#but im just on a train of thought abt like

[ashoss]

mmmk cardea playing a somewhat larger role because she’s the only one who they might be able to talk to without splitting between her greek/roman self…. (did the fully one sided gods still cease contact w demigods? ermmm)

also yess the kids not even realizing they can’t contact the gods bc they’re all just thinking abt bruce…. mmmm tim thinks it’s a little too quiet but he doesn’t question it.

also the original plan of mortal tim only to accidentally make him the bridge between the two camps in the midst of a war….. ok..

and on steph and cj. my thought was cardea bringing steph to camp. idk in hopes of her possibly staying, but doing a tour explaining what she is, her power set, more about the gods (bc let’s be real she along w all of the batkids would have at least some knowledge on greek/roman myths, with what u learn on school and being bruce is close with motherfucking wonder woman (also thinking about how diana would fall into this world. would she come to the manor when the gods stop talking? is she aware of the divide? is she just as lost as the rest of them? who knows)

but cardea basically giving steph her intro into the godly world (well none of the other kids got that. i wonder if they wish it was something they had instead of figuring it out on the streets or through a giant mark above their head) i mean obvi steph would refuse the year round living at CJ, but it would be fun for her mom to pick her up, send her a pegasus for her to train with CJ’s equipment, for a bit, i mean she won’t be gone long. but cardea is the only god i could imagine doing something like this for one of her kids

but hmmm cassie and tim. i did forget for a second that the mist can also affect demigods and k was like CASSIE AND TIM IN CALIFORNIA MEETING OTHER DEMIGOD. but like. no i remember it being stated that if greek and roman demigods came across eachothers path the mist would hide them lol

ALSO YEAH like wtf bro IM in california… YOURE in california…

(kon, bernard, steph and jason al somehow managed to go be in the same room and tim is just. completely confused) could also be venus turning some emotions up lmaoo

if venus was there she would’ve found tim’s little thoughts abt jason grace soo funny

BUT YESS tim and steph deserve a little trip to CJ <3

i was trying to think which of the other kids would actually want to go to CHB but i don’t think any of them would? i would’ve said duke but he’s not a greek demigod, dick maybbeeeeee? (but bro ur pushing 30 what r u doing) maybe babs would be down to go for research? i think she would want to talk to chiron abojt stuff, maybeeee dionysus too. tim would bring steph to CHB after they go to CJ (didn’t they set up like a portal thing after the war? idk)

also completely out of left field but you know how Bernard was gonna be sacrificed by the Children of Dionysus cult?? I don't think it was explicitly stated in the comics what the sacrifice was for exactly (I don't remember seeing anything when I read it, but maybe i just missed it), but I've seen people suggest the idea the possibility that he would have been possessed by Dionysus. imagine if that was really the case in the PJO-verse, like the cult are some mortal fanatics who obviously don't know how the Greek gods work, but they're trying to summon Dionysus.

i'm just imagining Tim processing the whole affair later and ranting about it, and Venus with a glass of divine wine in her hand like "what's the big deal? you know, one time Bacchus and I-" "MOTHER!" like yea Tim knows that it's a god thing, it's been very well documented, but he'd rather not be dating his (*does the mental calculations*) first cousin once removed??? Who also slept with his mom??? "i'm just saying that he does this thing with his tongue-" "MOTHER PLEASE"

(boo, let her have this okay? no one's had any juicy drama lately, even the other bats' love lines have been so BORING. she needs something entertaining to liven things up. hm, actually, speaking of bats, maybe she could pay Batman a visit later...)

venus just. dropping the most diabolical tea that tim has NO desire to hear is soooo funny. and its not like he can get rid of her. like. ur gonna get rid of this goddess ???????

[theyhoolikeowls]

.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[abrahamvanhelsings]

for the ship asks: joplittle? i know i'm opening pandora's box with this

if someone already asked, then going for any other ned ship you might also like? choose freely my friend

AUGH my beloveds!! ill try not to make this a whole essay so ill point out a couple of things that i love about them at random

the way they interact with each other on screen has me obsessed. i wrote a post a bit ago about how we don't see them talk much together but they have a lot of potential anyway, and then @cinematicnomad made a great point about the fact that they DO interact but a lot it is nonverbal. honestly that opened my eyes to so much little things i hadn't noticed before. that they communicate through glances and gestures and that they understand each other, know each other well enough to have that kind of interaction... they may be background characters and we may not see the progression of their relationship much, but we can tell that it happens, and that they become close. you can tell that being in that precarious situation together, where crozier's alcoholism is affecting the entire expedition but it also has to be kept a secret, and they're the two people who know, and who are responsible for crozier/everything else, that really created a very tight bond between them.

speaking of tight friendships! we can tell that it happens bc edward, famously, is SO happy when jopson is made lieutenant. everyone at that table thinks it's deserved, and is happy for jopson, but edward is a beam of sunlight in that tent. genuinely can't stop smiling. it's so so lovely to me that he can't contain his own glee bc he's so glad and proud. get you a man who applauds your successes like edward little

there are so many ways their personalities fit together so well!! they're both extremely diligent in their duties, but it plays out differently in them both, and they both have different weaknesses. they're the type of people who are generally quiet and unobtrusive but steadfast and loyal, but where jopson tends to go sharp as a knife under pressure, edward always worries that he is doing the right thing (that's also bc for a large part of the expedition they have very different responsibilites and cares, but nevertheless). they're both guarded where it comes to showing their inner feelings, but it feels to me that jopson can provide a firmness, the assurance that edward needs to remain confident in who he is and what he does, whereas edward (once you've cracked him like an egg) has a warmth to him that can fold around jopson like a blanket, to let go of that tightly-controlled professionalism. each other's safety blankets, people who can mitigate the other's shortcomings, and provide space for their better qualities and their feelings to come to full bloom.

lower class/higher class dynamic is a weakness of mine. any fic that has thomas being a steward/valet to edward in any capacity with the victorian slow burn mutual pining/mutual 'he is to good for me' has me on my knees

[recallback-art]

You know that joke, about how dogs can't recognize themselves in the mirror, and see a different dog entirely when it's really been them the whole time?

[sezija]

Ok i think i’m actually going insane not talking abt this so fuck it

Dragonwalker Hiccup AU

My fic of it, set during HTTYD1; basically just a prologue

Ramblings underneath (like, a lot. i’m warning you.)

So basically, Dragonwalkers are humans who, when they fall asleep, turn into dragons. Just go watch Wolfwalkers actually it’s a very good movie and the concept is very hard to put into words, i’ve found.

Anyway; thoughts. Many MANY of them. :)

Valka’s had her dragon form (a night fury) her whole life, and lived on an island w her family AND a family of Night Furies. (Night Furies live in family packs, w the parents leading/raising/teaching their children (they only have 1 egg at a time, and only lay up to 3 in their whole life) until they’re old enough to get their own mate and start their own pack. (When a Night Fury pair’s children all have left and started their own families, they will sometimes join their children’s packs since they can’t hunt and fight on their own that well as they get older.))

And bc thw sucks and Grimmel, a man who is still alive, somehow killing off an entire species of dragons is stupid, i’m using my sibling’s idea, which is that Grimmel’s family has been hunting Night Furies for generations. It’s a family tradition basically, tracking and killing them until none are left. (And every person in his family has been killed by Night Furies, further motivating them.)

So Valka’s family (dragon&dragonwalker) were all killed, and only she escaped, ending up on Berk. Fell in love w Stoick, tried to make the vikings stop killing the dragons, was taken by Cloudjumper, the usual. She reunites with Hiccup early, during RTTE, just bc i want them to kick dragon hunter ass together. The war w Drago happens later.

Also i’m completely discarding the whole “king of all dragons” thing, it doesn’t fit w how i want this world to feel. Also toothless sucked as Alpha, i dont want that. And what i’ve always liked abt the HTTYD dragons is that they’re animals. The whole “king of all dragons” kinda,,, ruins that. So that’s also gone now.

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts abt how dragon flocks/packs/pods work, and these are my current ideas;

A “Flock” is a group of dragons of different species, under the control/protection of an Alpha (the Red Death’s flock, (Valka’s) Bewilderbeast’s flock, that one flock of dragons in RTTE s2e8-9 “Edge of Disaster”)

A “Pack” is a group of dragons of the same species, under the control/protection of a leader/queen/etc. etc. (speed stingers, fire worms, terrible terrors, (night furies in this AU))

A “Pod” is the same as a Pack, except for Tidal-class dragons specifically (a pod of seashockers, scauldrons, etc.)

The whole franchise is very inconsistent abt this so i’m working w what i have ok

The “Great Beyond” was separated from Berk/Berserkers/etc. by a heavy wall of fog all around them. There were some spots you could cross, used by traders and such, but the rest of the world has stayed pretty separated from this one corner of the world that experiences Dragon Raids.

However, after the Red Death’s demise, the fog has been slowly dissipating, allowing more to cross over; this way, the riders taking hours and hours of exhausting flight to reach “the great beyond” AND Gobber somehow making his way to Dragon’s Edge on a small, rickety boat both make sense; the more time passes, the easier it is to cross.

A lot of the conflict in the series comes from the human characters not understanding why the dragons are doing something, so giving Hiccup the ability to communicate with them takes away a lot of it, which i’m not happy abt bc it means i need to come up w my own stuff >:( (communicating w the dragons is actually kinda difficult in human form, since his hearing isn’t good enough to hear a fair amount of their vocalizations, and his throat isn’t made for producing those sounds.)

Anyway, my thoughts have been specifically focused on one episode of RTTE, my favourite one since i first saw it, up there w Dire Straits and Enemy of my Enemy; s3e8 “Stryke Out”.

In this AU, hiccup is taken by dragon hunters in his dragon form, taken to a dragon fighting ring. He’s worth a lot to them, being a Night Fury (this is what the art at the top of the post is depicting). He’s caged up for a few weeks until the news of a Night Fury in the ring spread enough, and he has to start fighting. The Riders figure out where he is due to these rumours, and interrupt his fight with the Triple Stryke 3 days into him being forced to fight the other dragons, the same day Ryker came to collect his cut of the money again.

Anyway, that’s all i rly wanted to get out rn. Just. Obsessed. Hiccup becoming crueler and much less forgiving towards dragon hunters after this experience. He’s seen their cruelty many times before, but being caged and muzzled and forced to hurt other dragons if he wants to live, dependant on them for food, even for the capability to eat it, bc of the hook they put in his mouth, really just... changes him. God i love torturing my faves <3

He would take the Dragon Fliers&their Singetails so personally here.

anyway, art;

(i forgot to add his chin scar in many of these oof)

[kindred-spirit-93]

back from the dead (snort)

--

WAIT WAIT ARE YOU TELLING ME DEMETER HAS AN EPITHET REFERENCING VENGENFUL FURIES?! WAHT??? >:D!?!

asdfghjkl thank you! really glad u like her lol shes becoming my favouritest to doodle lol. also not at all! i really love that you kept the aspect of her grief that so many are keen to twist to villainise her or erase completely to invalidate her. both are awful imo

heres a quote from le ask (soon i promise 😭😂): "Demeter and Persephone share a strong bond compared to the other gods. After Persephones "death" Demeter was never really the same. Demeter relives the painful cycle annually, and carries a deep rooted bitterness toward the other gods for it."

--

i actually think its hilarious and awesome to see that demeter can be herself with those shes close with (one of my favourite things in characterisations is when you have what seems to be a stern and serious presenting person breaking character at a dumb or inappropriate joke or something to that affect, it kills me everytime its so funny!)

anyway demeter is NOT not be confused with gaia (my girl knows how to have fun lol). but much like the rest of us shes got issues to work with and experiences to heal and grow from *finger guns*. 10/10 i think u did her justice. so much so i drew this for u hehe

under no cicumstances should she meet micheal scott lmao. humanity will never hear the end of "thats what _ said" jokes. ever.

her hair is lime green btw the light is making her blonde :/

[liquidstar]

oc req i got from a friend on cohost for these two hanging out! which eventually turned into me thinking "what if this is just saiph walking up to ramus unprompted on Guild Beach Day, but ramus fully forgot who he was since they last met" and that concept was funny enough to me that thats what the drawing became

but still, here's an edited (technically original) version under the cut bc i think eventually they start to talk for real anyway lol

[phagodyke]

never stops being funny to me how everyone at the gym assumes im FAR more competent than I actually am without question. went to a roped sesh w one of my clubs bc they asked for novices to come along so the ppl training for the climbing qualification could get some hours in teaching ppl the basics & I wanted to learn. two climbing friends ask me if I've memorised the handbook for the assessment yet and are genuinely surprised when I tell them I'm not on the course. the instructor running the qual course (again, who I'm friends with) goes around and points out who's on the course and who's here as a novice to the assessor who had just dropped by, gets to me and goes oh yeah you're on the course too right? nope. then he goes ah but still they're a competent climber. nope again. pure novice. literally here bc I don't even know how to tie in and belay mate, u know that bc you've rope climbed with me before and had to fill out a supervision form bc im not signed off!! theres not even that many ppl DOING the course i dont know why he associates me with it. the first time I rocked up at one of the rope sessions the same guy (who, btw, has a hyperfixation on climbing safety & gear and is a fucking stickler for it & calls literally everyone else out abt it!!) asked if I could lead belay him - IM NOT QUALIFIED. TO LEAD CLIMB LET ALONE LEAD BELAY!!!!! then today they move on to gear and everyone is surprised I don't have my own belay device or harness. IM NOT SIGNED OFF. TO BELAY. I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW. THATS WHY IM HERE. I EXCLUSIVELY BOULDER. YOUVE NEVER SEEN ME DO ANYTHING ELSE. WHY WOULD I OWN ANY ROPED GEAR???? also bear in mind I'm a solid 10-15 years younger than the instructor & most ppl doing the course like where the hell are u getting this impression from guys 😭😭

[monachopism]

am i autistic or am i just paranoid. level: impossible

[bylertruther]

🚨 angst alert 🚨 i have a question for you. yes, you. put your au thinking cap on. got it? okay.

how do you think mike would've coped if they'd been in lucas and max's season four positions? as in, will dies a grotesque death in mike's arms after they agreed to go on a movie date this friday and mike admitted to feeling like he'd lost will not that long ago, mike almost gets shot and has to fight for both their lives to no avail and then pull them away from the rifts afterward to wait for help, and eleven manages to save will but he's in the hospital totally unresponsive and also whoops she can't actually find him in his mind btw. ...oof. thoughts? 🤨📝🎤

[reckless-rider]

Idk if this is likely but since Fukuzawa got defeated by Fukuchi, wouldn't it be interesting if he got turned into a vampire? like with aku?

I mean Fukuchi would have what he wanted, his childhood friend to fight beside him.

Although, I personally think Fukuzawa becoming a vampire is worse than just killing him off. Would the agency have the power to kill him if they needed to? How would that effect his ability and those effected by it?

Also imagine being Ranpo and your father figure is trying to kill you and no matter what you do he won't snap out of it. If you just figured out who Kamui was beforehand this wouldn't have happened.

Ranpo would blame himself even more than he already does. We know how far he's willing to go for the agency, what happens if Fukuzawa becomes a vampire?

It would be awful if the only way Fukuzawa snapped out of it was after basically killing his son. We don't know where Yosano is rn so Ranpo's probability to survive is unknown.

If Fukuzawa died by the agency's hands, it would mean Fyodor is closer to winning, no?

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[funsizedcrow]

"Animation is only for kids" im going to fist fight you

[hballegro]

alright here's the essay under the cut.

entirely just my experience w/ MASH, almost no editing [just spelling mistakes and a few apostrophe misuses]. fair warning, my father was [is] an alcoholic and a horrible person, and i mention that a bit, so if thats something you're sensitive to, bewarned.

         My story with M*A*S*H begins a hundred years ago when I was somewhere between 5 and 8, old enough to watch television but not old enough to remember how old I was when I was doing it. The childhood I had was overall unremarkable, marred only by my pitiful excuse for a father that parented by either drinking or being hungover on the couch in between screaming at his children or beating his wife. Unfortunately, he is part of this story, but only accidentally. See, he used to do all that stuff in our unfinished basement, on an old ugly couch, hiding from his family all day. Then, eventually, he decided he liked the couch and television upstairs better, and plagued the family room for many years instead, putting whatever he wanted to watch on instead of letting his children watch cartoons. I ended up liking The Three Stooges quite a lot, less out of actually thinking it was fun and more out of it being the only thing he’d put on that I found remotely entertaining, so I was taking what I could get. We kept the old burned CDs he’d made of them after he moved out.

         Anyway. My mother had (and still has) a television in her room (it used to be their room, but she kicked him out) that she could avoid him with. Not wanting to be around the violent cesspool of a person on my couch, I’d sometimes crawl to her room, so as not to let him see me and have him make me come over and listen to some music or whatever he wanted. Old guitarist reliving his glory days or something, I couldn’t tell you. But anyway, I’d enter her room and sit down on her bed with her or on the floor, and we’d watch TV. More often than not, she’d put on MeTV, because she watched those old shows with her own father, and it was a bright spot in her memory that gave her some escapism too. There were a lot of shows on there, but I only really ever remembered things like Gilligan’s Island, ALF, Columbo, Bewitched, The Twilight Zone, and, of course, M*A*S*H.

         I liked the other shows, of course. I remember them fondly, especially Gilligan’s Island, maybe it was the catchy theme song with words I could learn. I didn’t like how brown and gross Columbo was, but my mom explained that that’s just how it looked back then. I thought the puppet on ALF was funny, and The Twilight Zone scared me, but I was still interested. I remember enough of Bewitched to remember the nose wiggle and constantly mix it up with I Dream of Jeannie for some reason. Really, anything was better than watching the same episode of Farscape again, which I’ve heard is actually a very good show, but my father kept forgetting that he’d already made me start watching it, and so every viewing session was just the pilot. That’s also the reason I never learned Spanish.

         But then I got to M*A*S*H. I won’t lie to you and say that, as a wizened 5-to-8-year-old, I could ‘tell something was special’ about this show. It was a show. It was a show that I remember looking at my mom during, and seeing her really happy. Later she told me, after watching it with me in present day, that she would watch it with her own father, before her parents got divorced. Her father more or less was not present in her life after the split, and that happened when she was 14-ish. The show started airing when she was the age I was when I watched it with her, and she and her father made a weekly thing of it. Neither of us at that age should have watched it, but for both of us, it was forming a little bright spot in our minds, a good dream with a parent when times were tough.

         I remember laughing, even if I didn’t get all the jokes. I remember thinking I liked the shade of red one of the characters wore, and also the shade of dark blue the same character wore sometimes. I remember one or both of my siblings being there sometimes, laughing along. One of my siblings told me recently that B.J. Hunnicutt and John ‘Trapper’ McIntyre, both filling roles as doubles partners for Benjamin Franklin ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce, had merged into the same person in their memory. I thought that was hilarious; how could they ever think those were the same person! B.J. Hunnicutt had a mustache! Imagine my surprise re-watching season 4’s opener, ‘Welcome to Korea’, featuring a clean-cut fresh-faced Mike Farrell, lacking the horse brush I had so clearly remembered him housing under his nose.

         But the rewatching, yes, the rewatching. It started innocently enough. Between breaks at college, far beyond my young-youth, the real youth people mean when they use that word, my mother opened it up on the tv and put it on. No matter what era you go to in our household, the TV was always going. Most of the time no one was watching it, sometimes blatantly, loudly, explosively chattering and guffawing and gasping with our own business and ignoring it entirely. It was background noise, we all needed it, so we always had it. But something a little strange happened; my mother was watching it, as she often did when she put something on in the evenings to massage her brain to bed after a long day at work. I was typing away at something on my laptop, like I am now, sitting on the couch with her, which I am also doing now (although she’s long gone to bed), and I looked up.

         I saw Hawkeye.

         It didn’t feel like a rush of emotion, it didn’t feel like something important was happening. That was just my old friend. Looking absolutely horrible with the haircut he was rocking in the pilot, but I remembered him. The pilot doesn’t open with the theme, as I recognized that as soon as it played, it opens with golf, a little vignette of the camp before the choppers come in with wounded. I saw Hawkeye, I saw his shirt, and it really was like when you see an old friend, one you can’t really remember what all you did with, or where you met, or even each other’s names anymore, but you know they mean something to you. You knew this person, and you liked them, you liked them enough that even though you forgot everything else, you remember the love that was there.

         And it was a very small thing that happened, and it didn’t happen with every episode, but I would pause my music. My own background noise to drown out everyone else’s background noise, blasting into my headphones. I’d pause my music, read the subtitles, hear them faintly through muffled ears, and laugh along. Smile when I’d see a smile, and a little more than half pay attention.

         I went back to college, life went on, we only got maybe to the beginning of season two, but my mom didn’t continue without me. She waited, and eventually, I came home for the summer, summer of 2024.

         She put it on again, and the same thing happened. But this time, I way more than half paid attention. I really paid attention. By the time we got to Abyssinia, Henry, I completely paused whatever I was doing when it was on and sat, laptop open, head at a 45 degree angle to watch the TV. I’d still futz around during commercial breaks, but I waited for the commercial breaks to do anything now. More and more it warmed my heart, to see all these old friends I’d forgot about, drag them all out of the closet, finally see B.J. Hunnicutt with that stupid mustache again for the first time in over 15 years at least—it was all so amazing. I was laughing at this show that came out over 20 years before I was even born. My parents hadn’t even met yet when this thing ended. Then, of course, because of the way my brain unfortunately works, it is now all I can think about it, to the point I’ve convinced several people to watch it just by virtue of never-shutting-the-hell-up.

         And then? I finally got to see all my friends go home.

         I remember the night I watched the finale with my mother. We’d gotten to the penultimate episode, and we’d paused. It was near 8ish, near my mother’s bedtime, and she and I both agreed we could not handle the finale that night, it was too much. And so we put on something, My Name is Earl, anything to make noise, something funny, something light. That’s how the next several days went; do we feel like we can handle the end? No. Tonight? Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after dinner? It was a long day.

         But then, after dishes had been cleared and we were both sitting quietly, the sun had already gone down, and she proposes we watch it.

         So we did.

         I don’t cry at things anymore. I used to cry all the time as a kid, scraped knee, called an idiot by a sibling, way too much crying even for a kid. I got it out of my system, apparently, because now I’m an adult and I have trouble with making tears, and when they do come, they sneak up on me. The last time I remember crying was at my grandmother’s funeral, months ago, and before that, I have no idea. I get misty-eyed, sure, but nothing makes me boohoo.

         The same held for the finale. Contrasted heavily by my mother, the woman that regularly cries at especially-touching commercials, shedding a few for every other scene (the bus revelation, the final meal, Charles’s music adventure finale, the wedding dress, every single goodbye, and of course the big one at the end), I was mostly quiet. I remember it ending, and thinking, well, that was about the best finale I’d ever seen. I also thought about how I’d seen strikingly few finales, and that I ought to see more series through til the end. I spoke with my mother a bit about it, we had some good moments from the program tossed back and forth, and she went to bed.

         Then I took a shower, and after I got out, the floodgates busted. I was boohooing alright, blubbering too, but I couldn’t point to why. Sure, there were moments in the episode worthy of tears, but this was full sobbing, aching and pitiful and messy. I just left it as something not to worry about, and went on. Since then, on my own, I’ve rewatched select episodes, watched the finale (again) with the sibling that confused Trapper and B.J., done three paintings of stills from the show, made a miniature version of the signpost for my mom, and started writing again for the express purpose of doing things with these characters, and I’ve only now put a fine point on it. It’s a threefold answer of why I fell apart leaving the shower after watching an episode of television that aired 40 years ago.

         The first is simple; I have got it in my head that I need to be alright for everyone. If I’m happy, then everything is okay. I think it’s a relic from what made me stop crying, this need to tell everyone, “Hey, I’m the crybaby, so if I’m okay, then really, everything is okay!” My tears are (were) meant to be shed in private. They were my own cross to bear, especially for places like the bathroom where I could get privacy, as I shared a room with a sibling growing up. This is something I’m getting better about.

         The second answer is very warm; I finished M*A*S*H with my mom. I remember my grandfather, though he wasn’t too present in my life, and I loved him. He passed when I was young, but I was old enough to remember him, and his death date is near my birthday. My birthday is actually near a lot of either death-dates or birthdays of people that are now dead that my mom loved very much, so I am constantly reminded that my birth is the only good thing that happens to her that month. Finishing the show with her was special. We did it. It’s a tradition now. I don’t plan to have kids, but the future may be strange. At the very least, I know at least one sibling does, so I’ll just have to make sure their kids watch it, too. I don’t have anything of my grandfather’s, his family wasn’t kind to mine  and took pretty much everything when he died, but now I have this show. And I have this with my mother. It keeps my heart warm.

         And lastly, the thing responsible for the most boohooing, is that, like I said; I got to see my friends go home.

         I didn’t really think about it hard, but these were my little friends. I couldn’t remember them, but I remembered that I loved them. That they were something that made me happy, and made my very sad mother happy when I was little. They were funny, they were going through a very bad time and they were still being nice to each other and doing their best. They laughed, cried, cried some more, laughed some more. They drank, but in a safer way than what I knew of it at home, so it felt okay. They hugged, they fought, they loved each other. Then they were locked away in a little memory in my heart, and they sat there for over a decade, nearly two. And then those lovely people that made my life a little bit better finally, finally,

         Got to go home.

         A catharsis.

         Everything isn’t perfect, but all of us are somewhere better now. We have new problems. We have old scars. But the big bad is over. A little part of me healed. It was okay, finally. They got home. It’s okay.

         And if I can pick up a show from the 70’s about the 50’s that’s also still about the 70’s and the Vietnam war about all war that’s also about love and family and surgery with a cast that’s almost all gone now that so painfully soldered its place in my heart that watching the end of it all put me in a puddle on the floor of my bathroom at 11 at night, if I can wait 15 years and still manage to rouse these old soldiers and send them home, a little cracked but finally safe,

         I think B.J. Hunnicutt can drive those 3,000 miles to a little place in Maine to see his best friend.