hit him, he wasn’t too sure, but was almost positive.

The scene from the movie. He knew you’ve struggled with suicidal intentions since you’ve joined the clergy. All the ghouls knew because it was easy to sense someone’s feelings..including blood.

The first time they’ve ever smelt blood on you was one of the second band practices you were in since summoned. Definitely confused but never said anything.

Through the months, of course growing close, it obvious you struggled, but one day, Aether had mentioned something to everyone when you had left.

——

Aether had his mouth open and his eyes were on the ground, wavering. Sodo took notice, “What are you doing?”

Aether closed his mouth and gulped. His mind was in distraught, “I-..i knew something was wrong but…”

All the ghouls now gathered around, confused and interested. A tear fell from aethers eye, sometimes he hated being a quintessence ghoul. He had heard your thoughts and felt the urge you felt. The want. The need. The need to release and how you were going to do it.

His hands shook, “Y/n…i felt..” Aether took a deep breath, “remember when we smelt blood on them?” He looked up at them all, a tear fell once more.

Everyone froze, seemingly knowing what he was going on about because of his tears. It was silent for awhile, until swiss broke it, “are you sure.?”

Aether nodded, “i heard and felt everything as soon as they were packing up… it was..gut wrenching.”

They all kept that moment to themselves, not wanting to lose any trust they barely built up yet.

——

Swiss sat in silence as he stared where you once stood in-front of them.

He recalled when he first saw scars on your legs. All of you in the ghoul lounge and in a cuddle pile, his head on your lap. You had been wearing shorts, but they had ridden up without you noticing.

At first, he saw a big one just above your knee, assuming it was just from hell. But, he saw another one travel up farther up your thigh. And then more scattered in one spot. He lifted his head up and saw on both legs.

He had let a shuddered breath and from that moment he promised to take care of you and finally break the loneliness of pain you we’re in.

//

once you had made it to you hotel room, you crashed.

Sliding down the door, tears falling rapidly.

‘why now..i was doing so good,’ you sobbed as you thought that, “i was doing so good..” you barely managed to get out.

You didn’t even make it to the bed, just laying sprawled out on the floor, hiccuping. Your claws were scratching at your skin, deep marks seeping out blood.

‘please please, don’t do it, you were doing so good,’ you silently said to yourself. Having to beg your urge to not do it, you didn’t even have your blade, only having your claws.

They hurt more then you can imagine, not the same but you can’t help but think you deserve it. Deserve this pain.

A gentle yet firm knock at your door made you jump. You froze, not knowing what to do.

“..Y/n? It’s Swiss,” Swiss. Your eyes widen as you quickly got up. Frantically searching for a hoodie.

As you were digging through your bags, swiss continued, “please let me in.. i don’t want you too-..” he cut himself off. You shook your head at yourself for being obvious but finally found your hoodie.

Swiss heard you shuffling and bit his lip in worry. what we’re you doing? why were you taking so long? why-

The door clicked, slowly opening.

Swiss felt himself break at the sight of you.

You stood still, eyes to the ground, one hand on the door, the other wrapped around yourself over the giant hoodie.

Your hair covered your face, but Swiss could sense the amount of pain you were in.

“..what’s up.?” your voice was soft spoken, afraid that if you fully used your voice, it would break.

Swiss frowned slightly, almost pouting, he was annoyed at how easily you could go from having a breakdown to acting like nothing happened.

“..just wanted to see if you’re okay,” Swiss started, desperate to see your face as it was still facing slightly down. He raised his hand gently, going to cup your cheek. You flinched slightly but let it happen. “are you okay?” He asked.

You let him tilt your face up, hair falling to the side of your cheek. Swiss saw your red eyes, he also felt the sadness immediately when touching you.

“oh honey,” just by those words swiss spoke, you broke. Eyes watering, mouth twitching to a frown, and then to the ugly cry face.

Swiss quickly guided you inside your room and closed the door, you sliding into his body along the way.

He immediately engulfed you and picked you up. You seemingly weighed nothing to him as he carried you to the bed, arms still wrapped around you as you guys laid against the back board.

Your claws latched onto his shirt as you sobbed into him. Swiss felt himself start to tear up as he heard the words you spoke to yourself quietly. Words that could break anyone.

Swiss squeezed you tighter, and he held onto you, wanting your coldness to turn into warmth.

Hours passed, you calmed down but Swiss could still feel your hurt, god how much he wanted to just take it away from you.

He wants nothing more than for your happiness to be shown again. He just wants you to be back.

He just wants you.

——

Months into the tour, and you’ve become quiet most days. Almost never speaking after the rituals. Clearly everyone took notice, it was like you always cheered people up just by your presence, but now you felt absent.

You just locked yourself away in the tour bus rooms, or your hotel room. 

Obviously Swiss was still always there for you, but it got harder when your depression turned into anger.

Recently, you had accidentally snapped at him when he tried comforting you after you messed up during a ritual.

——

“Fuck me!” you whisper-yelled and kicked a box back stage. Swiss had followed you out after you stormed off after bowing.

Sitting on the box you jus kicked, you hugged your knees to your chest. You wanted to just rip out your hair but you still had your mask on and had to keep it on till the bus arrived.

Swiss saw your glamour die down slowly, your tail being the first to whip harshly behind you and frowned but walked towards you.

“hey that is not your fault, don’t blame yourself,” Swiss said as he placed his hand on your shoulder. You smacked his hand and growled.

“of course it was my fault! Lord, i can’t even do one thing fucking right,” You stood up and started clawing at your arm, red scratch marks appearing.

He watched as you paced around, your back turned to him.

“Y/n! it wasn’t your fault, that fan literally threw something directly at you!” Swiss growled back, getting annoyed by your antics.

“but it was MY fault the others got confused, including Papa!” You whipped your head to him, baring your teeth. Swiss stumbled slightly at your aggressive state.

“it’s my fault i fucked up! It’s my fault i’m holding everyone back! it’s my fucking-..” your voice broke as you spoke. “It’s my fucking fault i’m like this,” your eyes widening as tears slipped passed your mask, hitting the ground.

Swiss’ eyes were wide as well as he watched you break yourself down. “y/n-” Swiss went to comfort you, but you immediately shut him down.

“And stop saying it’s okay! it’s not! im fucking not! You comforting me is almost useless because i still have the urge,” your claws sharpened as you gripped at your mask. Swiss knew you didn’t mean these words but it stuck to me.

“oh my fuck, i cant breath,” you clawed at the mask, three marks went through the leather. You almost collapse on the ground, but Swiss made it to you before you could.

Swiss helped with your mask and covered you as you let your full ghoul form out.

He saw your red face and saw the anger in your eyes. As your eyes met he saw your sharp slits grow big and dilate. Emotions ran through you. Embarrassment, sadness, anger, panic, and guilt.

Seeing that Swiss took off his mask with you filled you with guilt. The fact he would stand by you even when you lashed out on him made you almost cry.

But at the same time, seeing his face calmed you from doing anything else. You remembered what you said and regretted it. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean- i’m sorry i cant-” Swiss cut you off and hugged you, “i know, i know,” He placed his head on top of yours as you smushed into his chest.

——

Swiss watched you silently. You faced the wall, back turned to him as you were laid down on the small twin sized bed. His heart burned for you. He wished he could take away your pain. He would give you the world if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through this anymore.

In his mind he begged himself to tell you how he feels. He wanted to claim you so badly, to make you his. He didn’t care how horrible your emotions could be, he didn’t give one of Copia’s rats ass how you looked when you were struggling the most and had no energy to do anything.

You changed him so much when you were summoned. It was like something in him switched as you guys grew closer.

Swiss stopped sleeping around, he came to realize it slightly disturbed him because all he did was think about you. But it is because he wanted to do those things with you. Not particularly sex but love.

All he wanted was you.

As those thoughts passed through his mind, he heard you groan, and shuffle a bit. He panicked as your body shook.

Quickly, he stood up and rushed to you. Your body arched off the bed and your contorted into a frown as tears slid down your face.

Swiss sat on the bed and placed your upper body to rest against him. He mumbled sweet words and moved his hand to rub soothing circles on your shoulder.

Your body stopped contorting, resting finally as you woke up. A sharp breath left you as you realized the nightmare you had. Swiss watched you, saying nothing.

You realized where you are and looked up at him. “swiss..” you whispered, and swiss swore his heart was on fire. The way you looked at him made him realize he needed to tell you.

Swiss lifted his hand to move stray pieces of hair from your face and admired you.

Realization ran through you as you looked into Swiss’ eyes. All he has ever done has been there for you. But it wasn’t just him being there for you. No, never. You were so blinded by your own emotions that you never noticed the way he looked at you. The way he admired you. The way he loved you.

In this moment, you also realized your feelings. You’ve grown attached to him since day 1. And as you two became close, years passed, you felt your heart drop when you knew how you felt.

You searched Swiss’ eyes, praying he felt the same without realizing he was doing the same.

“Swiss,” you said once more as you pace a hand atop of his when he placed it on your cheek.

Whispering your name back, Swiss smiled softly at you. You raised yourself up to him, eyes never leaving each other.

Before even realizing, you leaned into him, lips together. Swiss mentally cried of happiness as he sighed into your lips. You smiled into it and leaned back, resting your forehead against his.

Swiss’ eyes were still closed and you closed yours. Your guys’ hands stayed in the same place as you lived in the moment.

Words couldn’t describe the amount of love you held for each other. They didn’t need to. In that moment, you could feel it, and see it.

Swiss opened his eyes and glided his hand to rest on the crook of your neck.

“Let’s go to sleep yeah?” He said as he grinned stupidly at you. You smiled at him and nodded.

Getting comfortable, swiss held you from behind and curled into you, legs twisting with yours. You held his hand that was laying in front of you as you softly breathe.

You both knew it was going to take awhile for yourself to get better, but things like these take time. Simply just being present for someone can help immensely. And right now, everything was okay for once.

Just before falling asleep, Swiss mumbled into your ear,

“everything’s going to be ok, I promise,”



[paradoxoftrees]

GUYS WTF

A mini rant before I actually go to bed:

*inhales* So I just watched the Dragon Prince season 6 and all I can say is wtf. Actually wtf. I am still up to this moment thinking about Leola I’m not even kidding. What happened here was a disgrace to the freaking universe itself (while providing Aaravos a very generous dose of my sympathy, affirming my reasons for obsessing over this elf).

i know I have this thing where I like analyzing stuff to death, so I’m gonna take a good moment to put our short time with Leola under a microscope…

To me, I see this innocent character as an embodiment of individuality and the uncertainty and fear society associates with it. Our society itself is very saturated with this stigma and disgust regarding self expression, as those who defy what people define as “normal” always seem to be the subject of hatred. Being odd, or unconventional is twisted into something negative, with people interpreting it as something to gain attention or something to purposely defy norms for the sake of doing so. Leola very much symbolizes this treatment. She is even defined as being “quirky”, a word used to scrutinize and criminalize the act of expressing oneself in modern society. This particular word confirms to me that Leola is supposed to represent the battle between normalcy and individualism that exists here on this earth. I cant help but feel so horrible for this elf child. No, she is not attention seeking, insecure, inferior, and most of all, she is NOT a criminal. She is a child who is simply in tune with herself and accepting of herself, and therefore, has the capacity to extend this beyond herself into the literal universe. How powerful is that? Her acceptance and sheer self expression are contagious. And that is interpreted as something toxic, from the perspective of those who cannot possibly find that sort of love within their empty and hateful souls. So they, and many those in our own little society, decide to exterminate it. This fictional cosmic balance is our real life societal balance. And the show’s portrayal of her during her final moments made this even more devastating. At the very end, she was a scared child. A scared child who wanted nothing more to live within the world that she loved so much. I can say that this flashback was horrendously and beautifully well done at the same time.

And I don’t even want to talk about Aaravos… but I will. Honestly the idea of this snarky af space-themed elf being an actual parent was odd at first, but I instantly felt a kind of gut wrenching sorrow for this fictional character that I haven’t felt for anything else in a LONG time. Hes so freaking skrunkly, overwhelmingly so. Seeing this elf being capable of love really hit hard like nothing else, knowing that his alarmingly heinous acts were driven by this all-consuming grief. Knowing that this villainous blue elf had such a soft past, and such a torturous present, made me want to unwrite those damn cosmic court (whatever it’s called) elves out of the very script itself. Seeing the very moment when Aaravos’s face just snapped as his daughter was literally murdered just… yeah no words.

I genuinely hope Aaravos gets to talk to Leola just one last time… I just want to see this poor elf happy to be honest. For closure.

There shouldn’t be a price for individuality. But yet we pay it. Making this sweet and scared character pay this price made our own societal ignorance even more wrenching and real.

*i don’t feel getter now. Guess I got to make a fanfic where things are better.*

[iamumbra195]

!Teenage Mercenary Chapter 168 Spoilers!

So 003 is someone who likes to take the easy way out, especially when it benefits her. She has a silver tongue-- using words to persuade and manipulate her enemy into doing what she wants. She tries to do this with the numbers in this chapter but they all recognize her attempt at manipulating them after years of seeing her distinctive brand of cruelty.

016 calling it her trying to psycho-whatchamacallit them made me laugh lmao. I'm not really sure what he was trying to say but it was hilarious.

Also, it makes sense that 002 was so wary of her and took care to pay attention to her words when she was talking to them in the last few chapters. He was obviously wary but it's pretty clear that the fact that she was the one who betrayed them hit him pretty hard when we look at what he says to Ijin at the end of the chapter.

I think the fact that Ijin, who was their leader, was able to live a normal life and smile with his family gave the numbers hope that maybe they don't always have to live like this. Constantly watching their backs and running away. Maybe they do have the chance to have the life that was taken from them when they were young.

And 003 crushed that hope. They'll never be able to live normally because they're not normal. They have nowhere safe to stay-- they can't even fully trust one another. It's an exhausting way to live and 003 knew that and that's why she offered to make that mercenary business. Offering them a safe haven. A trap to lure them in before she killed them.

The exhausted look on 002's face when he says "We're all like that" is heartbreaking. Stop for hurting my babies, 003!

Anyway, this adds more to my theory that she's working with Iron to kill all the numbers, who are all pretty much loose cannons at this point. She's allowed to live as long as she kills the others.

This would add an interesting twist because, in the little flashback, she tells those men that she'll let them live as long as they become her subordinates and then asks if they really believed her when she kills them. I think that's probably how she's gonna die. Idk, that's the feeling I'm getting about her.

I'm curious to see the fight between her and Ijin when he was running away as well as Ijin's impression of her because he seemed pretty shocked that she was the one that killed the rest of the numbers that night.

Also, that number that told Ijin to run far away from camp and thanked him for all the time they spent together made me tear up a bit. They were all people fighting to survive in the camp, they weren't weapons or monsters. They were just people desperate to survive and there's something so gut wrenching about that and the connections all the numbers must've had.

Anyways this is me right now:

[eddiegettingshot]

only way pining is at all silent is if eddie realizes first which. honestly idk if i vibe with that

right lmao. not even for any reason other than that i don't know what it would look like? just a ton of subtle eddie face acting? clearly they're fine with turning his character into whatever but even if he realized, historically, he's more likely to just keep shoving it down and not letting it affect their friendship. which might be fun in some ways but like, not a lot of drama. i can think of a hundred ways this could go without Silent Pining but right now the vision i'm into is (and this will not happen but i'm dreaming) (also it got so long and you didn't even ask but i had to put it under the cut):

buck realizing somehow... either tommy says something when they amicably break up that makes him think - not "you're in love with eddie" but "i don't feel like i can give you what you want" - or maybe buddie get into some kind of minor but very apt Situation as a catalyst, idk. once buck puts it together, he's a general disaster for an episode after because now he DOES know what he wants and he doesn't know how to go after it. very 7x04 but less unhinged - maybe from buck's pov again lmao. he freaks out to maddie about it at the end; he's like, maddie, i think i'm in love with eddie. she soothes him and reminds him of what he and eddie have, and then she asks him, what are you going to do? (she doesn't tell him to tell eddie how he feels; she didn't do it before!) and buck just looks so wide-eyed and conflicted, honestly a little petrified, but he's like, i have to tell him. i need to go. i'll call you later.

he confesses to eddie in the following episode because he's buck, he can't hold it in. and eddie's absolutely floored, he did not see that coming in a million years, but he responds with all the kindness in the world. he says that buck's always going to be his best friend (?!?!?! BEGINNING OF THE END FOR BEST FRIENDISM) and this won't come between them, but he asks for a little time to... figure things out. because he's never given himself enough grace to do that. he just needs time. it's obvious something is up with them - with buck, who's trying very hard to keep it together, and with eddie, who's being mildly awkward; they won't look at each other - and everyone's like, what's happening there? at some point eddie sits down with bobby and they have the most gut-wrenching heart-to-heart you'll ever hear, about god and family and shannon, and they don't talk about buck, but bobby knows it's about buck, too. eddie starts to feel more settled. you can tell that the wheels are turning in his beautiful little head.

next episode, buck and eddie are mostly back to normal. mostly. to buck, hen's like, did you two figure things out? and buck's like uh... yeah! we're all good! cut to a flashback where they're trying to have a beer together at eddie's and it's just like always (except it's not) and then Something That Wouldn't Normally Be Romantic But Feels Romantic happens that takes things from slightly heavy to straight-up awkward. thankfully it's interrupted. maybe maddie calls or something. buck makes a hasty escape. eddie watches him go, lingering. godspeed to buck. he obviously doesn't notice that that's been happening a lot. but it's true, they are mostly back to normal, they're working like a well-oiled machine, they're talking, they're teasing each other, it's fine. buck is just relieved that he didn't ruin everything. the focus isn't really on them anyway, we just get a glimpse to tide us over.

then we get a more eddie-centric episode that's very much focused on eddie and chris and their relationship. maybe chris is going through something, maybe other diazes are involved, who knows. buck isn't really at the forefront, it's about eddie, but he shows up in small ways: chris mentions him a few times (that don't go unnoticed), eddie himself mentions him a few times, etc. either way the chris situation has something to do with their past, shannon, etc. i want eddie to have one good conversation with a family member, maybe pepa or ramon (could be helena, but i would like for them to deal with her in a different way). something that helps him realize he's not going to be alone. something about being there, showing up. i want him to hear that he's a good father and he deserves good things too. something that makes him feel like he can accept his world shattering a little bit if it's for buck. i can't decide whether i want him to actually, like, come out, but i do want it to be clear that he's been Thinking and Introspecting about his identity in the time we haven't seen him.

another episode... finally the 118 get clued in a little bit. this is totally wish fulfillment, but i want so badly for eddie and chim to have some kind of conversation (perhaps hen is there as well)... full circle for eddie telling chim (multiple times) to go after maddie... chim made the call on shannon... plus chim got a front-row seat to this whole disaster... anyway. howdie conversation. eddie says, buck told me he's in love with me. chim's like wtf but then he's like oh... that makes sense... and then we get a callback to the tomorrow isn't promised to anyone conversation. because eddie has known since buck confessed: he loves buck too, badly. it's just that it seemed like there were a thousand reasons why he couldn't have it. he realizes that over the course of this, all of those reasons seem to have fallen away: bobby helped absolve him of his guilt over shannon and his guilt over god; chris helped absolve him of his guilt over fatherhood, over not being able to build the Correct kind of family; the other diazes helped absolve him of his guilt over his desperate wish to not have to do it all alone and to not have to do it exactly right; and hen and chim give him the push to realize he's not actually out of time. things can change. he can be better. he can have good things. the 118 felt like his first good thing in a long time. so.

(meanwhile buck is... well... i don't know what he's doing. probably his own thing, some kind of arc where he realizes he isn't a worthless piece of shit and people love him. i would like him to be in therapy. he can go agonize to tommy. he and eddie continue to have weird moments all the time. haven't thought that far really).

AND THEN. it's the mid-season finale (because i want this to be 8a but i will take 8b as well so it can be the regular finale). eddie asks buck if they can talk later. buck is about to lose his mind. things are all tentative but something has clearly shifted. eddie seems lighter. everyone except buck understands what's going on, somehow. buck had mostly made peace with eddie possibly not saying it back; they're still best friends, the world didn't end, and buck is happy to wait. things are funny and soft. until... THEY get trapped in a BIG SITUATION!!!!!! a possibly-inescapable situation! either it's eddie or it's both of them. eddie doesn't confess in this situation and buck wouldn't let him anyway. instead they finally talk about when eddie got shot + the will, but this time it's eddie realizing what it was like for buck (The Bathena Parallels). he didn't get to see buck's devotion when the well collapsed or when he was bleeding out in the street, but he gets to see it now. buck tells eddie he loves him for the second time ever. we get because, evan 2.0. then they're rescued against all odds obviously.

after the ordeal, they're both exhausted and fucked up and eddie asks buck if he wants to come over. buck says yes, obviously. cue love confession of all time in eddie's kitchen, where eddie's voice and eyes and hands are so gentle. then they kiss like they're trying to eat each other. buddie canon. <3

[lizisodd]

OK, some disjointed Why We Fight thoughts because the last half of the episode is not meant for snarky liveblogging.

This is the first time we see Dick at a loss for words. Even in Day of Days, acting as CO and leading a handful of guys into battle, and he's collected. But in the camp, he's taking longer to respond, speaking in a quieter, hoarse voice, and stammering a bit. Please give all the awards to Damian Lewis.

Dick asks Christenson — played by German speaker Michael Fassbender, — if any of his guys speak German. (Ultimately Liebgott comes to translate.)

Speaking of German, guess Web forgot how? His character is all over the place.

Does this show do too many flashbacks? Is it a narrative crutch? I can't decide.

Like others, I wish we'd gotten a different Nix episode and this focused on Liebgott. Maybe move all the Liebgott/Webster antagonism to WWF and have TLP be Nix's episode? Just spitballing. He's pretty disillusioned in TLP too, and at this point in the show, the writers are messing with the timeline more, so it wouldn't really matter if, say, Cathy's divorce letter came a month earlier or he was demoted then either.

There's something very odd about the documentary vet interviews being "this German could have been my friend" and then the conclusion of the episode being "all these townspeople definitely knew what was going on, and no response/resistance is acceptance of this horror." It's too late for me to articulate my thoughts well.

There's also something off-putting about Easy's role in the camp being fictionalized (ie, they didn't discover it, but rather helped there for a day before moving out). While BOB isn't a documentary, it has documentary pieces (the vet interviews) and is touted for it's historical accuracy. However, it's ultimately a TV show that needs to provide entertainment, not a history text book. There's something jarring about fictionalizing a bit of the Holocaust, when so many people deny or trivialize it, plus it seems to dishonor the actual unit that liberated the camp (who I can't remember off the top of my head, sorry). In some big picture ways, it doesn't matter. The broad general strokes are there. But I think you need to be so careful about these types of stories.

I'm obsessed with watching reaction videos and found one by some Serbian young women who understood what the prisoner who's carrying the (near) corpse said. It's in Serbian and it's essentially "help him, he's still alive." Absolutely gut-wrenching to watch their reaction.

Speaking of, everyone I've ever watched this with or seen reaction videos of focuses on Nix losing his dog — and not his kid. Sorry, son.

Forgot to say this is the only time we see Speirs shake, too.

In conclusion 😭😭😭

[uh-niran-really]

Lifeweaver x Reader (Angst)

TW: Death, Grief, Loss, Child Loss

Prompt: ‘This house wasn’t the same to him anymore’

Lifeweaver

This house wasn’t the same to him anymore. All the joy and life had been sucked away along with the departure of his special flower. He paces around the house glancing at spaced that held so many memories. Happy memories, sad memories, memories of you..

Flashbacks run through his mind and tears threaten to spill. He’s angry, distraught, heart broken. If only he’d been quicker you’d still be here, with him. His mistake cost him the love of his life. It hadn’t been his fault, but he’ll never see it that way. Someone had come out of nowhere attacking him from above. He could see you needed help. He wanted to help. He panicked. He did what any sane person would do and thought of the attacker.

“N-niran…”

He looked up and saw you standing there, immobilised, and ready to fall at any given moment. His body filled with fear. He watched as you slowly dropped to your knees before falling on the hard ground. He was there in an instant, bio-light ready to heal you.

“Stay with me beautiful.. come on.. open those gorgeous eyes of yours…”

He didn’t want to think about losing you. He couldn’t bring himself to give it thought. Others watched on in heartbreak as he frantically tried to save you. They all knew it was futile. The shot that killed you was fatal. You knew that. They knew that. Niran… knew that. He held your hand tightly begging you to come back to him. Begging to hear your laugh one last time. He wasn’t much of a religious man, but in that moment he begged to whatever entity he could.

“Take me… Take me instead… please… I-I can’t… my heart can’t take this… FUCK!!! WHY WON’T YOU TAKE ME! SPARE HER!! YOU CAN’T!!” He screamed into the sky, tears spilling from his eyes. “You can’t… you can’t take her from me…”

The others tried to comfort him. Ana placed her hand on his shoulder to console him but he shrugged her off, opting to bury his face in your chest as he screamed a feral gut wrenching scream. There he stayed for what felt like an eternity. He couldn’t leave you, wouldn’t leave you. You were his and he was yours. His loyalty knew no bounds. He would die for you. That sudden realisation made him clutch his chest and hyperventilate. He would die for you, except he panicked and saved himself from the assassination attempt. If only he focused on life gripping you closer. He surely would have died, but you’d be safer. Ana or one of the other medics would have sight on you. You would have killed his attacker. He knew this.. He just… panicked. And it cost him everything.

He blinked tears from his eyes as he looked at your picture on the fireplace. You both loved to sit in front of the fire reading books and exchanging sweet passionate kisses. Now he could barely stand to look at it. But something caught his eye. Something he wished he never saw. A small box with a neatly wrapped bow. He slowly paced over and plucked it from where it sat. It was labeled with neat pretty writing and read: “To my Bua, Niran”

His heart panged. Had you left him a gift. What was the occasion. Your anniversary wasn’t for a while and he knew that you didn’t tend to plan in advance. He placed the box back where it came from and turned to leave the room. He didn’t want the heartbreak. He didn’t want to think about it. Yet his love for you was raw and passionate. He knew he couldn’t resist. He took a deep breath and grabbed the box again holding it delicately in his hands.

“What did you gift me sweetness…?”

He considered leaving the box again. Throwing it in a box and locking it away. He wanted to so badly. He knew he couldn’t however.

With a swift yet soft tug of the bow, the ribbon fell away and allowed him access to the contents of the box. With one last glance to your picture, he sighed and opened the box.

A small note read

Surprise my love! We’re pregnant!

Niran dropped the box watching as it hit the floor. A small object fell out from the box landing a few feet away. Two pink lines as clear as day. Pregnant.

“Preg- pregnant.. she was… no…”

“Niran…? Are you in there?”

He froze. Fear consuming him. He felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. His best friend Satya stood across the room from him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He just wanted to be with you and his child.

“Niran..?”

“We were expecting our first child together Satya…”

He heard as she gasped. Seconds passed before she ran across the room hugging him tightly as he dropped to his knees, a rough and guttural sob escaping his lips. Satya held him close stroking his unkempt hair. Niran was in a bad way. She didn’t need confirmation to see that.

“I’m so…sorry… Niran…”

Niran stared off in no where particular. This house wasn’t the same to him anymore. He loathed it.

“Get off me…”

He gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away, much to her dismay.

“I’m here for you Bua..”

Bua.. his nickname.. it felt wrong coming from Satya’s lips. She had always called him that but now all he could hear was you. Your sweet voice. He replayed the sound in his mind over and over, recalling every time he had heard you say it. His heart thumped in his chest, threatening to escape its cage. He felt sick and dizzy. His head spun and his vision blurred with tears. He dry heaved and clutched his chest. His expression scared the Indian women.

“Nir-“

He couldn’t stop himself.

“Get out!” He blurted out. “Get out Satya!”

With a heavy heart she muttered her apology’s and left. She wasn’t sure what she did but she felt guilt.

Niran’s condition worsened. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him. Why someone so beautiful.. so special.. was ripped away from him. He was crazed.. His love for you made him dizzy. He couldn’t take the pain. He just wanted it to stop. Maybe he would just end it all.

“Y/N… forgive me my love… I’m so.. so.. sorry.. beautiful..”

His hand pulsed with light as he produced on last rose. Placing it on the table along with a note for someone to find. He didn’t care anymore. Nothing else mattered anymore. He reached into his pocket pulling out a crumpled document. There in bold letters, the name of your killer. Organisation? Talon. He knew it was a suicide mission but nothing else mattered to him anymore because….

Well….

This house wasn’t the same to him anymore..

[chlorinewriter]

Good and bad news on the Mishanks Holy Heathens fic for priest Mihawk & heathen Shanks. The good news is that I've more than tripled my wordcount from last time I posted about it and things are still going pretty strong. It's been fun!

The bad news is that I realized I can't have my cake and eat it, too. Not with this fic. I wanted a one-shot that was sexy and tense and still emotionally gut-wrenching but also put Mihawk and Shanks in a different beginning relationship than the original show/manga/etc and the format was just not working for that. Turns out jamming three in-depth flashbacks into a fight scene is sorta disruptive, lol. So! A short chaptered fic it shall be. I'm thinking 4 or 5 chapters. I have waaaay more of the back end written than the front, so it'll be a bit before I have the first chapter out. That said, another snippet before I post the first chapter sometime in the next week. You could say the Mihawk and Shanks first meeting does not quite go spectacularly:

Shanks accepts the roll of paper from Mihawk’s hand, eyebrow jumping and other hand remaining on his sword’s hilt. “What’s this?” he asks, already slipping the meticulously tied ribbon from the paper and unfurling it.

“An official writ,” Mihawk replies, and though he is standing easily, Yoru still on his back, the Redeemer is watchful. His faith is imbued through his body, hardening skin and muscles, and the limited foresight it grants him hovers at the edges of his awareness. There are too many possibilities right now for any one to stick out. That doesn't really matter. There will only be two that come to fruition.

At some point in time this heathen is going to start running, or he's going to fight. They always do. He’s almost surprised the man hadn’t taken off when he’d seen the distinctive black and red robes Mihawk is wearing.

Probably a fight, then.

Lips moving soundlessly as he scans the paper, nonetheless Shanks appears to have no other trouble reading the writ and Mihawk is mildly surprised. Many of the godless he’s been sent after couldn’t even read their own condemnations. With the long scars over his one eye, a salt and sweat stained white shirt, and a weathered blue cloak far from immaculate, Shanks looks like he should be part of that group of grimy illiterates, but... He carries himself differently.

Occasionally the infidel pauses, and slowly his eyebrows drop into a furrow. After a few moments, Shanks looks up. And there is no dread in his face when he says, “I’m being denounced by the Holy First?”

“It is a Writ of Denouncement, yes.” Though the information is on the paper, there’s something searching in the other man’s gaze that makes Mihawk restless, and he adds, “You are called to the Holy See for judgement.”

“And you’re gonna accompany me there?” Shanks smiles, and from someone else it would have been mirthless. Not so with him. The grin actually seems amused, even warm. Mihawk inclines his head stiffly, his instincts warring with the discomfiting charisma of the other man as Shanks continues. “And I’ll – what? Be given a fair and just trial in the eyes of your Lord?”

“Your guilt is decided,” Mihawk retorts sharply, and it is not as easy to deliver the script as it usually is in the face of that grin. “Our Lord,” extra emphasis on our, as if Mihawk has anything to prove, “knows your wicked heart. What remains is your punishment.”

“Ah. Right. My wicked heart.” Shanks checks the paper, looks back up. “So what is the punishment, for, ah...” He reads off the list, ironic in his studiousness. “Consorting with demons, misleading the populace, decrying the Church, accosting Church officials, challenging Church doctrine, encouraging heretical tenets, displaying heretical uses of faith, waylaying shipments meant for Church officials, throwing spoiled produce at–”

“It is not for me to decide,” Mihawk interrupts. He forgot how long the list was. It also had not occurred to him when he read it in the Holy See that there were no murders or similarly violent offenses on the list. Though he seems to remember the priest who had been splattered with the fruit claiming it had been done with the enthusiasm of a most pernicious assault. That had caused quite a stir in the cathedral, a few years ago.

He doesn’t think he’s been called to track down – and execute upon resistance – a heretic such as this before. Not that it matters. It doesn’t. Such are the orders of the Lord.

Mihawk banishes the thoughts creeping unformed in the corners of his mind, reaches back to grip Yoru with deliberate and blatant threat.  

“I will see you before the Holy First. One way or another.”

Shanks’ hand tightens around the writ, crumpling the paper, and though there is still no fear in his direct gaze, he takes a few steps back. Mihawk's faith-imbued eyes can see something bright beginning to coalesce in the pirate's chest, and with a jarring mix of butcher-knife interest and muted disappointment Mihawk realizes this is going exactly where he knew it would.

Somehow, for just a moment, he'd thought...

“I don’t want to fight you, Redeemer Mihawk,” Shanks says quietly.

Yoru makes a shivery, beautiful peal as he pulls it from its sheathe, and the familiar sound loosens the tightness in Mihawk's chest. “Wise,” he replies, arching the sword one–handed over his head in a movement as natural as it is graceful. “Fighting any Redeemer is ill-advised.”

The blade ends up pointed unwaveringly at the heathen, but Shanks is not looking at Yoru. He still has that searching expression on his face, demanding and expectant as his eyes catch at Mihawk’s. “Not the Redeemers. I just don’t want to fight you."

[cazort]

Space: Above and Beyond (1995-96) is somewhat of a forgotten show and sometimes I feel like it gets the short end of the stick in today's society because liberals hate it because it glorifies the Marines, has a distinctly US-based patriotic flavour, and depicts liberal politicians as corrupt, whereas conservatives hate it because of its inescapable anti-racist and anti-fascist commentary, its criticism of the military-industrial complex, and its depiction of the ugliest sides of war.

I kinda love it though. It is a difficult show to watch, touching on heavy topics, and there is a lot of violence and death in it in pretty much every episode. I normally dislike violence in TV or movies but something about how it is depicted in this show I love. It doesn't shy away from showing all the different aspects of violence, from the dehumanization of the enemy (both how it is cultivated in military culture and in how it plays out on the battlefield), to PTSD from survivors, to grief from those who lose loved ones.

Another thing that actual war veterans have told me is unrealistic about most TV and movie depiction of war, is how it is depicted as much neater and clearer than it is. Veterans have told me that two things are consistently omitted from TV and movies: on the one hand, just how much waiting and boredom there is in the military, and how this occupies the overwhelming majority of time. And then, on the other hand, how in actual combat it can be completely overwhelming and it happens so fast and you have no idea what is going on, pure chaos. Even if aspects of the show are still unrealistic, this show seems to nail both of these key aspects and I have seen veterans praising it online on both counts. Most of the show is shot from the perspective of soldiers on the ground and you never see a more complete picture than they see, and more often than not, they are confused and overwhelmed, and their communications get knocked out much of the time too.

Last night we watched the episode Who Observes the Birds which is kinda wild as a work of art, it aired in 1996, and it's a sci-fi episode that has almost no dialogue in it at all. It's basically one character in enemy territory getting shot at and struggling to survive, and it has a bunch of flashbacks that give him backstory.

It also is just brutally moving emotionally like you see this moment of empathy when this guy has been shot at, and then he's waiting and he sees this beautiful alien bird fly overhead. And then this enemy soldier walks into sight and he has this straight line of sight to shoot him, and he's about to do it, and then he sees the enemy soldier get distracted by the same beautiful bird and stop and look up at it as it soars overhead and he can't do it and it's just like gut-wrenching.

The whole episode is packed with this, like there are a bunch of different interactions that span the full range from dehumanization of the enemy to fleeting moments of empathy, and you also see that the guy also starts hallucinating when he is alone in the war zone too long.

This show is not for the faint of hearted, it has a lot of graphic violence and it will definitely ruffle some feathers no matter where you are on the political spectrum, but if you want to see some sci-fi that has good character development and gives a more realistic take on the ugly aspects of war, I can't recommend this show enough. And of course like so many good shows it was cancelled after one season.

[zalrb]

The tvd movie would be a romance with the twist of vampires. *a better twilight

ok the original ask:

Anonymous asked:

If tvd s1 was a movie what parts of stelenas story would you have kept for it to still feel as profound as s1.

well assuming that there are multiple movies, i would stop at 1x17 and make it a cliffhanger, where the movie ends with elena giving stefan her blood and he saves her and it's all fine and they're lovey dovey but the last shot is of him ravenously drinking from blood bags. if the movie is done right then that ending would be gut-wrenching.

to streamline everything instead of the tomb vampires kind of just being around and then kidnapping stefan to torture him etc. etc. the final act would be the tomb vampires about to devour the town, stefan/elena and friends are going to stop them, stefan gets merked in the midst of the fight and elena feeds him her blood.

i'm thinking of this as less what i would cut from stelena and more what would i cut from the other things that happen in season 1 that would reduce stelena's time and the first thing would be delena.

damon can still come back to revive katherine and the tomb vampires and kill people all over town and he and stefan can still have history over katherine but he doesn't have to be "falling" for elena. if we want to give him depth so he's not just a cardboard villain it would be through making his story with katherine stronger.

katherine and elena also don't have to look alike so we can skip the whole elena leaves/damon kidnaps her/stefan worrying georgia thing. if we want to keep that stefan had watched elena before coming to mf then i would keep it as stefan saved elena's life and bounced then he checked in to see if she was doing OK and then wanted to meet her.

elena being adopted can also go, so isobel doesn't need to be a storyline either.

there doesn't have to be elena/matt tension which is barely there anyway. in fact matt doesn't have to be there at all. neither does tyler. unless you want the sequel to include werewolves. idk.

i think it's also about streamlining things. stefan saving elena's life wouldn't be a reveal to the audience anyway, it would have to be incorporated from the very beginning where it would, like, start with elena dreaming about the car crash in quick flashes and then her just waking up in the hospital and then stefan's perspective a bit later on, maybe he's on the bridge and it's a quick flashback to the same night where he hears a car crash and vamp speeds and it can happen in bits and pieces until stefan tells elena what happened and he would tell her because damon, who would be bitter about stefan finding love while katherine is still in the tomb and bitter about what went down with katherine in 1864, would twist it to make it seem like something else and she confronts him about it as opposed to her being like why do i look like katherine etc. etc.

i would also have to streamline the breakup because it's "i can't be with you stefan" and then stefan kills vicki for elena and she's still 'i can't be with you but i can't lose how i feel about you' and then lexi shows up and lexi is like yeah you're totally into him then damon kills her then it's elena is all talk to me then stefan's like you were right to stay away from me then he saves bonnie then she's like i can be with you then he's like i can't be with you i'm leaving town then she's like i love you and that would take too much time

so i would have to combine it: stefan is like i can't do this, elena does a mini speech about how there is a part of her that wishes etc. etc. but she can't lose how she feels about him, he says no it's too dangerous.

this can go different places, this can happen at the end of the second act/beginning of the third and there's a period of separation shown through MONTAGE

tomb vampire war breaks out, elena is in trouble, stefan has to save her, gets merked, blood scene.

or it can be an attempted breakup before they have sex so they never actually have a period of separation in this movie.

i also think things like the vampirism reveal would be like elena does see things that she can't explain but she knows that he's a vampire when he saves a life in front of her so we can get to the heart of what kind of person/vampire stefan is quicker.

[ramblingwriter19]

Max Caught By Lawrence

Super OG title, I know. First time I've been active in this community, so hi! This was a challenge to write because Max doesn't need to breathe and he can't cry so uh... anyway criticism is much appreciated.

Max, a vampire, is captured and forced to turn feral.

Backstory: This is part of a wider story. Lawrence is trying to spark a war by having Max lose control and kill Chris (werewolf/lover) in his desperation to hunt. He's trying to eradicate Chris' family and this allows him to achieve that without coming under suspicion. Blessed silver is harmful to vampires and they can't use their supernatural healing against it. Normal silver is like holding your hands on a mug that's too hot.

CW: Vampire whumpee, werewolf whumper, chair restraints, crossbow bolts, blood, flashbacks, pleading, losing control, childhood trauma, werewolves, vampires, hallucinating, burning, head trauma, man handling, degrading, first draft

The first crossbow bolt went through his right shoulder, the second through his knee. Max crumpled to the ground in a cry of agony, pain exploding in his limbs. His shaking fingers fumbled for the wooden bolt protruding from his shoulder, blind panic igniting every nerve. Footsteps rushed towards him. As he rolled to face them a boot planted itself firmly between his shoulder blades. 

He gasped as the assailant wrenched his head back. “It took you long enough.” I know that voice.

Max clawed at the hand in his hair dragging him across the gravel. Not human. His nails dug into the skin, drawing blood. He smells like a wolf. 

A werewolf? Here? Fear seized him. I’m going to die. 

He twisted against his assailant. “Let go of me!” Light exploded behind his eyes as his head cracked against the wall. Reeling from the blow, his assailant easily shoved him into a chair. Cold metal hissed against his skin. An unbearable itch errupted in his wrists as they locked behind his back. Blindly, Max kicked out, striking bone. No sooner came a brutal punch to the gut slumping him in his seat. He stilled, nausea rolling over him. 

A rough hand gripped his chin and he came face to face with his captor. “Move them again and I’ll stake your fucking feet to the floor, you hear me?” Lawrence growled, squeezing to the point Max thought his jaw might break. He swallowed hard, trusting Lawrence would make good on his promise.“How easy,” he scoffed. “Now, first things first-”

Wack!

Max’s head whipped to the side, nose spilling blood. “You’re a man, aren’t you? You can take a hit for your bitch cousin.” Briefly, the scene of Adeliah socking Lawrence on his behalf crossed his mind. The psycopathy of Lawrence’s retribution astounded him.

“What, you have to tie me up to hit me? No confidence on your own?” Max spat tauntingly. Confusion gnawed at him. He attacked me just for that? For Adeliah breaking his nose? Wait, has he hurt her too-

Lawrence grabbed the bolt lodged in Max’s shoulder and slid it back. Max swallowed a yell as what had to be blessed silver seared his flesh. “That was simple revenge. No, this is for something else.” He paused, contemplating something. “You know what, that must hurt a lot. Let me get that for you.” 

A scream tore from his throat as the crossbolt ripped free. Lawrence pressed his fingers into the wound, watching Max writhe beneath the pressure. “Relax, I’m just stemming the blood.” 

Max thrashed against the cuffs, barely registering the burn in his wrists. Rage blurred his vision. “I will kill you! I will get you for this, I swear-”

“Oh yeah?” His anxiety spiked as Lawrence reached for the second bolt. Max’s feet jolted closer to himself. His eyes zeroed in on it, willing it away. Seconds passed in tense silence. He dared not breathe. “What did I say about moving your feet?”  

Icy fear doused him. “Move them again and I’ll stake your fucking feet to the floor, you hear me?” Paralysed, Max pictured it; a wooden stake driving apart his flesh and bones, nailing him to the ground, how excruciating that would feel. Over and over and over and over-

Lawrence ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “You’re new to this. I’ll give you a chance. Put your feet back and I’ll let it slide.” 

Max stared at his knees uncomprehending. Put my feet back? But you’ll rip out the crossbolt. He couldn’t make his body move. Nausea cinched so tight in his belly he thought he’d coil into nothing. Shaking, he shuffled his feet forward. Why? Why am I doing this? Why is this happening?

“Man, that looks like it hurts. I should take this one out too.” Despite his softened tone, the hard glint of delight in his eyes gave him away.

“It’s fine…” Max almost didn’t hear himself. 

“What was that?”

When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “It’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt, it can stay in.” What are you saying? “Please, please leave it alone. Please!”

Max desperately grit his teeth against the sharp spike of pain as Lawrence drummed his fingers along the bolt shaft. It took all his willpower not to move. Desperation rose in his throat like bile. “Please- AH!”

Pain tore into his senses. His anger and fear rammed against his instincts. He whipped forwards, eyes flaming, hissing and baring his fangs. His body heaved, straining to tear into the beast before him.

Vice like fingers gripped his jaw. “You put those filthy things away or I’ll snap those off too.” 

They stared each other down until Max shoved his instincts back under, his gums aching as he forcibly retracted them. His body shook with the effort to restrain himself, leaving him tired and drained. The roar in his head settled as he slouched in his chair, empty aside from the pain. 

Lawrence crouched down in front of Max, eyes raking over the damage. Blood oozed from his injuries, filling the air with its metallic scent. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, letting the moment linger. “You know, that didn’t take as long as I thought.” 

Max stared blankly at his lap. His body rolled through the aftershocks, shuddering quietly as it tried to heal. 

“I mean, I thought you’d put up more of a fight. But you gave up quicker than I expected.” He nudged Max’s foot. “Hey, shouldn’t you be more stubborn? You can’t break that quick. A guy’s gotta fight until he’s nothing but shreds.” 

You broke so fast. Faced with your family’s enemy and all you can do is plead to not be hurt. He’d be so disappointed in you. 

Shame kindled in his chest. I’m sorry. I’m not strong like you. I can’t handle this.

“Oi, listen when I’m talking to you.” Max convulsed as his skin bubbled under the silver tipped bolt. “You should feel special, I went through the effort of getting this blessed just for you.” As the flesh melted together the bloodflow eased. However, it couldn’t truly recover.  

“Stop, please. Please, what- what do you want!?” Max heaved out. 

“I want you to give in to your instincts. Go absolutely feral. Don’t you want to let loose a little?”

His head rolled tiredly to the side, throat closing over the words. “Why?”

“Why? Because you’re going to do a very important job for me.” Lawrence frowned, taking note of Max’s injuries. “Maybe I shouldn’t have cauterised that for you. You’ve got to run out of blood to go feral don’t you? Let’s help you with that.” 

“No, no, don’t!”

It seemed he only breathed in order to scream. The restraints dug harshly into his wrists. Broken thoughts scattered across his mind, desperate and pleading. Let me go! I want to pass out. I want to die! Let me go, let me go! Help me! Chris!

Throat scraped raw, Max wheezed, “I ‘n’t. I won’t. Stop!” 

“You will. And when you do, you’re gonna kill little Christopher for me.” 

“No. No! I will not.” A haze settled over his mind. Every thought felt cloudy, slipping through his grasp. His body laboured against the torment, unable to heal. Jagged, angry lines raked up his body. Blood drained from him like water. “Why not… yourself? Why- why me?”

Lawrence tutted. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll do the most important part, Charles is mine to dispose of. But if I did it all that’d be too obvious. No. An accident here and there, picking off the weaker ones…”

“Then why,” Keep him talking. He doesn’t hurt you while he’s talking. “Why not… just bleed me out? Why… all this?” The effort of breathing felt too much. Nothing kept the stench of his burning skin from clogging his nose, so thick he could choke on it.

Lawrence shrugged nonchalantly. “Because I’ve gotta get my kicks out of this somewhere and you’re on borrowed time anyway. Don’t think too hard, I’m just whittling down the vermin population. One less of you is one less danger to our people.” 

“I’m a danger?” Max said hysterically. “You are scheming to kill your leading family!”

Max recoiled as Lawrence’s hand shot out and grasped the chair behind his shoulder. “I’m cutting out a disease. They’re making us weak.” 

“You are the disease.”

Lawrence leaned in close, stuffy breath fanning across Max’s face. “You got anything else to say smartass? Or should I cut out your vocal cords too?” Max turned his head away, biting his lips. “Good choice.” He glanced out the window towards the setting sun. “I’ll be back soon, I gotta make sure our friend doesn’t find us too soon.”

Barely a step outside the door, he turned and grinned. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Anybody who saw him would’ve thought he was dead. Nothing marked him as alive. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no echo of a beating heart. Broken and torn with no will left to fight he stared glass-eyed ahead, lifeless as a doll. Minutes ticked by, marked by the steady drip, drip, drip of his blood pooling beneath him. Weights tugged on his eyelids but he couldn’t slip away. The cottage swam in and out as dizziness fogged his sight. Further and further his blood crawled, stretching for the pockmarked walls. In his delirium the pain blurred together. Blood dripped from his chin, resting limply against his chest. He almost felt numb to it now. Outside himself. What’s one cut from the rest?

His mind was playing tricks on him. He knew that when the floor warped and turned green, sprouting grass. Walls rose into dense trees, canopies veiled in shadow high above. 

Through dirty glass he could do nothing but watch. His knuckles turned white on the ledge, tension seizing his body. 

A face bubbled up in his memory. Time had blurred the features. A boy, pushed down to his knees before a line of malicious eyes. He had not cowered. Death made him strong and he faced it unflinchingly. He spat at the feet of his killers, glared as the claws slashed across his throat, leaving him gurgling on his blood while they watched in vicious satisfaction. A howl of victory split the night. 

Arms circled from behind him and wrenched him away, kicking and screaming. No! Don’t leave him! You have to help him! Felix!

He recalled the self hatred that burrowed in his bones. The guilty nightmares that plagued him for months. How could we leave you there? 

“You’re on borrowed time anyway.” Lawrence’s voice curled in his ears. 

I was who they wanted. I should have been the one to die. Not you, in my place. 

Memories unfurled around him, slipping through him like smoke. 

“How come we have to stay inside?” Max pouted, head propped up on another child’s lap. A hand nestled in his hair, fiddling with the strands. 

“Because the bad people are looking for you.” 

He frowned. “Why?” 

The boy thought it over for a moment. His features were obscured, like looking in a cloudy mirror. A mop of dark hair dropped into a pale complexion, his eyes dark blotches on his face. “Something of theirs got hurt, and they want to hurt you to make it even. But I will keep you safe. I promise.”

“How come the adults tell you things? Why am I not allowed to know?” he sulked. 

The image dissipated, disrupted by the deep, aching pang of hunger. His body had given up on fixing the damage. His heart had nothing left to burn through and demanded more. Fire threatened to consume him from the inside. It scorched his chest, warming him to fever. 

Sounds of battle drifted between his ears. The crunch of bones underfoot, the wet tearing of flesh, the resounding screams of fury and anguish. 

“Felix,” Max clutched the boy’s cold hand tight in his own. “I’m scared.” 

They lay in the dark, huddled together beneath the mansion. Max flinched at a heavy thud above their heads. Felix held him closer. “The adults will take care of it. Stay quiet and it will pass.” Through his own trembling body, he couldn’t feel the way Felix stiffened to keep from doing the same. 

Gradually, the thuds grew louder. Fighting spilled onto the floor above. Felix crawled to his knees, feeling his way across the room. Carefully he unstacked the boxes in the corner and beckoned Max over. His voice was barely a whisper. “Climb in here.” 

Max vigorously shook his head. He pushed away Felix’s attempts to drag him into the box. “Help me out here,” he coaxed. “Just like hide and seek, I promise.” 

“No, no, no.” Max’s voice broke over the words. 

“Please, Max. You have to.” The fighting grew louder overhead, the threat a shadow they couldn’t see in the dark. “I will hide in the other box, okay? This one is too small.” 

Max’s fingers tangled in Felix’s shirt, unwilling to part. “You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

He allowed himself to be lifted into the box. The darkness inside it was no different to the dark outside. There was only one measly window cut just under the ceiling. It’s dirt stained glass hardly let in any light to begin with. Max curled into himself, arms tucked around his knees. His back pressed against the sides, head brushing the lid. He listened as Felix stacked the boxes back on top of him. He strained for the sound of him hiding in another box but the rustling had ceased. 

BANG.

Terror gripped his heart and squeezed. Max went completely still as angry voices flooded the room. The clash of battle had found them. A sudden stench of blood overwhelmed him. Every muscle in his body bunched in preparation to flee. 

Felix yelled in pain. Snarls erupted over the sound, scuffling for control. “Get off me!” The beast dragged Felix from the basement. Max heard his body slam against every step. 

Max’s hands stiffened into claws digging into his legs. ‘Move! You have to help Felix! Move!!’ But fear ransacked him of his willpower and he lay there, whimpering quietly to himself. 

Something nudged the box. It sniffed the air, growling low in its throat. Max fell silent. 

Claws swiped at the cardboard, gouging deep scars in the wall beside his face. The scream caught in his throat. He thrashed in the box, sending the boxes on top tumbling. Blindly, he reached for something, anything. 

A heavy weight held him in place. Rancid breathed poured over his shoulders. The gnarled creature bore down on him. He could barely see the terrifying presence, but sensed the teeth hovering over his neck. 

Then it was gone. A flash of claws and limbs flurried past him, crashing against the wall. Hissing, the vampire sunk a danger into the howling beast. A sickening crunch silenced it. 

The vampire hauled him to his feet. “Maxwell?” 

He nodded, voice gone. 

Max didn’t even flinch as the door swung open, footsteps creaking across the wooden floor.

Somebody was by his side, cupping his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes, gingerly running their fingers over his bloodstained cheeks. A panicked voice begged his attention. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m gonna get you out of here now, okay?” They continued to ramble. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” 

Chris?

A kick to the chair jarred him from the illusion. “The fuck you mumbling to yourself about, huh?”

The despair was more crushing than the pain. 

Lawrence prowled slowly around him. “You know… Maybe I had the wrong idea.” He rubbed his shoe in the pool of blood. “Maybe little Christopher’s glad the filthy vampire got up and left on his own. There’s not a trace of him out there and it’s been… how long?” 

Max didn’t even have the energy to refute it. The burning was stronger now. Threatening to consume him. 

“Maybe he’ll even thank me. He’ll take one look at you, snarling and ruined, and realise you for the monster you are. If he hasn’t come for you yet then he’s definitely sick of you.” Max closed his eyes, trying to shut the words from his mind. No, you’re wrong.

But… where is he? 

Anger had overwhelmed him and he’d stormed out. Demanded he wasn’t followed. What reason did Chris have to care about him now? That ridiculous bond? Is that really all they had? 

Roughly, a hand wrenched his head back and dark eyes coldly assessed him. A grin curled at the edges of his lips. “You’re almost gone, aren’t you.” Laughter crackled in his ear. 

Hunger overshadowed every thought, dipping its hands into every nerve of his body. Desperation clawed at his mind. Strikes of lightning fizzled in his chest, tearing him apart. It begged him to fight, to feed. It didn’t want to die. His body long since stopped recovering. Energy needed to be saved. It needed to hunt. Max groaned, shaking his head. Tremors wracked his body. 

It threatened to overwhelm him and he was ready to let it. The wave roared over him, screaming in his head, pushing him down, shrouding his mind. He sank, unable to beat it back. Inevitably, he slipped away. Unseeing eyes gazed up at the wooden ceiling. 

“What the, did he actually pass out?” Lawrence scoffed. He tapped Max between the eyes. 

Nothing. 

Lawrence reached for his jaw. His head whipped to the side, teeth snapping at the hand, almost catching it. “Fuck!” He lashed out, slamming his fist into Max’s gut. 

There was no reaction. He sat limply. 

Realisation dawned on him. Elation split his face into a wide grin. Giddy, Lawrence crouched to get a better look of the thing in front of him. It sat quietly, perfectly still. Conserving its energy until it could hunt. 

There was no more Max. Only the vampire.

[connecting-the-stars]

Well the newest season of ‘The Bear’ released! And ofc I’m a fan of the arcs set up for all our characters and seeing them pay off in different positive or negative ways. Tina’s development from last season building into her thriving at culinary school and becoming one of the blocks to hold the restaurant intact. Marcus flying over seas to gain new skills and brainstorm his dessert ideas to return with new confidence and wonderful plates. Ofc, the all star girl, Sydney absolutely killing it this season with taking charge with planning of the menu and keeping things moving in the restaurant’s development. Which flows into her taking on the pressure in the last episode and pushing through an almost disastrous first service. And her relationship with her Dad was so sweet and seeing him try to support her the best he could despite his concerns was wonderful.

Now, with most of the positives laid out… those negatives. Well, I knew from the first instant that it showed Marcus being anxious about leaving his mother to travel, that something utterly sad was gonna happen. His care for her was palpable and his anxiety was very relatable. When everything had picked up in the other plot’s lines and his mother wasn’t mentioned as much, I had nearly forgotten but that last frame of his phone lighting up hurts. I know we are gonna see the heartbreak and grief that comes with his loss, and I’m wondering if Nat or Carmy will be able to support him at least some due to their own recent loss. Next season will most likely have Syd being a pillar of support and relatability for him, due to her grief of her mother. Thus, on to head strong and doubt-filled Sydney, she’s got to be my favorite character from the whole cast that I enjoy. Her Dad being nervous for her throughout the season was almost hard to watch as he attempted to be supportive while also pressing her about her decisions, added on by Syd constantly seeing different restaurants that closed. The intense anxiety and burden of running The Bear as the sou chef really shows in the later half of episode 10. Her mind repeatedly playing the tickets and her stomach upending itself in the alley was gut wrenching as I could feel her panic. Both arcs with Marcus and Sydney were completed so well as they were formed over the season, but damn am I not concerned for both of them in the future. (I want them all to be happy, but I guess this makes fans invested. I am very invested.)

Remember grief repressing and anxiety riddled Carmy from season 1? Well I can’t say he gets a arc I completely enjoyed, but the writers found a way for the audience to get pissed at him for sure. Digging himself into his own downfall was very… I don’t know how to put it… Relatable? Satisfying? Depressing? It made my heart twist when I heard him claim that he doesn’t need amusement, telling the fridge door how he rejects any resemblance of happiness. Despite him neglecting his responsibilities and his commitment to the restaurant and Sydney, I can sympathize with Carmy’s juggling act of being pulled in two directions. That being said, the dialogue and visual reminders for him to call the fridge guy paid off almost hilariously as it blow up in his face. For the first few seconds, I had burst into laughter at the absurdity and suddenness as it cut into the flow of the scene in the fast paced kitchen. But after that, the amusement definitely just nosedived into concern and sadness as Carmy frantically bashed his fists into the door yelling. Ofc, his first relationship, someone from his past that he attached himself to so much, was gonna end in ruins by his own hands. Just like the fridge handle snapping off. From my perspective, the writers set Claire up as a personification of his past. It was brought up repeatedly how she remembered or knew something about the past or his family, being the very loud topic brought up in the flashback episode, one of Carmy’s main scenes. The panic attack weaving images of screaming family members and old pictures of her made it clear that she is associated with his painful and tragic upbringing, surrounded by adults with their own issues that violently conflict and clash with one another. Mikey’s silent suffering after carmy gifted him his sketch of their restaurant made me want to cry.

Mikey is gone, and Carmy forced himself to go back to Chicago to desperately fumble The Beef into a half way functional sandwich shop. Then, right at the end of season 2 second episode, it has Claire appearing as a blast from the past. That fact that it’s brought up how he’s “always” had a crush on her is interesting, other characters tell us this, but when Carmy himself is faced with the choice to invite her into his chaotic life - he chooses to give her a fake number. This being his first real relationship and lacking role models for healthy positive relationships could play into his hesitancy to call her his girlfriend. In the early half of of the last episode, there is a moment where the camera lays out the situation between Claire and calling the fridge guy, appropriate that he doesn’t even have the proper name, and then he chooses to do neither - redirecting to help Marcus with something. During the first service, Richie presses him to go talk to Claire, and in the context of moving forward or returning to someone of the past, Carmy refuses the first time. He focuses all his effort into the restaurant’s success, and denies looking back - visiting a distraction. If Claire is a version of the past, last season Carmy was clinging to the past as his grief ran through his heart and pulled him back to The Beef. Then, the temptation to return to something familiar, to fall into a routine and not move forward is hard for anyone. The Bear is his and the restaurant’s way of moving forward and making something better than it ever was before. But Carmy gets caught on someone of the past, someone who reminds him of a time his brother was still alive. When cooking with his brother was a place to laugh and smile wide as the sun shined on their faces. (S1 flashbacks of Mikey, Richie, and Carmy.) In the end, Carmy is left literally self isolated, his first relationship shoot through, and on horrid terms with Richie, all because he could not delegate time revisiting the past and stepping forward. He fell between the cracks.

I love this show and it’s flawed characters, I loved the arcs for everyone. I haven’t even brought up Richie’s development, my dude whooped that Big Black Dog’s ass this season!

(Depression: 0, Richie: 100)

[thenightling]

Spookiest moments from the first season of The Sandman

Since we are only two days from Halloween I have decided to compile the spookiest and creepiest moments from the first season of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman from Netflix. I will be providing video clip links whenever possible for this list. 10. The fate of Rosemary in episode 4 and perhaps all of 24/7 (24 Diner in the comics and audio drama). This particular story isn't really scary to me but it is very gory and I know that is scary for a lot of people. The gore actually kind of bored me but that could be because I'm very desensitized to gore from watching too much of things like American Horror story. The part of this story that actually does catch me off guard is the changed fate for Rosemary. You get so worried for her and her dog. The way the story was changed was definitely an improvement (in my opinion) but you get so worried for her, that I have to count it as a spooky moment. By the way, Sandman fans so heavily approved of how Rosemary's fate was changed that just today I saw the phrase "I was hoping they Rosemaryed her." used by Sandman fan.

9. Poor Jessamy's death. Jessamy's Death is one of the most gut wrenching moments in The Sandman. What makes it all the worse is the hopeful music playing while her plan to rescue Morpheus is set into motion. And then, just when it looks like she's about to free him... she gets killed very suddenly right in front of him. It's startling and heartbreaking at the same time. It leaves you feeling chilled, disappointed, and also pitying Morpheus for his reaction. The emotion conveyed by Tom Sturridge as Morpheus in that scene, without uttering a word, is incredible.

8. The banishing of Hector Hall's ghost to the Afterlife. When Morpheus banishes Hector Hall's ghost, Hector looks like he is decomposing right before our eyes. No wonder Lyta Hall mistakenly thought of it as Morpheus killing him. 7. Funland and his death. Funland is a creepy predator attending a serial killer convention. HIs death is a creepy moment because you think Jed and Rose had just been rescued but really they are now at the mercy of the rogue nightmare, The Corinthian. 6. Johanna Constantine's Nightmare. Much like with DC"s John Constantine, we get a tragic flashback of what happened in New Castle, where a Dark Magick obsessed father (treated much like a drug addiction) opens a portal to Hell and accidentally invokes something. The demon claims an innocent little girl while Johanna Constantine is trying to banish the demon. 5. Johanna Constantine exorcises a demon. Here Johanna Constantine banishes a demon but the one who is possessed is not who she suspected. (Though many of us saw the twist coming.)

4. Death comes to collect a soul. This isn't really "scary." In fact it's sweet. But there is an underlying creepiness to knowing the end is near and the mystery of what comes next. Here we see Death (Morpheus's sister) come collect an old man and take him to the afterlife. Though this isn't necessarily scary it can still be disturbing.

3. The summoning of Morpheus. Roderick Burgess and his coven, The Order of Ancient Mysteries, attempt to invoke The Grim Reaper and get Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams by mistake. The invocation scene is pretty intense but I must admit I actually think the audio drama version is better. It just feels more intense, more foreboding, or maybe that's because my mind has to come up with the visuals. It's definitely longer in the audio drama version, mind you.

At the exact moment that Morpheus feels the pull of the summoning spell, he was confronting the rogue nightmare, The Corinthian, who Morpheus meant to uncreate for having been roaming The Waking World and killing mortals.

2. Invoking The Hecateae. After Morpheus escapes his captivity he has to track down his tools that had been taken from him by his captors. This includes his ruby amulet (a conduit for his powers), his battle helm (he never actually goes into battle but it's a symbol of his authority), and his pouch of dream sand (He is The Sandman after all). Having no clue where his tools have ended up Morpheus is left with no choice but to seek the aid of the Three-in-one. The Three-in-One represent the triple Goddess, Hecate (Goddess of Witchcraft and magick), The Fates, and the furies (divine vengeance against those that spill family blood). The Hecateae are fickle and dangerous and very powerful.

1. The Oldest Game. Morpheus vs. Lucifer. Many people would tell you that there's nothing creepier than a depiction of The Devil. In this scene Morpheus challenges Lucifer to a sort of duel to win back his helm, which had been stolen from him during his long captivity at the hands of mortal sorcerers. The challenge between Morpheus and Lucifer is known as "The Oldest Game" which some might recognize as the Wizard's duel from The Sword in the Stone or even the version from The Raven starring Vincent Price and Boris Karloff as rival sorcerers. If Morpheus wins he gets his helm. If Lucifer wins Morpheus (and by extension the dreams of mortals) become enslaved by Lucifer.

[ankhmutes]

MASH and Zombies

Here you go; this is for a MASH fic thing I decided to do awhile back from @doctorparmak​ (DM me if you want me to take down the tag, no hurt feelings). My prompts were Potter, 4077 guest, Winchester with a theme of Supernatural phenomenon. the topics were a bit UN-inspired so I had a drink or two and rolled with what I had. someone commented or re-blogged about a MASH fic of mine today, so I went back and took a look, realizing I had forgotten about some fics. This fic was left half-started, and... well, I went with it, with much apology to the spirit of the challenge. If anyone can think of a better title, let me know. I might put it on Ao3 tomorrow. I just had to get it out and post it before i fell asleep. This fic is totally un beta-’d ad hot off the press so forgive any mistakes especially sacrilegious plot holes and canon mess-ups.

So read on, if you dare, to see more shitty fics under the influence of alcohol. Okay, not much of an influence, more of a buzz, inspriation, and laziness, and just because i can’t shut the fuck up enough to actually post the story... please comment or DM or whatever, apparently that does light a fire under my ass and gets things done.

Klinger was the first one to see them. Having gone out to the dump to take care of some dirty linens beyond repair, he saw them. Two men and a woman, their bodies covered in blood and eyes wild, searching for something. Entrails hung out of stomachs, and decomposition had set in. It was more than obvious to the clerk that these people should be dead. 

“Zombies!” Klinger screamed, his eyes wide as he dropped the forgotten linens and grabbed for a nearby shovel.

“What?” Zale scoffed as he scooted out from under a jeep. “That's a bit rich coming… Oh fuck.” Having seen the corpses, zale followed suit and picked up a large, heavy wrench. “What do I do?” He asked anxiously, watching Klinger.

“I'll go get the Colonel, you hold them off. I think you need to get them in the head.” Klinger said breathlessly as he tried to hurry off to OR, hoping it would be safe there. He had a brief flashback to 1943, when he was watching “I walked with a Zombie.” it made him recall things from the movie, that he thought trivial but maybe… maybe, things weren’t all they seemed. 

“Colonel!” Klinger shouted, breathless as he heard screaming from beyond the OR. Hawkeye ran to the doors, followed by Houlihan and Potter, Winchester hanging back as Mulcahy trailed behind Hawkeye, BJ stuck in the middle, wanting to attend to patients in case something had happened. 

“What the hell is this?” Hawkeye shouted, watching Zale scream as two.. no, three- three skeletal Koreans covered in blood and guts went at him as if he were their last meal. Perhaps he was, thought Hawkeye as he heard Klinger babbling about Zombies. Zombies??

“Hold on boy- Zombies? what nonsense is this?” Potter asked with uncertainty, unnerved by the sight before him. He was used to blood and guts- but being eaten? no, not that. Not even the time they were starving in the cold trenches in 1914 France. There was a man eating what was left of Zale, at the edge of the compound by the motor pool. People were coming out of their tents and screaming, the two other...undead.. were trying to gnaw on anyone who came too close to them. 

“BACK!” Potter shouted, barking out orders as soon as he recovered from the bizarre sight before him. He slipped into battle mode, he was the Colonel for a reason. He had his boys, he had his nurses, he had an entire MASH to protect. Feeling the surge of adrenaline rush through his body as he took a deep breath and his blue eyes surveyed the situation. He had brilliant surgeons, nurses, but no one was an actual soldier. 

“They’re already dead.” Mulcahy fluctuated, his hands moving from his head to his shoulders. Making the sign of the cross and crossing himself was the only thing he could do at that moment. “I gave them their last rites yesterday.”

“If they died, and they are like this now….” Winchester’s eyes widened as he turned, running into the OR where chaos had erupted, Major Houlihan and Kellye beating back a patient, his chest still open from where BJ had been working on him, he recalled hearing BJ pronounce him dead only fifteen minutes prior to when they had heard Klinger screaming in Potter’s office. 

“Go for the head!” Klinger shouted, his arms waving as he tried to throw the nurses any kind of weapon to help them. Margaret grabbed a scalpel, Kellye pushing back, using a tray as a shield. Several wild stabs later, the zombie was rendered dormant, a scalpel stuck in the base of his skull. 

“Oh god, oh god. What is this?” Margaret cried, sobbing with Kellye, as BJ gathered them to him, comforting them. “We were just starting to close up when this happened.” 

“We’ve got to hurry, the morgue isn’t secured.” Potter said quickly, recovering the moment. They couldn’t waste time. “Father, how many?”

“At last count, twenty. Most of them villagers, from that sickness that swept through last week. Only three casualties, four if you count this poor soul.” Mulcahy held on to his hat, turning to watch from the window, as various members of the MASH unit had succumbed to the zombies. “Although, there may be more now.” 

“What?” Potter and Hawkeye both ran up to the window, gasping in horror as they watched Igor be torn apart by several corpsmen, who had been in turn, attacked themselves from their injuries. “That does it. Klinger, get on the horn and get us help. Everyone else, arm yourselves. You heard the man, aim for the brain. They can’t be helped.”

“If we get bit… Mulcahy asked, wringing his panama in his hands, his eyes looking around the Pre-Op for any kind of weapon as the others tried to arm themselves with bits and pieces of various bludgeoning, cutting, and stabbing abilities. 

“We can probably amputate, maybe?” Hawkeye asked, glancing over at Winchester who shrugged, all nobility leaving his body as he picked up a pistol, checking for ammunition and taking a sharp breath as he looked up, a thought dawning upon him. 

“If all fails, call my cousin John. He and his father specialize in strange things, and they might be able to help.” Winchester turned, writing down numbers and names. “He’s a man of numbers, and a black sheep, but semantics be damned.” Winchester slammed down the pen. 

“Do it, Klinger, if help won’t come.” Potter said with a nod, not caring one bit about the military rules. There was nothing that covered people that had come back from the dead. He knew Mildred- Mildred would understand. She was a strong gal, all the way through. She was a fighter, and he was too. Putting his wife out of his head, Potter briskly hustled to his cabinet, pulling out an old military saber. 

“I haven’t needed this since 1917. I think it still serves its purpose.” Potter turned, mildly surprised he still had followers. “What are you doing? Get! Arm yourselves and secure this hospital.” The surgeons and nurses scattered, Mulcahy securing patients while Hawkeye and BJ took one end, Hawkeye and Potter taking the other. Kellye and Margaret helped Mulcahy, dosing patients to make sure they would sleep through the chaos. It was easiest, so they could transport them efficiently  if needed. 

“This feels so unethical.” Margaret said with a sob, holding on to their last patient, making sure he would go down quietly. 

“We have to protect them, and we can’t do it if they can’t help us. Father- can you knock them out? You pack quite a punch.” Kellye said with an tilt of her head to the OR doors, where they could hear Hawkeye and BJ shouting to each other. Mulcahy nodded, turning and moving the patients to one corner, close to a quick exit. 

“I’ll make sure a bus is ready to go. We gotta be ready to bug out of here if we need to. I don’t know how far this has spread. From what I’ve seen now, if you are bit and you die, you come back quickly, and go after others. It’s … “

“Yeah, it’s madness.” Klinger said, interrupting Mulcahy and holding out the phone. “It’s HQ. They’re swamped.”

“Then call Winchester.” Margaret snapped, turning to glare at Klinger fiercely. “We don’t know what started this, when it happened, nothing- and maybe, just maybe he can help us.” Margaret half-sobbed,  Kellye patting Margaret’s back subtly to calm her. Taking a deep breath, Margaret looked up to Mulcahy. 

“I’m on it.” as if he had read Margaret’s mind, he moved to the front doors of the whole OR, looking out towards the motor pool. The bus stood where Zale had been. The doors opened, and inside came Potter, Winchester, BJ, and Hawkeye. 

“There’s nothing left anymore, there shouldn’t be by now. We got everyone.” Hawkeye said as he leaned against BJ, BJ mute with a hollow, thousand-yard stare. Potter nodded, turning to Winchester, who turned to Klinger. 

“I left a message with the men of letters, they should call back…. Hopefully. HQ is overrun. I can’t ring the 8063rd. I think they’re… gone.” Klinger whispered, not wanting to say a word. 

“Let’s barricade this camp. Nothing can come in or out.” Potter said decisively. “Sandbags everywhere, that should slow them down, and we are bunking down here, securing your own possessions for a bug out from here if needed. I will give you your assignments after we meet here.”  The survivors nodded, spreading out to their tents and packing up what they could of their possessions, ready to say goodbye to the 4077 if needed. Hawkeye packed up what he could of the still, his father’s letters, cards and his clothes. BJ packed up letters from Peg, pictures of his family, and his books. Charles gazed at his record player, giving it a fond pat before putting it in his foot locker along with his records and his clothing, paying no mind to any of his other possessions. He had money back home, and money could buy anything, and anything could be replaced.

Margaret ran into her tent, surveying her things quickly and packed up her clothes, equipment, and several books. She refused to even consider bringing any of the lingerie or comforts that hung in her closet. She wanted to be ready to survive, and survival didn’t mean running around in a kimono, even if she was fond of it. Kellye opened the door, her bag already packed with her clothes and some mementos from her family in Hawaii. 

“Margaret? We need to go.” Kellye sniffled softly, blinking away tears. She wouldn’t cry, not when they had faced worse. But this was new, and new took getting used to. Margaret nodded briskly, wrapping her arm around Kellye as the two walked back to Pre-Op. 

Father Mulcahy put his bible and his clothes in his footlocker, along with several spare sets of his clerical collar, and several bottles of sacramental wine, wrapping it carefully using his boxing gloves and sweats for padding. At the last minute, Mulcahy threw in a football and a deck of cards. He wasn’t sure what use they could be, but he wanted to keep people mentally and physically  fit, not only spiritually fit. 

Klinger threw in his civilian clothes, he knew his cotton dresses could double as bandages if needed. Nylons, and a variety of jewelry found its way in his footlocker along with the bare essentials. Klinger gave his mannequin a fond pat on the way out as he put on his Toledo Mud Hens hat and threw on his shirt over his fatigue. He didn’t want to be mistaken for one of those horrible things. 

“All accounted for?” Potter called out, closing down his footlocker with a soft thunk, making sure his photographs and uniforms were secured, along with several zane gray novels and bottles of alcohol. He knew they could survive anything, as long as they had useful tools, and alcohol was important. A jack of trades, and he wanted to be sure everything in his kit was useful and had more than two uses, save for his cherished possessions, but they were only placeholders for the things that truly mattered, his family and friends. 

“I believe so.” Charles said as he was the final one in, shoving his footlocker next to Pierce’s. “Has my cousin called back yet?”

“Not yet.” Klinger said with a frown, as he looked back outside the windows. 

“We have shelter. We need to secure an escape route, seal off the camp. Klinger, stay on the horn. The minute Winchester calls, holler… quietly.” Potter held up a finger, his eyebrows raised. “They go after noise, so we need to be careful.” 

“Yes, sir.” Klinger whimpered, nodding as he glanced at his fur coat, thrown over his chair from earlier this morning and sat down, wrapping himself in the coat as if comforting himself. 

“You three- “ Potter waved a hand at Hawkeye, BJ, and Charles. “Secure the perimeter. Sand bags, tents, I don’t care. Make sure nothing can get through.” BJ turned to Hawkeye, discussing logistics, Charles leaning forward almost physically throwing his opinions in.  “And no fighting.” Potter added as an afterthought while turning towards Margaret, Kellye and Mulcahy. 

“Kellye, you take care of the patients. Keep them calm, unconscious, I don’t care. Now that the threat is under control, some patients may be able to help us. Do triage, and decide who can help and who has to stay bed-bound. Tie them down, just in case ….” Potter nodded slightly, indicating the unspoken. Kellye nodded, knowing her calm and friendly appearance would cause the least problems and panic with patients. 

“Father, say a prayer and help Margaret secure a bus, in case we need to bug out. We need a direct route to the bus and latrines. We don’t want any of us to be a casualty while on the can. I’ll check in on everybody, and help whoever needs help, but please, cooperate and stay –”

RI–

“MASH 4077.” Klinger spat out quickly, picking up the phone halfway through its ring. “Yes, yes we called the Men of Letters. Charles Emerson Winchester the Third. We’re in Uijeongbu, Korea. Oh, really?...” Klinger trailed off, as Potter leaned forward and yanked the phone from Klinger. 

“This is Colonel Potter. We’ve had an incident here, and our HQ in Korea is down, as well as a MASH unit northwest of here. Yes, seven of us as well as eight patients.. Yes, a chopper and a bus. No, Major Winchester gave us the number. I see…really? Washington?  We are trying  to secure the camp the best we can, suggestions would be welcome. Oh, I see.. Okay, then. We’ll sit tight.” Potter hung up with a thunk of the handset. 

“Mule Muffins!” he snarled, spittle flying in the air as his spectacles glinted in the dull light. “They’re sending Charles’s cousins over here with Sidney. They were already in Korea, tracking this malady. There’s no cure, but they can get us out of here and back to a secure location, then we can contact Washington and they will get us back home.”

“Home?” Charles asked, leaning forward as Hawkeye echoed Charles in disbelief. 

“Home. There’s no sign of the problem back home, but they want to limit it, and we’re … I don’t know. Exposed, maybe, but… Lord only knows.” Potter said, slouching on Radar’s old cot and putting his head in his hands. Mulcahy crossed himself, and made the sign of the cross as he took off his hat, murmuring a soft prayer under his breath. 

“Okay, so that’s good news. We just need to stay put?” Klinger said, a half-shrug as he turned and leaned back in his chair. 

“They’re going to be making their way from Seoul. Sidney will be a big help, I’m sure.” Potter said as he looked up and slowly stood up, looking every year and more, of his age. “So let’s get to work. I want this camp to be as secure as possible by sundown, and we are barricading ourselves in here, once the sun’s down.”  

Hawkeye, BJ and Charles wasted no time going out and moving vehicles to fill in the gaps between tents, Mulcahy making a path from the OR doors to the latrine using boxes and other equipment that was laying around. Margaret moved bodies out of the way, occasionally having Mulcahy help. The bodies went into a small pile, Mulcahy putting some kerosene on the bodies to help them burn more quickly, opting to burn now instead of waiting until dark, when it could attract more of the undead.

Potter flitted from group to group, helping Hawkeye, BJ and Charles move tables from the mess hall out to the edge, making the MASH a big circle, and the OR a smaller circle in the middle. Anything in between was made to be an obstacle, or a safe space to hide in if needed. 

Klinger told Kelleye to keep an ear out for the phone, while he went to secure food, Potter helping Klinger carry in several boxes of MREs and rations, enough to last each person a few weeks. Potter then moved to Margaret and Mulcahy, stowing a box or two of MRE’s on the bus and the chopper, and making sure both had enough fuel for a quick getaway. 

As soon as it got dark, everyone gathered back into the OR, Mulcahy barricading each and every exit and entrance and covering up the windows. Kelleye lit two lanterns, and everyone gathered into Post-Op. Several patients were awake, having been filled in by Kelleye, Margaret and Mulcahy. The rest were either asleep or sedated. All of them were tied to their beds.

“Any further word?”

“I think they’ll call at dawn. I know whoever I talked to was insistent that we get secured and hunkered down by sundown.” Potter said  as he took a seat on an empty cot. 

“Who takes the first watch?”

“I can’t sleep, so may as well be me.” BJ said as he glanced upwards for a moment, his mind flashing back on his wife and daughter. 

“After dinner, we’ll all turn in and sleep in shifts.” Potter set up the watch schedule, while Mulcahy and Kelleye readied the food for everyone. No one was in the mood to chat, or even make any noise. The only sound in the room was eating noises. The night went on in a similar fashion, everyone turning out the lights and sleeping in shifts until the pre-dawn light crept through the cracks of the tent and an alarm clock began to ding. 

“Get that clock!” Potter hissed, sitting upright from a half-sleep. Klinger turned it off, wrapping it into a pillow. Charles let out a long sigh,and crept into a cot, wrapping himself up in the blankets. The phone started to ring, and Klinger grabbed it in a fluid motion, handing it to Potter. “Yes? I see.  A few hours? I’ll be sure to have someone greet you at the entrance. All right then. We’ll look forward to seeing you, too, Sidney.” 

“Well?” Hawkeye asked, leaning forward as his bathrobe tugged at him, cocooning him further into his blankets. Mulcahy’s eyes moved from Hawkeye to Potter, and back again. “When's the welcome wagon?”

“Settle, Pierce. Sidney and company just made it to the 8063rd. They’re still trying to secure the location, and they’ll be here around lunchtime. If they don’t come by sundown, they’ll be here by dawn tomorrow.” Potter let out a quick exhale of relief. They just had to stay put and amuse themselves, staying out of too much trouble for a while. 

“I can’t believe this.” Margaret finally said, breaking the silence. “I… I had to decapitate Nurse Able.. I keep seeing her eyes and mouth.” Her hand went over her eyes, and let out a sharp huff. 

“The Lord will understand. He- “

“There’s nothing, Father! Didn’t you see all of it?” Hawkeye shouted, waving a hand in an ‘out there’ sweeping gesture. Mulcahy’s eyes darkened, a frown drawing down his features, making his features appear sharper. 

“Hawkeye- Benjamin- I had to kill someone, too. I took someone’s life, but his soul had already departed. They were shells. Shells of..something. God would not do that. Not him.” Mulcahy said passionately, half-leaning over Hawkeye, his Panama hanging over his brows and obscuring his blue eyes. “So until you feel ready to tell me where exactly those things- got animated- you can’t tell me that’s nothing.” Mulcahy’s voice had risen only slightly, enough to show his fear and anger. No one had heard Mulcahy use that sort of voice before. They’d heard him shout, lose his temper, even punch out disorderly patients or staff, but no one had heard him allude to anything relatively close to Hell. Purgatory, perhaps, but never…. Hell. 

Brimstone, flames, and pitchforks Hell straight from Dante’s Inferno, or a horror film. Hawkeye’s features contorted in a twisted scowl, mildly surprised that Mulcahy had responded the way he did. 

“So, wait, are you saying these things are the opposite?”

“My cross found its way into the skull of one of the creatures. His eyes and blood turned black, and I could hear sizzling and smell smoke. I am pretty sure that it’s not… a good sign.” Mulcahy said with wide eyes, sliding a hand in his pocket and withdrawing a metal flask and taking a sip from it. “Alas, I couldn’t get the cross out of his skull, it had fused somehow. I had to use a pin from the tent.” Mulcahy let out a small huff. 

“Burning the bodies.. That was the weird smell, brimstone?” Charles asked after a long moment, turning his head to look at Mulcahy, sitting up from his prone position on the cot, having woken up at Mulcahy’s raised voice. Mulcahy shrugged, and put his hands on his knees. 

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” Margaret said with a shake of her head, holding up a hand as she spoke. Klinger nodded his agreement, and Potter leaned back in his chair. 

“Sidney and company will have answers, I hope. Until then… we just sit tight.” BJ said, the first words he really had spoken. Hawkeye turned to BJ, slightly startled by the sound of his hollow voice. 

“Beej…” BJ didn’t reply, his eyes heavy-lidded and focused on the doors that led out to Klinger’s small office. Hawkeye flopped back down on the cot. Everyone spent the rest of the morning in silence, Margaret and Kelleye going to the latrine in a pair, both brandishing bayonets. Charles and Klinger took their turn after the women, followed by BJ and Potter, and then Mulcahy and Hawkeye, each group taking an ambulatory patient with them. 

“That’s what we saw in the 8063rd.” one of the patients whispered, leaning into Hawkeye as he pointed at the prone body of Zale, at the edge of the bonfire. “They just started eating each other. If you screamed, made noise, they’d go after you.” The patient promptly threw up, Mulcahy patting his back. 

“So it was there first?” Hawkeye asked thoughtfully. 

“It must have made its way through the villagers. There’s a few villages between here and 8063. It must have come here with that flu.” Mulcahy said with a nod, putting the pieces together. “We just need to find that… missing piece.” 

“Sidney’ll have it.” Hawkeye said confidently, helping the patient back into Pre-op, his head tilting as sounds filled the air. “I think we might have company.” Hawkeye whispered, putting the patient back on the cot, turning to Potter and Klinger.

“Try not to use the guns, unless they come in here.” Potter said as he handed handguns to the patients, a Sargent Dixon, Lieutenant Lincoln, and Privates Grimes, Rhee, and Jones.  Each patient nodded, having gained an understanding of their situation from their trips to the latrine, and their memories of the 8063. Everyone else picked up melee weapons, and it was decided that Klinger, Kelleye, Winchester and Margaret would be the final line of defense, ready to take the patients over to the bus. Potter, Mulcahy, BJ, and Hawkeye would slowly creep out to just outside of OR to evaluate the situation. 

There were only three stragglers, each of them wearing a uniform. BJ recognized two of them to be nurses, and Mulcahy recognized one as a lieutenant; it was one of the few red-heads in the camp.  They were hissing and groaning, feasting on several of the remains that had yet to be burned. 

“We’ve got to be quiet. One at a time. Two distract, two …. “ Potter nudged his own weapon in a slight upward swing. BJ and Hawkeye nodded, splitting away slightly from Potter and Mulcahy. Hawkeye raised the baseball bat, BJ raised his sharpened cane, in preparation to stab. Mulcahy and Potter both made noise, banging slightly on the closest metal surface, poised to run. 

The moment the noise broke through the stillness, the creatures’ heads swiveled, and their mangled bodies tensed. Two ran after Mulcahy, who pushed Potter out of the way and shouted. BJ and Hawkeye moved as one, Hawkeye hitting a home run while BJ stabbed with gusto, grunting softly as Hawkeye moved, leaping after Mulcahy, BJ and Potter bringing up the rear. Stopping all of a sudden, Mulcahy crouched, allowing for Hawkeye to swing the bat once again, Potter swinging a rope over his head and lassoing the other creature, tugging the rope sharply as he moved the rope around a pole, halting the creature in its tracks. 

“Get it, Ben.” Mulcahy said breathlessly, moving up from his crouch after Hawkeye swung the bat yet again, the creature lunging after him. BJ lunged, meeting the zombie halfway leading with the cane, end shoving through the eye socket. 

The remaining creature snarled, trying to lunge after Potter, who held the rope taut. Mulcahy continued to pant, his hands on his knees as Hawkeye and BJ bludgeoned and skewered the creature’s head in near tandem. 

“What were you thinking?!” Hawkeye hissed, turning into Mulcahy, his red bathrobe flying, his hands moving out to inspect Mulcahy, checking for anything that could have caught the illness. Hawkeye’s motions were stopped by the sound of Potter’s quiet voice, distracting Hawkeye and Mulcahy moved, taking advantage of the pause.

“Thank you, boys.” Potter interrupted,, his arms collapsing to his sides as the creature fell. Mulcahy tiptoed softly over to move the rope, the men moving the bodies yet again to form another pile to burn later, it was about time for their guests to hopefully make an appearance. 

“Maybe they came here, attracted to the noise of people..” Mulcahy asked, thinking out loud in his soft voice as he walked warily down the hand-made path that led to the OR, following after Potter, BJ and Hawkeye flanking the colonel. 

“It’s possible. We don’t know how they’re traveling. Vehicles would make noise. I’m sure they’ve figured that out,and they’re traveling by foot.” Potter said with a sigh, eyeing Sophie walking around in her corral. “I’ll take Sophie, and the colt, check the entrance with Charles.” Potter said as he opened the doors to Post-Op and waved for Charles to come over, telling him the plan. Charles nodded and followed Potter, allowing the others to rest and take over for Margaret and Kelleye. 

“That was quite an adventure, I’m hoping you’re prepared.” Potter panted as he leaned back on Sophie, waiting at the entrance as Charles leaned against a Jeep. The two had been waiting for a few long moments, unnerved by the lack of people. The only sound that filled the air was the buzzing of insects, attracted by the death and destruction. 

“I think I see something.” Charles said, leaning forward and squinting down the path to where it curved just past Rosie’s. Sidney could be seen, walking slowly with boots wrapped in cloth. Two people followed him, two men dressed in uniform. One was heavy-set with a brown beard, the other was clean-shaven but with a head full of black hair, thicker and darker than Hawkeye’s. The clean shaven man looked to be quite young, as young as a draftee right out of school. 

Sidney held up a hand, indicating that they would be there momentarily. Potter raised one back, as did Charles, recognizing some of the features on the dark-haired man to be of his young cousin John. He didn’t think Cousin John was quite that young, but perhaps he had been mistaken. 

When the men met up, introductions were made. SIdney introduced John Winchester and Bobby Singer. John was a man of letters, Bobby his companion and fellow hunter. Wasting no time, the men slunk over slowly to Pre-Op and Sidney let the men introduce themselves and explain the situation after everyone was able to settle down. 

“There was a bad situation, A general made a deal with.. Someone, and the deal was broken by the General. As a result, this sickness spread, from HQ all the way down to the 8063, and the 4077. Now, since it is only confined to several cities, it’s explained away as a virus, but … we’ve got to do some things, and I think Father Mulcahy can be of use.” John Winchester said with a nod. “Thanks to Cousin Charles, we did find the source of the outbreak. Do you remember treating a General Broadstreet?”

“That guy who just kept sending his men to die over that damn hill?” Hawkeye hissed in anger, leaning forward owlishly, Mulcahy nudging him quietly on one side, BJ the other. Charles let out a hum of disgust. “THAT is what he sold his soul for?”

“Not just his soul. Everyone’s.” Bobby said with a frown, turning to glance over at Mulcahy. “This is where you come in.”

“Me?” Mulcahy asked, flabbergasted, his eyes wide. “How can I help? I’ll do it.” he said without hesitation, stepping forward. 

“You’re the one who punched out Broadstreet?”

“Yes.” Mulcahy stated directly with an undertone of slight uncertainty, his eyes skidding over to Potter, who frowned and nodded. 

“Do you still have that handkerchief? With his blood?”

“Um… it’s in my tent, I believe. I still haven’t had time to wash it.” Mulcahy said with a quizzical voice. “Did you need the- the blood?”

“Yes, and we need you to bless every drop of liquid in here that you possibly can.” John said with a nod. “Broadstreet is dead, but this is the last we have, he didn’t have children, a wife, nothing.”

“He was a bastard, that one.” Potter said with a grunt, tilting his chin upwards stubbornly, everyone staring at Potter in mild shock, not expecting Potter to say such strong words. Especially about someone of his generation, or even a colleague. “Somehow this doesn’t surprise me.” Potter leaned forward, eyes moving from the two men to Sidney. “Are we crazy, Doctor?”

“You all are just as sane as I am. We’re just in a crazy world right now.” Sidney said bluntly, his heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly at Potter, his sinewy body dropping to the nearest cot. “We really need to do this, as soon as possible. If you’ll loan us your priest. He’s probably the last chaplain left standing.”

“Oh dear.” Mulcahy said timidly, taking a breath and nodding. “I’ll go get it, and - you’ll do what you need to do.” Mulcahy ran a hand through his sandy hair, standing unkempt from his run as bait, turning immediately on his heel and walking towards the doors that led outside. Hawkeye blinked and ambled after Mulcahy, grabbing the bloodied and battered baseball bat on the way. He wouldn’t let Mulcahy go out there alone. Not after what he had pulled with Potter. “You don’t have to come, you know. I’m fine.” Mulcahy whispered, his breathless tones barely reaching Hawkeye’s ear. 

“I had to.” Hawkeye said simply, not wanting to let Mulcahy out of his sight, he wasn’t sure what he would do without Mulcahy, he kept everyone sane. His innate goodness was just too good for this world. For himself, Hawkeye thought briefly, not wanting to think too deeply in the middle of the apocalypse. The two men slowly approached the chaplain’s tent and waited for a long moment, hoping nothing had made its way into the tent. 

“I think I put it into my desk, or my laundry- I’m not sure. I was furious and not clear-minded.” Mulcahy murmured, slowly opening the door and peeking inside, allowing Hawkeye to nudge past. The two men searched the tent, Mulcahy making a small noise of delight, finding the handkerchief and a tooth in a drawer that housed a notepad and several small bibles. 

“A tooth?”

“I don’t know, I just picked it up.” Mulcahy said with a shrug, not understanding the impulse. Hawkeye shrugged, wrapping it up in the blood-stained handkerchief with a manic grin and breathless chuckle. The two men walked slowly, making sure that no noise came from any rustling of the cloth. 

“A tooth?” Bobby asked skeptically, his eyes raising from the tooth to the priest. 

“I don’t know, it must have come out, I picked it up.” Mulcahy said airily, shrugging as he leaned forward, peering over Hawkeye's shoulder at the small bowl that Bobby had set up, and the book John was reading from. 

“So this voodoo will bring everything to an end?”

“Hopefully, yes.” Bobby said succinctly as Sidney, Charles and BJ tended to the patients, giving Kelleye and Houlihan a rest. It was several hours later, reaching dusk when John finally nodded and rose from behind the desk that he and Bobby had been bent over, tinkering with the bowl, book and various flasks. 

“We need Father, if you’ll put on your collar?”

“Do I need anything else?”

“No, just the collar- it’s your authority. Crucifix would work too, but the collar could be harder to remove.”

“Oh.” Mulcahy said with mild surprise as he affixed his collar, eyes moving to Hawkeye, glasses glinting in the soft lamplight. His heart was pounding, as he picked up his crucifix, making the sign of the cross and started walking through the Post-Op room. 

“What do I need to bless?”

“Everything you can, I think sources of water would be easiest. Do you have a well? Common sources… ?” Potter nodded, explaining the camp layout and details. It was then decided that Mulcahy would be accompanied by Bobby, John would stay with Sidney in each room, after Mulcahy completed to make sure every room was cleared and blessed properly. 

“Use this, if you can.” John said with a nod, handing Mulcahy a small braid of what resembled sage, covered with a paste. “It will negate everything.” John’s handsome boyish face was pale, his eyes moving to Bobby’s for a moment before Bobby nodded in agreement. 

“So one shaman for another, basically?” Mulcahy asked, raising the braid. “It’s like two opposites, mirrors of one another. As above, so below.” Mulcahy said with a lilt of understanding, his eyes blown wide. 

“Don’t say it out loud, Father, but yes to  what you are thinking.” John whispered, leaning into Father Mulcahy. Hawkeye could see the shudder that ran through Mulcahy, his blue eyes locking onto Hawkeye’s. For a beat, the two men locked eyes and didn’t blink. Hawkeye could see the fear in Mulcahy’s eyes, flashing only for a moment, followed by a cold calm that he had never seen before. 

“Benjamin.” Mulcahy said after a moment, hovering at the doorway that led to outside of Pre-Op, Bobby at his side. Hawkeye nodded, knowing what Mulcahy was saying to him at that moment. 

Goodbye. 

Hours passed, Hawkeye pacing the room softly and keeping busy with patients and playing cards with BJ, occasionally running a hand along the baseball bat and needling Charles. BJ constantly blinked away tears, his hands running along a photo of Peg and Erin he had put in his jacket pocket, ‘just in case’. 

“Pierce. The Padre will be alright.” Potter said softly as he paused from reading his Zane Grey. “You know he will be. He’s a good lad.”

“Too good for the world.” Hawkeye said with a quiet scuffle of his boot as he flung his body softly down on the cot, Sidney moving to Hawkeye, cutting off any rants. It wasn’t the time to do that, Sindney rebuked Hawkeye with a hard gaze, yet soft with understanding. 

Hawkeye went back to needling Charles, and bantering softly with Margaret, until a soft noise could be heard at the entrance to Klinger’s office. 

“It’s done, I think.” Bobby said as he slunk back into Post-Op. “We took care of everything we could think of. We just gotta have something to test it out.” The not-sage was burned to a crisp, a faint smoke was wafting from Mulcahy’s jacket pocket. 

“What do we need to do?” Potter asked warily. 

“Leave it to us, you’ve done enough.” John said as he gathered up his things and put it in a small black bag that seemed to emerge from thin air. “Sidney.. Thank you for your help. You’re a true gentleman of letters.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad you came.” Sidney said with a slow nod, a finger tapping his nose in silent understanding. Something had passed between the visitors and Sidney, but it was lost to any understanding. 

“Good day, gentlemen, and wait for our all-clear. We’ll go check the 8063, we’ll take some of these blessings with us.” Bobby said with a nod, picking up a crate filled with bottles. “Thank you, Father Mulcahy. For everything.” 

“Anything to help, gentlemen.” Mulcahy said faintly, a small smile dancing on his lips and a spark of mystery in his eye. Bobby and John disappeared out in the near-darkness, leaving the survivors of the 4077 to wonder, and to wait for another arduous and silent night, until the phone rang in the morning. 

“Klinger here.” Klinger whispered, now used to picking up the phone the moment it vibrated, before any sound could leave the handset. Klinger handed the phone to Colonel Potter, who just let the handset rest on the desk, letting everyone hear the conversation. 

“It is done. It is back to normal. Go back to your lives.” Bobby’s voice said with a note of happiness. “Y’all are gonna get a call from HQ. It’s like a reset. Y’all can go back to .. well, normal.”

Potter exhaled and nodded. 

“Thank you for your service, gentlemen.”  Mulcahy and Hawkeye shared a glance. Bobby was wrong, things would not be back to normal- at least, not where Mulcahy was concerned. But that was okay, it was a reset. A reset of some possibilities to come. 

[maiyascifihorror]

Beloved: The Monster is Slavery

Beloved, a movie directed by Jonathan Demme in 1998, based on the novel of the same name by Toni Morrison, is a psychological horror film that transcends the genre’s familiar jump scare/ gore tropes. It’s a story about a woman who is haunted, not just by a ghost, but by trauma. For those who have not seen the film or read the book, this is a complicated story that dabbles in magical realism. A Black, formerly enslaved woman, Sethe, makes the devastating decision to kill her child rather than allow her to be enslaved, believing death is preferable to a life of dehumanization, violence, and oppression.  This child returns, unexpectedly, manifesting in the form of a young woman - “Beloved” – a being that demands the attention and the life she was denied. Sethe, burdened by guilt, enters a toxic relationship with the ghost to pay for her sins, because surely, she owes this dead child a life.

Though Beloved is the physical manifestation of an angry ghost, she is not the source of the horror in the film. As an invisible poltergeist she causes havoc in the kitchen, making a cake to skid across a table, furniture to move and a dog to slam against the wall, hard enough to dislodge his eye. But once the ghost takes the form of Beloved it becomes sympathetic, a curious baby, eager to learn and join life. There is another frightening scene where we see the aftermath of Sethe’s murderous act, but this also is not the source of horror in the film.  In fact, Demme enters that scene after the damage has been done, so that we never witness Sethe in the act of attacking or killing, and so we don’t see Sethe as a villain.  The most horrific action occurs in flashbacks of Sethe’s life at “Sweet Home,” the plantation where she labored as an enslaved person. There we see her humiliated and demoralized when after raping her, two white men hold her down to drink her breast milk, violation not just of her person by also an attack on her child who will lose this nourishment, and an attack on her motherhood, as it makes plain her inability to protect her child. Another flashback has Sethe witnessing the lynching of a score of Black enslaved people, including her mother, again underscoring the theme of family separation and senseless violence. Another flashback has Sethe whipped while pregnant, with no regard to the life inside her. Clearly the white slave owners are monsters, but they only represent the larger institution.  Slavery is the true monster, a monster all the more frightening because it is real.

As a Black person watching this film, feelings of anger and bitterness rise up.  It is a hard, sickening, gut-wrenching experience.  Sometimes I felt it teetered on the brink of Black trauma porn, something I usually avoid.  But I think they were trying to do something smarter, not just show violence against Black bodies for the sake of titillation and provocation.  The fact that the main story is about broken people trying to move past their trauma to create a life.  This is what Paul says to Sethe, “I want to create a life with you.”  He even intimates that he literally wants to get her pregnant, something she laughs off, but soon after that Beloved appears in their lives, and Sethe does become a mother to this angry ghost, though it ultimately ends badly.   Of course, this is no surprise. Slavery has a long tail, and it is indestructible. It’s traumatic consequences continues to reverberate through time and space, a curse from which no one can escape.  Will there ever be something that can defeat this monster?  Let someone try to tell that story.