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faytelumos · 2 years ago

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Illusory, finale

This part is double the length of previous parts.

cw: descriptions of depression and grief closely following amputation, presence of alcohol, non-painful manipulation of muscle and bone, some feelings of abandonment

first | previous | directory

---

Brimstone could do a lot of things with her body. Changing the size and density of her bones, thickening and hardening her skin, and re-organizing her muscles were some of the first things she had learned to do. She could also sprout a coat of fur, increase the capabilities of any of her senses, and fix broken bones and cuts nearly as fast as they happened.

But all of those things involved manipulating tissues she already had. Tails, nictitating membranes, hooves, fur, all of them came from structures she already had, organs she altered the shape of. She had learned with no small effort to spawn cartilage throughout her body, wherever she needed additional structures and forms. But she'd never been able to figure out how to make a new bone.

Or how to make a new muscle.

"Brimstone?"

Her eyes focused slowly again on the table. On the plate in front of her. On the fork, held in a hand that wasn't hers. She blinked, not glancing up at Toby.

"I'm done eating," she mumbled. "I'd like to go back to bed."

Toby shifted beside her, then set the fork down on her plate. He crouched down next to the wheelchair, looking up at Brimstone. She pressed what remained of her left arm tighter to her side, aching to rub fingertips together.

"You're not eating enough," Toby said softly. "Your brain needs food just as much as your body does. Just a couple more bites?"

Brimstone didn't look up. She traced the limp hem of her right sleeve with her eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

Toby sighed softly. He was patient, and he usually relented if she asked for something twice. Though he was starting to plant his feet on certain issues. It had been three weeks since Brimstone had woken up. She wasn't as surprised about it anymore. About surviving an embrace with Morning Frost at his lowest recorded temperature. It had been three weeks, and she was losing weight. Her doctor was probably going to snap someone's collar at the next appointment. Hopefully not Toby's. He didn't do anything wrong.

"How about this," Toby said, folding his arms on her right armrest and looking up at her. "We can stop, I'll put this away, and we can sit on the couch until Sam gets home?" Brimstone didn't look up. She shrugged her left shoulder. "Great," he whispered with a smile, standing, giving her right thigh a soft pat.

He got up and moved behind her, pulling the brakes on her wheels as she shifted her bad leg. He wheeled her gently to the couch, then set the brakes again. She held her left arm tight to her side as he dropped that armrest. He bent down, getting a hand under her knees and an arm around her back, and he hefted her more-or-less gracefully onto the couch.

"How am I going to stay in shape if you're so light," he joked. She shrugged her left shoulder as he grabbed one of the pillows.

"We could buy you some weights," she said. He chuckled softly, tucking the pillow between her right side and the arm of the couch.

"For that matter, I could use my gym membership." Brimstone huffed. He smiled at her, grabbing the remote. "What do we want to watch?"

---

Brimstone knew her body. She had to. For her, shapeshifting was architecture. She knew every bone, every muscle, every ligament, nerve cluster, vein, artery, fat deposit, lymph node, and organ she had to work with and around. When she had woken up, she had known before she could even form coherent thought that her body was wrong. It wasn't just the pieces missing. It was the pieces misplaced. The pieces added. The muscles of her left arm and right shin, aborted, grafted to the face of the bone. Pressed and turned in ways they weren't supposed to be, in ways she'd never asked them to be. The stitches in three areas, itching and pulling and aching. She'd ejected them almost immediately upon waking up, apparently to her doctor's horror. She didn't remember it well. Sam had looked nauseous when it was brought up.

"Almost there."

Brimstone looked again to her arm. Building cartilage was normal. Her and Naomi had decided to use it instead of trying to learn how to make new bones. One less tissue to master.

Brimstone focused again on building down to her right elbow. She'd drawn what remained of the humerus down into its original shape, and she'd stretched the muscles that were still present down to where they were meant to be. But it wasn't right. She struggled to resolve the muscles back into ligaments, and entire structures of her tricep were so cut back she couldn't draw any muscle tissue from them. Couldn't pull them down with the rest. And she'd lost her brachioradialis muscle by a wide margin, leaving another gap in the structures.

"May I?" Naomi uttered, reaching slightly. Brimstone lifted her arm, and Naomi held it, her fingers warm. "I'm going to trace over the missing muscles," she announced, examining Brimstone's arm. "Concentrate on how it's supposed to feel."

Brimstone nodded, looking away and letting her eyes unfocus as Naomi turned her arm gently. She touched a finger to Brimstone's under arm with a steady pressure, right where she was missing a muscle. Brimstone shivered in disgust at the sensation, at the layers of muscle flexing over something missing, at the unfamiliar way her bone was touched. Naomi drew her finger down, over the path of the muscle, and it made Brimstone's teeth feel slick and dirty.

"Stop," she breathed, and Naomi pulled away instantly. Brimstone tried to put a hand on her face, then looked back down at her left arm. She shut her eyes again, biting back the frustrated noises in her throat.

---

Brimstone had spent a lot of time with her body. Not just inhabiting it, but experimenting with it. Villains in the lab didn't get toys, and so she'd played with her body — small things and internal things that guards couldn't see from the hallway. She'd learned she could move her organs around, perhaps to keep people from accurately targeting her heart. She'd learned she could protrude certain body parts out through her skin to take a look at them, to see if her anatomy books were truly accurate on colors and shapes. But when Sister Karla had introduced the concept of making new structures, when she had demanded day after day that Brimstone learn to make rigid spikes on her back and shoulders, Brimstone had spent her normal play time trying to figure out how to make new cartilage.

Brimstone was spending most of her idle time trying to remember how she'd done it originally. Now, it was simple. Thoughtless. Just like forgetting the how of walking, her body just did what she wanted, spawning pockets and shapes of the stuff at a thought. But how had that happened the first time? How had she figured it out?

"Holy shit!" Vacuum blurted. Sam paused the movie, and she, Brimstone, and Toby all looked at Vacuum as he sat on the couch, staring at the TV. He looked to Brimstone, eyes wide. "What about tentacles?"

Tentacles? What about tentacles? Were they watching an octopus movie? Brimstone had already forgotten—

"Like, instead of hands?" Toby asked.

"Yeah," Vacuum said excitedly, putting his beer down on the coffee table and turning to face Brimstone. "Like, tentacles are just muscle, right?" Brimstone blinked.

"I don't know," she admitted. She'd never studied fish or other sea creatures. Any experience with the water had a focus on above-ground work, so she'd never seen the point.

Vacuum started digging his phone out of his pocket then. Sam rubbed Brimstone's side softly where she was holding her, and Brimstone leaned into her. All eyes were on Vacuum as he searched up something on his phone, then climbed off of the couch and crouched in front of Brimstone.

"What do you need?" he muttered.

"Just look at images," Brimstone replied.

He scrolled slowly through the image results for her, but they weren't very helpful. Most of them didn't even cut into the internal structures of the tentacles. She had him change the wording of the search, and then he scrolled slowly through more pictures.

"Wait, that one," Brimstone said, pointing with her wrist. She was keeping both arms drawn to the next joint, and it was easy to make a smaller tip to gesture to the exact picture she wanted. He tapped on it and then held the phone up for her to study. The diagram was overly simple, but it at least broke down the organization of the internal structures.

Brimstone held out her right arm, letting her eyes unfocus as she concentrated on her anatomy. She hollowed the end of the bone and pulled most of her nerves through it, making a central bundle as she moved her muscles around. She attached a muscle to the nerves, then adjusted it to surround the bundle and faced the fibers outwards in four main points. Then she slid four other muscles in between those points with the fibers going up and down her limb. Finally, she wrapped more muscles around the outside in a symmetrical sort of half-spiral. Once the shape was set, the nerves were branched effectively, and she had blood and lymph nodes distributed, she decreased the width of it to better match her arm.

"Wow," Toby whispered.

Brimstone looked down at it. It was weird — she had to fight the urge to put a bone in it, and it felt heavy and clumsy, not to mention the fact that it was just skin with no other textures or structures on the outside. She had no idea how suction cups worked, but imagining it, she decided she didn't want any. She tried to move it, but several muscles all moved against each other clumsily. She focused again, feeling the muscles and their orientations, considering how to flex them.

After a moment of thought, she curled it in one direction. Vacuum laughed in delight, putting his phone away and watching intently as Toby stood up, coming over from the chair to watch. Brimstone curled it the other way, getting a feel for its motions.

"That's so cool," Vacuum whispered.

"Can you grab anything with it?" Toby mused.

Brimstone reached over to her other arm and meticulously wrapped the tentacle around it. She was quickly getting a better feel for how it worked, and she reached over Sam's lap and grabbed the remote. It was awkward, but she was able to pick it up and lift it off of the couch. Vacuum laughed again, poking it. It felt weird. Brimstone dropped the remote and poked his arm back.

"This is awesome!" he cried, carefully grabbing it. Brimstone let him play with it, and Toby leaned forward, watching closely. But Sam had yet to say anything.

Brimstone glanced up, nervous she was grossing her out. Sam had a hand over her mouth, and her cheeks were darkly blushed. It took a moment to realize her breathing was a bit faster, and she seemed slightly warmer.

Brimstone looked down again as the boys turned and inspected her shiny new limb. Sam would probably be more eager to engage with it without an audience.

---

Brimstone hadn't truly considered changing the resting shape of her figure before. Everyone's eyes were often drawn to her horns, her ears, her eyes. The things she couldn't change. It had never seemed worth it to try to adjust the shape of her body, especially since she would have to find that altered state again after changing her shape for work. But she probably wasn't going back to work. Soon or ever.

She looked down at herself as Sam washed her shoulder, the warm water trickling off of her and back into the suds. The tub was fairly wide, so Sam always got in with her, wearing her bathing suit. As if there was a dress code to giving Brimstone a bath.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam uttered, wetting the cloth again. Brimstone glanced up, catching sight of the skeleton hand print laid over Sam's breasts. Brimstone flicked some of the suds lazily.

"Wondering if I want to give myself bigger boobs," she answered. She snuck a look at Sam's face. She had an eyebrow raised, and the slightest hint of a smile.

"What brought this on?" Sam asked softly, cleaning her arm. Brimstone shrugged. She picked up some suds and put them on Sam's belly.

"It would be pretty easy to do," she said. She picked up some more suds, but Sam was getting farther down her arm, so she didn't want to move as much. "I didn't know if you'd like it." Sam wetted the cloth.

"I don't need you to get plastic surgery for me." Brimstone raised an eyebrow.

"I could change it later," she uttered. Sam held her arm softly and cleaned her elbow.

"If you want big boobs for yourself, that would be fine." She wiped down Brimstone's arm. "But I think you're hot no matter how big your tits are." Brimstone looked down at herself again. Sam put a hand under her chin and lifted her head gently. Brimstone looked into her eyes, and Sam looked back. She was close, and she was soft, and she was always here. Brimstone hadn't wanted to ask her to move in, but thankfully, Sam was already spending more time at the house than she was at her apartment. "Brim?" Sam whispered. Brimstone hummed. "I'm not leaving, okay?"

Brimstone's eyes stung, and there was a lump in her throat. She nodded, looking over Sam's face. Sam gave her a soft smile, full of kindness. She moved closer, putting a gentle hand on Brimstone's bad leg, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Brimstone closed her eyes, cautiously resting her wrist on Sam's side. She couldn't hold onto the tears, and they fell down her face at the same time she whimpered. Sam set the cloth down, moving forward until her body was flush with Brimstone's, and wrapped her tightly in a hug. Brimstone rested her head against Sam's chest, crying quietly, hugging her as best she could.

Morning Frost hadn't come back. He hadn't been there when she'd woken up in the hospital. He hadn't been there when she'd been released and found everything she owned moved to a new home.

He'd fled from the scene, people were saying. They'd broken off her arms to get him away from her before she froze to death, and he'd disappeared into the sky. A black streak into the night.

And no one had seen him since.

She didn't understand. She didn't want to understand. Morning Frost was supposed to be good now. He was supposed to help people, keep them safe, be a hero.

You people are evil!

She didn't want it to make sense. Because she should have known.

And she should have stopped him sooner.

---

"You're being way too gentle with that," Starburst laughed. Toby chuckled, gingerly unwrapping the pink and orange paper anyway, as if ripping it would hurt the little cartoon Starburst faces printed on it.

"C'mon, shred it!" Sam cried, impatient to see what could be in such a "head-shaped" box.

"Rip, rip, rip," Phil started, and Vacuum and Sam joined in almost instantly, and then all four of Brimstone's coworkers from various jobs were chanting around them. Brimstone smiled politely, sinking slightly lower into her chair. Toby gave up and yanked the paper off to reveal a plain, cardboard box beneath. Sam scoffed indignantly, and Starburst laughed mischievously.

"Okay," Toby said, pulling out his keys, "new rule: Starburst can't package her own gifts." Everyone except Starburst and Brimstone laughed.

"I didn't, they came in that box," she defended. Toby nodded along placatingly as he slashed the tape with his keys. He popped the flaps open and showed the contents to Brimstone.

Metal headbands, all with various attachments of flowers, spikes, butterflies, and ribbons were lined up neatly within. Brimstone leaned forward and Sam oo'ed quietly, doing the same.

"There's also some cuffs in there, for your horns," Starburst said with a soft smile in her voice. Sam gingerly pulled out a gold-colored headband with yellow butterflies and black flowers on it. Brimstone watched, admiring the patterns on the wings and their accuracy. They were brimstone butterflies. "You don't have to wear the cuffs if they're uncomfortable," Starburst went on.

"I love them," Brimstone said softly, looking into the box. The cuffs might be difficult to wear, given her aversion to people touching her horns. She couldn't exactly put them on herself. But maybe Sam would be able to help. "Thank you," Brimstone said, looking up to Starburst. She beamed, glowing slightly.

"Yeah."

"You wanna wear this one?" Sam asked softly. Brimstone looked up, then nodded before looking forward again. The headbands were angled oddly, but as Sam organized Brimstone's hair and slipped the headband down over her head, she realized it was actually to get around her horns. They must have all been custom pieces. Brimstone's chest ached.

"Okay, mine next," Vacuum said, nudging the five-foot-long gift that had been dominating the table since he arrived.

"For the last time!" Sam laughed. "Stop asking!"

"Just open it so we can move it!" Vacuum cried.

"Brimmy does not want your super-sized dildo!" Sam replied. Vacuum covered the blush on his face and laughed into his hands. Phil held his sides and laughed and Toby covered his mouth and looked away. Brimstone leaned back just a little.

"Jesus," Starburst huffed, shaking her head. Brimstone's eyes flicked to the only other remaining "gift", an envelope with "from Karla" written in a soft, slanting style. Her throat tightened just a little at the thought of what could be inside. She looked back to Vacuum's huge package.

"Let's open it," Brimstone uttered.

Sam and Toby both got it to sit on the table in front of Brimstone, because the middle was apparently soft and Sam ripped the paper a little when she tried to move it alone. Once it was in front of Brimstone, she leaned forward, and Sam helped her tear apart the yellow and black wrapping paper with her silhouette on it. As soon as they exposed enough of the middle to see it had part of an almost entirely naked woman printed on its soft surface, Sam started ripping faster.

"What the fuck is this?" she mumbled, and then there was enough paper ripped away to see that it was a body pillow with an anime-style rendering of Sam in a Brimstone bikini on it. "What the fuck is this!" Sam cried, yanking off the last of the paper and the cardboard ends.

"Woah," Toby chuckled, looking away as Phil laughed harder now than he had all afternoon. Starburst slapped Vacuum's shoulder as Phil bent forward, and the self-satisfied grin on Vacuum's face could have lit the room on its own.

"Body pillows are super handy!" he declared, getting another smack and not flinching.

"Why am I on it?!" Sam demanded. Brimstone tried to subdue the smile on her face at Sam's reaction. Sam was blushing and smothering a grin as she held up the double-sided pillow accusingly, making it clearly visible to everyone.

"I couldn't think of anyone else!"

"Why is anyone on it?!"

"It's a body pillow, someone has to be on it!"

Brimstone cast a glance over at Toby. He was smiling at her, and he gave her a questioning brow and a subtle thumbs up. She nodded softly. It was loud and chaotic in the room, but she was managing. She'd spent a lot of time with these people. They were familiar. They were safe.

"Okay, alright," Phil said, motioning for everyone to settle down even as he wiped a tear from his eye, "how about some cake?" Brimstone nodded, sitting up a little straighter in her chair, glad for the distraction from the last unopened item on the table.

"I'll clear the table," Toby declared as Starburst squeaked and flitted into the kitchen ahead of Phil. Vacuum helped move the gifts and scrapped wrapping paper aside as Sam set the body pillow in a nearby chair like it was another party guest. Brimstone blushed to have it on display so plainly, and Sam gave her an amused smile.

"She looks nothing like me," Sam joked, turning to the thing. She looked back to Brimstone and imitated the pose and expression of her pillow self. Brimstone blushed harder and buried her face in the crook of her arm as Vacuum laughed delightedly. It looked exactly like her.

---

Brimstone hugged her new pillow a little tighter to her chest, adjusting her right leg on it. It was nice to have the buffer between her legs. She didn't like the feeling she got when she accidentally brushed her right ankle against something. For some reason, it was harder to get used to than her arms. Maybe because she wasn't constantly using it.

Sam came in, letting out a long sigh as she pulled off her shirt for the night, closing the bedroom door behind her with a foot. Brimstone tucked herself slightly further into the blankets. Sam smiled at her, then smirked at the pillow peaking out from under the blanket.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked, flicking off the light. Brimstone watched her slip her pants off in the dark.

"Yeah," Brimstone replied. It had been nicer than she expected to have everyone over. And even though having her normie coworkers and her super coworkers in the same place had been strange at first, seeing everyone having fun together was… really nice.

Sam came around the bottom of the bed, then climbed on and laid down behind Brimstone. She moved and fidgeted as she got under the blankets, and then she hugged up against Brimstone's back. She was so warm through Brimstone's shirt, and she wrapped her arms carefully around Brimstone's waist, tucking her legs in along the back of Brimstone's. She let out a warm sigh, relaxing, as something in Brimstone's chest seemed to unwind.

They really hadn't been dating for very long. About a month and a half, now. For more than half of that time, Brimstone had been injured. Disabled. Missing pieces.

She bit down on the lump in her throat. Sam had spent the night eight times before the accident. They had been seeing each other for over a year, but Brimstone had only gotten to sleep with Sam beside her eight times before…. And Brimstone had realized that she really liked it. She badly wanted it. The first night she'd spent with Sam, they were touching all night. And it had been so nice. And even nicer had been being the "big spoon" of them. It made Brimstone feel… important. Needed.

But now, she couldn't bear the thought of holding Sam.

It was stupid of her to have waited so long. She should have known she liked Sam sooner. She should have realized sooner that she didn't want to be away from Sam. But she'd barely gotten any time with her.

But Sam said she wouldn't leave….

"What's wrong?" Sam whispered. Brimstone sniffed, cleared her throat, then hid her face in her new pillow.

"I'm sorry," Brimstone croaked. Sam hugged her closer, hushing her softly, reaching up and running her fingers through Brimstone's hair.

"Hey, you didn't do anything," Sam whispered.

"That's the problem," Brimstone breathed. Sam didn't seem to hear her, and she sniffed and lifted her head carefully, mindful of her horns. "We should have been together sooner," Brimstone said, her voice watery. "I wasted so much time…."

"Hey," Sam whispered, shifting to sit up on her elbow. Brimstone looked behind her, and Sam pet her damp cheek in the dark. "I love you, baby," she started, and it made Brimstone's heart stutter, "but you gotta remember your brain is really fucked up," she finished. Her tone was kind, and she found Brimstone's ear in the dark and pet it softly. "You were coping. You didn't pull me in because you didn't pull anyone in. That's not a crime, and I'm not mad, okay?"

Brimstone sniffed, tears running faster down her face and into her hair. She nodded, her breaths choppy and loud, and wiped the left side of her face. Sam carefully wiped the tears on her right.

"It's unfortunate," Sam admitted. "But you know what? I'm so happy you brought me in at all." Brimstone sniffed again, and Sam leaned over her, sitting up slightly on her hip and smiling down. "Better late than never, okay?" Brimstone nodded, wiping tears again.

"Okay," she managed. Sam leaned in, planting a kiss on her forehead. Brimstone closed her eyes, and Sam planted another kiss on the teary corner of her eye. And then on her cheek.

"You're okay," Sam whispered, resting some of her weight on Brimstone, her breath brushing her lips. "Okay?" Brimstone sniffed, then nodded.

"Okay."

#Fayte writes #hero x civilian #writeblr #writing #amputee #oc: Brimstone #I wasn't expecting this #but we can pretend I had it planned all along #I've never experienced this first-hand #so I hope I did it justice #thanks so much for reading #this isn't the end of Brimstone's story #but it is the final chapter for Illusory #I really like this story #and I may do something more with it eventually #(I may make a sequal. but at this point. I'm not sure)

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cvskl · 6 months ago

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newstodayjournal · 1 year ago

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https://www.mid-day.com/brand-media/article/Glucotrust-australia-au-and-new-zealand-shocking-reviews-and-complaints-critical-23288993

#Glucotrust

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anokha-swad · 1 month ago

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"Semitae Mentis" is our first album released by Amputated Vein Records and Earache Records Digital Distribution on February 9th, 2024:

www.patheos.com/blogs/theglobalcatholicreview/2023/07/slave-anastacia-folk-saint-umbanda-spirit-and-symbol-of-afro-brazilian-empowerment/?fbclid=IwAR2HfzWvvh85c2GrxhBIXGKjouwi-cWp82YZHGVHSL9DgekE0ed1WojJarA

#spiritual #deception #italy #death #metal #Semitae #mentis #mask #arrow #Youtube

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onlyhurtforaminute · 6 years ago

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CARTHAGE-THE FIELDS OF ZAMA

Excellent modern Greek death metal

#CARTHAGE #HEAVY METAL #METAL #DEATH METAL #PUNIC WARS #2018 ALBUMS #AMPUTATED VEIN RECORDS

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metalpurgatorymedia · 2 years ago

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CEREBRAL EXTINCTION - Escape From Illusion

CEREBRAL EXTINCTION – Escape From Illusion

Italian brutal death metal based outfitters Cerebral Extinction have came back five years after their album Necro Parasite Anomaly came out and this time around we have the newest offering titled Escape From Illusion which is released through Amputated Vein Records. Their style of brutal death metal is almost similar to Severed Savior, Origin, early Decrepit Birth and Gorgasm but they also have…

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#2022 #Album Review #Amputated Vein Records #brutal death metal #Cerebral Extinction #Escape From Illusion #italy #metal

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darkmuscleapparel · 7 years ago

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@angel_8choa in our men's Dark Muscle tank. Join the dark side & become part of our #darkmuscleapparel family!

#darkmuscleapparel #death metal #amputated vein records #unique leader records #cephalotripsy #heavy metal #activewear #disgorge #metalhead #metal fitness

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

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EJ SIMPS RISE 😤😤💪💪💪

may i please request a scenario for yandere ej x fem reader where ej is punishing the reader for escaping ? feel free to go DARK dark with this one <3

Cream Colored Ceiling

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFW - but not for sexual content, just violence, what isn't a warning in this one, mentions of cannibalism (but there is no described cannibalism, just allusions to it), EJ physically harms the reader, amputation, violence of all kinds, throw up, look this is just,,,, it's dark. I repeat, there is no sexual content in here, it's just physically violent]

[AN: yeah. This was uh, yeah.]

Hazy, your mind is hazy. You wake and open your eyes to see that same fucking cream colored ceiling with water damage leaking through the top and dangerously close to your bed, if you’d even want to call it your bed.

You raise one of your hands that feels heavier than stones and wipe quietly at your eyes, dusting them from the sleep. Your body feels heavy, oh so heavy.

You sit up. Nothing strange so far.

Has he really been that gracious with you?

You yawn and stretch, joints and bones popping as you look out the window. There’s that cursed forest. It looks dark, shadowy, misty. The fog is rolling in and you know with it comes the rain. You’re going to be stuck here forever, aren’t you?

The sunlight doesn’t filter through the window, but there’s light regardless. You’re deep into mid Autumn and with it will come winter. It’ll be the third winter you’ve been trapped with this monster.

Your mouth feels dry, much too dry. You smack your lips together a few times, wondering where your saiva has gone and decide to go to the kitchen. It seems like Jack isn’t home right now, which is probably for the best. Alongside him being out, so too is your natural fear of him. You swing your legs over the side of your bed, wondering why you feel so physically exhausted before attempting to stand up.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knees buckle beneath you, your body cascading like a pile of bricks to the floor. Your knees and palms blank onto the hardwood, digging into you most uncomfortably. Tears well in your eyes as you struggle to get off the floor. You continue to curse under your breath as you glance back at your ankles where large surgical wounds lay, covered in stitches and gauze. What the fuck? When did that happen?

Your heart begins to race when you slow, calculated steps padding on the floor. You’re all too familiar with the sound of those combat boots knocking on the floor, pacing back and forth and keeping you awake at all hours of the night. Panic sears itself into your heart as you attempt to get up, pathetically crawling along the floor and reaching for your bedpost.

Jack stands in your doorway, his large form casting a shadow on your throw rug. He tsks, and you can already tell he’s more than disappointed with you. “What did I tell you about getting up?” He asks, voice smooth and clinical, once again padding towards you.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you curl as tightly into a ball as you can.

Jack breathes out with slight disappointment before crouching down and seeing your sorry form. “You knew this was going to happen,” he says, half lidded eyes watching you curiously before he reaches his large, gloved hand out. “Did you pop any of your sutures?” He tilts his head to the side and looks over your swollen, still bloodied ankles. “I think you might’ve.” He reaches to pick you up and you begin to panic, blubbering your apologies.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me-” you begin to babble, your remaining strength trying their hardest to push the behemoth away. Tears well in your eyes as Jack grips your calves, sending pain holting like lightning strikes up and down your lower body, making you cry out in pain.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs, his claws pinching into your skin before he lifts you. A glance of annoyance passes over his face before he yanks your grip from the bed.

You struggle against him as you pound your fists into his broad chest, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks.

The tall demon moves without budging. He doesn’t care, you barely feel like a scratch to him.

You watch your surroundings, still fighting against him and feel your heart sink when you realize he’s taking you down the hall that he’s deemed forbidden. The energy you feel from this specific hallway makes you cry out in fear.

Jack eats it up, his own heart beating just a little faster. You won’t ever do what you pulled last night again. He juggles you into one his arms and uses his free hand to unlock the door, the slight beeps of numbers being added into a keypad making your attention shift ever so slightly.

The inside of this room is like a horror scene to you. You see an operating table, and stainless steel tables, cabinets and countertops. There’s a large trash bin filled with bloody gauze and other things, such as discarded clothes, clumps of hair, things you don’t want to think of. Is this it? Is he finally going to kill you?

Fear overtakes your system again and renders you to nothing but silent sobs as Jack pulls off a turquoise colored sheet from the operating table, placing you down.

You try to get off, wiggling and clawing at him. “Let me go!” You cry out like a broken record of a mantra, your eyes wild and feral.

Jack simply shrugs you off, tying large leather brown straps over your waist and your chest, rendering you immobile. “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt you,” he hums, his clawed hands moving across your chest to your wrists. He quickly ties you down there as well, your legs numbly kicking at him through the pain due to severed Achilles tendons. He flicks the wound on your left leg, grinning at your pain. “Won’t be needing these anymore,” he chuckles.

“What?” You say in shock, pupils restricting to the size of pim points.

He takes a seat on his wheeled stool and begins setting you up with an IV drip. “Gonna sedate you, and when you wake up?” He warmly smiles, pricking the vein on your right arm with the needle, making you weakly thrash once more. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pumping some sedatives into your bloodstream.

You feel more tears welling in your eyes as your conscience begins to wean. The world becomes more shapes and colors, merging into brightness and shadows before you finally slip into your dreams.

You haven’t been able to trick Jack like this in the history of well, ever. Almost three years with this nightmare and you’ve finally gained enough of his trust to ask him for some time out.

“Don’t stay in there for too long,” he says, large hand gripping your thigh as you swallow down the feeling of hitting him from where you remain seated in the passenger seat. “I want you back safely,” he murmurs, his other hand gently letting go of the wheel to cup your face.

You do your best to show love and admiration in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s just an hour or so, okay?” You hum, your hand gently holding his and burying your face deeper into his warmth.

“I don’t know why you need anyone else’s company,” he says, a slight acrid venom seeping into his tone. “You don’t need anyone else but me.” It’s almost cute how offended he sounds.

You play the part of loving him. “I know, I know,” you coo, taking his hand from your face and pressing your lips into a pucker. You raise his hand to them, planting a kiss on his palm. “I love you. I won’t be that long.”

Jack’s heart flutters. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He says, watching you as you unbuckle yourself, his hand reluctantly leaving your thigh.

You flash him a warm smile and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. You try not to spit at the scent of blood and taste of rot before pulling away. You then open up his car, sliding from the passenger seat and to the rinky dink little bar you’d managed to convince him to let you go to. Just an hour - that’s all it was. Just an hour. You’d be in and out, get some drinks, and come straight back to his car.

Due to Jack’s appearance, he had told you he couldn’t go in. They’d know something was wrong with him immediately, and you’d gained enough of his trust for you to be away for just an hour. Come straight back to the car when it reaches 10 PM. You promised him. And he fucking believed you.

It wasn’t that hard finding some idiot down on his luck with the ladies. You cozied up next to him, getting to sit with him at the bar and start talking. He was so attentive and sweet, so receptive to the story you had made up to him.

“That sounds awful,” he says, voice low and sweet. His deep blue eyes look at you with nothing but gentleness and fondness. His hand reaches for yours across the bar and you smile, allowing him to take it.

“I just wanna get away from that brute,” you admit. “I just wanna go home.”

He squeezes you just a little tighter. “Why don’t we go back to my car and call the cops?” He offers.

“Where did you park?” You ask, hoping it’s not in the front lot where Jack remains waiting for you.

“In the back.”

What a relief.

A slight smile blooms on your face as you nod. “Yeah, let’s go,” you finally answer. You hop off the barstool and then grip his hand, letting him lead you through the bar and the sea of people. It smells like sweat, alcohol, and regret - you love it. It smells like the beginning of freedom, something better. Maybe, just maybe…

He opens the backdoor to you, allowing you out first. The crisp night air of autumn greets you with her beauty. You can smell maple leaves and pumpkins out in the distance, the atmosphere is incredible. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing to his car a little ways down in the parking lot under one of the yellow lights. He continues holding your hand as the two of you walk through the parking lot.

You watch as he unlocks the car door, walking around the side to let you in. You accompany him and slide into the passenger seat. Putting this seat belt on feels almost liberating. You giggle when the short man closes the door before walking around the front of his car.

And then he pauses.

Fear seeps into his eyes and leans forward, his abdomen cutting into the hood of the hunk of metal that can barely be called a car before sweat beads and rolls down his forehead. He begins to cough, violently.

Your eyes widen in shock as he begins to cough up blood, and tears well in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, fat and crystalline like the beads of sweat. He reaches out to you, mouthing for you to run before finally slumping forwards.

You see him, the behemoth that’s held you captive for three years, a sapphire colored mask boring into your soul and searing into your mind with what you can understand is pure, unadulterated rage. You scramble, panicking as you notice the large blade that’s wedged itself into the man’s back as he seizes on the car, his thick body rolling off from the hood and landing with a large ‘thump!’ as he does so. Foam and the smell of something unpleasant wafts upwards and you palm the handle of the car, attempting to release yourself.

Jack takes slow, calculated steps forwards, his shadow growing larger as he gears up to catch you and claim you as his.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, the panic overtaking your system as you finally get the car open. You shoot out of the metal cage like a bat from hell and stumble onto the asphalt, hissing as the black tar digs into your knees and palms. No time for registering your pain, you need to run! Like a freshly born faun, you hobble up and begin to run, wondering if you can make it back to the bar and the safety of other people when Jack’s steps grow quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s going to catch you and he’s going to kill you!

“You’re such a stupid little rabbit,” he hums, watching as you sorely sprint towards the door. “Look what you’ve done,” he taunts, hand gesturing to the man. “You made me kill him and I’m not even hungry,” he hums. “Maybe I should make you eat it instead,” he muses.

The thought alone makes your stomach retch. You stumble once more, body feeling violently ill as you cave. The alcohol paired with his words has you emptying your stomach of its contents that splash to the asphalt, the sickly acrid and saccharine taste overtaking your mouth.

Jack’s giant form finally overtakes you. He stands with his hands behind his back, peering down at you with disdain. “Fucking disgusting,” he coos in a tone that reminds you of a condescending father. He grips the back of your neck and forces you down.

You screech and fight him, not wanting to touch what came out of you.

“No? No,” he grins. “Fine. Let’s go see your date.” His claws dig into your neck as he drags you back to the man’s car where he’s finally gone still. He’s left a puddle of blood. Jack laughs quietly at your struggling before forcing you to your knees. “Are you hungry?”

“No-”

“I think you mean yes.”

The taste of blood still lingers in your mouth, and it remains even in your slumber.

Of course, you passed out due to your traumatic experience, and threw up again as well. Jack took advantage of your fragile state and brought you back to your home, the place you belonged - with him. He cut your Achilles tendons, just a warm up, really.

“Time to wake up.” Jack’s voice permeates your head, rousing you from your slumber. His gloved hands are snapping in front of you.

It’s bright, much too bright. Your body feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. Where are you? You see that you’re now looking into an operating light, and it’s super uncomfortable. “What did you do to me?” You ask drowsily.

Jack ignores your question and instead picks you up. His footsteps begin to lull you into sleep.

Exhausted, you fall back in again, and this time? This time, it’s dreamless.

It’s that fucking cream colored ceiling again that you open your eyes to. The water damage is still the same, and you realize you’re still stuck. You’re about to get up when you hear your door opening.

“Nice to see you up,” Jack says, watching as you slowly come to. “Did you dream about anything?”

You narrow your eyes recoiling as he reaches his hand out to pet you.

Jack glares at you for a moment, his hand straightening before he slaps you. “Don’t get testy, I’ll take your arms next,” he murmurs.

You’re about to bite back when you take in his words. What? Your heart begins to sink, deeper and deeper as your hand shakily reaches to the edge of your bed sheets. No. No. NO. You hold your breath as you rip the sheets off. Your flesh is swollen, puffy and looks like it’s crying out in its own form of pain. Large, manila colored casts and bandages surround your thighs and what remains of your knees.

You begin to hyperventilate. Your chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster - your body feels like a prison.

Jack only coos. “Stop that,” he says lovingly, hand petting your head as you fall deeper and deeper into despair. He removes the black glove from his hand and grabs your face, his dark, eyeless sockets boring into your own eyes. He looks at you with such adoration that acts as a front for the betrayal and anger he feels for you deep down inside. He draws closer to your tear stained face, a small smile bearing shark-like teeth at you before parting his lips to speak to you. “You’re being hysterical.”

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack scenario #eyeless jack creepypasta #ej #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta scenario #eyeless jack headcanon #nsft #gore warning

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voidindite · 2 years ago

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Hermit Hybrid HCs:

Wither Impulse

I saw a take of Wither!Impulse, which reminded me that wither roses are his favorite flower in the game, if I'm not mistaken. sooo... gonna write some stuff out, and hopefully I'll have the energy to draw something up for him this weekend since I have off work!

Italicized points will be containing (mild) body horror

-he's got a tail held together solely by magic. it's skeletal, sections of spine floating in thin air, and yet moving in perfect sync with each other as if they were part of a normal tail with skin and muscle and tendons connecting it. it uses body language similar to a cat's. he can feel it if anything brushes against it, pain included; the sections also can't be pulled apart and trying to do so is likely to result in a startled clawing. separating the sections would be like amputating a flesh and bone tail

-his wings shift between being leathery and batlike, to just straight up bones that, likes his tail, are held together with magic, depending on the day, his energy, and which he's in the mood for. he usually prefers the leathery ones, but the bones take less energy, suggesting their batlike form are just glamour. they're massive, but tattered and bent out of shape as if they'd been broken and hadn't healed correctly. he should in no feasible way be able to fly with them, even when they're in their batlike state, yet when he flaps them or angles them to glide, they work perfectly

-due to his wings' size, he has to be careful not to clip anything while flying

-as with any of the other flight-capable Hermits, his flight is disabled in the code until he earns an elytra in the End, or gets one from another player. Impulse plays by the personal rule that if he loses his elytra, he can't fly again until he gets another pair, and keeps his in his inventory. upon request, X has made adjustments to Impulse's Server-coding to match that rule

-two horns protrude from his forehead. they're normally short nubs, but story magic can change their size and length depending on the Season. currently, Season 9 holds the record for biggest horns. they curl back and around his head like a ram's; strong and sturdy, as a dwarf should be!

-he can shoot wither skulls; they take a moment to form in his hand, causing a horrible crying sound to echo around him while they do, and then cause a pretty destructive explosion to whatever he throws them at. he can, and has, accidentally killed other Hermits (cough cough creeper-disguised Scar) with them, and felt so bad about it that he gave them the wither rose resulting from their skull-induced death. he also replaces any and all items or building blocks that were destroyed in the explosion

-he's unaffected by wither damage. a wither skeleton's sword, or explosions from withers' skulls, hurt him, sure, but the withering itself doesn't. the same goes for his own wither skulls, with only the explosions causing damage to those entities

-[warning, mild body horror] at the middle knuckle of each finger, they gradually turn to bone that taper off into a sharp claw. they look fragile, but are in the same state as his wings and tail, and magic holds the last joints together with no tendons to do so. the bones of his hands also protrude jaggedly from each knuckle, and the skin around the bones is grayed with dark, corrupted-looking veins branching from them that race partway up his wrists

-he's more heat-resistant than most players, and is one of the few people who can touch Tango's crown of blaze rods (at their normal temperature, at least) without burning himself. he's still not fire or lava-resistant, however, and if Tango is angry or scared enough, his hair and tail plume can burn him. he'll also get pretty nasty blisters if he tries to touch the blaze rods while they're white-hot

-his teeth are shaped similarly to a dog's, with his canines being fairly blunt for fangs. they don't make his grin any less friendly, and he smiles a lot

-[mild body horror] his ribs protrude from under his skin. they're angled more sharply than is usual for players and, like his hands, the skin around them is grayed and branching with dark veins. he keeps them covered, as touching them cuts skin and automatically applies wither to other players. any sort of buffer between the ribs and another player, like a shirt, negates the effect

-if he starts using a lot of his wither magic, the smell of soul sand will cling to the air around him, and skin becomes almost sickly looking as it becomes ashen and almost gray. The dark veins will start branching around his eyes and up his neck, and the ones on his wrists will reach farther up his arms when this happens

-his eyes are normally a soft yellow or gold, depending on the lighting. but when using his magic, the sockets appear sunken, and eyes become so dark it almost looks like the sockets are empty

-wither or demon, he doesn't really care which one he's called.

-has pointy ears. they're fairly human-sized, just end in points rather than being rounded off. they have old piercing scars

-technically classified as undead. can't drown, but...can suffocate?? X still doesn't get how that works for a player

-related to the above, he doesn't need to, but does prefer to breathe. claims that not doing so leaves a tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest that may be due to the fact he's a hybrid and not full wither

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #hermitcraft headcanons #wither impulse #tales from the void

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annecoulmanross · 4 years ago

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Top Ten Historical Figures Done Dirty by The Terror (2018)

So, we all know and love Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh’s beautiful show, right? Of course. But it’s important to set the historical record straight, especially when there are real people’s life-stories and legacies on the line.

(NOTE: this list is biased heavily toward upper-class individuals because the historical record does a better job preserving those voices for us. Was the real Cornelius Hickey as nasty a person in real life as he was in the show? Almost certainly not – which is why we’re given “E.C.” as a nod to the fact that we shouldn’t assume these characters represent real historical villains, even when the narrative makes them antagonists; HOWEVER, not everyone in the show was given the same courtesy as the OG “Cornelius Hickey.” Which is why this post exists – to show you the best sides of some people you might not otherwise appreciate for their full humanity. That being said, keep in mind the sources used – and, for instance, who has surviving portraits and who doesn’t.)

Thus, below the cut, I give you this list, (mostly) in order from #10 (honorable mention, only somewhat slandered) to #1 (most hideously maligned) – my list of characters from The Terror who deserved better.

(Please don’t take this too seriously – I know there are reasons why choices had to be made in order to make this show work on television, and I do very much love the end product. But I also genuinely think it’s a good idea to remember the real people behind these characters, and think critically about how we depict them ourselves.)

Bottom Tier – The Overlooked Men of the Franklin Expedition

#10. Richard Wall – & – John Diggle

We’re combining these two because they had a lot in common, historically speaking! Both were polar veterans, having served as a Cook (Wall) and an AB-then-Quartermaster (Diggle) on HMS Erebus under the command of Sir James Clark Ross in the Antarctic expedition of 1839-1843. Certainly we do get some good scenes with them in the show, but there was plenty more to explore there – for instance, Captain Ross was apparently so taken with Richard Wall that he hired him on as a private cook after the Antarctic expedition. (One imagines that Sir James may have regretted letting his friends of the Franklin expedition steal Wall out from under him.)

(If you want some more information on Diggle, the brilliant @handfuloftime found this excellent article on him – fun facts include the detail that Diggle’s only daughter bore the name Mary Ann Erebus Diggle.)

#9. John Smart Peddie

Now, I don’t think we should go as far as the Doctor Who Audio Drama adaptation of the Franklin Expedition, which makes Peddie into Francis Crozier’s oldest friend, someone “almost like a brother” to Crozier (no evidence of ANY prior relationship between the two existed, contrary to whatever the Doctor Who Audio Dramas would have you believe!) but Peddie probably earned his place as chief surgeon, however fond we may all be of the beautiful Alex “Macca” MacDonald, who was, in fact, the Assistant Surgeon, historically speaking. It’s hard to find information about Peddie, but someone should go looking! I want to know about this man!

(If you want to know more about the historical Alexander MacDonald, there’s a short biographical article on him from Arctic that you can read here.)

#8 James Walter Fairholme

The only one of the expedition’s lieutenants who doesn’t really get any characterization in the show, which is a travesty! The historical Fairholme (pronounced “Fairem”) was, as they say, a himbo, and the letters that he wrote home to his father are positively precious. He loved the expedition pets (lots of kisses for Neptune!), and he needed two kayaks because he couldn’t fit into just one with his beefy thighs. Fitzjames loaned him a coat when all the Erebus officers had their portraits taken, and then called him a “smart, agreeable companion, and a well informed man,” and Goodsir singled Fairholme out as “very much interested” in the work of naturalist observations. Just a lovely young man who could have gotten some screen time, you know?

(Also, as @transblanky discovered, four separate members of the Fairholme family gave money to Thomas Blanky’s widow when she was struggling financially in the 1850s, making them, combined, the most generous contributor to her subscription.)

Middle Tier – Franklin’s Men Who Didn’t Deserve That

#7. William Gibson

Alright, I want to talk about how uniquely horrible the show’s William Gibson is: this is a character willing to lie and accuse his partner of sexual assault that didn’t happen. I get there were extenuating circumstances, but if I were a historical figure who died in some famous disaster and someone depicted me doing something like that? Let’s just say I’m deeply offended on the real Gibson’s behalf.

What do we know about the historical William Gibson? Not much – but we know a little. Gibson’s younger brother served on an overland exploratory venture across Australia in the 1870s… from which he never returned. (God, the Gibson family had the worst luck?) This description of a conversation that young Alf Gibson had with expedition leader Ernest Giles only days before his death is VERY eerie:

[Gibson] said, “Oh! I had a brother who died with Franklin at the North Pole, and my father had a deal of trouble to get his pay from government.” He seemed in a very jocular vein this morning, which was not often the case, for he was usually rather sulky, sometimes for days together, and he said, “How is it, that in all these exploring expeditions a lot of people go and die?”

I said, “I don't know, Gibson, how it is, but there are many dangers in exploring, besides accidents and attacks from the natives, that may at any time cause the death of some of the people engaged in it; but I believe want of judgment, or knowledge, or courage in individuals, often brought about their deaths. Death, however, is a thing that must occur to every one sooner or later.”

To this he replied, “Well, I shouldn't like to die in this part of the country, anyhow.” In this sentiment I quite agreed with him, and the subject dropped.

(From Giles’s Australia Twice Traversed which you can read here)

Beyond that, one thing we do know is that William Gibson was probably friends with Henry Peglar – they had served on ships together before, and Gibson may possibly have been the poor fellow found cradling the Peglar Papers, according to researcher Glenn Stein. So we might imagine the historical Gibson as a much kinder man than the show’s depiction of him – this was someone who befriended the clever, playful Peglar we all know and love from the transcriptions of his papers, so full of poetry and linguistic jokes. It’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to meet this real Gibson, who actually knew the Henry Peglar whom we love so well.

#6. Stephen Stanley

Look. There’s that one famous line in James Fitzjames’s letters to the Coninghams about how Stanley went about with his “shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he would not mind cutting one’s leg off immediately – ‘if not sooner.’” And certainly Harry Goodsir had some mixed opinions of the man, saying was “a would be great man who as I first supposed would not make any effort at work after a time,” and that he “knows nothing whatever about subject & is ignorant enough of all other subjects,” whatever…. that means….

But Fitzjames also had some rather nicer things to say about him, that he was “thoroughly good natured and obliging and very attentive to our mess.” Also, the amputation comment? Very likely had a quite positive underlying joke to it – Stanley may not have been much of a naturalist, but he was actually an accomplished anatomist, who won a prize for dissection in 1836, on account of his “bend of the elbow,” which was “a picture of dissection,” according to Henry Lonsdale, who also called Stanley his “facetious friend” and “a fine fellow” (Lonsdale 1870, pg. 159). So, the real Stanley probably was rather droll, but the perpetually cruel Stanley of the show misses some of the real man’s major historical virtues and replaces them with historically unlikely mass-mercy-murder.

#5. John Irving

Now we’re getting into the territory of characters who did get some good development, but are missing a bit of historical nuance. As I’m sure many of you know, the historical Irving was indeed very religious, but the flashes of anger (i.e. against Manson) we see from Irving in the show don’t seem terribly consistent with the Irving depicted in this memorial volume, where John seems more like a quiet, bookish, mathematically inclined young man, with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a gentle sweetness. It’s really not at all far off from the version of Irving we see with Kooveyook in the show – I just wish we could have seen more of that side of Irving.

Top Tier – The Triumvirate of Polar Friends

So, these three DO have many good things to recommend them in the show, but because I’ve done such deep research on them, it can be quite jarring to watch certain scenes in which they behave contrary to their historical personalities, and I find myself pausing when watching the show with friends or family to explain that NO, they wouldn’t do that!

#4. Sir James Clark Ross

First thing – we LOVE Richard Sutton. He did a beautiful job with the material given to him. (This is true of all the actors on the list, frankly, but it’s doubly true here.) But that scene at the Admiralty where Sir James tells Lady Franklin “I have many friends on those ships, as you know,” to shut down her argument for search missions? At that time (aka 1847), historically, Sir James Clark Ross was actively campaigning for search missions, planning routes and volunteering his services in command of any vessel the Admiralty even vaguely contemplated sending out. You could see this real-life desperation in Sir James’s morose attention to his whiskey glass in that scene if you’re really trying, but I think the more historically responsible thing would have been to make vividly clear that James Ross risked life and limb, as soon as he possibly could, to try to rescue Franklin and Crozier and Blanky, men he’d known and cared about and bitterly missed – and, in the case of Crozier, “truly loved.”

#3. Sir John Franklin

The historical Franklin had plenty of flaws – his contributions to British colonial rule certainly harmed no small number of people, and we should question the way that heroic statues of Franklin are some of the only memorials that serve to honor the lives lost on Franklin’s expeditions – especially considering the steep body count of not only Franklin’s final voyage, but his previous missions in Arctic regions as well. (DM me and I’ll scream at you about counter-monuments! Is this a promise or a threat? Who knows!) With that said, most contemporary accounts agree that Sir John Franklin treated his friends, his family, and those within his social orbit with kindness, and his cruelties were systemic, not personal. In this light, the image of Sir John viciously tearing into Francis Crozier’s vulnerabilities in the show feels very off. Though there was certainly some friction over Crozier’s two proposals to Sophia Cracroft, historically speaking, there’s no evidence at all that Sir John discouraged her from marrying Francis – Sophia may have had many reasons of her own (*clears throat meaningfully in a lesbian sort of way*) for not accepting any of the several marriage proposals offered to her (from Crozier as well as from others), and we ought to keep in mind that she remained unmarried all her life. The notion that the real Sir John would have considered Crozier too low-born or too Irish to be part of the Franklin family isn’t grounded in historical fact.

#2. Lady Jane Franklin

Again disclaimer: the real Lady Franklin left behind a legacy with much to critique. Those who rightfully point out the racism of her treatment of the young indigenous Tasmanian girl Mathinna should be fully heard out. Observations of her own contributions to imperialism are important and valid. Though I tend to see her feud with Dr. John Rae as somewhat understandable – given that Lady Franklin didn’t have the benefit of our hindsight knowing Rae was correct – the levels of prejudice that she enabled and even encouraged in the writing of Charles Dickens when he attempted to discredit Inuit accounts of Franklin’s fate are inarguably deplorable. These things being said, everything noted for Sir John re: Sophia Cracroft goes for Lady Franklin as well – there’s no reason to imagine a scene where Jane would bully Francis Crozier within an inch of his life, seconds after a failed second proposal, when, historically, Lady Franklin felt the situation was so delicate that it required the quiet and compassionate intervention of Sir James Clark Ross, a dearly loved mutual friend to all parties. Tension does not imply aggression; conflict is not abuse. We know this can’t have been an easy experience for the historical Francis Crozier, but the picture is a lot more complicated than what can be shown in one small subplot of a ten-episode television show. Because of this complexity, however, Lady Franklin’s social deftness suffers in the show. (I could also write an entire essay about Jane Franklin’s last shot in the show, at the beginning of Episode 9: The C the C the Open C – TL;DR is that framing is very important, and, at the very last moment, the show reframes Lady Franklin as a mutilated corpse, a speaking mouth without a brain, which is….. a choice.)

And, at number 1, the person done most dirty by The Terror (2018) is….

#1. Charles Frederick “Freddy” Des Voeux

Look. I’m biased here because I am fed daily information about the historical Freddy Des Voeux from @frederickdesvoeux so I’ve become, I think understandably, a bit attached.

But this is very plainly the clearest cruelty the show does to a historical figure – the historical Des Voeux was a very young man (only around 20 when the ships set sail) known always as “Frederick or Freddy” to his family, and described by all parties as bright and sweet – Fitzjames said that he was “a most unexceptionable, clever, agreeable, light-hearted, obliging young fellow, and a great favourite of Hodgson’s, which is much in his favour besides,” and described him cheerfully helping to catch specimens for Goodsir. Des Voeux is named “dear” by Captain Osborn in Erasmus Henry Brodie’s 1866 poem on the Franklin Expedition (43) and Leo McClintock reported the young man’s well-known “intelligence, gallantry, and zeal” in his 1869 update to his account of the Franklin Expedition’s fate (xlii). None of this is consistent with Des Voeux’s behaviour in the show, especially in the later episodes.

To reduce Des Voeux to an easily-detested figure, over whose death one might cheer, is not a kindness – the creation of a narrative where his death is satisfying does damage to the memory of a real person, a barely-more-than-teenager who died in the cold of the Arctic and left behind only scraps of a shirt and a spidery signature in the bottom margin of a fragmentary document.

Television shows may need their villains, but it’s important to remember that real life isn’t like that. Surely the historical Frederick Des Voeux was most likely not a perfect person, and, as an upper class officer contributing to a British imperial project, he does bear some responsibility for the harm done by the Franklin expedition, but it’s not accurate to assume he was any less worthy of sympathy than the other officers who considered him a friend – those men whom we now venerate, like James Fitzjames. So as far as I’m concerned, Freddy Des Voeux deserves at least as much consideration, care, and compassion from us.

#franklin expedition #franklin expedition fictions #the terror #the terror amc #terrorposting #long post

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thatshithurted8 · 4 years ago

Text

Overboard

Summary: In which the outcome of a traumatic event the Pogues go through leaves JJ feeling numb and hopeless.

Request: Something a lil different - I was wondering if you could do an imagine where the reader is JJ’s girlfriend and one day when they were out surfing with the pogues, the reader gets bitten by a shark? Happy or sad ending you choose 😁 lmao I just watched soul surfer heheheh @spideybitey18

Trigger Warnings: Severe injury (amputation, blood loss, shark attack, etc), mention of bipolar and depression. If you get triggered easily by any of these things I highly suggest you skip this read!

Word Count: 1.9k

JJ will never forget the sound of you screaming in pain.

It all happened so fast that none of the Pogues had a chance to evaluate the situation. One moment you and JJ were dancing and kissing then the next you were swimming away from the boat after falling overboard.

The Pogues were used to your impulsive behavior and weren’t that surprised when you remained in the water. However, there was something they didn’t know, even your beloved boy friend, JJ. You were just diagnosed as bipolar.

Despite not letting your boyfriend or best friends know you have been recently diagnosed as bipolar, they were used to your behavior and actions. You were even more impulsive than JJ at times and then all of a sudden you would be swarmed by feelings of emptiness and numbness, that left you lying in bed for weeks at a time. None of the Pogues nor JJ even connected the dots and assumed that you were bipolar. After all the school system barely talked about mental health and illnesses how were they supposed to know the signs and symptoms?

You were diagnosed when your mom brought you to the doctors after you continued to add wood to a bonfire you were having with your younger brother. The fire was so big and out of control that it almost caught onto your house, but yet you continued to add wood. That was your moms last straw, she was tired of you acting so carelessly and then proceed to randomly become depressed.

Even though your parents and the rest of your family are supportive of your diagnosis you didn’t want to believe it. Being bipolar would mean people would think you were crazy and most people would see the illness before they see you as a person. With your parents wanting the best for you they pushed for you to take medicine and eventually go to therapy, but you didn’t want any of that. You liked you the way you were. So you found yourself sneaking out of your house after getting into an argument with your mom for not taking your meds. If only you knew that just a few hours later you would be fighting for your life.

Of course your friends and boyfriend were concerned and worried when you first fell over board after hitting a rough patch of water, causing the boat to rock back and forth. They were worried that you hit your head off of the side of the boat, but luckily you resurfaced quickly, letting out a carefree laugh. A laugh that JJ loved so much.

JJ had to admit at first he thought it was amusing that you were swimming away from the boat, but then he suddenly saw a fin poking through the deep water, causing him to freeze. He seemingly forgot that basically everyone in the Outer Banks was out on the water after hearing the news that around fifteen great white sharks were spotted not too far off of the shore. The only difference though was that the Pogues were the farthest out in the water, you claiming that it would be impossible to spot a shark when the waters were heavily crowded with Kooks, Pogues and Tourons alike. JJ wanting to appease you, who he loved so much decided to drive the boat further out into the water while you and your best friends danced and drank.

Seeing the shark fin put all of the Pogues in a frenzy except for you. Instead of swimming back to the boat or grabbing a hold of the life preserver that John B threw to you, you swim in the direction of the shark. The four Pogues on board screamed and watched with horrified expressions while you laugh before dipping under the water.

A few seconds go by before you resurface and when you do you let out a scream, claiming that the shark bit you. This only causes your friends to freak out even more. Kie throws in another life preserver towards you, John B scrambles to find JJ’s gun to shoot the shark, Pope screams at you to remain calm and JJ throws his hat off and gets ready to jump into the water to grab you.

However, everyone stops panicking when you start to laugh while splashing around in the water, making a big commotion. JJ remembers yelling at you for pulling something like that while Kiara simply hugs Pope so she could stop shaking.

JJ never yelled at you, but you were irritated that they didn’t find it funny. Couldn’t they tell that you were having fun? Why did they have to ruin your fun?

In the midst of you laughing, JJ telling you to get back on the boat in an authoritative tone and the rest of the Pogues calming down no one noticed where the great white went. And soon enough everyone found out.

Despite everyone being annoyed or upset with you, you continued to swim and splash around in the deep water. You felt so carefree and happy, it was euphoric. However, this all came to an end when you let out a gut wrenching shriek, making the hairs on the back of JJ’s neck stand up.

This time wasn’t a joke and you actually got bitten by the shark you weren’t afraid of just mere seconds ago. At first your best friends thought you were just playing again, but from the sound of your scream JJ knew you weren’t.

Almost instantly JJ sprung into action to save his girlfriend. Without thinking he jumped into the water. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he swam through the water and grabbed you, the water around you two becoming red. He quickly wraps his arm around your waist and uses his other hand to grab one of the life preservers all the while trying to look out for where the aquatic predator went.

John B and Pope instantaneously grab a hold of the rope connected to the life preserver to pull you guys back on board while Kie pulls up the anchor from underneath the water. The boys hearts race faster as the seconds go by, especially when they see the shark fin cut through the water once again.

Once you and JJ are beside the boat JJ lifts you up and Pope and John B grab you. However, their eyes pop out of their sockets when they see the damage to your body. The shark bit off your right hand and forearm. It was like a scene from soul surfer, minus the surfing part.

Kie comes running over after putting the anchor back inside the boat. She helps John B lay you down on the floor gently while Pope helps JJ get back on. JJ remembers his heart race increasing rapidly in that moment. He didn’t realize how bad it was.

Instantly JJ falls to his knees and goes to your side. Without communicating with each other John B runs and starts the boat, slipping on some of your blood on the way there. Pope stood frozen in one spot watching with wide eyes while JJ grabbed your other hand.

None of them expected that the day would end up like this. The sound of JJ’s voice screaming for someone to call 911 would replay in the Pogues heads over and over again like a broken record, that will haunt them forever. Desperation and worry leaked from the blondes voice as he continued to yell at his friends.

Kiara grabs your phone and calls 911. Within seconds she was on the line with a dispatcher and explaining to them what happened. JJ tried his best to remain calm while talking to you, expressing how much he loved you and how you were going to make it. Shock still washed over Pope and he started to pace while John B started to drive the boat back to shore.

However, since you wanted to go out farther into the water than everyone at the beach that day you guys were miles away from shore. It also didn’t help that the water was already crowded with boats to begin with.

Despite being so focused on you JJ somehow hears Kie yell at him to apply pressure to your wound. He does as follows and presses down where the shark bit, soaking his hands in blood. Kiara covers her ear to hear the operator properly before barking out her next orders to JJ.

He had to apply more pressure than what he was giving. Pope finally breaks out of his trance and runs over to help JJ, with that he tells the blonde to un-do his belt, which he immediately does. It wasn’t like you guys were planning on going swimming so JJ simply wore his normal cargo shorts, boots and muscle shirt.

Pope wraps the belt around your severed arm, just above the elbow as Kie tells John B to stop because they were sending a helicopter. The two boys tighten the belt, but it slips off of your arm every few seconds because of your arm being covered in your slick blood.

JJ looks down at you and moves your hair out of your face, blood transferring from his hands to your forehead. For some reason you were extremely calm it was like your body went into shock. You were aware of what happened, but you felt paralyzed.

The Maybank boy continues to whisper sweet nothings to you as Pope struggles to keep the belt wrapped tightly around your arm. Despite it feeling like decades before the helicopter got there it actually got there quite quick.

The red emergency helicopter flew above the boat and dangled a paramedic and air stretcher down. Much like the attack, you getting strapped into the stretcher before being taken up into the helicopter happened extremely fast.

Little did JJ or the Pogues know that was going to be the last time they saw you alive. As JJ told you how much he loved you one more time the sight of your glazed over eyes will be forever imprinted into his memory.

Although the Pogues hoped and prayed for the best while speeding back to shore, coated in your blood their wishes wouldn’t come true. On the way to the hospital you passed away due to blood loss.

This would ultimately make JJ and the rest of the Pogues feel guilty for the rest of their lives. If only they acted quicker.

Every night since that fateful day JJ would stay up laying on the pull out couch in John B’s living room. He was emotionally numb and tired. He desperately wanted to cry after all the love of his life just passed away and he couldn’t help, but think it was his fault. If only he didn’t drive the boat further out into the water or if only he jumped into the water and grabbed you before the attack. Despite wanting and needing to let his emotions out he continued to bottle them up. He was too numb to cry anyways.

JJ was so upset that he almost missed your funeral entirely. He couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed and face your family. After all wasn’t it his fault that he allowed you to feed into your impulsive antics?

Even though JJ was staying at John B’s he hadn’t said barely a word to any of his grieving friends. He was too heartbroken and wrapped up in his depressing thoughts. If only he knew it wasn't his fault nor yours and who was at fault was the chemistry in your brain.

So as he stood beside your family and the Pogues at your funeral a tear finally breaks free and falls down his face as your casket lowers into the ground.

A/N: I love this request, but i decided to take a different route while writing this as I didn’t want it to be too similar to my other fic Daredevil. Nonetheless I hope you like it and thank you for sending in a request! Love you and thank you for supporting me

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