#It got to a scene where a man was obviously dying an agonizing death by having his brains pulled out of his nose...

[godhelpus-satanisscared]

Actually, I'm not sure if the movie I accidentally watched was a horror movie or not

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 29: 3x09 The Tholian Web

Today’s episode, The Tholian Web, was completely new to me and I came in with no expectations at all. I wasn’t sure about it at first but ultimately I really liked it!

In uncharted territory looking for lost ship the Defiant. Space appears to be breaking up. Idk but for some reason this sounds very familiar.

Like truly I don’t know what this is reminding me of but hasn’t space broken up before?

And now there’s a mysterious object! Nothing is going Kirk’s way today at all.

“Fascinating.” / “Explain.” Truly the root of this relationship.

It’s the Defiant! Looking ghostly.

Uhura’s on the case already. You don’t need to tell her how to do her job.

Scotty and Sulu looking badass together.

Conveniently, it’s another constitution class, allowing all the sets to be reused. (Though also I do think it makes sense only a large ship like that would be in uncharted space.)

Look at them in those suits. They look like they’re going to the grocery store in May 2020.

How do they know this isn’t an illusion? Because “we can see it, but the sensors don’t pick up anything” screams “illusion” to me. I wouldn’t want to beam into open space!

The triumvirate + Chekov, fourth wheeling again. (My mom suggested he’d be incapacitated soon, which is fair--he IS the red shirt in this scenario.)

All of this is feeling very familiar--missing ship, unusual space phenomenon, people going mad--but I'm not sure if it's repetitive or classic.

NO mutiny ever? That seem unlikely. Also didn’t Spock literally commit mutiny? Chekov would appreciate knowing this.

Kirk manages to look intense even through the space suit.

I find it really weird he doesn’t know the captain of this ship. Like, first off, he knows everyone, and second, there only about 12-14 constitution class vessel Captains so I really do think they know each other.

“Spock, stay with me.” Don’t have to tell him twice.

Lol the ship looks so silly just...drifting away. Adorable, but silly.

Seeing an Asian man in sick bay reminds me how few Asian people there are in Starfleet. Like... 1.

“What the devil?” That’s a Southern man there.

Is the ship actually dissolving or is it an ILLUSION? (It’s actually dissolving.)

Uh, the transporter’s not working? That’s not good.

I love how Scotty hears that and immediately abandons the bridge, like there is NO other man for the job.

O’Neil’s face when Kirk asks to be beamed aboard is hilarious. Human embodiment of the :O emoticon.

“You too, Spock.” He delays ordering Spock back to the ship because he KNOWS Spock’s going to argue.

“Completing the data set” yeah okay. He just doesn’t want to leave Jim alone. Especially in the extremely suspicious circumstances of there being 4 people and 3 transporter spots.

He’s vanished!

Spock is NOT having this.

The fabric of space is very weak here. Sounds legit. And there are many alternate dimensions that are very close at hand. So in other words... Kirk is literally stuck in an AU right now.

This is sorta like The Alternative Factor but way better.

You know it’s serious when they break out the fish eye lens.

When Bones rushed in, I was expecting him to sedate Chekov but Spock has it covered.

I feel like Spock is extremely concerned for Chekov here. Like it’s subtle, but just the attention he’s paying to him. And Sulu is obviously very concerned too.

His “environmental unit” only has so much oxygen. What a great name for a fancy spacesuit.

Spock will not believe Jim is dead!! Never. (This is the plot of the whole episode in 8 words essentially.)

That’s an alien!

“According to the Federation, this area is free space.” ...Okay, that sounds a little colonialist. In his defense, he doesn’t press the point. He basically says, kay, we’ll go as soon as we’re finished rescuing.

And I appreciate the Tholian’s respect for that even though surely he must feel gaslit by Spock--rescuing WHO there are NO other ships??

Also I like the look of the alien.

Nifty lab equipment there.

MCCOY FIGHT SCENE.

Wow that orderly was easily disabled lol. I guess Chapel hypoed him but it really looked like she just tapped his shoulder and he fell.

Hmm, there are still 30 minutes left so something tells me this Kirk rescue mission won’t work.

Captain Kirk is not in his designated area. I repeat Captain Kirk has wandered away from his designated area.

The space was disturbed by the Tholians. I guess they weren’t factored into the delicate calculations.

Something about this exchange really screams Southerner meets Alien. Like more than most McCoy and Spock exchanges.

You can tell Spock is thinking about this whole "nothing’s being transmitted, it’s just the nature of space; everyone's already sick" thing but also not caring because CAPTAIN KIRK.

Now they’re being fired upon! A lot is happening here.

“Renowned Tholian punctuality” lol. Always a sense of humor on this one.

Spock’s face when Sulu questioned his order was 100% “Did I stutter?”

“I know you don’t like to use the phasers.” Because he’s a pacifist.

Well he changed his mind on those phasers fast enough.

“You’ve lost Jim.” UM no I think NOT.

Everything happens so much.

“That is the mark of a starship Captain like Jim.” I mean Spock is no Jim but there’s no need to be rude about it

“Doctor, go to your room and do your homework.”

Aw, the ships are kissing.

Now they look like little weaving shuttles. Adorable.

Hmm, it IS a web. Appropriately named episode.

“We shall not see home again.” Lol Spock way to be the Most Dramatique as always.

Tholian web screensaver Windows 98.

No, not a funeral!!

“This service requires my attention, Mr. Spock.” Crying emoji.

(I’m with Spock in almost everything in this ep but come on, you can’t ban McCoy from Kirk’s funeral, that’s just rude.)

This seems more like an assembly than a funeral tbh.

[agonizing scream] is also how I feel about Kirk “dying” and that’s why Generations isn’t real.

AOS Kirk would 100% approve of a brawl at his funeral.

Sulu and Uhura <3

“Each of you must evaluate the loss in the privacy of your own thoughts.” Spock definitely will.

Wait, that was it? The whole eulogy? Both Kirk and Spock really suck at eulogizing the other.

McCoy probably could have skipped this honestly.

Wait, Kirk left his space husband and his BFF a final in-case-of-death message? Noooooooooooooooo I can’t.

McCoy is so insistent they watch it and Spock is like “nah, that makes it too real, not gonna do it.”

“The Captain’s last order is the top priority.”

Why does everyone always assume Spock wants power? He obviously doesn’t. He could be a Captain if he wanted, probably. He’s early enough in his career where he still has time to become a Captain, too--eventually he does! Most of his career and literally every statement he’s ever made would kinda imply he’s not interested.

Also, if he didn’t care about Jim and he just wanted to take over the Enterprise, he would have left 3 hours ago? Like multiple people were saying he should? Including Bones??

“He was a hero in every sense of the word.” True.

McCoy is being VERY mean today.

And now he’s mad at him again for fighting the Tholians instead of leaving without Jim! Like which is it! What did he do wrong? At least pick a specific thing to criticize lol.

"I need not explain my rationale to you or to any other member of this crew." That’s true but also all I can hear is “I love him. I’m in love with him. I must have him back.”

What is that art work on the wall? That’s new.

I don’t get how Bones isn’t getting this. He KNOWS about the “warm, genuine feeling.”

Vulcans clearly aren’t immune to the...space weirdness. But yes, another pot shot at his alienness is always welcome lol.

“I AM in command of the Enterprise.” You tell him.

Finally, the secret message!

Omg Jim is literally dead and he’s still reassuring Spock. What a good boyfriend. I know this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you got this bb.

Now he’s lecturing them both from beyond the grave and getting everything right and they’re just standing there like chastised schoolboys.

That “take care” was so soft.

“It does hurt, doesn’t it?”

“What would you have me say Doctor?”

Like??? I can’t stand this.

Uhura! At home.

I like that twirly thing they have in their quarters; very efficient use of space and also I want one.

I also love that her chair has crocodile arms.

Kirk shows up in the mirror just to be dramatic and disappear again.

“Of course you saw him. We’d all like to see him.” Lol. Yes, yes, he’s still with us... in our hearts.

If the Tholians complete the web, what will they do with what’s inside? Eat it?"

“Are we any closer to the cure for space weirdness?” / “No. Except also yes.”

Love all the vague science that goes into solving their problem at the last minute but also extremely quickly by any objective standard.

Is Chekov restrained with seat belts?

Whereas Uhura’s just chilling. She knows what she’s about.

Ghost Kirk! Ghost Kirk!

"Do you suppose they're seeing Jim because they've lost confidence i you?" Damn bones, harsh. I thought we were done with this.

Pretty distressing that everything relies SO much on Scotty lol--arguably the MOST critical single member of the crew.

“I’m  sorry.” Glad to hear him say it, finally!

“He would just say ‘Forget it Bones.’“ Adorable.

I feel like everyone’s simultaneously thinking, ‘Okay, we ALL see that, right?”

I am overwhelmed by the longing in that shot of Spock trying to reach Kirk through the dimensions. Like, we’ve established everyone loves him, everyone misses him, everyone wants to see him, but Spock actually approaches him and tries to meet him...

“We were separated. He couldn’t touch me.”

I want to know Scotty’s opinion on Spock’s crazy statue.

So Spock shouldn’t have fired those phasers? Because they... did something... bad to the dimensions? But what other choice did he have, other than to leave without Kirk?

Wasn’t Scotty literally just saying this wasn’t fixable? And now he’s like ‘eh, I can fix it in 20 minutes and get you 80% power’?

The antidote is derived from a nerve gas used by the Klingons...that’s honestly rather hilarious. They’re good for something I guess.

“It simply deadens certain nerve inputs in the brain.” / “Any decent brand of Scotch’ll do that.” Starfleet’s finest lmao.

Lmao Mccoy's no longer drugging the crew he's straight up killing parts of their brains with booze and deadly nerve gas. The man must be stopped.

Noooo don’t give Scotty the whole bottle. We’ve already established the ship doesn’t run without him.

They still gotta get out of the web.

If I shipped McCoy/Spock I would DEFINITELY ship it in that little moment where they look at each other over the glasses.

I have no idea what happened but they seem to be free. Bye Tholians!

Kirk back in the chair where he belongs <3

“No problems worth reporting”--I mean that is technically true, I GUESS.

Kirk is trying to get the gossip.

“Only what one would expect when humans are involved.” / “What humans?” The oxygen hasn’t fully returned to his brain, I see.

Also he is completely lying about understanding McCoy’s explanation.

Sulu and Chekov are having a great time listening in. Collecting future gossip for the cafeteria.

“M-my last orders. That I left for both of you.” He’s adorable.

"The crisis was upon us and then passed so quickly that w-we...." Lol yes the crisis came and then 4 hours later, it was passed! Just like that.

I totally get that Kirk wants them to admit they watched the tape. It was his orders that they watch it first, plus he knows he said helpful stuff and he wanted to be helpful! But I also get why they don’t want to admit they saw it, because it is rather awkward to admit they watched his last words when he’s... not dead.

That was a great ep overall! I really enjoyed it.

My only two complaints are that there wasn’t enough Kirk, and I wasn’t fond of Bones’s characterization. I mean, I get that he was affected by the... space weirdness and maybe his usual prejudices were purposefully exaggerated to show that but it still felt like he was constantly piling up on Spock and in the most unhelpful way. Like, they often disagree, in part because they have different general philosophies, and Bones often misunderstands Spock. But Bones wasn’t really offering anything helpful in terms of command advice, and his criticisms were both repetitive and incoherent. Did he want Spock to leave Jim behind or not? Was firing the phasers bad or necessary? Is Spock doing too much to save Jim or is he just out to get rid of him and take command? And again, he had like 6 moments where he said something cutting and cruel and...one or two of those go a lot farther to show the point. I also just... Bones really, really doesn’t get Spock, and I can see how he’d get meaner given the space aggression. But he’s not cruel. And he and Spock are friends, and he does know that Spock loves Kirk more than anything. So I did not find him IC overall.

But I did really like Spock and his characterization. I could feel all the emotion in him, so pent up and controlled but so present--especially in the moment when he held the tape Kirk made, but in so many other places as well--the “funeral,” the first moment after Kirk failed to materialize, reaching for him on the Bridge...

I also liked this portrayal of Spock in command. He is a good commander and he has obviously grown a lot since the Galileo Seven. But he’s not Jim, and the show is clear about that. Kirk is not replaceable and his job is not easy. I’m not even sure that Kirk would have done much different than Spock--he wouldn’t have left without one of his crew, and that probably would have involved firing on the Tholian ship. But when Spock did it, it really felt like he was overwhelmed, frustrated, and not thinking--he didn’t want to, but then Scotty said he should, and he did. Kirk would have made the decision, not been pressured into it. Would it have mattered? It comes out to the same, but I think it would have been a different scenario. Kirk only ever makes his own decisions--then he can own them, no matter what. That didn’t feel like Spock’s decision, and it affected others’ confidence in him (cough cough McCoy).

I would have to watch again to see if I thought there was any other choice.

This ep made me think of the cave scene in ST09 where Ambassador Spock meets Kirk and thinks he is HIS Kirk, come on purpose to find him. Because obviously Kirk is like that: he comes back from the dead, he finds Spock no matter what, he comforts and reassures and supports him no matter what. He would cross dimensions, he’d travel through time, he’d become No Longer Dead, if that’s what Spock needed.

I was a little disappointed that we didn’t see Kirk’s adventures in the AU lol. I think he was lying about being alone in the other universe. I want to see the fic where he was actually in the AOS verse lol.

Even though there wasn’t enough Kirk in this ep, I appreciated how strong his presence was anyway, seeing everyone love him so much, and seeing just how effective he is as a Captain by comparison with Spock, who is good and who did get them out of the situation, but who lacks that certain... Captain’s quality.

And it outright was a great Spock episode, and a good Spock and McCoy ep except for all of the OOC-ness in McCoy. I’m starting to feel like actually there’s a pretty significant amount of Spock and McCoy stories (this one, The Paradise Syndrome All Our Yesterdays, even Bread and Circuses) and I wish there were more Kirk and Bones stories, too. They are best friends after all!

Next is Plato’s Stepchildren, which is a pretty meh episode, but not awful.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

What do you think about the relationship between Napoleon and Lannes? Were they like best friends or something? I read that when Lannes died Nap was really sad he cried and wasn't in a very good mood even after he returned home

Oh I love their friendship. Love their love. And they were intimately close. Terribly familiar and affectionate with each other (if in a bit of a rough-housey military sort of affectionate). Lannes was Roland to Napoleon’s Charlemagne. Patroclus to Napoleon’s Achilles. 

They met as young men during the 1796 Italian Campaign and became fast friends. Both were from more modest backgrounds, both were stiff-necked and hard-headed, both had a military background, and so on. Lannes also fits into Napoleon’s category of “people he loved in part because they were there from the beginning”. Lasting sixteen years (and it would have lasted through to the end I think, had Lannes lived) their relationship was deep, intimate and meaningful to both.

Lannes was one of the few who could tutoyer Napoleon (in private and, more importantly, in public), and did so with great enthusiasm. He’s also one of the few who could publicly oppose/butt heads/insult/be overly familiar with Napoleon and not suffer any real consequences. (e.g. Lannes famously called Napoleon a harlot once in public. To which I am sure we can all hear Napoleon going: Fuck you Lannes. Lannes’ “punishments” when he overstepped the mark were either temporary banishment [it never lasted long] or being sent on diplomatic journeys he didn’t want to go on.) 

They were what some would call intimate friends, or romantic friends. 

Lannes’ death cut Napoleon to the core in a way that is only matched, I would argue, by Duroc and Josephine. Napoleon was mournful and grief stricken over others, such as Desaix and Chauvet, but not to the same degree or intensity. 

(Desaix’s death did prompt that heartbroken line from Napoleon of (roughly) “he always wanted to die in battle but did death have to be so eager to grant him his wish”. Chauvet’s gave us that letter to Josephine where Napoleon says that Chauvet is dead, his ghost whistles through Napoleon’s tent.) 

Indeed, in terms of displays of emotion on the battlefield, particularly open weeping and almost inconsolable grief, Lannes is one of the few that garnered such a reaction from Napoleon. (Duroc being another.) Which speaks to their profound relationship and what Lannes meant to Napoleon (and it certainly goes the other way around as well). Napoleon said of Lannes, “Lannes adored me…he was certainly one of the men on whom I could most depend in this world.” 

Later on St. Helena: “he [Lannes] clung to me [Napoleon] … for the rest of his life; he wanted only me, thought only of me … Certainly, he loved his wife and children more than me; nevertheless, he never spoke about it because he expected nothing of it; he was the one who protected them, while in turn, I was his protector.” (A sort of military-esque marriage.)

One of my favourite exchanges, which can be summed up as: Presenting you the married couple of Napoleon & Lannes. 

You damn Gascon! What the hell were you doing… trying to prove you’re so damn brave when we already know that? No… you were out there risking your men and yourself for no bloody reason! You’d do better to follow your orders from now on. When I want you to get yourself killed I’ll let you know!

– Napoleon to Lannes, after the takeing of Malta, 1798. Cited in The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes

Mostly because you can hear Lannes yelling back: I DO WHAT I WANT YOU STUPID CORSICAN. Also because this is such a “I’m so panicked you almost died I love you and also want to slap you” moment from Napoleon. 

Married Couple #2: 

There were a few diversions, however, particularly the evening meetings of the savants who would later organize the Institut d’Égypte. Bonaparte took these meetings seriously and made his generals and staff attend. He could not always control such a diverse crowd, however. Several officers were unimpressed and obviously bored with scholarly discussions. A participant claimed Lannes and Junot were the worst behaved, joking with each other and making rude remarks while the savants attempted to educate them. Junot would deliberately mispronounce Lannes’s name as one of his better jokes, calling him l’âne, or ass. Lannes told Bonaparte that nobody could hear the scholars over Junot’s snores rumbling from the back of the crowded gathering. Bonaparte excused Junot from further sessions, but he made Lannes stay, fidgety, bored, with no one to listen his sotto voce comments.

— Margaret S. Chrisawn, The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes.

Junot and Napoleon though, that’s another complicated situation. (It was a mess, a hot, hot mess. Junot was in Love. Napoleon was embarrassed. It got messy and mean.)

A few accounts from Lannes’ death: 

As soon as the Emperor saw him, he ran, hastened to him, covered him with kisses. He called to him in the middle of his sobs, and said to him in a muffled voice: ‘Lannes, my friend, do you recognize me? It’s me, it’s the Emperor. It’s Bonaparte, your friend!’ … Napoleon, kneeling before the dying hero, cried hot tears. This most touching meeting, these most tender embraces moved us profoundly … The Emperor’s pain was so intense that none of the witnesses to this scene could ever deny the profound feeling that it inspired.

– Account from Jean-Jacques-Germain Pelet

“My Cousin, the marshal died this morning of wounds he received on the battlefield. My grief is equal to yours. I lose my armies’ most distinguished general, my companion in arms for the last sixteen years, the one I considered my closest friend. His family and his children will always have a particular right to my protection. It’s to assure you of this that I wanted to write you this letter, because I sense that nothing can relieve the true sorrow that you will feel.”

— Letter from Napoleon to the Duchess of Montebello, 31 May 1809.

Following Lannes’s agonizing death on May 31, 1809, Napoleon retreated to his tent where his valet Louis Constant later found the Emperor “seated, immobile, mute, and staring into space, in front of his hastily prepared meal. Napoleon’s eyes were inundated with tears; they multiplied and fell silently into the soup.”

[…]

Napoleon’s grief for Marshal Lannes took on the very public character of open lamentation. Rather than grieve behind closed doors and conceal his personal vulnerabilities in order to show public strength, Napoleon’s mourning for his beloved friend became a matter of great public spectacle. Like Achilles mourning his beloved Patroclus, Napoleon wept publicly and openly expressed his affection in a way that was widely reported, discussed, and admired by the officers and soldiers in his armies.

[…]

Napoleon’s public grief at the death of Jean Lannes represented a new model for social relations between soldiers in the early nineteenth-century France. weeping over his friend’s broken body, Napoleon demonstrated how the revolution and empire had made it possible not only for an emperor to grieve openly for a fallen marshal, but for a soldier to love his comrade. This uncharacteristic expression of affection between Napoleon and Lannes was echoes in similar relationships between officers and foot soldiers in Napoleon’s armies. Military memories of the first empire bear witness to a wide range of intimate relationships among generals, colonels, and captains as well as sergeants, corporals, and grunts (grognards), the infantry soldiers who made up the majority of the imperial armies. Napoleon’s love for Lannes might thus be said to represent a broad spectrum of masculine affection and intimacy in the ranks of the Grande Armée, or what could be called Napoleonic friendship.

- Napoleonic Friendship: Military Fraternity, Intimacy, and Sexuality in Nineteenth-century France

“The Emperor also spoke of the last moments of Marshal Lannes, the valorous Duke of Montebello, so justly called the Roland of the army, who, visited by the Emperor on his deathbed, seemed to forget his own condition and tend to him whom he loved above everything.” 

-Las Cases, Memorial of Saint Helena. 

Indeed, Napoleon’s friendship and open pain and grief at Lannes’ death is one of those rare moments that allows us to separate the Napoleonic Myth - that enigmatic Emperor who is a repository of collective fears and hopes - and see the man beneath it. And while, as with everything relating to Napoleon, his friendship with Lannes can be either over, or under, stated - I think we can all safely agree that there was love, intimacy, affection and friendship between them and Lannes’ death impacted Napoleon in a way that I’m not sure we can fully appreciate. 

Until the end, whenever Lannes was brought up Napoleon would discuss him briefly then quickly move on to other subjects and it’s clear, based on how he is described in those moments (going silent, blinking a lot, looking away), he’s trying not to cry. 

[annecoulmanross]

Thoughts on “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), aka, “I listened to the Doctor Who audio drama episodes about the lost Franklin Expedition so that you don’t have to!”

Alright terror-friends, this was not how I expected to spend my day, but I have now listened to all eight episodes of the 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama series “Terror of the Arctic,” featuring all of the ~ familiar ~ icy ~ boys ~ meeting the infamous Doctor. 

With arguably more horrifying sexist/racist content than the 2007 Simmons novel, this audio drama actually predicted a lot of the tropes that Simmons popularized, including ship-board conflicts that escalate to stabbings, the appearance of supernatural creatures from Inuit oral traditions, and even a squick-y romance between Crozier and a much younger Inuit woman. 

To clarify, I do not recommend you listen to these episodes. They’re a hot mess, and a really jarring departure from the beauty of The Terror (2018). 

HOWEVER I highly recommend you look below the cut for episode-by-episode notes about the first Franklin Expedition adaptation that has well and truly driven me up the wall. So, welcome to the world of “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), featuring:

Crozier, (pronounced "Crow-zee-eyy,”) a polite door-mat of a captain with an agonizing lack of snark and minimal personality beyond “the only white man who can magically fix racism.” 

Fitzjames the “proper English officer” who has every prejudice you can imagine – and a couple more you can’t. 

Le Vesconte, the irrepressible lad with an inexplicable American accent and extreme boy-scout-gone-crazy energy. 

Sgt. Tozer, who has a bad habit of punching people in the face even though his superior officers haven’t yet told him he’s allowed to do so. 

Also featuring: Cybernetic Tuunbaq aliens! Complete breakdown of shipboard protocol! Expected amounts of cannibalism! And more! (spoilers, obviously) 

Episode 1

– We start with a mandatory brief appearance from the Doctor and his companion Christine. I don’t (initially) hate this iteration of the Doctor – he’s very paternalistic and old-fashioned, but at least the voice actor’s competent. Christine’s voice, tragically, is high-pitched beyond all reason and laced with a variety of odd dialectical features. Some quick research reveals she’s supposed to be a 15 year old from medieval England. She sounds neither like a teenager nor a medieval person. From the very beginning, her character seems very infantilized, and plays into a lot of the Born Sexy Yesterday tropes, even if she and the Doctor aren’t a thing. 

– Next, we have Sir John Franklin giving the “we’ve been stuck in the ice for nine months, here’s what you missed” sum-up. 

– Sir John’s voice is gravelly 👏 as 👏 fuck; also, I don’t think that the phrase “to sugar-coat it” was a common 1840s expression? Correct me if I’m wrong history folks.

– Crozier shows up to give his “we should start walking out now” speech, minus any passion or conviction whatsoever; he bends immediately to Franklin’s whims. Crozier’s voice is quite high-pitched, and Sir John pronounces his name “Crow-zee-eyy.” (Update: everyone pronounces it this way!!! Uhmmm!) Though I struggle to judge accents, Crozier’s Irish accent sounds... leprechaun-ish. It’s not Jared Harris by a long mile. 

– Not gonna lie, I kind of love how much Fitzjames sounds like a posh bastard. He immediately gets into a one-sided shouting match with Crozier and has to be reprimanded by Franklin. 

– Lieutenant Irving appears on the scene; I don’t know what Irving’s accent is, but it sure is something.

– All of the officers seem to currently be on the same ship for some reason but I don’t know why. We’ve met Sir John, Crozier, Fitzy, and Irving, and Gore’s been mentioned, as have doctors Peddie and Stanley. And they’re all in the same boat. Guess we’re just ignoring Terror for now? 

– Franklin begins narrating as he writes in the log-book: “11th June, 1847.” Oh BOY guess what day it is!!

– RIP Franklin (surprise, surprise). We have no real idea yet how this has happened. 

– Fitzjames, talking to Sir John’s mysterious corpse: “Captain, what could have done this to you?” 

– Fitzjames: “We have a killer loose on this ship” (Fitz gets ALL the best lines, apparently. Do they make sense? No. Are they hilarious? Yes.)

– Irving is shockingly nonchalant when the Doctor and Christine appear from nowhere out on the ice. Why is Irving so chill when he thinks that these two people are the lone survivors of a DIFFERENT failed expedition?

– Fitz apparently has refused to let Crozier start the walk-out after Franklin died. (Um, that’s not how the chain of command works?)  

– We learn that Beechey-boy Braine apparently died of sudden-onset-scurvy. What is sudden-onset-scurvy, you ask? We do not yet know. 

– Irving, happily describing their recent course of action: “...Ignoring the advice of our ships’ ice masters...” Oh god Irving don’t sound so happy about that. Blanky’s going to take an ice-axe to your head. (Tragically, Blanky does not appear in this show.) 

– Lieutenant Gore has ALSO died of sudden-onset-scurvy. RIP Graham Gore.

– Is the Doctor going to focus on the existence of sudden-onset-scurvy? No, we’re gonna hyperfixate on the high officers-to-crew death rate! And he’s going to infodump about officers’ privileges TO Irving, an officer, and muse about how odd it is that more officers than crew are dying when the officers get all the best food! 

– Fitz, the “proper English officer” apparently has managed to get about half the men to refuse to follow the orders of their expedition commander, because he happens to be Irish. Babe, this is a really bad look!

– Irving, our good Christian Irving, just swore “By Jove” in a weirdly sexy voice.

– Tozer has Extreme Deep Voice.

– Irving: “There’s something odd about them I just don’t trust.” Why on earth wouldn’t you trust two strangers who wandered up to you on the ice and asked if you were “human,” John Irving? What’s “odd” about that?

– The Doctor only remembers that he does actually know the events of the Franklin expedition after he reads the entire Victory Point Note. 

– Irving has suddenly decided to threaten to shoot the Doctor and his companion. Irving promptly gets attacked. 

* jarring transition to triumphant Doctor Who music *

Episode 2

– The ~mysterious~ attack on Irving has left weird wounds on Irving’s neck. I’m calling it, Ice Vampires!

– We have an Edward Little appearance! His voice is so sweet and gentle! And then... “I’ll have Sergeant Tozer shoot you both where you stand!” Okay, maybe not... (Update: Little is, in fact, very awful to several people. As we will see, all of the lieutenants and marines swing between weirdly nonchalant dudes and trigger-happy maniacs.) 

– Tozer just punched the Doctor’s lights out, unprompted. 

– Crozier: “Good old John Peddie... he’s like a brother to me.” Well THAT’S not a friendship I expected.

– So Dr. Peddie has brought a young Inuit woman in to Crozier’s cabin to have a “lovely chat.” Awkward book!Crozier/Silna energies. The woman’s name is Liak. She speaks with a vaguely Spanish and/or Italian accent. 

– Liak: “I have been with my tribe. They would not allow me to come back to see you.” /  Crozier: “Why? It’s not because of Fitzjames is it?” 

– (It’s not because of Fitzjames. It’s because of evil spirits, obviously.)

– The Doctor, once they get back to the ships, explaining to the higher officers what’s happened: “Mr. Tozer got all excited and could no longer restrain his Neanderthal-like impulse to start clubbing things.” Boy this by show is NOT for Tozer fans. (Note: Tozer is standing right there? In the room? When the Doctor says this?)

– The Doctor just dropped an f-bomb?????????? And not as an expression of shock, but a hard-core sexual use of the f-bomb. Literally, he said “you can let Tozer fuck me again” – did I mishear this????????????

– Irving’s dying words: “I was attacked by a large silver creature with claws!” Wait did Dan Simmons rip off a fan-made 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama?

– RIP Irving, first confirmed victim of “Tuunbaq the First.”

– Fitzjames is SO racist, throwing around a lot of “savage” and “barbarian” words. Why are you letting this man walk all over you, Crozier?

– Crozier: the first person who has the correct reaction to two weirdos appearing on his boat (aka shock and surprise, rather than worrying nonchalance followed by unprompted extreme aggression.)

– Fitzjames literally laughed after being informed that Irving is dead. (Like Crozier’s bad Raft of the Medusa joke, but SO MUCH WORSE.) 

– RIP Ice Master Reid, actual first confirmed kill of “Tuunbaq pre-Tuunbaq,” several weeks ago, apparently??

– Okay so Fitz here is obviously meant to be a horrible person, but I have to acknowledge that he’s making a few good points: (1) the Doctor has admitted that he has a “sailable” ship, and it’s pretty rude of him to not even explain why he’s unwilling to help these dying men, and (2) it’s been bothering me the whole episode that the Doctor hasn’t been calling officers by their titles, and frankly, I do think Fitz is within his rights to demand the Doctor call him “Captain Fitzjames” rather than “Mr. Fitzjames” on Fitz’s own ship. Like, it’s not that hard.

– The Doctor’s first example of “ways the Franklin crew could mess up the time stream” is the insane scenario: “what if one of them married the mother of Winston Churchill.”

– The “Tuunbaq: The Prequel” can talk!!!!!! “Hello meat!!!” it says, gleefully. 

– Tozer is just the fucking most. He punched the Doctor AGAIN.

– Crozier just “Mr. Fitzjames”ed Fitz!! And Fitz backed down! Crozier finally grew a spine! Just in time to decide to commandeer the Doctor’s ship. 

– The Doctor’s ship inevitably disappears before it can be commandeered. Because of course. (Things and people disappear and get transported to different places and later times all through these episodes for timey~wimey~reasons.) 

Episode 3

– A conversation between the two named female characters (Liak and the Doctor’s companion Christine)! What will they talk about? ...Their dead fathers. Ah. Hmm.

– This show is not sophisticated enough to handle a “white man’s disease killed my father” subplot. And yet, Liak’s father died of TB he contracted from the white men. I’m *worried*

– To help Liak overcome the superstitious antagonism of her “tribe” after her father’s death, Crozier apparently gave a bunch of food to the Inuit, which is  an... interesting take. (One Irishman’s grand gesture fixes racism!)

– Magical Inuit shaman powers are only inherited through the male line (The racism and sexism in this is palpable.)

– So “Tuunbag Episode I: Revenge of the the Tuunbaq” is actually a larger coalition of aliens, run by a being called “Matriarx.” Can we decide whether woman are powerless victims or power-hungry monsters, please? Both is just greedy.

– RIP Strong (another tragic case of the triple threat: sudden onset scurvy, lead poisoning, AND Tuunbaq attack)

– Wait WAIT the Tuunbaq gave Strong the lead poisoning AND the scurvy by biting his neck and sucking his blood, stealing nutrients and leaving lead in their place: Ice Vampires!! I called it!!!

– Groups of people Fitz has verbally degraded: the Irish, the Inuit, all women, and now “common folk.”

Episode 4

– Le Vesconte’s first lines! He sounds like a Boy Scout, by which I mean he sounds about 16, and has an American accent? Also, Fitz pronounces his name “Leh-vay-cont” 

– An AB named “Seeley” is writing an account of the events that are happening, perhaps as this show’s version of Bridgens and/or Peglar? Also Fitz is REALLY opposed to Seeley writing this, because Fitz hates “common folk” that much, apparently? 

– RIP Seeley, we hardly knew ye. 

– Major episode events: the walk-out begins, leaving Terror and Erebus just as the boats slip into another dimension because of alien reasons (this didn’t age well, now that we have the shipwrecks). Also, there’s an Inuit woman who is in league with the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires. 

Episode 5

– As soon as the walk-out begins, the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires begin attacking. 

– Boy Scout Le Vesconte: “I have an idea! If bullets won’t stop them maybe an axe will!” I mean, this is stupid enough for our Dundy, but he follows it up with “Murderers! I’ll hack you to pieces!” and rushes them like a child and has to be rescued. (Also Crozier is way WAY more concerned for Le Vesconte than Fitz is, though Fitz leaps into the rescue effort and Crozier... does not do that. He’s doing a lot of standing on the sidelines and bemoaning his dying men.)

– Peddie is basically just Crozier’s all-purpose lieutenant at this point. Little and Hodgson whomst? 

– Le Vesconte, Fitz, and Tozer get struck by lightning WHILE fighting the Tuunbaq, and some Frankenstein stuff seems to happen, because Fitz now has the munchies. But like, the ominous munchies. 

– Le Vesconte’s in something like a coma. The dumb boy-scout. 

– While explaining why the Netsilik have legends about these aliens as “evil spirits,” the Doctor implies that errors in the historical record happen “especially” in oral traditions. Can we stop insulting the Inuit oral historians please?  

– The cybernetic-vampire-aliens can mind-control their victims sometimes. Calling it now: Fitzjames is under the mind-control already. 

– Liak is revealed to possibly be in cahoots with the aliens, because she has a necklace that her sister gave her that’s actually an alien tracker. 

– Fitzjames, upon learning that Liak may be in league with aliens, attempts to physically kill her with his bare hands, and has to be restrained. 

– Crozier hears murmurs about mutiny, and assigns this poor Marine named Hopcraft to find out more about the mutiny and report back to him. Next morning: RIP Hopcraft, first victim of the “we’re knifing each other” stage of events (aka this show’s Irving.)

Episode 6

– Lieutenant Little, who got separated from Fitzjames and Crozier, tries to comfort ship’s boy Chambers, whose use of the term “panic attacks” is a little anachronistic; a small gripe in the grand scheme of things.

– The Tuunbaq-aliens attack Little’s camp and wipe them all out, leaving Little to the last. Edward Little, a British Christian naval officer in the 1840s, gasps out “I’ll see you in Hades” as his dying words. (Someone write me Little/Irving neo-pagan fanfic for this mess?)

– The Doctor is playing detective, trying to solve Hopcraft’s death. He finds footprints, and both Liak and Tozer are missing. 

– The Doctor calls attention to Tozer’s “enormous feet.” Weird.

– We have our first cannibalism! Perpetrated by Tozer, and uhhhh oh great we’re eating Dr. MacDonald for dinner tonight.

– Le Vesconte woke up from his coma just in time to brain Tozer to death.

– The Doctor: “There were no women’s bones at any of the sites [of the lost expedition remains]” that’s a hilarious comment given that one study suggesting as many as four female skeletons.

– RIP Le Vesconte, from his wounds, offscreen!! Nooo!!

– Tozer (and Fitzjames, and a few others), because they all got struck by the lightning, now have Frankenstein’s cannibalism curse. They all hunger for human flesh.

– Fitzjames is now a sneaky murderer-cannibal who manages to gain Crozier’s trust before turning around and trying to butcher him. As least my evil boy is smart? 

Episode 7

– The big bad reveal: it’s Liak’s secret evil sister! (Just like Season 4 of Sherlock!) She’s been helping the Tuunbaq-aliens the whole time because she hates white men! Because they gave her dad TB and one of them broke her heart! Thanks, it’s bad! 

– The Tuunbaq-aliens eat Liak’s sister anyway because they do not care. 

– Liak, Crozier, the Doctor, and Christine are left to defeat the Tuunbaq-aliens. 

– Fitz feels a little bad about eating people I guess? Also Fitz is “weak” and can’t resist his hunger and all those fun tropes.

Episode 8

– Fitzjames gets a redemption arc via heroic self-sacrifice narrative, complete with death via horrid gurgling. “He sacrificed himself in a last act of humanity.”

– The Doctor agrees to give Crozier a lift to somewhere a bit further south, on the assumption that Crozier will settle down with Liak and live with some “tribe” of other Inuit people that neither of them have ever met. 

– There’s a parting joke about Crozier enjoying drinking wine that did NOT age well.

And that’s all, folks! Hope you... enjoyed? 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Thrax

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

So I made a poll, a poll to determine who you all wanted to see get the Psycho Analysis treatment for Black History Month. I picked a few myself, but I also put in choices so my fans could pick four villains portrayed by black actors that I would review. I had some truly legendary performances on there, there was Blacula, Dr. Facilier, Audrey II! And yet, somehow, despite all of these fantastic characters… y’all wanted to hear about the dude from Osmosis Jones.

Don’t mistake this for bashing Thrax, the absolute best part of the half incredible work of animation, half miserably dated grossout comedy that is Osmosis Jones; I’m just more baffled people wanted to hear what I thought of this guy, of all characters.

Motivation/Goals: Thrax has one desire, and one desire only: recognition. Specifically, he wishes to be put down in the medical books as an unstoppable, deadly disease, and he goes about this by killing each of his victims faster than the last. He proudly states how he has previously killed a child, as well as killing an old man in 72 hours, so he has quite the impressive resume behind him to the point how it’s amazing he hasn’t been put in the books yet. Still, it’s hard to deny he wouldn’t deserve some fame for ridding the world of a toxic slob like Frank.

Performance: Thrax has pretty much got it all set in terms of personality, animation, and voice acting; he’s scoring tens across the board in all three departments. He’s just so charming, affable, and in the eyes of some very strange individuals, sexy. I mean, I guess it doesn’t hurt that his voice is supplied by Laurence Fishburne, a man who is most definitely a sex god If I’ve ever seen one. Ladies love Cowboy Curtis, or so I’ve been told. Still, for all his outward charm, there’s still nothing that hides the fact he is a brazen, remorseless serial killer who relishes in the suffering he causes his victims before they expire. He’s literally a sick bastard.

Final Fate: Thrax falls into a beaker of alcohol while fighting Osmosis Jones. Befitting a character who is relentlessly dark and jarring in an otherwise goofy buddy cop grossout comedy hybrid, we get to witness him dying in excruciating, agonizing detail that is sure to scar a few children whose parents thought it was a good idea to let them watch this film.

Best Scene: Literally every scene with him is one of the best in the movie. But if you want to know how to perfectly and easily establish a villain, look no further than his introduction scene, where he cooly murders two sanitation workers and then destroys their ship like it’s just another Tuesday for him… and let’s be honest, it probably is.

Best Quote: Again, look no further than his introduction scene. “Careful, I’m contagious,” delivered perfectly by Laurence Fishburne as Thrax murders an innocent white blood cell, is pretty much the entire character wrapped up into a single line dripping with faux affability. I honestly envy that line, it’s just so damn good.

Final Thoughts & Score: Thrax is a villain who is legitimately way too good for the film he’s in. He’s just so wonderfully jarring in tone and personality; while you obviously need a villain in a buddy cop movie, this is a buddy cop movie that is not only animated, by juxtaposed with early 2000s live-action grossout comedy being performed by Bill Murray. Hell, Thrax enters Frank’s body after Frank consumes an egg that fell on the ground at the zoo after being in a monkey’s mouth, and then we are expected to care about what happens to Frank when Thrax starts causing problems.

Honestly, much like the case with Hexxus, this movie makes it way too easy to want to root for the villain here. Let’s look at the facts – Thrax is played by Laurence Fishburne, who we have already established is a sexy hunk of man. He is clearly a walking reference to “The Mask of the Red Death,” and who isn’t a sucker for homages to Edgar Allen Poe? He is dark, terrifying, and far more impressive than the movie around him. He brings comedy to a halt and makes every scene with him in it feel terrifying. And, most importantly, the people he’s going up against are a lot less engaging and impressive than he is. Jones and Drix are fun, sure, but are they as cool as Thrax? And Frank is so utterly worthless Thrax killing him would likely be a mercy, or it would be if he didn’t openly state he was going to kill Frank’s daughter next.

Thrax gets a nice 8/10, sitting alongside fellow “Sexy-voiced and strangely dark villains in cult classic animated films” Joe the fish and Hexxus. He really is a villain way too cool for at least half of the movie he’s in. He really feels like a leftover from when the movie was supposed to be PG-13, and they just totally forgot to tone him down at all when they retooled it into what is ostensibly supposed to be a family comedy. And you know what? That just makes me love him all the more.

[tartrazeen]

How That Hug Confirmed Irondad

Alright - that's the other thing I'm thinking: Peter's reaction to the hug at the end of Endgame.

Whatever relationship he and Tony had during the two years they hung out was enough for Tony to try to invent time travel, all the way down to the little things like framing a goofy photo.

But Peter was surprised by that hug. It kind of seemed like the first time and only time that it'd happened so blatantly - as in, not a blasé side-hug at the end of Homecoming, but a legitimate, emotional, no-holds-barred one.

But then we have Morgan again (who I'm surprised I like as much as I do when my first thought was her 'replacing' Peter and erasing him), who gets Tony carrying her around, brushing her hair, openly saying he loves her as part of a regular bedtime... and it's like, "What happened? When did Tony get so overtly nurturing? When did the cycle break?"

It broke with Peter.

That death. That loss of a son-figure who - again, was important enough to want to invent TIME TRAVEL (and certainly enough to want to brave all the risks that led to Tony giving up; thank you, goofy pic), and who apparently never shared sincere and open moments like this before, let alone ones like those between Tony and Morgan.

Peter's death meant Tony lost every chance to tell that kid how much Peter mattered, and it casts a dark shadow over any consciously canon takes on a lot of the Irondad tropes the fandom adores. Passing out on the couch together after watching movies? Probably never happened intentionally. Brushing Peter's curls or ruffling his hair? Never while Peter was awake and probably never not as a joke. Any other hugs? Nope - probably just those side-ones. How about saying "I lov-" oh, nope, hell no, definitely not.

Tony has always been terrible at admitting his feelings until shit hits a critical fan. He kissed Pepper only because she's getting ready to quit and leave forever at the end of IM2 after a movie-long car-crash of a fight between them, and doesn't hint at the PTSD until Pepper's got him cornered during IM3 in his workshop. The hug in Infinity War with Peter is from Peter clinging on to him while DYING.

And Tony's constantly clamping down and undercutting any moments of vulnerability with a joke or total avoidance, and it's not until everything's gone almost irreparably wrong that we get to see the sincere emotion hiding under the surface (e.g., that Disappointed Dad after the ferry scene, right after Tony steps out of his armour (symbolic!) and riiiiight before Tony clamps the emotion back down again to take Peter's suit away and dress 'im in Hello Kitty PJs (anything's better than admitting he's actually and personally disappointed!)).

When Peter dies and those chances to have a genuine, little moment of open affection are gone, that's when the floodgates open instead. When Morgan arrives, Tony has already learned how agonizing it is to not take that chance to say what he means. That's why Morgan is getting all that sweetness and involvement: Tony's not making that mistake again, going so far as to make a goodbye message if he fails that's only to be played if he can't come back to say it in-person.

And with that practice comes the pay-off. Peter's back, and yeah, sure, it's the middle of a battle after five years, but it's not like Peter's in some traumatically broken-down state where he wants to cling to Tony again. No - Peter's happy and confused and doing pretty great. It's a relatively quiet moment where (like Cap did with Sam) Tony could've said, "You're back. Awesome. Hey, stop talking for a second because we're not out of the woods yet." Honestly, this could've gone the route that Tony took with Peter at the end of Civil War, with Tony doing the whole, "Okay, stop freaking out, here's the plan, we'll talk in the car on the way home."

Instead, Tony finally hugs his kid. No bullshit, no pretending to grab a door, just open and honest emotion. What he learned from losing Peter gains him a closer connection to Morgan, and what he gains from that connection confirms the unspoken one with Peter.

We know Peter and Morgan are on the same level to Tony because Peter's all Tony can talk about when he gets back to Earth, and Morgan's all Tony can talk about before heading off to master time. Plus, like - did Dr. Strange get a hug? No. No hugs for non-kids, guy-who-saved-Tony's-life-by-trading-the-time-stone-for-him. But because the Irondad denial was REAL in those two years between Homecoming and IW (pick your reason: Tony thought he'd be overstepping, Tony thought that was rushed, Tony was scared by feelings, Tony thought he didn't deserve a kid like Peter, whatever), that hug shows us how far it's GONE when Peter's returned.

And - and!! - Peter hugs BACK. There's a few parts to it: he's surprised so he apparently never thought Tony would want to hug him, he hugs back so he obviously is very happy with this hug, and he says "This is nice" like he doesn't quite 'get' why he's being hugged at all. It comes off like part of him thinks they're still doing that "I don't really need another Father-Figure but oops I guess you are one now forever" deny-deny-deny-so-it's-not-weird-and-so-Peter-doesn't-look-dumb-in-front-of-Tony-Stark dance, so what that says to me is that Peter's kinda convinced himself to not read too much into how Irondad-like Tony is, and that it's... I dunno, wishful thinking? And that's because Peter straight-up closes his eyes and enjoys that moment, hugging back before he kinda checks himself and gives a very Tony-like "Imma just undercut the weight of this vulnerability real quick" brush-off, so it's even more like... we caught you, Peter, it can't be wishful thinking without a wish, that was fully canon Spiderson right there.

Remember: this Peter who came back is the Peter who hung out with pre-Spiderson-death Tony, who was still ascribing to that Irondad Denial in its entirety, so Peter's just trying to be the good mentee eagerly hoping to impress his mentor by also clamping that shit down. There's just as much Spiderson Denial on our plates as Irondad, and if it'd be too totally weird and dumb and maybe even creepy and pathetic to think that Tony Stark - the man, the brand, the Iron Man - would actually want Penis Benjamin Parker hanging around on a personal level, then Peter's just going to have to accept being the best mentee that Tony could ever want.

(except he's tony's son now, you did too well)

As it turns out, Engame is the exploration of Tony embracing his Irondad status. As ten times more painfully, part of Peter's arc in Phase Four looks set to be (as hinted by Pepper's presence in Homecoming) about Peter playing catch up and cracking through to his Spiderson role... and then having to come to terms with the fact that it's...

Well.

It's too late.

But, but, but, but, but! That means there's more Irondad to come, and it's been perfectly prepped by the events of Endgame, because we now officially HAVE Irondad. We'll get you yet, Spiderson, mark our words, but that's still on our horizon. There's hope! There's a future! THERE IS WHUMP. But there's also confirmation and validation and a buffet of Irondad realness that was served to us through a heartbreaking amount of tears and grief (and I'm hoping through further deleted scenes and bonus features).

And now we have to wonder if Peter's going to 'get' it during Far From Home and face the loss Tony felt five years ago, or if he's going to rationalize Tony's actions as being Iron Man saving the universe instead of Irondad saving his kids.

Whump, whump, whump.

[a-hurricane-came]

Ghost In My Pocket

Figured it was time to get something up to help take your minds off of all the shit flying around. Finished this a couple nights ago, did a lot of checking over this morning, just needed the excuse to post it.

Summary: Despite being a first responder, (Y/N) has never lost a patient, and doesn’t have a lot of experience with death overall.

Even so, they’re pretty sure that when someone dies, they’re not supposed to turn whatever room you walk into into a personal haunting zone.

It seems, however, that Lin-Manuel Miranda lives to prove them wrong.

Or, he would, if he was still - you know - alive.

Warnings: Character death, blood, train crash, serious character injury, precarious driving, grieving, spirits, arguing, yelling/shouting, swearing, general lack of knowledge of medical procedures, medical equipment and medical lingo, etc.

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Gender Neutral Reader

Note: This was a bit of a challenge for me, guys. First of all, I was trying to drag it out a bit (You can kind of tell… Sorry about that… Working on imagery.) Second, I was trying to make it gender neutral. (let me know how I did?)

Also, it moves kind of slow - especially at the beginning. Will be made into multiple parts.

I’m really excited for this series, guys! More so than any of the others! I have a lot of ideas for this and where it’s going, and I think if I play my cards right, it has a lot of potential. Special thanks to @timeforhamilton and @imaginebeinghamiltrash! Both of them were so supportive, and let me bounce ideas off of them a lot and run a couple drafts past them. Couldn’t have done it without you two! :)

(Y/N) grit their teeth as the ambulance rattled around another corner at breakneck speed, jolting their hasty prep before they reached the scene.

They might have gotten used to riding in the thing a long time ago, but by all means, they didn’t have to like it.

Conrad glanced up, and the two of them shared a look, both with feet planted firmly on the ground and one hand in a white knuckled hold on the metal handles on the sides of the doors, both fully prepared to throw them open and rush out.

“Ready?” He asked.

They nodded in response.

Blood roared in their ears and their neck began to burn in response - the adrenaline rush, yes, (Y/N) was quite familiar with the feeling.

It was one they got every time they were sent out.

They had no clue as to what they might be finding once they reach the scene of whatever disaster was waiting for them.

All the preparation they could’ve done, they already did.

All they could hope to do was be able to recognize what to do in the situation.

They glanced over their shoulder, dully noticing Conrad doing the same in the back of their mind.

“Carson? Minty?” Minty’s calm and collected nod send her dark, ponytailed cornrow braids rippling ever so slightly.

In what was visible of the rear view mirror, (Y/N) was sure they saw Carson purse his lips in grim agreement, before he responded.

“You know me,” his words became strained at the end of his brief statement, struggling with the wheel and a sharp turn that sent them all stumbling just a little bit before regaining their balance. “’M ready for anything.”

(Y/N) wasn’t so sure about that.

They’d never say anything, but they’d definitely seen Carson gag a few times when seeing their patients at first. Occasionally, his nose would crinkle at the smell of antiseptic or blood, and once in a while, he’d even allow distressed tears to flow at the rushed shouting in the back of the vehicle, not being able to see what was going on (perhaps that was for the best) and instead imagining something so much worse.

(Y/N) couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to gain a job as an ambulance driver, but figured that it might’ve been the next best thing to what he knew he couldn’t do - be a doctor.

It didn’t matter - the man was loyal, and had a good memory.

He knew the streets of NYC alike the back of his hand, and thanks to him and his shortcuts and knowledge of streets and addresses, they never lost lives by not getting somewhere in time because they were lost or stuck in traffic, even though all cars should know to move - it was still New York, after all. They couldn’t control the people.

Besides, (Y/N), despite knowing that there was much left to be desired about them as a whole - not just Carson - liked to think of their little team as the “dream team.”

They worked well together.

They understood each other.

They clicked.

And, most importantly, they saved lives.

Without Carson, things wouldn’t be the same. Maybe they were just being unreasonable, not completely trusting another driver, but they had a feeling that somehow, at some point, without Carson, something would go wrong.

Looking at Conrad and Minty exasperatedly as the three of them shared a look at the response, they knew that both would never tell, either.

If it was for one of their own, they’d take it to the grave, and Carson would be mortified if he found out that yes they could actually see his reactions to everything.

A faint, acrid smell entered the air.

“Smoke,” Minty muttered grimly, wrinkling her nose.

They were getting closer.

“Must’ve - must’ve been a pretty bad crash, I guess, huh?” Carson chuckled nervously, his foot stomped on the gas pedal.Conrad rolled his eyes - contrast to Carson, he’d always been a bit cynical, and while he considered the three of them his greatest friends, he often got rather annoyed with Carson or tried to scare him, which caused Minty and him to get into fights when she got angry or annoyed with him trying to freak out their driver, which meant that (Y/N) had to play peace keeper more often than not.

Nonetheless, in this instance, they could share both Carson’s worry and Conrad’s annoyance - yes, it would, quite obviously, have been a very bad crash.

It was not everyday that two trains collided on the MTA Long Island Railroad system, after all.

Their group was one of about a half dozen ambulances already rushing to be on sight.

(Y/N) always got impatient during the ride over, but Minty was probably worse.

That, at least, was something they understood.

It was a trait that they all shared to some degree - even Carson.

For every second they stood there waiting to reach their destination, they were loosing precious time.

People were dying even as they gunned it down the street.

For people who’ve been trained to save lives at the fastest rate they could move and work, anything delaying them doing anything anywhere for even a second could pretty much mean the end of their world.

They didn’t have time for anything else, anyways.

(Y/N)’s eyes did another scan of their work area - an anxious habit of theirs.

Was there anything out of place? Was there something they missed? Would that be the one slip up that caused them to make a fatal mistake?

As usual, the answers to all of these were no, but still, every thirty seconds of silence and nothing to do made them on edge, and at least checking everything over gave them something to think about.

There was only one thing they could really think of that needed fixing.

“Conrad,” they said sharply, causing his eyes to snap to them.

“What?” He asked curiously, honestly wondering what they could have to say to him at a time like this.

“Hair,” was all they needed to say for him to get the message.

A grunt of frustration was released from him, and (Y/N)’s hand clenched around the once-cool metal of the handle, feeling the plastic of their gloves shift and crinkle at the movement.

They could feel the cool metal of the support for the small table cutting into their leg as Conrad had to dispose of his gloves, grumbling, before slipping out a ponytail and putting up his shoulder length blonde hair so it wouldn’t be in the way, reaching for a new pair of the clean gloves as quick as possible as the rancid smell grew more defined and slipping the material over his digits with practiced ease they all seemed to have. (Well…except Carson.)

Carson honked his horn as the ambulance drew closer, adding to the noise of the siren. Leaning out the window, he shouted, “Get out of the way!” At some drivers or pedestrians ((Y/N) wasn’t sure which one it was) that weren’t moving fast enough for his liking.

His knee bounced up and down restlessly, and (Y/N) saw Minty’s jaw clench as the woman also forced herself to look away from Carson.

Although they were both trained to be calm in this position, both of them were beginning to pick up more and more anxiety from Carson as he got more and more nervous that all the hinderances on the street were going to make it so they wouldn’t get there in time.

In a way, sometimes his job was more important than all of theirs.

(Y/N) leaned their head against the cool metal of the door, instead, turning away from the sight of their coworkers dealing with their own destructive thoughts.

(Y/N) hated to see people in pain - it was part of the reason they’d gone into the medical field - to help people. (It was also part of the reason that for how much they loved their job, it also brought them immense discomfort.)

But this was always much, much worse: the waiting.

Whenever someone got hurt in books or movies, they always emphasized how horrible it was - the pain, the blood, the screams, the panic and sickness and death - but they never mentioned the waiting, never talked about those agonizing minutes or hours or days it took to get to their injured comrades, and, indeed, injured strangers, to see how bad it really was, and wonder if they were going to make it before they even got there. The mind could make up the darkest scenarios to haunt one if they’d let it - and waiting is a weakness in that it gives one more time to cave to the mind’s bittersweet persuasion of darker thoughts, and allowed more time for said thoughts to fester and grow.

Soon enough, the sound of other sirens reached (Y/N)’s ears, mixed with the wails of those both injured and frightened, and they sighed quietly, mentally preparing themself for the scene ahead of them.

(Y/N) was used to the horror painted crime scenes and accidents, was used to screams of those who thought their loved ones lost to them and screams of those who still had enough left in them to scream. Those things didn’t phase them anymore as they once might’ve.

Sometimes they wondered if that still made them human.

Every time they had to ride in that vehicle they had to make a point to remind themself that they were still human.

It was in the seconds before they reached the accident that it mattered most for (Y/N) to tell themself this as much as possible, because if they didn’t know who they were, then they didn’t know what they were doing, and if they didn’t know what they were doing, they’d end up killing someone with that type of carelessness.

“Up ahead,” Carson threw over his shoulder, leaning back a bit as his foot put further more pressure on the gas pedal. “ETA one minute!”

The sirens were getting louder, mixing and mingling with the sirens of other emergency vehicles on their way.

What seemed like only seconds later, the vehicle was skidding to a halt and Conrad and (Y/N) were throwing open the doors before it even stopped.

(Y/N) leapt out, trying to read the scene as best and quickly as possible.

“Gurney!” They called almost as soon as their scan began.

Chaos was the best word for it, really.

Both trains were sideways on the tracks, windows shattered and walls crippled.

Fires were everywhere, people were screaming to be let out, and a foul black smoke was filling the air.

In the back of their mind, they registered Minty and Conrad rushing past them with the gurney, going to the first person they saw who really needed it - a woman, struggling to breathe, but still managing as she let out pained moans when she could afford it, her torso caved in on one side.

Broken ribs, (Y/N) immediately deduced - lucky her lungs didn’t collapse, though from the looks of things, it was close, and they’d have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible to check for internal bleeding.

If there wasn’t any already, well, then, they wouldn’t need to spend much time with her in the ambulance itself, as long as they were careful not to jostle anything too much and kept an eye on her.

The multiple shallow cuts on her were bleeding profusely, but they could all be quickly and easily patched up - probably by one person if luck was on their side.

“Gurney!” They called out again, not wasting any time.

Minty came racing out of the ambulance with their other gurney, immediately picking up on where (Y/N) was going and moving to follow them, picking up the speed so they wouldn’t waste time and (Y/N) could help carry the gurney.

This one was a man, and they had to pull him out from a broken window.

(Y/N) wasn’t happy that there wasn’t another exit for him, because they’d had to waste time knocking some of the glass out so he didn’t get scraped up even worse, and pulling him through, but in these situations, nothing was ideal, and they had to work with what was given to them.

They hastily lifted him up, careful not to jostle anything, and secured him on the gurney.

As they raced back to the ambulance, (Y/N) mentally cataloged his injuries.

He had been much further up than the other woman, closer to the wreckage, and as such, had gotten much worse injuries.

His right arm was twisted at an awkward angle, his upper left ribs were caving in and he’d be one lucky son of a bitch if they hadn’t managed to puncture his lung - they couldn’t yet tell - his left ankle was swelling and bruised, and - oh.

Yikes.

That made things a lot worse.

A rather sizable gash in his stomach, standing out among the rest of his cuts and presumably made by the shattering window glass when the trains were caught in the accident.

Dust, scrapes, bruises and a little bit of blood scattered both him and the woman.

Conrad had leapt up when he saw them coming towards him, and as soon as they jumped in the ambulance, he dropped everything he was doing to help the woman and slammed the doors closed behind them, instantly going back to what he had been doing as Minty and (Y/N) started working on the other patient. 

After the seventh time they rode together after getting Carson as their driver, they had stopped needing to scream phrases such as, “GUN IT, IDIOT!” “MOVE!” “START THE DAMN CAR!” etc., and he had learned simply to start moving as fast as possible as soon as he heard both the doors close, and that didn’t change this time.

Minty made quick work of getting getting the equipment she needed out, while (Y/N) completely skipped over the broken limbs and went to cut the fabric around his wound and staunch the bleeding in the man’s stomach.

(Y/N)’s body went on autopilot again, like it always does during these times, and they allowed themselves time to examine both the patients, something they had always liked doing.

As creepy as it sounded, it helped ground them, reminding them that somewhere out there, these people had families to get back to, friends, no matter how small or broken or in denial, and that their life was in their hands now, and it was up to them to get them home.

Distantly, they could hear Conrad trying to talk to the woman, seeing if he could find out what was hurting to see if he’d missed anything, if he could get her name, trying to keep her mind off the pain, and it registered in their brain that they should be doing the same thing.

Should they, though?

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered up.

Contrary to (Y/N)’s earlier belief, Minty wasn’t trying to stop the bleeding on the rest of his cuts, which were small in comparison to the one (Y/N) was watching, but would become a problem if left unattended, but cutting open the rest of his shirt.

Dammit, (Y/N), pay attention! They shouted in their head as they saw what was going on. Now is not the time to get distracted!

Their brow knitted in concern as the man gasped again and again, desperately trying to breathe, all the while the woman’s breaths were settling down.

Looks like he wasn’t very lucky with his lungs after all.

Damn. Traumatic Pneumothorax.

Well, that certainly made things a hell of a lot worse. (It also told them that no, they should absolutely not try to get him to talk, thank you very much.)

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he seemed to get paler and paler.

He was getting less and less oxygen as the movement in his lungs only became more restricted.

“Minty!” They snapped warningly.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” She shot back just as sharply, her hands flying to try to set up the chest tube.

(Y/N) glanced down, grimacing at the sight - despite their hardest efforts, the blood didn’t seem to be stopping.

They pulled one hand away, the other immediately trying to pick up the slack, and turned their hand over, so they weren’t spreading the blood when they touched his hands.

They felt both to make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, but the skin was cool to the touch and by all means clammy overall.

His eyes flickered from them to the ceiling, from Minty to Conrad to the woman on his right to the medical equipment surrounding him, never staying on one thing for long.

Lack of concentration.

“BP’s dropping!” (Y/N) shouted, bordering on frantic.

They’d never had a patient get this bad before. They put two fingers to his wrist - the lack of oxygen was getting to him, his heart rate was getting faster and faster.

His eyes fluttered as they rocketed around yet another corner.

(Y/N) could only curse at the movement, though they knew that Carson was doing the best he could.

The sudden movement would only be making the man more disoriented, and that was exactly what they didn’t need right now.

Not only would he be getting tired from the lack of oxygen he was getting, he’d also be getting dizzy from his rapidly dropping blood pressure, which would also add to the fatigue, and he was sure to be panicking about not being able to breathe.

Their free hand went back to fruitlessly trying to stop the gushing liquid life.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Minty was, somehow, able to stay calm despite the situation.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure how she did it, at first, but then they remembered that Minty had been doing this for a lot longer than they had.

(Y/N) hadn’t had any patients get this worse, but Minty might’ve.

Hell, (Y/N) had no idea how many people their partners had seen die over the years before they came along to join their little team.

It was their job to be calm in situations like this, for God’s sake!

Get yourself together, (Y/N)! You’re not going to be helping anybody if you’re uselessly panicking!

The man’s eyes slowly moved to Minty’s general direction when she spoke.

“You’re gonna be alright, okay? We’re gonna get you home.”

Normally Minty kept her promises to people.

(Y/N) wasn’t sure if she could manage to keep this one.

Finally, Minty had managed to get the chest tube set up properly, and begin the process of draining the air between his lungs so they could expand properly, but even if that was one problem solved, he had fainted before she got far, a combination of the combined dropping blood pressure and prolonged time without oxygen.

(Y/N) was honestly surprised he had managed to hold on as long as he did.

If anything, he was resilient - they’d give him that.

(Y/N)’s hand flew to his wrist again, where his pulse was slowing down - most likely a result of beginning to be able to breathe properly again - and they let out a sigh of relief when they felt it steadying out.

But then it kept going - slower and slower and slower.

“Minty,” they glanced up sharply, meeting her eyes, before looking back down at his wrist, and then back at the injury on his stomach that just wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Her eyes followed their gaze, and immediately understood, one of her own hands flitting to take his pulse more accurately, by his neck, her eyes trailing back to look at his stomach as she did so, where she obviously saw the same problem as (Y/N) did.

“His pulse is getting weaker,” She confirmed.

“Conrad!” (Y/N) now had both hands on the stomach wound again, but was gesturing their companion over with his head.

As his patient was mostly stable, the injuries far less severe, he was able to drop what he was doing and move there quickly.

“He’s not breathing!” Minty observed.

“Ah, damn it…”

Conrad skipped the hands-only part of CPR, knowing it could only put him in a further critical condition with his lungs and ribs the way they currently were, and went straight to administering mouth-to-mouth.

As he tried to breathe life into him, Minty worked in tandem, trying to help inflate his lungs with the chest pump.

It didn’t seem to be working, and when Minty’s fingers again went to his neck, her eyes widened and she shouted, “I can’t feel a pulse!”

(Y/N)’s hands went to his wrist and waited for a second - they couldn’t feel anything either.

“He’s going into cardiac arrest.”

Needless to say, they didn’t waste any time in getting out the defibrillators were out.

“Clear!” Conrad shouted as he was charging them up.

Reluctantly, (Y/N) stepped back.

“Clear!” He yelled again when they were reaching the point where they were ready to be used.

Minty gave one last squeeze of the chest pump before dropping it and taking a step away.

“Clear!” Conrad yelled for the third time, as per protocol, before setting the paddles on his chest and sending the shock through.

In the back of their mind, (Y/N) registered Carson give a little squeak from up front, but they ignored it.

Minty once again checked his pulse once the shock had passed, and shook her head.

“Clear!” Conrad shouted again, and Minty withdrew her hand.

(Y/N)’s heart was pumping so fast they were afraid it would beat straight out of their chest, though they knew it wasn’t physically possible.

Come on come on come on…

Conrad brought the paddles down again, and again, Minty checked his pulse and shook her head.

Again and again they tried, always with the same results.

“Clear!” Conrad went to charge up the paddles again, refusing to let him go, but Minty held out a hand to stop him.

“Stop,” she said in a quiet voice. And then, grimly, “I’m calling it. TOD 6:52 am.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

While Conrad began to pack away the defibrillators and Minty began to extract the chest pump, (Y/N)’s eyes flickered to the woman a little to their left.

They locked eyes, and her chest heaved again, silently, and more and more tears ran down her face.

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped.

Distantly, they were aware of Minty and Conrad finishing putting away the equipment and beginning to look over obvious physical traits, trying to save some work for the coroner on identifying him.

They heard Minty ask what color his eyes were, and was sure that he was opening up his lids to check before they filmed over, but (Y/N) could only focus on the woman.

Not only had they let this man die, but this woman was still sitting here, in pain, but very much alive, and while (Y/N), Minty and Conrad might have to live knowing that while they hadn’t been able to save him, they had tried, she would have to live knowing that less than five feet away from her, a man had died, and she hadn’t been able to do anything for him at all.

An overwhelming sense of guilt and hopelessness overcame them in that moment.

They’d never lost a patient before.

It was somehow so much worse than they’d thought it would be.

Pursing their lips, they painstakingly broke the connection between them and the woman, managing to bring their gaze back over to the man.

While the other two had their attention turned away, they reached up, and with blood soaked hands, slowly slid his dark brown eyes shut.

Now, they supposed, he looked more like he was sleeping again.

When the four of them got off their shift that night, they parted silently.

It was almost as if, without words, they’d all quietly and shamefully admitted that somewhere along the way, they had made a mistake.

They might not know what it was - they might never - and there was a mistake in there somewhere, regardless.

And that was a thought that just about tore (Y/N)’s heart to shreds.

(Y/N) went home to their apartment, sat on their couch, and did what they hadn’t been strong or stupid enough to do in front of the others.

They cried.

Before the day had started, (Y/N) knew that there were risks in the job, knew that losing someone was a possibility, that they’d had to deal with it.

But before the day had started, (Y/N) had also prided themself on having never lost a patient.

(Y/N) didn’t have a lot of friends - Minty, Carson, Conrad, and maybe one or two others, though they didn’t see them often - and what family they had were few and far in between, scattered across the country - some of them in other countries.

They’d never had all that much to lose.

Death was new to them - a foreign concept.

(Y/N) didn’t think of it often, found it easier not to - they were less likely to make a mistake if their mind wasn’t thinking of the horrible result of it.

With how many people dealt with it around the world each day, and how most of them were still walking around with a strong face, they had thought it would be easier than it was.

God, they had gotten rid of the air in between his lungs, he was on his way to breathing again!

He was right there.

If (Y/N) could’ve just stopped the bleeding-

“Why so gloomy?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help it - they leapt up from the couch, letting out an almighty screech as they did so, and whipped around to see where the voice had come from.

“Wh - how -”

With their heart practically still in their throat, they didn’t seem to be able to form a coherent sentence.

“What?”

“What the hell?! I thought you died!”

And truly, (Y/N) did, but nonetheless, standing there in front of them was a man, with shoulder length black hair, a t-shirt and jeans on, a worn notebook tucked under his arm.

Dark, intelligent eyes met their own, and (Y/N)’s breath caught at seeing the orbs that they had last caught just before sliding them closed.

He gave them a deadpan look, which did nothing to help ease the terror rising inside of them or their rocketing heart beat.

“Gee, thanks. Nice to see you, too, buddy. How’ve you been?”

The sarcasm threw them even further off guard.

“I - you…what the hell?”

“You’ve asked that already.”

(Y/N) shook their head, ignoring what he’d just said. “What’s going on?”

The bright blue man - who the longer (Y/N) looked at, the more they were sure that this was definitely the man who had died in the ambulance earlier that morning - set down his notebook that they were sure wasn’t with him earlier on the coffee table, where it landed with a thump.

How the hell did it make a noise? It’s - what even was it, anyways? He was a ghost, they were pretty sure, but what were they supposed to call that? It wasn’t with him earlier when he died, but it looked to be the same color as him, and like him, ever so slightly transparent. That meant that it shouldn’t have been able to make a noise.

While (Y/N) was momentarily distracted, still staring at the journal and trying to figure it out, the man made himself comfortable on their couch, eyes surveying the apartment curiously.

“Nice place you’ve got,” he remarked, snapping them out of their thoughts.

They could only stare at him a little while longer, before asking the one thing really on their mind in this whole situation.

“What’s going on?” They repeated, their voice very small this time around.

They could feel their obnoxious heartbeat finally beginning to calm after the initial scare, but it was still faster than normal.

He blinked at them, and for a moment, said nothing, before he blurted out the words,

“Stop blaming yourself.”

“I need t-” (Y/N) cut themself off for a second before shaking their head again. “…what?”

He sighed.

“Okay, this could take a while. Have a seat,” (Y/N) rose an eyebrow at that. Their head still whirling from whatever the hell this was, they hardly noticed the irritation it was causing their eyes as the tears were drying.

A dead man they’d never met before that day was sitting in their living room, inviting them to sit down in their own home without even seeming to realize what he was doing.

How the hell was this their life right now?

Never mind, they decided. I really need to sit down right now.

“So here’s the deal,” he turned towards them. “I’m dead-”

“I see that,” (Y/N) muttered, but he seemed not to hear them.

“But I can’t get out of the In Between. According to this lady who is, apparently, a Grimm - in pretty sure that’s their slang for Grim Reaper, but I didn’t get to ask - and who calls herself Jerrah- really nice, by the way, awesome fedora, too, you should totally meet her sometime-” (Y/N) really hoped that they wouldn’t be able to meet her for a long time. “The reason I can’t move on is because I have unfinished business here. And, apparently, that unfinished business is you.”

(Y/N) blinked once, then twice at the silence, dragging their eyes to look at his face rather than at his emphatically gesturing hands, which had been distracting them the entire time he had been talking.

Realizing this guy was waiting for them to say something, (Y/N) quickly scrolled through their mind and tried to remember where exactly he’d left off.

“Me?” They finally asked, the words coming out more like a scoff. “I don’t even know your name. I was a catalyst in you dying. We’ve never been in the same room as each other for more than ten minutes.”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah, but according to her, you blame yourself and that’s something I have to fix.”

At his flippant words (Y/N)’s heart practically stopped. Gritting their teeth, they took a deep breath and breathed out through their nose, their eyes closed.

“Define ’fix.’”

It was going to be a long, long night.

[sinsofsummers]

02 | battles

Synopsis: In which scars from the past come back to haunt god’s most noble warrior. How? Why, in the form of his best friend in a coma.

Masterlist

He wasn't dreaming, not really.

The images in his mind, flashing across the horizon of his brain like a movie scene, the numbness that came with it, the voices, the pain, oh, the pain...

They weren't dreams. They were memories. That much he knew.

Some of them consisted of the same ten words, echoing, agonizing, inside his head. He could hear his own screams of protest, bouncing off the walls of his muddied brain. But the worst part?

He didn't even know what he looked like. He couldn't remember. The only memories that he recognized were the ones that caused the most pain.

желание (Longing).

Numbness spread over his whole body, terminating any control he had over himself, reducing it to nothing.

ржавый (Rusted).

Pools of blood, hundreds, flashed before his eyes, the dark substance staining the same pair of black boots, dyeing them crimson.

семнадцать (Seventeen).

He could hear himself(or what he thought was his voice), a weak version of a human's voice, pleading, "Stop," with the speaker, who didn't care to listen, and continued breaking him, molding him into a shape that he didn't recognize.

рассвет (Daybreak).

His mind was dark except for the glint of metal on the left side of his vision. Then he realized: the metal belonged to him, connecting to his stump of a shoulder, thick, white scars covering his skin.

печь (Furnace).

Destruction. It was the only thing in his mind, the only thing that kept showing up. It was endless, the raging fires that roared behind him as he retreated into the hands of faceless evils.

девять (Nine).

Faces swam into his view, faces screwed up in pain, others in shock, but all had the unmistakable mask of fear etched on their features. Fear caused by him.

доброкачественный (Benign).

The names belonging to his victims began to ring out in his mind, an ominous sea of death that swallowed his every bit of consciousness, taking over everything and allowing him to only listen to the shouts and screams that were orchestrated by him. This was the wrath of the Winter Soldier. The ghost story.

возвращение домой (Homecoming).

The pain didn't stop. But for a few precious seconds, it lessened, and all he could see was snow.

один (One).

And then one face, the face of a man who used to be defenseless, a nobody with a good heart that transformed into the nation's hero overnight. A man that he'd known, but now could hardly pull his name to his lips.

Steve.

грузовой автомобиль (Freight car).

It was all gone in a second, faster than the blink of an eye. The moving mass of silver flew out of his vision and the ground came up to meet him, looking like a soft landing but providing anything but. And the man that he used to call punk, he was gone.

He felt as if he were floating, as if he should be numb to all the pain that he caused. But this wasn't like an easy night of sleeping. The images were real, not a figment of his imagination, and he wasn't waking up soon to chase away his demons.

After all, he wasn't dreaming, not really.

"What are you doing here?" The voice was scratchy, obviously from lack of use during the past few days.

"What does it look like?" He replied, flashing a grin at the small, fever-ridden teenager on the bed. "Making sure you don't die on me."

A small, humorless laugh fell from his lips. "I probably would be dead, if it weren't for you stopping in every three hours."

He shrugged. "Well, then I guess you owe me thanks for keeping you here longer." Pulling up a chair from the desk in the room, he sat down and crossed his arms. "It would awfully selfish of you to just die and leave me all alone here, don't ya think?" He grinned, giving his friend a wink.

The sick teen rolled his eyes, and tried to take a deep breath, but the air got caught in his throat, making him break out in a wheezing cough, moist and tearing up his vocal cords.

Reaching to the bedside table, he found a glass of water sitting on the surface. He grabbed it and held it to his friend's lips, urging him to drink.

"Come on, Stevie, drink up," he coaxed, "pretend it's whiskey."

His comment, though he was only joking, earned him a sidelong glare, to which he replied with an arrogant chuckle.

"Jerk," was the first word to leave his cracked lips. He was staring sternly at him, but there was a glint in his eye, his one fatal flaw that betrayed him.

The young man sitting in the wooden chair leaned back, crossing his arms and smirking. "So, did you do anything stupid today?"

He gave him a 'really?' look. "What kind of stupid things would I be able to do? I can hardly move without having to stop and catch my breath."

"Well, I'm glad you're not having any fun without me."

His friend rolled his eyes yet again.

"Are you going to make me soup, or did you come here just to make fun of my perpetual sicknesses?"

He found his smirk loosening into a sad smile. "I come here to hang out you, pal, not to make fun of you. Sure, I like to tease you all the time, but not make fun, never to make fun."

"There's a thin line between those two," the bed-ridden teen added.

He shrugged and stood up, making his way to the kitchen where he could start to make soup for his sick pal. "Yeah, but I have to say that I'm doing just fine."

There was no answer, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable, just there. They remained like that for awhile, while he prepared dinner for him and his friend, thanking his lucky stars that Steve's heart had chosen to survive another day.

He brought out two bowls of soup, and helped his friend sit up so he could swallow the warm broth. Although he had to help lift the spoon to his lips, he didn't mind.

It took a long time for each of them to finish their dinner, and after swallowing each drop, the boys sat back and stared into space, unsure of where to take the dying conversation.

"Alright," he stood up, "I'll just clean this up, and then I'll let you wallow in self-loathing," he made sure to wink at his friend, telling him he was only joking.

He turned his back, his steps creaking on the old wooden floors. But the small, nervous voice stopped him.

"Buck?"

Their eyes met. "Yeah, Stevie?"

"Can you just...stay for a little while longer? Until I fall asleep, maybe?"

He smirked. "What, do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"

A light, careful scoff left the lips of his sick friend. "Right. Of course."

Bucky chuckled, and then his voice got soft. "Yeah, I'll stay with you, pal. I'll always stay."

It had felt like a dream. But he knew that it was a memory, from the before. He thought he'd endured all of it. All the pain, all the suffering. But that suffering was that of his victims, of people he'd barely known.

This pain, the coughing and wheezing of a skinny teenager, it was more earth-shattering, heart-wrenchingly sad than any other pain he'd ever experienced. And he couldn't escape it.

Because he couldn't wake up. His mind wouldn't allow it. He was trapped, fighting countless battles that never ended. And soon, it would swallow him up whole, enveloping him in the grief, guilt, and agony of it all.

They called him a ghost.

And before long, he was sure, he would become one.