#AND THE BRAIN SURGERY TRAP?????? OH MY GOD??????????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

femmemortes · 1 year ago

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My top five most brutal SAW traps even though absolutely nobody asked for my fucking opinion:

5 — Pound of Flesh, SAW VI

I feel like this isn’t a trap that’s talked about often enough considering the actual shit you have to do to survive it. I mean come on. Cut off enough of your flesh to survive? And it’s not even like there’s a set amount anyway, it’s a competition between you and another person to see who can do the most. No guidance as to what specific body part to cut off either. You just have to take the knife and just start going crazy. It makes having the punishment for not doing it look not as bad but, then again, actually thinking about having screws drilled into the sides of your temples? Yeah, no thanks babes xxx

Simone was a total badass just hacking her arm straight off like that and living. Just sent it all the way and won, you love to see it.

4 — Silence Circle, SAW 3D

If someone asked me to do this trap I would actually just kill myself instead. Gun in my mouth, bang, gone. Same with all of these to be fair but the fucking idea of the key on a fishing hook in your stomach? And that just raking up your insides as you’re trying to take it out? Fuck that. Fuck. That. I think the only thing that would make me do this would be the other person pulling out the string because if I had to do that shit myself? I’d just scream as loud as I could to make the spikes impale me instantly. I am not doing that shit.

This one gets bumped down a bit because we don’t actually see the visual of the hook going up through her? Which makes it an easier watch than the others on this list, but I still think it deserved a place here because of the sheer insanity of the entire thing.

3 — Bone Marrow Trap, SAW X

Fuck. This. Trap.

Actually fuck it. In my opinion this was the most brutal trap in SAW X. Yes, I know some people make arguments for the brain surgery trap being pretty brutal and yes taking out your brain is just… Wow. And I’ll agree it is bad. But you don’t FEEL your brain.

THIS ON THE OTHER HAND?

CUTTING OFF YOUR LEG AT THE THIGH? WITH A GIGLI SAW NO LESS? The amount of blood loss, the fact if you want to live just have to take that fucking saw to your leg and just DO IT? And then once you’re done you have to take that stupid little fuckoff tube and stick it in your bone and get the bone marrow out, which is ALSO PAINFUL???

Also the part where she grabs the gigli saw in-front of her with her hands… Fuck, just fuck.

Valentina really didn’t deserve to die here, I won’t lie to you. She cut off her leg, was taking out the marrow. I believe had the tube thing for the vacuum to measure how much bone marrow or whatever the fuck had been shorter, she would’ve lived. Yes she started later but like, come the fuck on.

2 — Venus Fly Trap, SAW II

I’m going to start this with, this trap being the first trap of SAW II is an actually insane tone shift from what we had in the first movie. Like, the only trap I really consider brutal in SAW is the reverse bear trap, but we don’t even see that one go off since Amanda survives it.

So seeing this shit right out the gate is just… Oh my god. Wow. Just wow.

This trap has always given me reverse bear trap vibes in appearance, it’s probably the whole thing of, it’s on the head, closes, shuts whatever. I don’t know but it’s got a similar energy to it.

First of all, the whole nails in your face thing? Yeah, hate that. But what I’m most concerned about is the KEY BEHIND THE EYE.

FUCK.

THAT.

SHIT.

The visual of him cutting into his eyeball with the scalpel? And you actually just have to fucking go at it and just… ugh. I was pretty torn between either this trap or the Bone Marrow trap for this kinda reason. Cutting off a leg or cutting open your eye? And honestly the eye is just. Worse. Like just digging into your eye to get out a fucking key? Like all things given, at LEAST I can turn off my brain somewhat while cutting off my leg. Just back and forth with a saw. I don’t even have to look!

THIS? WHAT I’M CUTTING IS DOING THE LOOKING. I STRUGGLE TO PUT ON EYELINER, HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THIS?

1 — The Rack, SAW III

There is a reason why people think this trap is the worst one. There is a reason and it’s fucking obvious.

You’re on a mother-fucking crucifix looking ass thing, legs and arms out, and if this other guy doesn’t take a bullet for you, your limbs are going to be twisted.

YOUR ARMS, LEGS AND NECK are going to be ROTATED 360 DEGREES. ONE. BY. ONE.

Oh and the guy who’s taking the bullet for you? It’s Jeff by the way, stupid fucking Jeff. So you have no chance xxx

The visuals. I can’t watch this trap without looking away, I see the limbs start turning and my line of sight is directly away from the screen. No.

No.

The image of twisting flesh and the fucking shot where you see one of his legs start to move?

NO.

AND HIS HEAD. HIS FUCKING HEAD.

NO.

I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS NUMBER ONE. FUCKING LOOK AT IT.

Honourable mentions under the cut:

Honourable mentions go to The Angel Trap and Ten Pints of Sacrifice. I didn’t include the angel trap because I feel like, while yes getting your ribs ripped out is horrific, you don’t really suffer much while alive? Which to me, the more they suffer while alive or trying to complete their trap, the more brutal it is. Ten Pints of Sacrifice isn’t on here because I was doing 5, had I been doing like 10 you would’ve definitely seen this on here. Oh and also, Needle Pit isn’t on here because I’m entirely unfazed by it. I hate to do Mandy like this but I just personally don’t really wince at it at all.

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heimamas · 8 months ago

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wait guck you im actually going to name even more than you without looking at yours bc your list seems small

saw: Bathroom trap

Reverse beartrap

Wire trap

Nude candle trap

the drill chair trap

shotgun hallway tra

zep poison trap?

saw ii: Venus fly trap

poison gas house trap

gun-door trap

oven (obi) trap

needle pit trap

razorblade arm trap

bathroom trap pt.2!

saw iii: bathroom trap pt. 2 continuation

angel trap

the rings dude in the classroom trap "aLl hE hAd tO Do"

freezing nakey lady trap

shotgun collar trap!

pig pool trap

the rack

saw iv (love this one): the blind x mute tragic yaoi trap

TIED UP HOFFMAN TRAP GYATT🤩 (ig eric matthews is there too on ice or sum)

claw trap (Art)

when is cecil knife trap?

hair pulling gone wrong trap

pervert guy ew blind him trap

the abusive husband x wife combo trap

saw v (the sexual tension between 4-5 sheesh, cant have one without the other): PUT HIM IN THE FISHBOWL trap

tied up Hoff shotgun chair trap🩷

5 person teambuilding collar trap

4 person explosive cylinder trap

3 person electric bathtub trap

Pintshipping trap🩷

Coffinshipping trap🩷

saw vi: weight in flesh trap

asthma trap

age + health + ratio noose trap

carousel? trap

steamy room trap

ehhh acid live or die trap

GET JILLED HOFFMAN (modern reverse bear trap)

saw 3d: reverse bear trap pt.2 continuation

racist car trap

jill tweaking dream trap (imagine mark penetrating a woman lmao as if)

hanging cage trap

speak no evil trap

see no evil trap

hear no evil trap

tooth trap! (love teeth)

weird top surgery trap

oven trap pt.2 but Supernatural S1E2 woman and very unfair

bbygirl jill reverse bear trap :(

OH MY GOD IM BACK IN THE BUILDING AGAIN (bathroom trap schrodinger hoffman ver.)

Jigsaw (this movie is so😴): idk theres the plot hole trap

Spiral: TRAIN TRAP🚂🚃🚃🚃🚃🚃🚊🚉

finger trap

spine trap

glass trap (pete)

puppet drain trap

Saw X: Fake eye ball vacuum trap (this opens up so many possibilities to what actually is real or not in canon)

arm bomb trap

BONE MARROW trap (they could have given her like 10 more seconds come on she cherished her life gawd🙄)

brain yummy trap

radiation trap

no hala blood boarding trap

gas room trap (how could they let her live hoffman would not let all that slide)

ID CALL THAT EPIC BAD LUCK TRAP

1. whoo im done! im going to scroll up now and compare!

2. ahhh i completely forgor the lawnmower and love triangle turned yaoi trap! also op actually knows the proper names gj i could never😂

3. its kinda weird how few traps there are in every movie but together there are so many waaa

4. i reread my prologue and it came across as mean, im sorry but i was typing fast as not to read the original post. Forgive me i just wanted an excuse to write up the ones i knew too, like a brain exercise 👁️👁️

Every saw trap i know :

Reverse bear trap

Bathroom trap

Flammable jelly trap

Razor wire maze

Nerve gas house

Furnace trap

Razor box trap

Needle pit trap

Classroom trap

Angel trap

The rack trap

Ice block trap

Scalp seat trap

Glass coffin trap

Water box trap

Collar trap

Mason jars trap

Electric bathtub trap

10 pints of sacrifice trap

Reverse bear trap 2.0

Shotgun carousel trap

Oxygen crusher trap

Pound of flesh trap

Lawnmower trap

Love triangle trap

Brazen bull trap

Silent circle trap

Horsepower trap

Laser collar trap

Bucket head trap

Grain silo trap

Wax boarding trap

Marionette trap

Blood boarding trap

Eye suction trap

Brain surgery trap

Radiation trap

Bone marrow trap

Shotgun collar trap

Dont ask how i know this many lol

#op has all my respect

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metalliceyepoker · 2 years ago

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Hi! I loved your angst prompt list! Can I have 21,38 and 22 for our dear Karl, please? It can be with a happy or sad ending, I’ll leave it to you!

Alright. *knuckle cracking like firecrackers* time to fry my brain for some good writing practice mm.

21: "Don't look for me. I never existed. We never met. You can't save me. Go live your life."

22: "Shut the fuck up, just hang on, hang on, you can tell me what a, a bastard I am, hell, just punch me in the face after this. Just keep breathing....."

38: "Don't fucking touch me! Leave!!! Don't you fucking hear me?! Get out!!! Get the fuck away from me!!"

Ship: Karl Heisenberg x You (Y/N not used)

Tw: Blood, Swearing, Self-performed surgery mention, Self-harm, Graphic depictions of injury, Main character death (you)

~~~

He was working on the new generator part when you trudged in. As usual, he greeted you with a quiet grunt, very much engrossed in the process of rewiring to fully turn around.

He continued to tinker around until a hand gently landed on his shoulder, which nearly made him hurl the screwdriver in his hand to the opposite wall. Again he grunted, this time followed with, "You know better than to sneak up on me like that." Annoyance was palpable, but both of you knew it was just for a show.

He never refused your touch.

You said nothing. Instead, he could feel your warm body pressing against his hardened back. But your grip on his bicep was too tight. And he could feel small tremors coming from where you held him.

"........Buttercup?" Masked with indifference, but you could tell that single nickname was filled with more concern than he'd ever admit.

Your hold only tightened at the underlying gentleness. You swallowed a few times to stop your throat from closing up entirely. You had to hold on. You had to tell him.

Small clanking sound. He put down the tools. Silence continued as you two stood in his workshop.

With some effort, you forced your muscles to relax and loosened the hold so he could finally face you.

He took off his sunglasses and oh, God. Now you were trapped in those beautiful green and gold. Even with the edge, so soft. So worried. You almost lost your resolve. Tears sprang to your eyes, and it only alarmed him further.

His gloved hand was now on the small of your back, and the other went to your face, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. You leaned against it without even meaning to. Moth to the flame, as they say.

His eyes searched all over your face. You had to tell him. He deserved to know. You had to, had to, had to, it was now or never.

"I'm an undercover agent sent by Connection."

The words felt foreign on your tongue. You watched as his eyes grew wider. His jaw tensing. You waited for that tell-tale scowl of his, the only indicator of the upcoming fury that you rightfully deserved.

But it never appeared.

His face was only unreadable, though his eyes never left yours. His thumb continued to stroke under your eye, the motion meant to sooth, and never once wavering.

His face grew solemn. "I know." He admitted.

The burning tears now spilled down your face, and you whispered with so much disbelief. "Since...when?"

With breathy chuckle he whispered back. "Since day one, sugar. You can't bullshit a bullshitter. Besides," he wiped away a drop of tear that got caught in his thumb. "You are not that good of a liar. You could never lie straight to my face without making it obvious."

Even with the revelation, you bit down on your trembling lip. Even more tears slipped down, which caused him to crease his brows.

"Miranda knows." You barely managed to choke out those two words, and Heisenberg went completely rigid. He didn't even seem to be breathing, and the fleeting dread in those piercing eyes now bled into your heart.

Slowly, you slid your hand up to the center of his chest, and left it there. Feeling his hammering heart, you took comfort in the fact that at least the last moment you share with him won't be one that is filled with bitter resentment from betrayal.

"I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say, okay?" You told him firmly, trying your best to speak to him in a level voice. The hand on your back came up to cover yours on his chest. When he gave you a small nod, you continued.

"Don't look for me. I never existed, and we certainly have never met." Heisenberg opened his mouth but you carried on. "If she ever asks about anything, deny it all. You....."

You swallowed thickly, but refused to stop now. He had to understand. "You can't save me. So.....so go and...........live your life."

Another beat of silence followed, but this time, it felt even more suffocating than the last one. The gloved hand over yours curled, and the grip was so tight it hurt.

"'Go live my life'?" He repeated, as if he almost couldn't believe what he's just heard. "'My life'? Buttercup......" fresh fire was ignited in his gaze. The more he talked, the angrier he seemed to get. "This isn't living. What makes you think I have my life?"

"Karl-" you tried, but now it was his turn to talk over you. "Act like we've never met? So you think I'd just give up on you? All because that wench found out about you? Think again, darling."

"You don't understand!" You shouted. Your tear streaked face crumpled as you wrenched your hand free from his grasp. "It's too late. I need to leave before-"

But Heisenberg snatched your wrist and held fast, your previously retreating form tugged right back into his personal space. "And where will you go?" With one eye brow raised, he inquired. "You just said that Bitch Mirander knows about your little secret. She has eyes everywhere, you know. If you were to run, you won't even get past the woods. If by some miracle you avoid all the lycans, the witch herself will drag you back by your neck. Kicking and screaming all the way."

Something about the way he said it caused you to involuntarily shiver. You realized a second later maybe he was speaking from experience.

"....I'm not trying to get away from the village. There's no point." You replied lowly. Silent tears continued to trail down to your chin. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get the flood of grief under control. You knew he would be stubborn, that was part of the reason why you fell in love with him in the first place. That was also how you knew, that even with you gone, he could go on.

You could feel his questioning eyes boring holes all over your face. Time to rip the band-aid off.

You opened your eyes, and met his stormy glare with your own steady one. You had to pull a few times, but eventually, seeing as you were not trying to make a run for it, he let go of your arm. Still, you took a few measured steps away, not breaking the eye contact. Taking a lungful of air through the nose, you steeled yourself.

Hesitant hand grabbed the hem of your t-shirt, you clenched your teeth, and yanked the fabric all the way up to the collarbone.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he took in the bandages covering all around your torso. His eyes sweeped over the white, and immediately his gloved hand reached out, but you flinched, which made him jerk his hand away as if burned.

The initial shock swiftly turned into barely contained rage. "Who did this." He gritted through his teeth. You could tell he was looking at the bloody spots seeping through the guaze. "Let me guess. Miranda." You were almost unsettled at how flat his voice came out.

"She put something in me. I think it was Cadou. Not sure. I was in too much pain."

Heisenberg's eyes were practically glowing at this point.

"It's....dormant. She realized that the Connections didn't leave me with any important information, in case I get captured, so she tried to strike a deal. She told me to..." helplessly, you looked up at the seething Lord. "She sent me back. So I can spy on you, not knowing that we're much closer than we've been a few months ago. She said that she'll neutralize the cadou inside me and let me go if I bring back any useful information about you. That was 3 days ago."

"3 DAYS-" heisenberg started, then closed his mouth, trying to get his breathing under control. "Why didn't you come to me right away?!"

"I couldn't! First night I passed out from pain and didn't wake up until midday. Then I had to patch myself up. After that, I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid of how you'd react. I didn't even know you knew about me being an agent...." you trailed off, suddenly feeling so tired. No more tears were left to shed. So you just continued to look at him in defeat. "She gave me 5 days. If I don't report back, she'll get suspicious and come look for me, so I have to leave. You are right, there's no running away from this place. There's only one solution left, then."

His sharp eyes shifted as gears in his head kept turning around. Then, "No." There it was. He was never going to make this easy.

You sighed, fatigued from the pain and sorrow. "Karl. I have to go. She'll kill me in two days. Her finding out about us before that is out of the question. Nor am I going to let that bitch know anything more about you. And I'd rather die on my own terms." You tried to reason with him. There really wasn't any other way.

"NO!!" He bellowed, the metallic scraps and tools slowly rising into the air. "She took EVERYTHING from me! I'm not letting her have you too!!!"

"Ka-" you didn't even get to call out as he once again seized your arm, dragging you along as he marched to the door.

"I'll get it out." was all he said, resolute and final.

"Wha-KARL!!!" You struggled against his inhuman force, and even punched his shoulder a few times, but you were already out the workshop and on your way to the elevator. "Karl stop!! You know what happen to those who get their cadous removed! Karl!!!"

But the man was deaf and blind to your pleas, looking straight ahead towards his destination, like a goddamn race horse with blinders. As you were about to make an attempt to get him to trip over your leg, with dawning horror, you looked around the operating room.

Metal shackles clicked around your wrists in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg scooped you off your feet, laying you down on the gurney. Your breath came out shallow, and you screamed.

"Karl stop!!! Stop!!! KARL!!!!!! Listen to me! You can't just get it out!! You know that!!!"

"If you die either way, worth a try." His crazy eyes brought fear that you've never known. When he grabbed a syringe, your thought ceased. Panic commanded you to shout out one glaring truth that came to mind.

"You are acting like her!!!!!"

A pause. The syringe slipped from his glove and shattered to pieces upon collision with soild floor. You flinched from the sound, but Heisenberg was deathly still. The shackles around your wrists twisted open, all but ripped to bits as they fell and noisily clattered on the floor.

You fell as well, as you scrambled to put as much distance between you two as possible in your panicked state. You backed up until you felt the stone wall pressing against your back, your eyes never once leaving the motionless figure.

Silence, minus your ragged breathing. Your eyes darted to the metal door once or twice, but you were almost paralyzed to take even a step forward. You watched his adam's apple bop as he swallowed.

"I...." It was barely above a whisper. His blank face slowly turned to frown. He tried again. "I...I didn't....." his eyes slowly rose to meet your frantic face. His face fell at the sorry sight. "Buttercup......."

"This is how I get to spend the last moment of my life?!?!?! Almost being murdered by the hands of the man that I love!?!?!?!" You wailed, you thought your eyes were dried up now, but your vision was already blurry from unshed tears.

After the pain induced coma, the first thing you did upon realizing what Miranda's done to you was crying your lungs out. You were going to die. Or turn into one of the mindless monsters. But what you dreaded the most was that you had to say goodbye. To him. The time you shared with him was over. The memories now distant dream, tainted with the inevitable doom.

But this......this was worse. You couldn't deal with this side of him on top of everything else. You were dying, and this was what you got. Your last hope of spending the final moment with him by your side, shattered like the glittering glass shards on the floor.

He winced at the word, 'murder', as you screamed at him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find any words to soothe you, but the deafening silence only stretched out. He fucked up. With utmost caution, he slowly reached his hand out, hoping to offer any kind of comfort.

As soon as you saw a movement you shrieked in terror. "Don't fucking touch me! Leave!!! Don't you fucking hear me?! Get out!!! Get the fuck away from me!!"

He immediately dropped his hand and took a couple steps back, stunned at your outburst. You curled in on yourself, trying and failing to block out the onslaught of pain that bloomed from your chest and head. Something told you the haphazardly stitched up cut was not the only source of it. You hoped he won't start talking, as that'll only make the pain worse.

You flinched at the thumping of the boots across the room, and the metal door creaked open, which soon closed with a soft click. Your shoulders stayed tense until the footfalls could no longer be heard, then you slid down to the cold ground, laying on your side. Tears pooled on the dusty concrete.

Now. You had nothing. The Connection decided to abandon you when they realized that Miranda was growing suspicious. Of course, they didn't have the courtesy to warn you, being a crime syndicate and all. It wasn't that you enjoyed working for them, anyway. But money talked, and walking the shadowy path had been all you've known your entire life, so begrudgingly, you took the job.

You didn't expect to fall in love with him.

None of this was supposed to happen. Well, being killed was a predicted outcome, but love? In a place like this?

You had limited options. All ending with your death. You wait until Karl comes back and picks up where he left off. You go into the woods, be another snack for lycans. You go into the field, lay down, and wait until Miranda ultimately finishes you off. You wait until the cadou inside you either agonizingly twists and shifts your body and eventually kills or turns you.

You looked at the metal table next to the gurney. Medical tools were aligned on the top, shiny like jewelry, lethal as any well-maintained tools could be. The scalpel glinted at you, reflecting the odd look in your eyes.

===

Millions of thoughts raced and clashed against each other in his head, the cacophony so damningly distracting, he could get a whiplash just from thinking like this.

He didn't dare slow down his steps. If there was anything you two needed right now, it was the distance. Far away enough, so it could grant you some peace of mind, and for him, the time to calm his nerves.

The very possibility of losing you completely set him off, he didn't even know you were begging in his ears with all your might.

All he could think about, was that bitch has sunk her claws into you, and took another thing from him. Again. You were dying.

You were dying, and he had failed you. He'd sworn up and down that nothing in this world will take you away from him, and now all those promises seemed laughable. Just another failure. Like his projects, his life, and he himself. Even his ultimate plan to put an end to Miranda's tyrannical ways felt like an illusion. He couldn't protect the single most important person in his life, and he was dreaming of killing the so called prophet of Black God?

The steel platform beneath him groaned and screeched as each step made it sink down like his plummeting mood. He ground down on his teeth all the way to the workshop, breath heaving, and suddenly his coat felt too heavy, added layers too constricting, so he roughly shrugged it off and tossed the garment over the table.

He hastily fished out a cigar from the breast pocket and lighted it. Only after the familiar scent flooded his sense, did he slump against the wall to let out a long, pained sigh.

Now what?

He already scared you shitless with the stunt he pulled. You probably didn't even want to see his mug anymore, even in the state you were in.

How could he blame you after he tried to put you under and cut you open?

Like one of his experiments.

But he was trying to save your life! What was he supposed to do? Sit around and watch you die?!

But you were right. Once the Cadou was in, it was game over. The prognosis was grim, chance of your survival slim to none. Trying to remove it by force will only lead to the damn thing tearing out your inside along with it as it flailed its sickening tendrils around for survival.

Even now, he could almost hear your terror-stricken wail. Was he...was he really being like Miranda? Was that how you viewed him? In that moment, when he strapped you down and prepared for the operation...did you see her in his place?

His chest felt tight, so he let out a shuddering breath.

He didn't know what to do. But he wasn't going to let you waste away like this.

Oh, right. He'd kneel and beg at that cunt's feet. That's what she wanted, wasn't it? The show of complete submission. Pledging his loyalty to her in front of her band of delirious devotees.

He'd do it. If it meant you get to see another day, he'd grovel until his nose touch the ground, while they watched in glee. He'd face the jeers and sneers with a beaming face, please the mother once again, being her dutiful son, her favorite tool.

He squeezed the burning eyes shut. Maybe after you were stable enough, he could sneak you out of this madness. He'd pay that fat fuck however much he obnoxiously desired, but now that he knew just what kind of danger you had to face, just to be with him, he couldn't risk it. He had to let you go.

But first, he had to look at that wound.

He wanted to make sure the cut was well treated, last thing he wanted was for it to get infected and you dying in agony. He didn't know if you'll even let him near you, but he had to try.

He stayed in the workshop and smoked in silence until his cigar burned to half, assuming you needed time to pull yourself together after that awful event. Then he gathered around the emergency medical supplies. Cadou didn't react well to antibiotics, he'd have to use up all the antiseptic and alcohols. It was going to hurt, he thought, dejected.

When he returned, he made sure his steps were deliberate and loud, so you could hear him approaching. He only hoped you wouldn't run away in fear.

Standing in front of the operation room door, he strained his ears to hear if you're inside.

Nothing.

"Sweetheart?" He tentatively called out, and was met with only more silence. "I'm not here to harm you, so don't run away, alright?"

He pulled at the handle but found it locked. Feeing a twinge in his heart, he debated if he should just turn around, and leave you be.

After a few nibbles on his lower lip, with one short huff, he unlocked the door with his power. He carefully pushed the door open, trying not to startle you in case you were in the room, but found it empty.

All he found was a red puddle near the table.

A blood puddle. Bigger than the size of his hand.

Cold sweat erupted from the back of his head, right down to his lower back.

Before he realized, his feet carried him right next to the table with surgical tools.

A scalpel was missing, with a few droplets of crimson splattered over the other instruments.

Icy grip seized his heart.

He didn't know when exactly he bursted out of the operation room door, but now he was sprinting at full, screaming your name at the top of his lungs. The security room was too far away, so he did the only thing he could think of to locate you.

He came to an abrupt stop as his brows creased in concentration. The electromagnetic field around him expanded even further, almost covering the entirety of the factory. Vibration from machineries and numerous footsteps of soldaten were quickly brushed aside. Frustration bubbled under his skin, but he kept searching. Then, he sensed it.

Faint, unsteady walk, that echoed against the metal platform.

He didn't have time for the elevator. With a flick of the wrist, a dented metal sheet was summoned in front of him, and he wasted no time hopping on it.

He swiftly descended down to the deeper level, weaving in and out of the hanging chains and pillars that obstructed the way. Soon enough, with a soft 'thunk' the sheet landed on the rusted metal floor.

He could see you with your back towards him. But before he could take a step further, he noticed how dangerously close you were to the edge, peering down into the endless darkness.

Without thinking, he blurted out your name, which caused you to whirl around. For a few, heart-stopping seconds, your body swayed from the sudden movement, no doubt weakened from severe blood loss.

But then you grabbed the railing and steadied yourself. All the air rushed out from Heisenberg, and he almost sobbed in relief.

When his heavy boot connected with the floor, however, your eyes snapped up to his, the grip on the railing tightening. He didn't dare take another step.

"Sweetheart....l-listen...I'm not here to drag you back, okay? I won't do anything to you. I promise."

Doubt and fear danced in your eyes, and he let out a sigh.

"I really fucked up back there......I wasn't thinking straight, I'm sorry buttercup...."

But your eyes seemed vacant. The hollow look made him pause.

".........Liebling?"

You teetered backwards, and instinctively, his hand shot out to send metal panels your way. Instead of plummeting to your death, your back met the solid panels, and you slid down against them. When you cracked open the heavy eyelids, you found yourself cradled in his arms.

"H-how......what?!" now that you two were close enough, he couldn't believe the amount of blood that soaked through your t-shirt. Ever so gently, he peeled it off your chest, only to hiss at the state of your wound.

The sutures were all cut, the gash left wide open. And the cadou was...........

It wasn't there.

The cadou wasn't there. Only a gaping chamber in your chest remained, steadily spewing the precious blood out. Heisenberg could only stare at the impossible sight.

Your whimper brought him back to his senses.

"D-did you....sweetheart did you p..perform a surgery on yourself.....?"

You somehow managed a weak nod.

"But how.....?" He couldn't finish the question.

You answered anyway. "Anes....thesia........" you wheezed out. "Used spare.......from the cabinet...."

He still couldn't believe his eyes. The muscle tissues were clearly damaged, some veins ripped out, but by some miracle, major organs were still intact. It was clear the cadou struggled to stay attached to the flesh, but it failed to damage any major arteries.

Countless bodies he worked on over the years, but now, his inside tied to knots to see the gore.

Because it was your blood that coated his hands. Your body, torn apart.

He had to get you back to the operating room, NOW. He had to stop the bleeding, and properly close the wound. Didn't know how he'd replenish the lost blood, but he could only pray Duke had something for that.

"It's over..." you whispered, and his heart squeezed pitifully.

"Don't fucking say that, I can still fix this." He harshly replied, the panic overriding the grief, he collected you in his arms like the pieces of glass.

He stepped on the discarded metal sheet once again, this time with you in his arms. You had no more tears nor energy left, just grabbing limply at the front of his shirt.

"Earlier, you were so afraid of me taking it out. Why did you do it?" He quietly asked on the way up, his own dread masked with determination.

For a few moments, it didn't seem like you heard him. Then, "Worth a try, right?" You murmured.

So it was his fault you were this way. He tried to brute-force his solution onto you, and now you were bleeding to death in his arms.

He wanted to bash his head against the fucking wall.

As soon as he reached the upper floor, he dashed for the operation room. When he slammed open the door with his power and walked inside, your breath was already too shallow and short, sweat forming over your cold skin.

"Sweetheart- y-you...come on, don't give up on me!" He laid you down with all the care in the world, your bleary eyes looking up to his pained face.

"Go on....without me......"

He bared his teeth. "Shut the fuck up, just hang on, hang on....." he snarled, frantically preparing the medical tools. "You can tell me what a, a bastard I am, hell, just punch me in the face after this. Just keep breathing....."

But your mind was no longer under your control. Sleep engulfed the tortured soul, and you helplessly succumbed despite his pleas for you to stay awake.

~~~

And that's it! Mayhaps I'd write a sequel. Or not. Sorry it took so damn long, irl problems just kept stacking up on each other until I crumbled from the weight of it all. Took a break. Came back to stretch my fingers and oil my brain.

Torturing Karl so much fun tho.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #lord karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 #the iron steed #karl heisenberg x you #angst #my writing #my fic #writing practice #writing prompt #reader insert #ask

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i-cant-sing · 4 years ago

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You mentioned (for the platonic yandere todoroki family) theyre not above ..marking the reader what would happen if Rei gave a scar like shotos to them?

Yandere Rei hurting daughter reader

Its like u guys can read my mind💞💞💕

Part 2 is here!

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Todoroki clan:

Its my fault.

Somehow, all Todorokis were thinking the same thing.

Its my fault. Fuyumi thought, as she remembered the start of the day. I should've just stayed home with her. She looked down the empty hospital halls. We were having so much fun; the school didn't need me today. The kids could've been managed by a substitute.

She looked at Natsuo, who was talking to one of the doctors.

Its my fault. Natsuo thought, as he talks to the doctors about your condition. I should've just given into your puppy eyes and stayed for lunch. I shouldn't have left because I didn't want to face him. Enji was going to leave for work soon anyways.

The doctor finished briefing Natsuo on your condition. He turned back to look at his parents. Rei was sitting in Enji's lap, sobbing into his chest.

Its my fault. Enji thought. This could've been prevented. I could've saved her from this. Enji recalls the day. He should've listened to you when you mentioned Rei wasn't acting normal; how she stared at you with no emotion and how she was often lost in her thoughts. But he only patted your head and dismissed you as he said "you're being rude, princess. Your mother loves you very much."

Enji looked down the hall and wondered where Shotou had gone off to.

Its my fault. Shotou said to himself as he looked at his reflection i the bathroom mirror, water dripping down his face as his hands closed the faucet. He knew he shouldn't have left you alone with his mother. But someone was at the door and he wasn't going to risk you opening it and running out. He left the kitchen while you set the table and Rei cooked lunch. Shotou opened the door to find Dabi there; he liked to join you and Rei for lunch once a week. It suited him, since neither Enji nor his biological siblings were home at this time. Just Rei, him and you. It was nice talking to his mom again, but it was even better to mess with you. Like with the rest of the family, you had slowly started to grow on him too.

While Shotou was asking Dabi why he was there, a sudden scream ripped through the house. They both ran towards the source, the kitchen. And the scene that greeted them there was straight out of a horror movie.

There you stood screaming as Rei gripped your head with one hand while the other poured boiling hot oil on your eyes.

Dabi was the first one to move, quickly running towards his mother and pulling her away from you. He pried her hands off of you and the pot of oil, letting you both fall to the floor. Dabi wanted to throw fire at Shotou to break him from whatever trance he was trapped in, but the oil that was spilled all around would just end in burning the whole house down. So he yelled at him.

"Shotou!"his brother's voice pulled Shotou back to reality. He looked at Dabi's worried face before he snapped his head towards you. He dashed towards you and pulled you into his lap. You were still screaming, the hot oil that had filled your eyes and was now dripping your cheeks, for sure leaving second degree burns. He quickly activated both of his quirk so that he can shower your face with cold water, as best as he could, using his other hand to call for help.

Shotou looked at Dabi through the mirror, who was drying his hands off.

Its my fault. Dabi thought. I shouldn't have kept telling mom to keep a close eye on you. You were being too compliant with your situation, and it made Dabi feel like you were upto something; that you were planning to run away. When in reality, you were just trying to adjust to the new circumstances.

Dabi sighed, before leaving the bathroom with Shotou to check up on their mother.

"Its my fault."Rei said to Enji, who only pulled her further into his chest. "It is my fault, Enji. I- I don't know what happened. I was cooking shrimp for us and she was helping set the table. She looked out the window and smiled and said "its a nice day out, isn't it?" and then I blacked out and then- then all I remember was Touya holding me and yelling at Shotou. And Enji, I- I saw her. She was all red, Enji. Her skin was blistering up and- and oh my god the burning smell and her screams. Enji her screams-"she started sobbing into his chest as Enji ran his fingers through her hair. "Not here, Rei. Not right now." He told her. Although Enji had already paid off the everyone to keep their mouths shut, he still had to be cautious. The entire hospital floor was emptied for you; not a word of this needed to get to the press.

Dabi and Touya came back just as the doctor came out of your room. They all turned to him. "Is she going to be okay?"Fuyumi asked, voice quivering.

He started speaking,"The surgery went alright. We were able to treat most of her burns but the oil was very hot. It penetrated through most of her tissues and caused irreversible damage. Her eyes... we couldn't save them." At this, everyone's eyes widened. Rei started crying harder as her knees went weak, but Enji kept her from falling down. "The nerves are damaged and we can't replace them right now. Fortunately, due to having Miss (Y/n) brought in time, we were able to save the brain and its tissues from damage." He cleared his throat, before continuing. "She's unconscious right now, but you can go in." Natsuo went with the doctor to understand the treatment you would need, while the rest of the Todorokis went in.

The moment they entered the room, they all felt the same emotion. Guilt.

Shotou felt like his world was crashing down. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to protect you. And now you've lost your sight.

Fuyumi couldn't even bare to look at you like this for more than a second, crying silently to herself as she had done all these years. You wouldn't have been in the kitchen if only she had stayed. She could've helped set the table with Rei, instead of you.

Enji felt like a criminal himself. He could've prevented this. He should've known something like this was bound to happen. He should've listened to you when you mentioned Rei's odd behaviour; he should've been the one to notice it in the first place. If he did, you wouldn't be in this state.

Dabi has seen much violence. He has seen- he has mutilated people. He's seen things far worse than this, things that would make people lose sleep. But somehow, seeing you like this, was far more gut churning than anything he'd ever witnessed.

Rei looked at your unconscious body, your eyes were bandaged and an IV was attached to your arm. The area near your eyes had slightly charred while the rest of your face was blistered and red and blanched; healing ointments were applied on it.

"I hurt her. I hurt our baby, Enji. I- I took away her eyes. I ruined her beautiful face. I did this, Enji. How- how could I do this?"Enji only held his crying wife, his eyes still focused on you and his heart heavy with guilt. "I'm a bad mother." Rei said in a quiet voice.

Everyone looked at her suddenly. "No, you're not." Dabi said, speaking for the first time since they came to the hospital. Fuyumi nodded, "no, you're not. You're a good mother. This- this was just an accident and- and its okay. She'll be okay." Without tearing his eyes off you, Shotou spoke as well. "Yes. This was just an unfortunate accident. You're a good mother. You've showered her, and us with love. You've taken care of her, you'll take care of her again. We'll help you as well. She'll be better in no time."

Rei smiled meekly at her kids. They're so kind. She looked at Enji, who was staring intensely at your unconscious body, worry evident in his eyes. Does he think I'm a bad mother? Rei wondered. As if he could hear her, Enji looked at Rei before smiling. "Its okay, honey. It was...just an accident. Its not your fault." He kissed her forehead before continuing, "like Shotou said, once she is discharged, we can all take care of her and she'll be better in no time. She'll need us now more than ever, don't you think so?" Rei smiled and nodded, placing her head on his chest again. "Yes. We'll be alright again."

Should I do a part 2 where they bring the reader back home?

#yandere endeavor #yandere enji todoroki #yandere dabi #yandere shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki #yandere fuyumi todoroki #natsuo todoroki #yandere natsuo todoroki #enji todoroki #endeavour x reader #yandere todoroki clan #yandere touya todoroki #todoroki clan #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi x reader #touya todoroki

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calliecat93 · 4 years ago

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Hi Callie! In your opinion, what are the top ten best Mccoy centric episodes in TOS? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, thanks for reading anyways! ❤️

Ooh, good question! This is a little hard because McCoy, compared to Kirk and Spock, didn’t get a lot of centric episodes. Actually I think he only really got like… two out of 79 episodes (depending on how you view it). But he DOES have a large prescence in others, so let me see here…

1. The Empath Technically it’s a Triumvirate episode, but this has McCoy’s best moment in the entire show. Like if you want to understand McCoy’s character, this is the episode that you turn to. I already blabbed about why once so I’ll let that go into it for me.

2. For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky: While some of the execution is a bit iffy, this is still a realy excellent episode. Mainly because DeForest Kelley plays McCoy here with everything that he has and just nails everything, McCoy’s sadness, loneliness, and invevat le fate of dying in a year, masterfully. The episode would be NOWHERE near as good if not for De Kelley.

3. The Man Trap: This and the last one are the only two McCoy-centric episodes, at least that I recall. This one often gets overlooked since it’s first so I think that the emotional impact gets lost. But God McCoy in this episode is just outright tragic. I wrote a whole post about it because it felt so unfair that it was overlooked because there is SO MUCH there. Also mrke amazing De Kelley acting

4. All Our Yesterdays: While McCoy does spend a good chunk of it passed out from hypothermia, he is freakin’ excellent in this episode. He’s not only hilarious (“He means it’s cold!”, De’s delivery made me burst out laughing) but when he’s finally awake, he’s just freakin’ awesome. He put himself at GREAT risk to snap Spock out of his mental state and then went ‘screw it’ and tried to find the portal home cause he wants his life back, with or without Spock (but preferably with Spock). He’s just great~!

5. Return to Tomorrow: This whole episode is super underrated. It’s the one where the alien beings posess Kirk, Spock, and Lady of the Week’s bodies. McCoy is the ONLY rational person in the episode and the one who has to deal with the majority of the problem. He has to both worry about everyone’s minds in the orbs and what the aliens do to their human bodies and is VERY concerned throughout. It also demonstrates how devkted to his profession and oath that he is. He even outright risks Kirk dying for good, as painful as it is for him, because it would mean allowing another to die and like Hell is he doing that. Seriously, this one is so freakin’ overlooked.

6. Bread and Circuses/The Immunity Syndrome/The Tholian Web: Yeah three way tie cause they all have one thing in common: they feature his complicated relationship with Spock. The first one I wrote a whole meta about already. It’s a Spones analysis, but it reflects why McCoy himself is great in this episode along with all hos geneal grumpy snark throughout. Oh and the ending with him throwing a mattess at a guy… and he wins IIRC. Best underrated comedy moment EVER. With the second, he’s not at all happy with Spock being picked over him to examine the amoeba and that Spock may die. Their whole interaction in the hangar, McCoy waiting until the doors close to wish Spock luck, Spock’s seeming final words, and of course “Shut up Spock! We’re rescuing you!”. The last one of course has Kirk gone and McCoy is angry, grieving, and stressed with everyone losing their minds and Spcok pressuring him to fix it all at the same time and he takes it out on Spock. Then they see Kirk’s final message and we all know what happens after. All three do such a great job showing how much McCoy cares about Spock and showcasing how great they really are together, and not even just the shippy sense. Only reason they’re at six is because of how closely tied to Spock he is in those episodes instead of being the central character, but he IS still central in them and showcase some of his best moments. So I hope I got my point across XD

7. A Private Little War: The episode’s message is kind of… questionable. But ignoring thay, McCoy is the real freakin’ hero of this story. It’s only because of him that Kirk survived and he’s more than willing to contront him on his questionable decision making. Which is the very thing that Kirk brought him for to begin with. It’s one of the best episode to show how much he cares about Kirk and the lengths he’ll go for him. Oh and he kept Spock from dying along with Chapel and M’Benga. Thank God he has competent medical staff who can do the job without him XD

8. Journey to Babel: Okay yes this is a Spock episode, but McCoy is VERY prominent throughout. He’s both hilarious in the cold opening and we all remember his reaction to Spock’s ‘teddy bear’ XD. But he managed to conduct a VERY risky surgery that put Spock and Sarek at great risk if he screwed up. A surgery he’s never really conducted. And during a battle that causes frequent rattling to boot. He succeeded and the episode appropriately rewards him by allowing him the final word. It’s not only oen of the best episodes showing why he’s the CMO, but he’s just freakin’ great the whole episode.

9. Amok Time: Again it’s a Spock episode, but I repeat what I said about Return to Tomorrow: McCoy is the real hero. He’s the one who recognizes that something is horribly wrong, puts up with zero excuses, actually usus logic to get Spock to comply, and of course it was him who saved both Kirk and Spock’s sorry butts. They’d both likely be dead had McCoy not been there. He may have had the least screentime of the three, but he damn wel made up for it.

10. Operation: Annahilate: It has one of the saddest but strongest McCoy scenes. Through the whole episode he’s super protectice of Spock, running various tests to get rid of the parasites and trying to keep Kirk’s kid nephew alive all at the same time. Then he gets made by Kirk and Spock to risk blinding the latter… and DOES blind him. Then his face when the test result revelaed that he didn’t need to use an jntense light and being outright unresponsive when Kirk calls him later… just ouch. It’s one of those moments I wish it had gone more in depth, but upseide is we have haply McCoy by the end. Want proof of how much he cares for Spock and others? Here you go

And he has really good scenes in other episodes despite varying levels of prominence (Miri, Space Seed, The Galileo Seven, This Side of Pradise, The City on the Edge of Forever, Mirror, Mirror, Friday’s Child, The Ultimate Computer, Spock’s Brain… no seriosuly he’s the biggest bright spot in that and for certain S3 episodes tbh). It’s a HUGE shame that he was treated like the third wheel both in series and the films, and even now gets the raw end of the deal in popular media. But I hope that this was a satisfactory list Anon. Sorry it got all wordy and long, I can’t help myself sometimes XD

(Image Source)

#star trek tos #tos #leonard mccoy #ask #Anonymous #there was zero reason to blab that much but i did anyways #hope my photo choices make up for that XD

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italwayshadtobeyou · 1 year ago

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I don't know that "Sacrifice" is better than "The Great Escapist"; they're each comprised of sublime and nigh-unwatchable scenes jumbled together. Metatron getting brain surgery in Naomi's dentist's chair doesn't deserve to be in the same episode with Crowley's transformation and Sam and Dean's handfasting bandage scene, any more than the concept of a "scribe of God" deserved to be in an episode that movingly explored Sam's angst from before the series. Crowley showing up alone, on the brothers' turf, is another dumb plot point. (If he knows where they are and that their mission involves demons, why doesn't he just send a human sniper after them? They'll die from a bullet, same as from claws.) While I like the trials plot, I still think that that a lack of focus in season's first half forces a bunch of shortcuts in the second.

That said, I give "Sacrifice" the edge, because it does one thing really, really well, and that is handle the question, "Who is Sam Winchester?" We see several answers: He's a martyr, bleeding light like a stigmata as he faces a crumbling crucifix. He's a madman, a holy fool, unstable yet dogged, borderline delirious yet utterly focused on the task at hand. He's Crowley's Marnie, so superior that he can offer absolution from a demon's sins. But the answer that he considers most important is the brother who let Dean down. He places it above healing a demon, above sealing the gates of Hell, above his own purification.

I don't find the episode to be as revelatory about Dean. That isn't in the sense that I don't believe what it shows; it's in the sense that Dean's anti-Sam opinions have been coming undone since "Trial and Error." He prayed for Sam, despite it feeling "too much like begging." He proudly told a priest that Sam had accomplished things Dean couldn't have believed possible. Sam may have thought that Dean's support was all for the greater good, but we've seen a touch of awe in how Dean speaks of his brother lately. It culminates in Dean's declaration that there is nothing, "past, present, or future, that I would put in front of you." Even if it isn't surprising, it's satisfying to watch.

"Sacrifice" is also a gorgeous episode, with unexpected gifts from the camera team, perfect locations, and exquisite production design --except, of course, for the angels' horrid Heaven, which I always fast-forward through on rewatch. Shout-out to the VFX team for the beautiful falling-angel effects, boo to whoever told them to drop an angel in a pond a few dozen feet from Sam and Dean. This accidentally comical when you watch the DVDs for season 9, where the shot of the pond angel appears in the menu, despite multiple episodes about searching for fallen angels. Oh well.

Things that I don't forward through, but that do bug me:

If Crowley can't use his power in the devil's trap, how does he place a demonic "phone call"?

Since a cherub in "My Bloody Valentine" described angels' interest in human romance as being about bloodlines, why would a cherub want to get two men together?

WHERE DID SAM GET MORE HOLY OIL??!!

Supernatural Battle of the Episodes!!

Okay folks! The Great Escapist came out a winner again! Does it have what it takes to beat a fan favorite season finale? Get those voting fingers ready!

Bring it on out Chuck!

Chuck: this next one hardly needs an introduction! We have the Season 8 finale, Sacrifice - Sam takes on the last Trial by trying to cure Crowley! Dean goes with Cas to try to finish the Angel Trials but ditches him quickly when he learns if Sam completes the Trials, he will die!

Sam is alright with his fate, but Dean is not! He begs Sam to stop and delivers one of the most iconic speeches in the series and more or less marries Sam 🥺♥️🥰

#poll #meta #not mine #mine

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scribbly-dee · 3 years ago

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Inspired by this post

I adore corruption arcs, so I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Sasha James 11/10, would be an ideal archivist, this plus her height is probably why the stranger monster targeted her before she could peak

I have a soft spot for any au that knows Sasha has never seen a brain cell in her life and that any unhinged!Sasha au is really just a regular Sasha au. Picture it with me. Sasha and Jon have parallel archivist tracks, until Sasha (my beloved show off) decides: you know what would make me more efficient at snooping? Becoming a Human Google. And things accelerate. The Web doesn't even need to bother with subtly magic lighters, it slaps all 14 marks on her at once by pulling up next to Sasha in a windowless van with "free secrets 👍" written on the side.

After the Unknowing, Sasha takes over the institute from Elias instead of Martin and Peter. With Tim dead, Jon in a coma, Martin lonely-snatched, Melanie compulsively homicidal, Daisy in the coffin, and Basira on autopilot, she quickly bonds with Rosie, the ultimate nosiness enabler. Sasha is a fully marked archivist for a good long while, but doesn't start the apocalypse right away because she's eager to read ALL the ominous notes Elias left, so the watcher's crown statement is in her to-be-read pile. When the apocalypse starts (Rosie: "Hey, Sasha, I just read something extra fucked up that Elias wrote, wanna see?" Sasha: "God yes."), she books it to become the pupil with Rosie as her anchor. Mayhapse an anchor-archivist polycule with Archivist Jon and Martin? Mayhapse Jon is just a normal eye avatar here and deeply invested in all of Sasha's eyepocalypse statements, so it's Sasha and her plus-three? Mayhapse it's a race across the eyepocalypse wasteland between Archivist Sasha and Archivist Jon to usurp Jonah and become the pupil?

Tim Stoker 2/10 dude's here for a good time, not a long time

The only way I see this working is if Elias disguises not-stranger clues as circus related so Tim is motivated to investigate. Otherwise, his archival assistants are way more curious than him and disobey his direct orders to 🍹chill🏝. Jon, Sasha, and Martin inadvertently bring marks home to him like cats bring home dead birds. He asserts his agency when he decides the best course of action? Actually? Just blow up the archives. This unfortunately puts him in a false sense of security, and Elias makes him read the watcher's crown statement by cat fishing him on grindr and sending the ritual as a dm mid conversation.

Daisy Tonner - 9/10 archivist, would have started doomsday before she was at the archivist job long enough to use her PTO

Daisy already had a lot of experience hunting down fear-entity-related people in sectioned cases, which means she possibly canonically already has all the marks from just hunting avatars who use their powers in self defense. The reason she lost one point is because she's too much of a jock to read, only nerds are culpable to watcher crown statements, so this would be the only delay but oh what a delay it will be.

Melanie King - 7/10 archivist, points awarded for achieving her breakthroughs by smashing her head against a wall until she literally breaks through, points deducted for doing so in full clown makeup.

If Jon got a handful of marks by just asking anoying questions in the same room as an avatar, imagine how much faster Melanie would get marks by bringing her trademark Chaotic Brat personality on fear entity investigations. The apocalypse would have started in like two seasons: one season to hire her off the streets and establish shakey, complex relationships with her new assistants (Jon and Sasha put in the time with the institute but were passed over on this promotion for some random YouTuber (plus they're tighter with Tim and Martin, so proletarian solidarity against the boss)).

Then a second season to stab every mark and get stabbed in return. Melanie would blitz through all 14 marks because what precious little impulse control she starts with is slowly replaced with slaughter juice. One fun moral ambiguity to explore could be if Melanie tries to use her new, dangerous Eye/Slaughter powers to revive her reputation and platform in the supernatural community now that she can, ya know, identify supernatural things for the first time ever. Does she acknowledge her entire career up to her hospital episode apparently only investigated fake sightings? A better question to ask is whether Basira, Tim, and Jon ever let her live down how Ghost Hunt UK's professional dignity was contingent on the legitimacy of her sCiEnTiFiC gHoSt eQuIpMeNt in those episodes, so the temperature spikes set to dramatic music were well and truly just temperature spikes and dramatic music. Sasha found a clip of that music playing as Melanie narrates "it's a message... from the other side..." and made it as her text tone.

Also, it would be hilarious if Melanie tried to kill Jonah on sight in the panopticon, once again botched assassination attempt number 1,963,538, and then Jon quietly snuck in to finish the job on his first try just like in canon.

Jon: "What, like it's hard?"

Basira Hussain 3/10 archivist, her eye alignment manifests as office gossip, like a normal person

Basira has the most formidable super power of all: the power to nope tf out of any conversation or plan she wants. She therefore would probably take 10x longer to start the apocalypse than any other archivist because her fatal flaw is refusal to directly engage with a lot of personally difficult things (like the slaughter bullet surgery she organized, Daisy In General, etc). The marks will be slow going if she resists putting her safety on the line or invests time in making good plans (which is smart, but unhelpful for dooming humanity). She would for sure still get marked and end the world because once she's convinced of a plan (aka Elias convinces her of a plan), she's ruthlessly efficient. So I'd stay out of her way that last year or two, she marks the entities right back at them.

Martin Blackwood 2/10 archivist, considering a prerequisite for creepy eye avatar staring is the ability to make eye contact.

S1 Archivist Martin would probably dote too much on the employees under him to be hugely susceptible to Elias' isolation-dependant manipulation. Any progress Martin inadvertently achieves toward the watcher's crown goal would have to be contingent on it helping his loved ones, which is perfect fuel for a "corrupted by good intentions" arc. This would be key because Martin has superb bullshit and manipulation detection, making the marks are tricky but not impossible to orchistrate considering Jon can't stay put in a safe corner for 10 minutes and Martin's mother would refuse to stay with him where she's safe from avatar threats.

Imagine the petty drama when Jon and Sasha learn he got the promotion they wanted because he lied on his CV.

Other than that, Martin would be even worse about pit stops on the apocalypse road trip than Jon because his Kill Bill mode would have no off switch. Does Archivist!Martin and his anchor Jon ever reach the panopticon? Eventually, but not until after they lose points for significantly reducing the apocalypse fear quantity. Would Annabelle survive to deliver her cryptic MaCHiNAtIoNs and achieve the Web's goal? Hard No, additional point reduction for neutralizing the multiverse invasion. Points potentially earned back if Martin's Web connection is strong enough to come up with the multiverse invasion plan on his own, though.

Georgie Barker 4/10, as a fearless coward, all the fear she feeds to the entities would be khaki flavored. They'd get their apocalypse, but they probably wouldn't enjoy the meal.

Similar to Basira, Georgie has the super power to Fuck This Shit I'm Out. She would overall be a subpar humanity damning archivist; a major archivist success factor of Jon's is that he has enough affective empathy to be afraid with every statement giver he reads, so when Jon archives a statement, he unintentionally contributes to the fear soup seasoning. Combined with how Georgie doesn't want anything to do with entity drama, so any corruption specific to the watcher's crown would stagnate. Even her casual exposition conversations would go like

Georgie: "I've connected no dots."

Melanie: "you've connected a lot of dots??"

Georgie: "I've connected shit all dots."

The reason she gets one more point than Basira is because Georgie's fatal flaw is the passive observer quality the Eye tried to stoke in Jon. Her level of engagement oscillates between two extremes, impulsive over commitment and judging from a distance. This would probably lead her to geting involved just long enough for her involvement to become irreversible, at which point she would try to cut that shit out of her life after it's trapped her. She'd linger, barricading herself on the margins of this problem as the marks that are targeted at her slowly tally up until boom. Apocalypse is on and she only half understands what's happening.

Georgie would wander around an apocalypse hellscape confused, but vibes and physical health fully intact. Anchor!Melanie would have quite the emotional journey starting with Georgie on that pedestal Melanie placed her, and ending with a slaughter avatar stabbing the person who convinced her to work on her slaughter inclination.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #daisy tonner #melanie king #Georgie Barker #Tim Stoker #sasha james

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

#destiel #destiel angst #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #cas pov #tw car accident #angst with a happy ending #prompt by the wonderful bamboo thank you again and happy birthday!!#bluefirecas #queenrowena #userpris #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing #PLEASE FORGIVE MEDICAL INACCURACIES IF FOUND i am a self professed fool #also please forgive bad writing. i hadn't written in WEEKS when i wrote this #long post

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doctor-loboto · 3 years ago

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just a little fic I wrote based on Loboto going to pick his kid up at the end of Psychonauts 2, I’ll probably post it on ao3 later (CW: what could be described as parental neglect, references to mental health struggles and therapy, step-parents)

“I’m sorry I was late picking you up, but in my defense, I was a little held up by being kidnapped by the goddanged psychonauts!” A dilapidated hot pink car drove along the country road, two plush molar danglers bobbing from the rear view mirror. It was patched with odd pieces of sheet metal and the back windows were covered in stickers. Caligosto Loboto placed a ceramic thermos labeled WORLD’S #1 BEST DADTIST (DENTIST DAD) back in the cup holder. “Anyway, it’s good to have a little uncertainty in your shelter situation! Roasting berries and trapping fish! It prepares you for when you’re an adult and you have to live in an abandoned shark taxidermy factory because no one will rent a studio space to a neurological marine dentist who ‘doesn’t have the appropriate paperwork’!”

“Except that’s not going to happen to me because I’m not crazy like you. I’m normal, like Mom. We’ve been through this.” Bobby was lounging in the back seat in a way that was probably a car safety hazard, the large shopping tote he used as a suitcase already having toppled upside down onto the carpet. “And yeah, the psychonauts freaking arrested you because you stole everybody’s brains! God, you’re so embarrassing! I hoped they would never meet you because you’re so freaking weird and now- now they met you and you basically kidnapped them and did brain surgery on them! What the fuck?”

Loboto gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “Okay, I’m gonna give you a freebie on that one, but still, you only get two more F bombs this week. And I’m going to try to ignore how absolutely mean you’re being to me, when I’m also a victim here! I was hypnotized! Experimented on! Rotated in the air like a deli chicken! Because I realize that… I did a not great thing, a bad thing even, and I knew when I was thinking about taking your brain that it was probably a bad idea and I should just say I did it but not actually do it.” He sighed and looked at his son through the mirror, and their bicolor eyes met. “I’m really sorry, Bobby. I know I’ve done a lot of things that made life hard for you. But I’m going to start working on myself. They said I could go to therapy at the Motherlobe, and Sasha and Milla have already helped me out a lot! Do you think we can work things out?”

Bobby put his bare feet on the window glass and looked up at the ceiling upholstery. The fabric was beginning to decay and there were little beads of foam on the surface. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess you’re my only dad.”

Caligosto shrugged. “I’ll take that for now!” Just then, his eye caught a figure ahead along the road side. As they pulled closer, he saw that it was a small man in ragged clothing, walking with his thumb outstretched. He was covered in soot and looked exhausted. “Oh look, it’s your stepfather!”

“Wait, what?”

Cal beeped the horn as he slowed down. making the man startle dramatically and turn to face them. His face was bruised, with a dry split cracked open across his prominent lower lip. “Crispin! Get in the car, we’re going home!”

Crispin blinked a few times. “Doctor?”

“Yes, it’s me, Doctor Loboto! Now get in the car!”

The passenger door opened and Crispin slid into the seat, carrying with him the smell of unwashed hair and ash.

“Crispin, you need to take a shower. Also, this is my son, Bobby.” He gestured toward the back seat. “Bobby, this is my boyfriend and second in command, Crispin. Good! Everyone knows each other now!”

Crispin turned his upper body and squinted into the back seat. “Er, hello. I’ve heard… about you. Good things, to be clear.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Whatever. My mom has boyfriends too. Just don’t be a dick and don’t try to brush my hair.”

“Look at this! Me and my two favorite guys, talking in the car on a road trip!” Loboto said. “Ooh! We should go to that diner with the prehistoric animals!”

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 spoilers #caligosto loboto #bobby zilch #crispin whytehead #crispigosto #crispinxloboto #psychonauts fanfiction

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brutal-nemesis · 3 years ago

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Arthropod Day 2021: 🦀Time For Crab 🦀

Malacostraca Moment 😳🦀

So fun story I wanted this to be on a Saturday because SIDEWAYS SATURDAY but when I was deciding on the date I looked at the calendar for July without realizing it. Happy Sideways Stuesday I guess?

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning mention, animal attack (kinda chill tho it’s not really violent), dehydration, autocannibalism mention, parasitic insects, partial nudity, heckin surgery (but it’s CONSENSUAL (⊙ˍ⊙) who am I), suicide for convenience (immortal)

“This looks like a lovely spot for a vacation; thank you guys so much for finding it for me.” The small dingy had just landed on a sandy beach enclosed by dark rocks on either side, a lush forest leading deeper into the island. Casyts’s captor glared at him before harshly tugging the rope tied to his wrists, trying to get him to stand and step onto the beach with her.

“Shut your trap, Ragnarok, or I might change my mind about gagging you. Now get up or I’ll have my men drag you.”

Castys sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up and following her so his rope burn didn’t get any worse. “Aye aye, Yvonne.”

“That’s Captain Veldna to you,” she growled, jerking him forward. He stumbled a bit, but he was able to catch himself before he got sand up his nose. He debated trying to yank the rope out of her hands and running away or stealing the boat, but her very strong men were right behind him and that would probably just end in him having extra bruises. So he just followed her like a stupid little goat as she led him towards the rocks, hoping she wouldn’t leave him tied up so he could at least enjoy his time being stranded. But no, this was about sending a message to his crew or making him suffer or something. He didn’t really remember, he’d been dazed as hell when he’d initially gotten captured during a fight between their two ships. Blood loss was a bitch sometimes.

They forced him to sit with his back against a large rock, yanking his bound hands above his head and worming a large nail through the knotted rope before hammering it into the rock. “Not gonna lie, this seems a little extra. I’m not going to go anywhere, so, like, just let me-” Yvonne slapped him harshly across the face.

“You’re not here to have fun, you annoying little parrot.” She looked over at her men, who had just finished tying his ankles together and nailing them down in a similar fashion to his wrists. “If you lot are done, let’s leave.” She turned back to Castys, a wicked grin on her face. “I wonder how many times you’ll die before your crew finds you?”

“My money’s on eight. Do you want me to keep track and tell you next time we see each other? If only I could write in a diary what horrors I suffer sitting on this warm rock that you tied me to during high tide so I won’t even drown later. Now that-agh!” Yvonne stabbed him in the stomach, and Castys bit back a scream as she twisted her blade.

“The sound of your silence is something I could get used to.”

“Well, the real question is, is silence actually a sound-” Castys’s very valid observation was cut off by the bitch yanking out her sword and promptly kicking him in the stomach. He couldn’t help but cry out, doubling over as far as he could. Yeah, yeah he should probably just shut the fuck up and let them get on their merry way before he got more unnecessary injuries.

“Enjoy your vacation, Ragnarok,” Yvonne spat. As one last gesture of maturity, she kicked sand at him before walking off, and some of it definitely got in his stab hole, so that was nice. He watched them row away, sighing. Now it was just boredom city, but hey, at least he had a nice beach view. The sun was a few hours away from setting, not that it mattered that much since his skin was dark enough that he probably wasn’t going to get sunburned.

Being tied to a rock on the beach was...just about as boring as he expected. His arms got all tingly after a while from being stuck above his head, so he couldn’t even properly relax, and a man could only watch little waves roll for so long. He had a nice view of the setting sun, and hey, that means the light of dawn wouldn’t be shining in his face. While the sun was still a little ways above the horizon, he heard an odd rustling noise over in the vegetation, different from the background sounds he had gotten used to. He looked over, hoping it was a friendly man with a knife.

It was not a friendly man with a knife. But it wasn’t something bad, either. “Oh shit hello crabs!” Castys watched as they scuttled out of the treeline onto the beach, glad to have something fun to watch. One of them was slowly making its way towards him, and Castys wondered if he would be able to convince it to snip his bindings. “Hey there mister crab man, come on down, and please for the love of god untie me.” Yes, yes he was talking to a crab, because why not go full send on the insanity right away? It would be so much more fun, and it’s not like anyone else was here to judge him. “Yeah crab get in my zone-wow you’re kinda big.” He’d thought the crab was closer to him, but nope, it had been farther away but giant. Not like giant giant but not, like, normal crab size. It was almost as big as his torso maybe, but he was never great at estimating the relative sizes of things.

“You’re large but you’re a gentleman, ain’t ya? I don’t know why, but you just seem like a polite fellow.” The crab stopped not too far from Castys and just looked at him blankly. Or maybe it was making a face at him, but he couldn’t read crab body language. Could anyone read crab body language? Crabs, he would hope. “Could you bring me some tea, good sir? Or just...water. Water that’s not salty. I don’t actually like tea it literally tastes like nothing but you know what I would drink it now because I am thirsty.” There was a moment of silence. “Not like thirsty in the weird way some people are. I have no idea what that’s about. But like, I want water. Or...oh my god, Mr. Crab, bring me a coconut!” Castys closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Yeah… that would be nice. Food and water and it’s prepackaged and I don’t know how I would eat it because my hands are tied but I’ll figure it out.”

A sudden sharp pinch against his wound jolted Castys out of his daydream. He looked down in horror to see that the crab was holding something in its claws. Something pinkish-red that was dripping blood down onto the sand. The bastard. The crab brought the piece of his flesh to its mouth and just ate it while staring right at Castys. “That,” he blinked in surprise a few times, “was incredibly rude.” The crab stayed still, watching him as it did its weird mouth movements that were maybe chewing. “You are absolutely not a gentleman. I rescind everything. You little garbage boy. Rapscallion. I bet you never get invited to the crab raves.”

And the crab. Had the audacity. To reach out its stupid pincher. And do it again. “Little bitch!” Castys yelled, squirming against the ropes in an attempt to scare the thing off. Shockingly, it did not work, because wounded, dying prey squirmed all the time, and...that’s pretty much what Castys was in this scenario, wasn’t he? He was just stuck sitting here while that stupid crab ripped off little pieces of him with its stupid crab pincher and put them in its stupid crab mouth. If he was lucky, this would make him bleed out and die faster and then he wouldn’t have an open wound anymore, which would be a bonus. Though, it had sand in it, and then if it healed…

A problem for another day.

Not the next day, though, or the one after, because, hooray, he was still tied to a rock, so even though he did die a few hours later, he couldn’t do anything about the Sand In His Insides. He made up a song about it, but singing it loudly did absolutely nothing to scare away the crab, whom he had named Crabstard (Crab Bastard). Crabstard seemed to think Castys was his new best friend, coming back regularly for meals. Castys liked to imagine killing and eating Crabstard as a show of dominance, but that made him wonder...would eating Crabstard be a form of autocannibalism? Because Crabstard had eaten him...

He wasn’t sure what was worse, Crabstard and his stupid giant pinchers, or the mosquitoes. There weren’t a ton of them, but their bites were just awful, littering his arms and legs with swollen, white boils, which were unusual and also very concerning but what the fuck could he do about it. Because of course he couldn’t scratch them, and they itched so much it hurt and he just had to endure it. Just like he had to endure fucking everything. The heat of the sun, the awful tingling in his arms, the soreness of his wrists, Crabstard pinching off bits of his flesh, the maddening pain and itch of all his bug bites, the hunger and thirst, the boredom, and the...the loneliness.

No, he was fine, he was fine with just himself, it was always just him anyway. He wasn’t imagining his crew rowing to shore and untying him and tending to him in his cold, dark cabin, because he couldn’t get his hopes up, because they probably weren’t even coming for him. They were just going to leave him behind like everyone else and fuck he was wasting water like a useless idiot and he couldn’t stop or even wipe them away and he probably deserved this for everything he’d done so what did it matter?

And, great, the next day he started hallucinating a passing ship and a rowboat coming for him. Thank you, dehydrated whore brain! Let’s get our stupid little hopes up! Dang, the people on the boat kind of even looked like some of his crewmates, which was rude of his brain to make this so realistic looking.

It wasn’t until his first mate, Kaveri, was untying him that Castys realized that this was real, that they’d really...really come for him. “I’m so glad we found you, Captain.” She pulled him into a hug as soon as he was free, and he hugged her back as best he could with his sore arms.

“I’m glad y’all did, too.” He leaned back when she let go and looked down at himself, wincing. “Well, before we get back to the ship, I am going to deliver a much needed death upon mys-“

“Captain, Captain, wait,” the ship’s medic, Sixtus, called as he ran over. He knelt beside Castys, taking his arm and examining the bug bites closely. “I knew it. These bites all over you are...they contain fly larvae. We’re going to need to dig them out before you heal yourself.”

“...what if I’ve died since I’ve gotten bitten. Like, earlier.”

“Well.” Sixtus breathed in sharply. “We will just have to wait for them to, uh, let us know where they are.” He sighed. “For now, let’s get you back to the ship and I’ll get out the ones I can. I don’t have the tools for it with me.”

“Can I kill Crabstard first?”

“Crab...stard?” Kaveri gave him a concerned look, and Sixtus felt his forehead.

“He’s a very impolite giant crab. He is my rival. I wish to vanquish him.” The other two shared a look.

“Do you know where this...this crab is?” Sixtus tried.

Castys held up a finger and opened his mouth, pausing for a second before shutting it and blinking a few times. “I. I do not. He just scuttles out of the trees to commit crimes every now and then. He has no friends.”

“Alright, in that case, no. You’re in no condition to wander around the island looking for a crab.” Sixtus held out his hand. “So, come on.”

“Fiiiine,” Castys groaned, letting the taller man help him to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but he was able to make it to the boat with Kaveri’s help. As they rowed away, he turned back to the island one last time, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled, “Fuck you Crabstard I hope you starve and die in a pit and the other crabs eat you!”

Once they made it back to the ship, Sixtus ushered Castys into his office, instructing him to sit up on the examination table and take his shirt and pants off. Kaveri helped him, opting to stay in case Sixtus needed a hand. He examined Castys thoroughly, using a lightstone to get a good look at the swollen bug bites littering his body as well as the number of small wounds in his side.

“These from the, uh, crab?” Sixtus asked as he gestured to them.

“Yup. Him and his stupid pinchers.”

“Alright, I know you don’t really get infections, but I’m going to clean these out just to be safe.” He paused. “Also it just feels. Really wrong not to. It’ll bother me if I don’t.”

“Do whatever, doctor man.” Castys did his best not to let his pain show as Sixtus dabbed at his wounds with a stingy liquid. It really didn’t hurt that much, but when Kaveri placed her hand on top of his as he gripped the edge of the table, he didn’t wave her off. He’d let it be Fuss Over The Captain Day. For their sake. Because they seem to have been worried about him.

“Alright, I’m all done with that, so if you could lay down, Captain, I’ll get started with removing those larvae. Kaveri, get him some rum and then hold him down.” She nodded, leaving and returning soon after with a small cup.

“You know, I haven’t had water in days,” Castys mused before winking at her and downing its contents. Kaveri shook her head.

“You literally emptied my waterskin while we were rowing back.”

“Oh dang, I forgot. Nevermind I’m actually not funny and am just stupid.” He scooted a bit and laid down with his hands behind his head. “Get rid of my worms.”

“They’re not-they’re not worms, Captain, they’re insects, since-” Sixtus stopped himself, folding his hands in front of his mouth. “Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “Arms at your sides, please. Kaveri, if you would.” She nodded, holding down his shoulders as Sixtus turned Castys’s arm, locating the first larva he was going to remove. Castys breathed in sharply as the knife sliced into his arm, doing his best to keep still as Sixtus slid a pair of tweezers into the wound. The rum dulled his senses enough that it didn’t hurt as much as it could, but it certainly wasn’t painless, and he couldn’t help but gasp as Sixtus slowly pulled a small, wriggling grub out of the incision. He dropped it in a metal tray, cleaned the wound, and picked up his knife.

Then the process started all over again.

Castys didn’t bother counting how many times those tweezers probed around inside him, how many wet little plops he heard as another larva dropped into the tray. He focused on staying still, on the prickle of the rough wood table against his bare back, on the feeling of Kaveri’s hands on his shoulders, more comforting than restraining. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his suffering, for once. But he wasn’t supposed to need comfort, he was their immortal captain, the one who’d been through everything before and was strong enough to go through it again, the one his crew could always depend on to be strong. And here he was, teeth gritted against the pain, his forehead resting against Kaveri’s arm, fists clenched to mask their shaking, all over a few cuts and some little maggots.

“Alright,” Sixtus wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “I think that’s all of ‘em. That I can see, at least.” He looked down at Castys. “You had seventeen of those things in you, Captain.” He grimaced. “And possibly more, so please let me know if you feel anything, uh, wiggling. But for now, you’re free to...die.”

“Can’t believe I got a new world record for worm friends.” Castys grabbed the small leather pouch that usually hung around his neck from his pile of clothes, pulling it open.

“They’re not worms-”

“Thank you, Sixtus.” With that, Castys stuck his finger in the pouch and touched his death stone. He came back to life feeling infinitely better, but Kaveri and Sixtus still insisted he rest after he cleaned himself up. He grumbled, but he let Kaveri force him into his bed and bring him something to eat. Once he was finished, she collected his plate and stood awkwardly by his bedside.

“Do...do you want me to come back, Castys? Will you be alright?”

“Look, I’m honestly fine, you’re good. I’ve been through a lot worse, and I’m all healed up now so it doesn’t really matter.”

She pursed her lips. “I suppose, but that doesn’t mean that that didn’t still take a mental toll on you, and…” she sighed. “Just...call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do.” She nodded, but as she started to walk away, Castys realized there was something he’d rather not leave unsaid. “Wait, Kaveri?”

“Yes?”

“Th...thank you. For, uh, finding me.”

“Of course, Castys. We’ll always be there for you.” Castys opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself and just smiled and nodded, his shoulders only falling once she’d left.

He wished that were true.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch

#i wrote something #arthropod day #arthropod day 2021 #castys #immortal whumpee #dehydration cw #animal attack cw #painful caretaking #partial nudity #parasites cw #surgery whump #suicide for convenience #yes the rocks are basalt #welcome to castys's irrational hatred of crabs he now has a blood feud with any and all crabs #using my favorite life hack called ''these crabs are BASED on coconut crabs but since they are fantasy crabs they will do what i want''#the botfly larvae are botfly larvae ✨ grubby boys #i did write portions of this while on an actual beach so like 😎 kinda pog #wasn't gonna do the rescue bit but castys got sad and also that meant SURGERY #*gives sixtus my obsessive wound cleaning tendencies and adherence to biological classification schemes*#this random man can have these little traits of mine. as a treat #also i realized like a day after i named him that he is in the clan of lads who's names end in -us #six letter names that end in -us are simply peak boy name i dont take criticism #i literally have FOUR of them: erebus jairus corvus and sixtus

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