#hbo you’ll have your blood on my hands

[hobgoblinns]

so some people are speculating that peter is going to die this season and i just want to say if that happens i will not survive it

[phantomspiderr]

By Any Means ║ Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x *f!reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

Summary: pre-outbreak life was blissful. You’d just begun to settle into your new home with Joel & his daughter and everything seemed perfect

Warnings/Tags: tlou hbo spoilers, major character death(if you’ve watched episode one you know it’s coming), unspecified age gap, mentions of blood, trauma, there’s also mentions of food & eating, crying, promise there is a little fluff too

a/n: ohhh I’ve been working on this nonstop for a little bit and I’ve never been so scared but so excited to post something ever. I truly hope you love it as much as I have, it’s not a finished series. I have about 9 chapters done and they’re all sort of little stories within my own little tlou universe. But yeah love you, appreciate you, hope you have a wonderful day🤍

*no real description of reader or gender as far as I know but I've written it with a female reader in mind

series masterlist | phantomspiderr masterlist

“Eat up kid, big game today.” Joel presses a kiss to Sarah’s head before he joins her at the small kitchen table, a cup of fresh coffee in hand. The smell of a good home-cooked breakfast wafting through the whole house, and Joel eyes up Sarah’s plate to see what’s in store for him.

Mornings like this were always his favourite. He’ll wake up just before his morning alarm, which gives him a good excuse to just lay there for a few moments of calm. He normally finds you still sleeping next to him, and he gets to start off his day admiring your peaceful form before you eventually wake. If he’s extra lucky, that morning you’ll wake up before the alarm too, and you can spend a few more intimate moments together. Then, when the bedside clock starts ringing you’ll both reluctantly get up, Joel usually hops in the shower while you join Sarah downstairs and help her make breakfast. Once Joel’s freshly showered and descending the stairs, he hears the laughter coming from the kitchen, and he finds himself stopping for just a second to listen to the heavenly sound. His house had finally started to feel more like a home, his two favourite people under the same roof, safe and happy, life had started to be kinder to him, and it all felt like a dream.

“Thank you darlin’,” he’s pulled from his dreamy state as you place a plate full of food right in front of him. His arm snakes around your waist, and he looks up at you with a content look settled on his face. Your fingers gently scratch against his jaw before you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, only lingering for a moment.

“Eating!” Sarah mumbles out before stuffing a forkful into her mouth, and both you and Joel chuckle. Reluctantly, you pull yourself away from the table, returning to the kitchen counter to get your own plate while Joel and Sarah fall into easy conversation while they eat. They're talking about Sarah's upcoming soccer game when you join them, Joel as always being the lovingly doting father.

You always enjoyed watching the pair interact. Their undeniable bond is rare, like ever seeing Halley's comet in the night sky. The way they both affectionately poke fun at each other never fails to bring a smile to your face. They both like to tell you stories about the other, trying their best to embarrass each other. It doesn't matter how many times you've heard the same stories or the number of times they interrupt each other, you feel this sense of love surround you.

Sarah had been nothing but welcoming of you, even so much, so she'd admitted to wanting to dislike the whole idea of you and her father dating, but that it had been impossible when she saw how happy he was with you. Joel had waited months to officially tell her, though you'd never admit to him that she already knew, that his brilliant daughter had already worked it out months prior at one of Tommy's barbecues. Even though by then you'd only been together a few weeks, but Sarah had quickly caught onto her slightly grumpy father's longing gazes and too-bright of smiles.

"Alright c'mon go get yourselves ready," Joel looks at his wrist, forgetting for a moment that the watch he was looking for was not there. With a quiet huff, he looks up to the clock on the wall, "we're leaving in a half hour." He shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth, chewing quickly before downing the rest of his coffee. Sarah almost mirrors her father's actions, quickly finishing off her food before downing the rest of her orange juice. Both get up from the table to dispose of their dishes in the sink while you finish eating. Then Sarah disappears upstairs to change for her game while Joel pours himself another cup of coffee. He stood at the kitchen sink looking out the window for a moment before he turns to you with a smile as you approach him. It changes to a half-hearted glare as you shoo him just out of the way, so you can begin washing the dishes. As you start filling the sink with hot, soapy water, Joel goes back to looking out the window and drinking his coffee.

"s'gonna be a good day darlin'," Joel wraps an arm around your middle, pulling himself into you and pressing a loving kiss to your cheek. You crane your neck to look at him again, both intoxicated by the natural domesticity surrounding you. At that moment you so badly want to run a hand through his hair, but your wet soapy hands halt that idea, instead gripping onto the edge of the sink. You twist yourself just enough, so you can kiss him, it's quick almost barely there, but it makes him smile. A sight you think you could look at forever.

Life seems to be full of beautiful, picture-perfect moments like this until suddenly it's not.

~

Utterly devastating. Those are the only words you can think to describe the scene you’ve witnessed. Those words don’t even do it justice, it was heartbreaking, soul-destroying.  It’s been days, and you can still hear her pained cries. The image of her lifeless body in Joel’s arms as he sobbed for his lost daughter burned into your memory. It was consuming your every thought, no matter how much you tried it was still there just playing on loop in your mind.

The days since the outbreak—since Sarah’s death—had been hard, to say the least. Tommy, Joel, and yourself had managed to make it to the highway and had been holed up in a triage clinic since. None of you had gotten much sleep at all, least of all Joel, who you’re sure hasn’t slept more than an hour each day. He’d barely eaten and most of the day would just sit silently staring at the blank white wall. His clothes were still stained with blood and quite frankly he looked awful, you had never seen him in a way quite like this before. It was as if a switch had flipped the moment she’d died, the once endearing, happy-grumpy man you loved was gone and in his place stood a cold, harsh ghost.

You imagined lots of people were like that too now, broken families crowding all around, waiting for the government's next point of call. A variety of people crying for what you assume are lost family members; partners, children, pets, and homes. Your heart breaks for each one of them. Thinking about the other people around takes your mind away from your own heartbreak. Though Sarah was not your own flesh and blood, you’d always treated her as if she was. You’d spent countless nights watching movies till late while you waited for Joel to get home. You would make dinner together and anchor yourselves in front of the tv all evening, laughing and commentating the whole time. Not only that, but you had even started meeting her after school on a Friday, and the pair of you would go to the diner down the street. She’d always get a burger with fries and a large milkshake, every week, without fail. Sarah had even started to confide in you, things she didn’t want to talk to her dad about. Secrets she seemed to only trust you with, and it made you feel special that she trusted you in such a way.

“You alright?” A foot knocks against yours, and Tommy’s voice draws you out of your spiralling thoughts. Looking up, Tommy seems like he towers above you from where you’re sitting on the floor. He nods at you with raised eyebrows when you don’t answer straight away, and it’s only then you feel the wetness on your cheeks.

“’M’fine,” you drop your head and quickly wipe at your face, feeling as if you almost don’t deserve to shed any tears.

“You’re not fine.” Tommy moves to sit next to you, he holds a bottle of water out toward you. Gratefully, you take the bottle and watch as Tommy’s head then falls back against the wall with a gentle thud, “none of us are fine.”

[another-damn-fandom]

Set Heat

AKA: I have crippling insomnia and have been watching spooky media all day and a fanfic fell out of my brain.

Interview with a Vampire AMC X Beetlejuice Beetlejuice crossover. Please enjoy.

_______________________________________________

TRANSCRIPT OF BEHIND THE SCENES FOOTAGE, THE VAMPIRE LESTAT – DO NOT RELEASE TO THE PRESS.

Molloy: Lestat?

Lestat: (Says nothing, looking out into the middle distance.)

Molloy: Do you remember where we left off?

Lestat: (Glances at camera, unsettled.) …yes. Yes, I suppose.

Johnson: Something wrong?

Lestat: (Deep in thought) …hmm?

Johnson: How you feeling?

Lestat: (Finally sees the camera, starts trying to turn on the charm) Well enough. Why?

Johnson: Normally you’re not like this—

Lestat: (Interrupting) And what does that mean?

Molloy: When we’ve interviewed you in the past you’re usually more... spirited.

Lestat: Ah. Yes of course. Your entertainment. That is what we are here for. This interview is just a common ruse. Tres interesant you should show your hand so soon…. ugh.

LESTAT turns his head away from the cameras and returns to his deep thoughts.

Molloy: Never thought we'd have to tell Lestat to give us some more energy.

Claire: He has another hard stop in 30.

Johnson: We’re not getting anything from him. Can you do something?

Claire: Not my department.

Molloy: Why is he like this?

Claire: It's been a long day.

Molloy: That's not usually a problem. What was he doing before this?

Claire: Press tour. Usual stops. Couple of talk shows. Made some French pastry with Babbish. Hot Ones? Knocked back the whole bottle of The Bomb like it was water.

Molloy: Of course he did. Not like he can taste anything.

Johnson: And there were no problems?

Claire: He was a little quiet after Ghost House. He was supposed to shadow Deetz when she went through a haunted mansion on the first episode of the new show, but he backed out after meeting her.

Molloy: The ghost therapist lady on HBO? Surprised he even scheduled to meet with that fraud.

Johnson: Yeah, after the rumors of what broke up her marriage?

Molloy: You know those are bullshit, man. He just saw the lady in the church and ran for the hills.

Johnson: Lestat or the fiancé?

Molloy: Both, probably.

Claire: Deetz may have an issue with sudden movements and got a little sour at one of Lestat’s pranks, but she kept it together better than most. They had a quick private audience, at which time Lestat decided against the appearance. End of story.

LESTAT is seen sneering at a PA offering him a bottle of something labeled as ‘True Blood’.

Johnson: Private audience? What does that mean?

Claire: It means the cancellation was kismet, as far as we’re concerned. We had a scheduling conflict to begin with.

Johnson: Then why meet Deetz in the first place?

Claire: Above my paygrade. I don’t even know why he’s doing this project.

PA: (Coming from a distance) Excuse me? I have Mr. Lioncourt’s jacket? The Ghost House team just sent it over.

Molloy: (Low whistle) That’s one hell of a pricey label. He left it there?

Claire: We had to pivot quickly when he decided against the appearance.

Molloy: When? During the ‘private audience’ or--?

Claire: (Interrupting) Hard stop in 25, now.

Johnson: Christ. Fine. Lestat? We have your jacket.

PA enters frame, hands Lestat the jacket. Lestat reaches a hand out, but then pulls it back.

Lestat: Did she touch it?

PA: I don’t know, sir. They just said they were returning it.

Lestat: Then why wouldn’t they say if that créature touched it?

PA: (confused) I’m sorry?

Lestat: Hold it open. Turn it around. Now the other way.

PA does as they’re told. Lestat sees something in the folds of the garment and looks like he’s going to throw up. He starts waving a hand at it and the PA.

Johnson: Let’s get the coat off camera for the moment.

Lestat: (dramatically) Fuck the moment! Burn it! Throw it into the sea!

Claire: You’ll put it aside in a garment bag. Our people will pick it up later.

Molloy: ‘Kill it with fire’ doesn’t sound like he wants it back.

Claire: That coat costs more than your car. Burn it and you’ll be charged for grand larceny and destruction of property.

Johnson: We will find a garment bag.

PA: On it, sir.

Molloy: Lestat, if something happened and you need to take a beat--

Lestat: I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. That… thing did not bother me. I simply need a drink. Can you imbeciles manage that for me?

Molloy: (Snarking) I think we’ve got a couple of solo cups at craft services.

Lestat: (Waving his hands, frustrated.) Yes. Fine. I’ll take it from a cup! I’ll take it from that miserable goblet at this point!

Johnson: Can we get a cup of blood on set?

Lestat: (Muttering) C'était quoi cette chose horrible, d'ailleurs? Un chien de garde?

A new crew member appears with a red solo cup. LESTAT grimaces at it, then takes a couple of quick, frantic sips.

Molloy: Well. Remind me to never piss off the team at Ghost House.

Johnson: Wasn't planning to. Deetz summoned a demon or something to stop her own wedding. I saw it myself.

LESTAT looks into the camera, still unsettled and listening to their conversation.

Molloy: I saw that footage on TikTok too, man. It’s fake. Ghosts and demons aren’t real.

Johnson: I would have said the same thing about vampires six months ago.

Claire: You’re at 20, now.

Johnson: Right. Lestat, whenever you’re ready?

LESTAT takes a few more small, comforting gulps of blood, even as he stares into the cameras. Then he throws his hair back with and elegant shake of his head and tries to smile at the camera.

Johnson: Do ghosts and vampires even get along?

Molloy: Next time we meet a ghost, I’ll tell you. So. Lestat. When we stopped, we were talking about you and Armand…

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I really wanna know what happened during the painful bath that Nanda promised Jameson a while back. Baths in whump have the potential to be so soothing and excruciating at the same time, which kinda fits Jameson’s whole character don’t you think?

CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing language, intimate whumper, dubcon touch NSFW (not explicit), implied dubcon (fade to black), referenced blood and whipping, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, creepy comfort, drowning, talk of sui (to escape torture), implied death by drowning (unnamed oc)

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

NEW VIDEOS of the Box Boy Killer! Never Before Seen!

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 14h ago

So I got a really good response to my short series on the mysterious Box Boy Serial Killer (you can find my previous write-ups here, here, and here).

Well, recently I discovered something entirely new that I think you'd enjoy getting a look at! Found among personal items belonging to Nathaniel "Nanda" Matthew Benson: a medium-sized external hard drive containing nearly 750GB of photo and video content.

The hard drive was labeled 'Personal'. Police stated there was a second hard drive labeled 'Professional', but what content was on there, if anything, has never been released.

Technically, neither has this. Someone from within the police department leaked a bunch of videos and photos at some point, and I was able to get ahold of them thanks to a friend of a friend (who shall go unnamed, don't want to tip off whatever FBI agent is watching his internet activity, haha... or is it her or their internet activity... FBI Agent will never know.)

In my writeup on Nanda Benson's life with his Boxie, I didn't have a ton of details on how they interacted with each other. Finding this trove of info definitely changed a few things on how I view their relationship.

Take a look and let me know if it makes you maybe reconsider a few details, too. FYI: This does have nudity and some spicy times! Nothing worse than you've seen on HBO or whatever, but like, fair warning.

[Embedded Video Player With Title: Bathtime With Boxie: NSFW and Yet Somehow Still Oddly Wholesome Kind Of]

The video begins with the tub already filled with water, hot enough to gently steam. It's a gigantic soaker tub, large enough for four people to easily sit without crowding, nestled alongside a window in a truly enormous, incredibly well-lit bathroom. Everything is in shades of white, which makes the person in the frame even more immediately the enter of attention.

A young man with short, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes sits in the tub. He looks up, wrinkling his nose and glancing away. Only then does a bright red mark, darkening already to a bruise become obvious on one side of his neck.

"Don't fucking tape this," He says. His voice is slightly rough-edged, as if he's been screaming, and he sounds exhausted. "That's weird. Not taping the fucking but taping the after bit."

Red welts are visible above the line of water, marking his shoulders and arms. The welts are a deep red that is nearly purple - they are surrounded by bright red irritated flesh.

"Oh, but I like you like this." The voice holding the camera is deep and amused. The camera wobbles slightly and then settles, and soon enough a second man enters the screen. It's clearly Nanda Benson himself, stark naked.

Where the Boxie is heavily bruised and beaten, Nanda himself would be spotless if he weren’t flecked with drying red spots that are clearly the pet's blood.

"Yeah, well." The pet shifts to the side as Nanda steps in, hissing softly in contentment at the sudden burst of heat when he enters the water. He settles down against a bench set in to the side of the tub, and opens his arms.

The pet moves immediately into them, without hesitating. His eyes flicker nervously back to the camera and then away again.

"Yeah, well-... yeah well what, pet?" Nanda laughs as he pulls the Boxie into his lap, toying one hand already damp from the tub over the ring at the front of his collar. "Cat got your tongue after that fun we had together?"

"Tongue's the only thing you didn't take," The pet responds, almost playfully flirtatious. "I guess you'd miss it too fucking much."

"If I took your voice, who would call me a fucking idiot before I fuck him into the ground, hm?"

The pet flushes, looking down at the water, at the slightest pink of his blood still running into it. "Sir-"

"Ssssshhhh. I like you insulting me. I like punishing you for it more." Nanda mouths at the unmarked side of the pet's neck, pulling him back-to-chest where he sits, so he's facing the camera directly again. The pet's back arches when Nanda's teeth dig in, making a soft, high-pitched whine as his head drops back onto the man's shoulder.

The camera picks up the quiet splash of water as the pet tries to move away and is pulled roughly right back, catches the refracted sight of Nanda's hands on the pet's thighs forcing them apart, each of his calves on the outside of Nanda's thighs.

"Please-... H-hurts-"

"You love it," Nanda whispers, and bites down again, right into the crook of the pet's neck where it meets his shoulder. The cry this time is wild with a mix of pain and something darker, the pet's hands moving helplessly up and back to clasp just behind Nanda's head. His back is nearly a bow, every muscle trembling with a need to escape and to hold perfectly still, both at once.

When Nanda pulls back this time, the camera picks up the blood smeared on his teeth before he runs his tongue over them. It finds the light glinting off the fresh blood welling from the new bite along the pet's shoulder.

"It's too much," The pet says, struggling to sit back up straight, turning to look at Nanda. For a moment, his shaggy damp hair and angle hides his expression from the camera's gaze.

The twist of his spine, though, shows the bloodied whiplashes making their way up his back nearly to the nape of his neck.

"It's too much," The pet repeats, in a whisper. "Please. Please, it's too fucking much, if you fuck me again I'll fucking die. Please."

"Now, pet," Nanda teases, flirts shamelessly, running his wet hands through the pet's hair. He grips on tight and forces his head back again. The profile of the pet's face shows the slight bump of a broken nose healed almost perfectly, but not quite. The gasp he makes when Nanda's free hand presses over the welts on his chest is loud enough for the camera to catch. "You know you don't get to say when it's too much."

"You'll f-fucking kill me," The pet protests, voice tight from the angle forcing his collar to dig painfully into his throat. "Please, I... everything hurts so much..."

"You love the pain." Nanda's eyes look up to meet the camera before a more sinister smile finds its way across his face. "I know what you can take better than you do, pet, and I think you can handle one more. Sssshhh, here we go. There..." Nanda exhales softly as the two of them shift in the tub, the pet making a soft pained sound, his hips rolling as he is worked slowly down into position.

Then Nanda chuckles and slides his entire arm over the welts marking the pet's torso, holding him tightly in place. "Now take a deep breath."

"Wh-what?" The pet's eyes widen, comprehension coming a half-second too late. "Wait, don't-"

Nanda's hand gripped into the pet's hair plunges him forwards, bent at the waist, forcing the Box Boy's head suddenly under the water. The pet struggles desperate trying to get his head back up to breathe. Nanda grunts in a rhythm as his hips snap up and down again. He groans, "So fucking tight, goddamn I love you, you fucking slut for me-"

[/END VIDEO]

The video cuts off there, but my friend tells me the rest of it is basically the kind of stuff you have to pay a monthly fee for everywhere else on the internet.

But there's another video, from way later, that I find a really interesting contrast and comparison. Same friend got me this one. It involves Robert, whose write-up you can see right here.

[EMBEDDED VIDEO: Titled Holy Shit, No Wonder He Killed Him]

The screen is black for a few seconds, with the sound of someone taking the cap off a camera before things come into blurry view and then slowly into focus.

The bathroom in this video is tiny. It's barely large enough for everything in it, and a person sitting on the toilet will damn near bash their knees into the side of the bathtub. The grout in the tile floor is dark with old stains, and the tile itself needs either serious scrubbing or an exorcism.

Sitting naked in the bathtub is a young man with long blond hair that hangs in filthy, dirty clumps down to his shoulders. His face is streaked with mud and worse, and he has a black eye that has nearly swelled his left eye shut entirely. His hands are bound with rope stained brown with dried blood, held up in front of him.

His one good eye, maybe blue, follows with a kind of resigned terror the person behind the camera.

He sits in water up to his waist, but by the way he is shivering, it's clear that the water is not even warm, let alone hot. Further bruises mark his ribcage and his legs. One leg juts out in front, and something about it seems like it might be broken.

The camera is handheld, panning slowly from the young man's torn and lacerated heels and feet through his bruised leg - one swollen - and then back up to his face.

"Tell me your name." The voice is Robert Weber's.

The young man's mouth twists in a snarl that fades as quickly as it came and he looks away, to the side of the tub marked with deep soap scum. When Robert's house is searched, there are scratches in the tub as though someone had clawed that deeply into the sides in an attempt to escape. "It's..." The young man inhales, winces at the pain. "It's twe-... Twenty-One. M-My name is... Twenty-One."

"Good. And-... what did we practice saying next?"

The man's jaw trembles visibly onscreen. Then he says, flat and numb, "My name is Twenty-One and I have... two weeks to l-live."

"Perfect. Now I promised you a good scrubbing if you played along downstairs-" The young man flinches, closing his good eye and curling up in the tub as best he can. "-and I will keep that promise." There's a pause, jostling as the camera is slotted into a tripod to continue filming. Then, Robert's voice is suddenly deafening. "Dog! Get the fuck in here!"

The door opens with the creak of hinges deeply in need of oiling, and then the Boxie moves into view. He's skinny, malnourished and underfed, and his hair is roughly cut short in uneven hunks. He has bald spots worn in by the muzzle that is buckled over his mouth, making his breathing an audible rasp. He glares with unhidden hatred.

"Give Twenty-One a bath," Robert says, and his hand moves into view as he pats the Boxie on the head. The Boxie flinches but then forces himself to hold still, closing his eyes as the pat turns into prolonged petting. His muzzle is unbuckled and then removed. Robert's fingers drift over his bald spots, play along the red marks pressed into his skin by the muzzle, move over a scar cut into one side of his mouth that wasn't there in the video with Nanda.

The Boxie is naked but for an old dog collar around his neck.

Robert hums, disappears entirely from view. The door opens and closes again. The sound of a lock clicks.

The Boxie looks at the young man in the bathtub, who doesn't look up. "Fuck this shit," The Boxie mumbles, but he moves - dragging one of his legs a little, and there are ropes tied around his ankles that ensure he can do little more than shuffle - and finally kneels next to the tub. "Are you going to be a shit?"

The young man looks at him with surprise. "You... I've never heard you talk before," He whispers, looking fearfully to the side towards the door.

"You've never seen me without the fucking muzzle before, either," The pet replies. His voice is far rougher than the first video, suggesting long-term damage to his vocal chords. "I asked you something. Are you going to fight me and be a shit about this or no?"

The young man hesitates, then shakes his head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to anymore," He says, like a man confessing a sin. "It all hurts too much. You know? I had a girlfriend-"

"Stop it." The pet cuts him off and leans over, picking up a stiff washcloth and soaking it in the water until it's soft enough to use again, running it over the young man's shoulders. For all the edge of meanness in his voice, the pet's touch is clearly gentle. "You're going to fucking die here, better if you don't talk about stuff that gets you fucked up first. Forget her."

The young man leans over to give easier access to his back. The soft whimpers he makes show that there must be some grievous injuries back there that the camera can't see. "I-I know I will. Die, I mean. Do I really have-... is it really two weeks?"

"Yeah." The pet takes a bar of soap and runs it over his own hands, rubbing them together to work up a lather. The soap found in Robert Weber's house after his death is Irish Spring and Dove - it is believed he used different soap for different captives according to his own odd whims. "He's put little heart shapes on a calendar he marks off. He'll hurt you a little worse every fucking day and then make you beg for him to end it."

The young man slowly nods, looking at his bound wrists. There's a soft sniff, but he seems too tired for tears. "There's no chance of getting away, is there."

It's not really a question.

The pet answers anyway.

"You're the twenty-first, and none of the others have. What do you think?"

"I-I can't do this."

"You have to." The pet gets a red Solo cup sitting on the side of the tub, fills it with water, and pours it down the young man's back. He hisses and cries out softly in pain. "He doesn't exactly ask your goddamn preferences."

"Help me escape," The young man pleads. "Help me get out of here."

"I'm fucking hobbled," the pet snaps. "He'll be on us both before we even made it out of the hallway. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm the only one who might not die if I stay good. Come on, lean forward so I can wash your hair."

The young man moves to obey, hands disappearing beneath the filthy bathwater, and then he turns, looking over his shoulder. He and the pet share a long, silent moment. Then he leans over far enough to put his mouth nearly to the pet's ear and whispers something so low that the camera doesn't pick up the words.

The pet inhales sharply.

He looks at the door, and then back to the young man.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and the edge is totally gone from his voice, now.

The young man nods, slowly. "Please," he says, a little louder. "If I have to-... please. Not him. I-I know you'll get punished, but... please. God, please, just this one thing." His hands come back up to grip onto the pet's hand where it lays along the side of the tub.

The young man leans forwards, and his forehead gently rests against the pet's. They are silent for a long moment.

"Please, don't let him be the one to kill me," The young man says. "I know I'm g-going to die, but... let me take that a-... away from him. Please. God, I don't even know your name, but-... please."

The pet swallows, then nods, tipping his head back to press a kiss to the young man's forehead. "I don't have a name. What's your name? I'll remember it. Your real name."

The young man's throat bobs and he whispers into the pet's ear again.

He sits back up, leaning over until some of his long hair falls into the water. "I'm-... I'm ready."

The pet takes a deep, deep breath, moves up to kneeling with his thighs vertical, lays both hands on the back of the young man's head, and says, "I hope it's better, wherever you go."

Then he pushes the young man's head underneath the water.

[/END VIDEO]

According to my friend, there's more to that video as well, but obviously it's been cut to take out the end of the poor guy. Now, my friend swears up and down the pet is crying at the end of the video, that he can see tears, but I'm not sure.

That doesn't really line up with the pet killing people before this, you know?

But one thing it does prove is that the Boxie knows the name of one of the unidentified victims. If he could be found, we could give that man back his name and get his family the closure they deserve.

I know some of you argued with me last time that the Boxie is clearly a VICTIM and not a PERPETRATOR, and I definitely admit this second video maybe suggests you're on to something there.

But I still think we have a Boxie killer on our hands here - I just think maybe I was wrong about why he's killing them at all.

I guess we'll find out if he kills again.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp

​

[sweetaspiesammy]

"In hbo supernatural I feel it in my soul that sam, while feeling the intense low of demon blood withdrawals, would try to replace that high by snorting coke and popping pills #extra angst bonus points for dean thinking he did the right thing by forcing sam off of it but also knowing he fucked up bc sam is worse #and it’s so much easier for sam to get his hands on street drugs and dean can’t watch him 24/7 #and now sam’s not even helping people #he’s just destroying himself faster"

Gemma PLEASE this has so much potential omfg I need it. Now I’m thinking of what would happen if Sam overdosed on pills and how scared to death Dean would be and how much he’d blame himself for the way he forced Sam to detox from the demon blood. This is the sort of dark sad angst I love can I just have a bit.. please? Just what would happen if Sam were to od if you’re willing. I know this could be a whole fic or even series but I won’t push it too much. Either way I love this idea and your blog ❣️

First off sorry this took me a bit to get to, you’ll see why in a sec, but wow thank you!! It makes me so happy when people like the weird ideas that float around my brain 😂💕

And second, since you asked so nicely for what would happen if Sam were to OD... well... here you go... (prepare for angst)

Tw: drug overdose

When Dean walks into the motel room, Sam’s curled on his side on the floor with an empty orange bottle clutched in his fist. Sam doesn’t acknowledge him entering. He doesn’t move or say a word. Dean rushes to his side without hesitation. Dean gets a closer look as he kneels down by his unconscious brother and notices the paleness of his face right away.

Dean pushes Sam flat onto his back, panicked. As his own heart races, he feels for Sam’s pulse. It’s weak. Sam’s hardly breathing.

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice feels lodged in his throat. He smacks Sam face a little, just to jostle him. “What did you do?” Dean whispers in frustration.

Sam doesn’t answer. The empty pill bottle in his hand is answer enough.

Dean forces himself into action. He gets to his feet and pulls Sam up with him. Dean hooks his arms under Sam’s armpits and drags him towards the bathroom. It takes some effort but Dean gets himself and Sam into the tub. He doesn’t bother getting rid of their shoes or clothes. Dean doesn’t have time to waste.

The shower turns on with a nudge of the handle and Dean leans back in the tub and sits. Sam slumps back against his chest. The cold spray of the water hits Sam’s face and Dean hopes—prays—it’s enough to wake Sam up. His heart beats out of his chest against Sam’s back as he waits for Sam’s eyes to flutter open, for his body to twitch, for him to do something.

Sam remains unmoving.

Dean blames himself. If he hadn’t forced Sam off of the blood in such a cruel way, maybe—just maybe—his little brother wouldn’t have turned to such a destructive alternative. If only he had protected Sam in the first place, if he hadn’t let Sam go down such a dark path, or maybe if he had pulled him into the light sooner, this never would’ve happened. Sam wouldn’t be lying half dead in Dean’s arms if he had just taken the time to help his little brother rather than punish him.

Dean snaps from his guilt as he remembers something he saw—in some show or movie, he doesn’t remember—and decides to say screw it and gives it a shot. Dean pries Sam’s mouth open and stuffs his fingers down Sam’s throat. He’s trying to trigger Sam’s gag reflex, to get him to expel the drugs from his body.

Finally Sam reacts. He starts to sputter around Dean’s digits. Dean pulls away just as Sam spits up his stomach contents, pills and all. Dean’s never been so relieved.

Sam takes heaving breaths, trying to reclaim oxygen. Sam’s soaking wet, shivering, eyes hazy as he starts to regain an understanding of his surroundings.

“Dean?” Sam rasps out, throat obviously sore as his head lolls back against Dean’s shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dean tells him. He brushes Sam’s wet hair from his forehead so he can look into those hazel eyes. Dean needs to see them look back at him. He needs to know that Sam is still here.

Dean nearly sobs in relief when Sam’s tired eyes meet his. “You scared me, Sammy,” he croaks out, then forces a weak smile. He wants it to be reassuring, but for himself or Sam he doesn’t know.

“Don’t act like you care,” Sam mumbles, eyes sliding shut. He’s still bitter. Maybe Dean deserves it. He never should’ve locked his brother in the panic room.

Despite his dismissive tone and words, Sam curls in on Dean. Even tucks his arms around Dean’s waist a little as he shifts around. As much as it kills him, Dean doesn’t know how to fix this. He can’t. Not right away. Instead Dean just wraps his arms around Sam as his little brother lays against his chest and tries to bring Sam some sort of comfort. Dean just hopes it’ll work.

[mjvnivsbrvtvs]

2000 words of (checks notes) hbo rome, but Antony captures Brutus alive and no one is quite sure what to do with that. mostly unedited, sort of heading in a direction for sure.

Cassius is dead.

And,  

well.

Brutus is alive.

For whatever reason, Antony had decided to drag him back to his camp, and he sits in Antony’s tent like a child waiting to find out what punishment is going to get doled out while listening to Antony and Octavian shout at each other from some other place in the encampment.

Cassius is dead, and Brutus feels like he was cheated out of being able to take the honorable way out. Instead, he was ignobly marched back across a never-ending field of bodies, a prisoner, maybe something worse. To step between bodies of the men he commanded to their deaths felt like the worst kind of cowardice.

Cassius is dead, Brutus has the blood of his brother-in-law under his nails, and he feels inexplicably jealous.

The yelling stops, and after a moment, Antony steps back inside.

‘Great news!’ he says cheerfully. ‘You won’t be dying today!’

Brutus stares at him. Antony looks back expectantly.

In the back of his throat, the decorum that dictates social niceties threatens to claw its way out of his mouth, to show the appropriate gratefulness.  

Cassius is dead, and Brutus wishes that was his fate as well, so he swallows hard and says nothing.

When it becomes clear that Brutus won’t say anything, Antony pulls a seat over and sits across from Brutus, uncharacteristically serious. ‘I know that this isn’t really ideal for anyone,’ he says, looking Brutus in the eye. ‘But it is better to survive. Think of your mother, how much better it will be for her to get a letter from you than to receive one from me announcing your death.’

It feels like Antony is attempting something like reassurance, like he’s worried Brutus might take the stylus off the desk and shove it through his own neck (he had thought about it, and immediately discarded the idea) but all Brutus can concentrate on is how much he doesn’t want to think of his mother.  

Every personal betrayal, every manipulation at the hands of his own mother comes to the forefront of his mind and he can feel his expression twist into something bitter. ‘I’d consider it a personal favor if you would tell her that anyway,’ Brutus finds himself saying, and Antony laughs, sharp and surprised.

‘I didn’t think you had it in you to be cruel,’ he says, leaning forward.

‘You know, I never really wanted this?’ Brutus says, because now the words won’t stop spilling out of his mouth, ‘but she used my name, and Caesar couldn’t trust me after that.’

There is some emotion that Brutus can’t identify in Antony’s gaze, something quiet and calculating, not unlike a predator considering how to cast judgement.

‘You helped kill him,’ says Antony, tone neutral.

Brutus looks away, and back own at his hands. They aren’t shaking anymore, but on that day, he wasn’t sure they would ever stop. Cassius might have put the blade back into his hands, but he was the one who grasped it and drove it into the body of a man he had once considered to be like a father.  

Abruptly, he wonders if Octavian is somewhere on the other side of the material of the tent, eavesdropping on them like some kind of ghost.

‘I did,’ agrees Brutus, because there’s no sense in denying it or trying to claim some kind of innocence to the act. It runs in the family, even if he tried to deny that legacy before. He won’t try to pass blame for the action now. ‘You should let Octavian do whatever it is he wants to do.’ He sits up a little straighter and narrows his eyes. ‘What do you gain from this anyway? What benefit am I to you?’

Antony leans back, posture open and lazy. It’s not sincere, Brutus knows. It’s the false nonchalance that Antony presents the world when he wants people to look a little less closely, to take him a little less seriously, all the while planning out a series of strategies in the back of his mind.

‘Do I have to have an ulterior motive?’ asks Antony. ‘Maybe I just want to ruin Octavian’s day for a bit.’

He stands up before Brutus can reply, and begins to walk back towards the tent flap. ‘You’ll be staying here,’ Antony informs Brutus. ‘There are soldiers on guard duty, so don’t think about trying to escape.’ He looks at his desk, to the stylus, and after a brief pause of consideration, crosses the space in two easy steps to grab it. ‘Remember!’ he says, grinning. ‘Tomorrow’s a new day!’

Then he’s gone.

And Brutus is once again left with his hands, and Cassius’s blood.

•

At some point in the night, Brutus falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he is in Antony’s bed, with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. His hands, Brutus notices as he sits upright and pushes the blankets off of him, are clean.

‘And he lives!’ says Antony. He’s sitting behind his desk, watching Brutus from over top the paper in his hand. His tone is jovial, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘If you wanted to go back to sleep for another hour, I won’t tell: it might be the last time you’ll get the chance to sleep in.’

The entire exchange is baffling.

The expression on Brutus’ face must convey as much, because Antony laughs. ‘Just because you are my prisoner doesn’t mean it has to be painful for us both.’

Brutus arches an eyebrow at the use of the possessive and makes a note to eventually find out the specifics of what Antony and Octavian had been fighting about. ‘I think you'll find that sentiment goes against almost every expectation someone might have if they found themselves held captive by a political rival,’ points out Brutus.

‘I like to think of us as people who could have been political allies under different circumstances,’ counters Antony. ‘We did work together for some time.’

‘I think’ says Brutus slowly, ‘that you have some ulterior motive you’ve been angling towards for some time.’

Silence, except for the general ambience of a military encampment the day after a resounding victory. Conversation, men looking forward to returning home, the sharp crackle of an early morning fire. Life goes on. When the sun comes up in full, the bodies left on the battlefield will begin to stink and decay under the full force of the heat.

The fight in Brutus, the revulsion that he will be used for another person’s end goals again, fades out of him, replaced with a quiet grief at the thought of the men he led to their death.

Antony snaps his fingers.

‘You look like you’re thinking unhappy thoughts,’ says Antony. ‘Do not. It’s always better to live. If you must spiral into melancholia, wait until I’m gone.’

‘Besides!’ continues Antony. ‘Soon we will be back in Rome!’

Brutus can’t think of anything he’s looking forward to less.

•

Brutus wishes more than anything that Antony had just given him a sword so he could fall on it.

Currently, the feeling is driven less by a sense of duty (what kind of man begs for mercy? comes the voice of his mother. I didn’t beg this time, mother, he would say in reply) or the open wound of loss, but instead by an intense awareness that he does not belong in this place anymore but more importantly 

annoyance.

If he thought he would have to wait around to see what Octavian and Antony were arguing about back in Philippi, he was wrong. The second Antony had set foot in Rome, with Brutus half a step behind him, Octavian immediately launched into an impassioned speech that started with, ‘You should be grateful to Antony, if it were up to me, I would have taken your head displayed it for all to see,’ (poetic in a grim sort of way, thinks Brutus) and ended with:

‘Don’t get too comfortable. You belong to Antony now, and he’ll do with you whatever he wants.’

It’s clearly meant to be some threat, but it’s laughable because Brutus knows this, everyone who’s heard about the outcome at Philippi knows this, there’s probably creative graffiti about it already going up on the walls of the city, and Octavian says it like Brutus hasn’t spent the last week trying to puzzle together why Antony wanted him alive so badly.

The facts of the world are as follow: the sun rises in the east, it sets in the west, Octavian has only become more insufferable over the years, and Brutus belongs to Antony now.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be aware of this is Antony, who continues to act as though Brutus is more of a peer that he had a minor disagreement and has subsequently forgiven.

‘It’s been nice catching up with you, Octavian,’ says Antony with a smile that conveys that the entire exchange has been anything but nice. ‘But I have things to do, matters to attend to.’  

Brutus says nothing.

Octavian levels him with one last bitter look before turning around and leaving the room.

‘Well!’ says Antony after a moment. ‘That went as well as to be expected. I have a feeling he thought I’d have you executed somewhere along the way back.’

‘He’s not the only one,’ comments Brutus dryly, and Antony punches him in the shoulder good naturedly.

‘I love that grim sense of humor you have,’ he says. ‘Come on, let us go home. I’m fucking exhausted.’  

•

Home, it turns out, is Pompey’s villa.

Or more accurately: it’s Antony’s now.

Brutus can see it on the walls, in the décor, in the choices of fabrics and design. It’s alive, it’s vibrant, it’s a complete antithesis of everything Pompey stood for.  

He likes it.

‘So-’ Antony starts to say, at the exact moment Brutus says:

‘What’s your endgame here, Antony?’

It’s a recreation of the morning in Philippi: the open, if somewhat confusing, amicability that doesn’t quite meet the eyes. The sense that Antony is thinking of things in stratagem, planning for some kind of outcome no one has even thought to imagine, much less prepare for.

The villa is nice. Brutus likes what Antony’s done with the place.

He also feels very much like he’s walked into the open mouth of something with very sharp teeth, and if he must be assigned a role in whatever Antony is gearing up for, he would at least like an idea of what’s to come.

Whatever Antony is searching for in Brutus’ eyes, he must have found, because the tension in his jaw disappears.

‘Some other time,’ he says finally. ‘Not today.’

There’s a promise in between the words.

Brutus tries to feel grateful for that, at least. It’s hard, because once, before all of this, he used to be--

•

--a person.

Antony shows him to one of the rooms, makes some remark about not leaving the villa, with a side glance at Posca, who does his best not to meet Brutus’ eyes, which is understandable. Antony takes off, and in the absence of anything else to do, Brutus decides to try and reinvent himself.

He can no longer be Brutus, descendant of a king killers. He is no longer a reluctant, albeit talented, politician, following in the footsteps of all the other politicians that came before him. He’s not even entirely sure what his status as a citizen of Rome is. In lieu of death, Octavian might push for exile.

The only concrete fact about himself now is that Antony wanted him alive, and so he belongs to Antony.

The lack of solid ground to stand on makes exile a tempting thought.

At some point in the afternoon (no further along in the process of reinvention than when he started) a young woman stops by: Cynthia, if Brutus recalls correctly. One of Antony’s slaves. She asks if he’s hungry, if he’d like an apple and--

--for a moment, Brutus feels like he’s returned to Philippi, standing defeated, surrounded by bodies. The dead don’t eat, they need coins for the afterlife, not food, the dead don’t eat, and he’s not a person anymore--

--Brutus says yes and follows her.

•

Antony is exhausted.

Octavian, he knows, is planning something. There is something ugly and spiteful inside of that youth, Antony can’t stand to be around him, no matter how much Atia dotes on him.  

When Antony returns back home late in the evening, he’s greeted with the sight of Brutus sitting on one of the couches, peeling an apple, while Cynthia stands nearby, slicing up a pear. He pulls the heavy fabric of the toga off his body and casts it across a chair, making his way towards the two.

Draping himself along the couch next to Brutus, he leans over and says, ‘Slice off a piece for me.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Posca watching the scene unfold from the quiet shadows of the evening.

Brutus cuts off a part of the apple so that the slice is stuck on the side of the blade, and holds it out to Antony, like this is an everyday occurrence, like Brutus isn’t pointing a knife at the person who owns his life.

He realizes it, a moment later, and freezes, but before he can course correct, pull back, apologize, Antony leans forward and bites the apple slice right off the sharp edge of the knife.

Brutus stares at him.

Or, more specifically, Antony is delighted to note, he stares at the line of Antony’s throat, his gaze lingering for just a second too long.

[order-of-river-phoenix]

Let Me Love You; Floyd Talbert

Fandom: HBO War; Band of Brothers

A/N: ahhh I lost the ask and this is my third attempt to post this 🙄 But it was an anon asking for Tab x insecure reader (also thank youuu 💕💕) and so sorry this took an ugly amount of time to write!

Warnings: insecure thoughts (I love you all so pls never think these things abt yourself)

Taglist: @/liebgott @stressedinadress @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @hbohmygodx @meteora-fc @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @hoosiers-hoe @mavysnavy @inglourious-imagines @warrior-healer @alienoresimagines @hannahbear1 @easy-company-tradition @wexhappyxfew

__________

"Okay, maybe one," you relented. Luz had been prompting you to have a drink or two since having managed to pull you from your billet. Your nights had primarily consisted of writing home and trying to get in as much sleep as you could before the inevitable happened.

"One? One?" he scoffed. "Fine! I'll bring you one... for now." With that, he left you at the table with a few of the other guys.

You turned to join the conversation, which, as it turned out, primarily consisted of partners left behind. Or partners soon-to-be.

"Tab, are those baby blues over there flashing at you?" Chuck poked at the man next to him.

Swallowing the swig he’d just taken, Floyd lowered his eyes with a slight smirk.

The others whooped and whistled, and while you tried to join in their gleeful expressions, you couldn’t help but notice the woman in question.

“Lord, I’d give anything to look like that,” you thought out loud. Your cheeks warmed as you realized they had heard you.

“Aw, L/N, if you wanted Tab’s attention, you could’ve just said something,” someone teased.

Luckily, as they laughed, Luz had returned with your beer. You half heartedly gave them a chuckle before busying yourself with the drink. You knew they hadn’t meant any harm in the joke, but the point stood: if you looked like her, you’d have his attention.

Your crush on Floyd Talbert had started very early on during training at Toccoa, and it had followed you around like a sick puppy. You couldn’t help but be a little jealous when his eyes fell on someone else, and your insecurities had a field day with that.

You typically had your training to drown out your thoughts. Nothing like blood and sweat to keep the tears at bay.

__________

The streets of Eindhoven were adorned in orange as Easy Company found itself wading into the town'a cheerful greetings. The crowds of people quickly split the soldiers up, and you found yourself looking for familiar faces or glimpses of helmets amongst the dozens of bodies around you. Finally, you stumbled into a less congested area by a table and spotted a camouflage-clad man making out with a local woman.

You rolled your eyes, silently trying to guess who it could be. More than a couple came to mind.

"Sergeant Talbert," someone else chided in exasperation, and you watched Floyd emerge from underneath the woman.

Your stomach dropped, but you quickly moved back into the crowd, hoping he didn’t catch a glimpse of the utter devastation you were sure was evident on your face. Many thoughts coursed through your head, not the least of them being to listen to the officers shouting, "Keep it moving!" You could deal with your crush at a later time.

It's not like he would like me anyway, you reminded yourself as you tried to find an end to the sea of people.

"Something wrong there, L/N?" a familiar voice came from your right side. Bull nudged you, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.

Snapping yourself out of the absent daze you'd been in, you changed the concentrated frown into a tight smile. "We've got a war on, Bull. Lotta things wrong." With that you ducked your head and continued on, leaving a fairly confused soldier behind you.

_________

You were feeling restless again, and despite your buddies being as entertaining as they were, you excused yourself. “I need some fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you,” Talbert offered, getting up to follow you. “If you don’t mind.”

Slightly stunned, you tried to nonchalantly respond with a shrug. “Fine by me.”

He shot you a smile before trailing you to the door. “Strange how quiet it is now.”

“Yeah,” you laughed dryly. “Sad to think we’ve grown used to gunfire and explosions.” You both let a breath or two pass. “Austria is quiet.”

“I’ll take quiet days and nights over all that any day.” He lightly touched your elbow as he moved out of the way for a passing vehicle. “Let’s go here. I walked down this way the first night we spent here. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get lost a little. Lotta culture here, or something like that.” His hand finally left your sleeve.

"You sure you weren’t just looking to find some local girl to sleep with." It came out with an unmistakeable bite, taking you both by surprise.

He hid his face, momentarily focusing on his boots. "I don't want some local girl."

"Oh, so you've got a girl back home." You exhaled sharply. "She know you've been locking lips with European broads?"

"That's not what I meant. I- Are you mad at me about the girl in Holland?"

"Why would I be mad about anything you do? The United States Army's the only thing that's got any say in what you do," you deflected, seeming less sure of yourself as you rambled.

He smiled at the ground before shifting his steps slightly closer to you. "Alright then. What if I told you that I was hoping to get your attention.”

You frowned. "I- What? What would you want to do with me? I'm boring."

"You're adorable is what you are."

"I am not."

"Well, I don't know who lied to you and made you believe it, but you're pretty wonderful."

"Are you sure you're not thinking of Shifty? Shifty's pretty wonderful," you persisted. Your uniform suddenly seemed too warm, despite the cool air.

"Shifty's great," he laughed. "But I wouldn't take Shifty out on a date."

"Really? I think you two would be great together."

"And we wouldn't be?"

"You'd grow tired of me," you stated matter-of-factly. "That dumb part of your brain telling you that I'm something special will get wise and you'll want to be rid of me. Now, how about we both save ourselves the trouble and just go about our business." You tried to walk ahead of him, but he stopped you.

"Is that what you're afraid of? That I'll hurt you? I'd never want to do that."

Something in you was telling you to keep arguing, as if the idea of him actually reciprocating your feelings were unfathomable. "But what if you do? I'm not even attractive enough to carry on after the fact. I'll be sad and mediocre, and what's the good in that?"

At this point, you were almost certain you'd either scream or cry in the next few seconds, and he seemed to sense that.

"If you don't want to be with me, fine. Just tell me and I'll leave you alone," he assured you. "But if you're only scared that I'm not actually interested in you, then you're going to have to get over it. You're beautiful, and I think the world of you."

"You’re too good for me.”

"What the hell does that even mean? If anything, you’re too good for me.” He sighed deeply, searching your face. “Please just let me love you.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you admitted, finally.

“Good.” His smile seemed a little softer than usual as he leaned down and kissed you.

[smolbeandrabbles]

My Last Name - Ralph Anderson x Reader (The Outsider)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: I was supposed to get this off the ground before the Holiday period so I could write my winter wedding fic and like... completely forgot about it until it was a little too late.  So while you won’t get the Wedding this year, though I’m not promising inspiration won’t strike late, or... y’know if there’s demand, I thought I would still give you the proposal. Special shout out to a very good friend who keeps giving me SO much Ralph Anderson inspiration. I needed it and didn’t even know. Keep doing what you’re doing!  💕

We stan the pure form of ‘Daddy’ on this blog. 

My Last Name - Dierks Bentley 

Disclaimer: The Outsider (Book/HBO) Nothing to do with me / gif not mine / lyrics not mine / I’ve had this in my head so long and I’m not really sure this is the pay off but... here we are!

Premise: Ralph Anderson has a lot on his mind and that list is only going to get bigger. He’s not one for believing in confluence - it’s up to Yune to remind him sometimes things do just work out...  

Words: 4517

Warnings: ....Insulin warning? For a buncha reasons. I mean I know you guys know what’s coming but reader doesn’t! / Swearing

_____

I learned how to write it When I first started school Some bully didn't like it, He said it didn't sound too cool So I had to hit him And all I said when the blood came It's my last name Daddy always told me far back as I recall Son, you're part of somethin', You represent us all So keep it how you got it, as solid as it came It's my last name Passed down from generations Too far back to trace I can see all my relations When I look into my face May never make it famous But I'll never bring it shame It's my last name So darlin' if you're wonderin' Why I've got you here tonight I want to be your husband, I want you to be my wife I ain't got much to give you But what I've got means everything It's my last name Oh, it's my last name

---

Whenever Ralph used to be woken up in the middle of the night it was usually a call. The kind where he would groan and for all of 10 seconds - whilst glancing bleary-eyed at the clock flashing some ungodly hour of the morning - wish that he wasn’t a man of the law. It still happened occasionally these days, but a little less and less; people seemed more respectful of his situation now and wouldn’t call him unless absolutely necessary. Or unless the scene really needed both of you on it, and right away. Instead Ralph was woken by the tugging of sheets. You were still fast asleep, and he wasn’t surprised; the case you’d been working on meant putting in the late hours. He was at least glad you’d hauled Yune onto it with you, even though as your partner (in every capacity) Ralph felt a little guilty about it. You kept telling him not to be silly, he had bigger things to focus on right now. But he couldn’t help it, and he always thought ‘bigger than this case, though?’ As he sat up to figure out what was going on, Ralph came face to face with your adopted daughter Renée. “Oh, oh, Renée, sweetheart, what’s wrong are you okay? Honey?” Although also half asleep she was currently crying and whimpering and Ralph was immediately alert and concerned, “Oh, honey… honey it’s okay… what happened?” He wound his arms around her and hoisted her up into bed, and she kept crying, burying her face in his soft sleep shirt, “Daddy… don’t let the monsters get me, daddy…” “Shhh… Shhh… It’s okay, sweetheart it was a bad dream… I promise it’s just a dream.” It better have been, because if anything like that shapeshifter ever came for the people he loved again Ralph Anderson would give it more than just hell. But Ralph couldn’t help but be a little flustered. She had never, not in all the time you’d been together, nor in the joint decision for him to move into your house, called him ‘daddy’ before. Not even on accident. ‘Ralphie’ was as close as he got to a cute nickname - although he despised it from anyone that wasn’t her. He couldn’t help but be overcome with joy as he wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her back, nor that it spilled to his heart, now beating faster. Ralph had wanted to hear it from Renée for a long time, he certainly wouldn’t deny that. But he wouldn’t force it out of her until she was ready - he was just a little concerned that it had come to her after bad dreams… Ralph’s eyes flicked to you, luckily still fast asleep, he didn’t want to worry you with this if he didn’t have to. Kissing her forehead gently he was glad to see that she wasn’t crying anymore, but she was still holding him so tight and whimpering every so often. “It’s okay, Renée… they won’t get you I promise. I’m here…” That only caused her to hold him tighter, mumbling into his shirt, “Can I stay with you and mommy?” Ralph chuckled gently, another spike to his heartrate that he knew was ending with a stupid grin, he wiped it off to be appropriately concerned, “Of course you can… C’mere, we’ll protect you…” She snuggled in the sheets between you, and Ralph put his arm around both of you, feeling your body move under his touch and your subconscious hum of content. “Goodnight Renée…” He mumbled, hoping he’d be able to settle back to sleep easily. “Goodnight, Daddy…” She already sounded like she was drifting. Ralph smiled again before kicking himself. Don’t get ahead of yourself… she’ll forget by tomorrow morning...

***

He was standing in the kitchen with his what felt like his fourth cup of coffee when you returned from dropping her at school. “You best be careful with those today… what with your Captain’s interview!” You chided, pouring what was left into a cup of your own, before kissing his cheek. Ralph’s smile came off as more of a grimace, “I’ll need all the help I can get.” You shook your head at him, leaning against the counter, “Come on. Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll ace it.” He shook his head, “No.” You sighed, taking his hand and tugging him to you, forcing his eyes to look at yours, “Ralph Anderson, I’ll tell you good luck if that’s what you really want, but you don’t need it.” He laced his fingers with yours, “It’s only contention, Y/N. It’s not a dead cert.” You raised an eyebrow, kissing his knuckles, “Nope. You’ll get it.” Ralph’s eyes flicked back to the garden and he chewed the inside of his lip frowning, you tried searching his face for any clue as to what was on his mind besides the interview. But this detective had you stumped. “What’s wrong?” “Renée called me daddy last night.” You froze, and not only because that was so out of the blue, you knew what that meant to him. How many times you’d teased him about the moment it would finally happen. Now she’d done it, but it wasn’t the FIRST thing he’d said this morning?! “And you weren’t gonna tell me-!?! Ralph, that’s-! That’s so good!” Ralph squinted at nothing in particular, “Look, she… she was half asleep. I don’t think she’s gonna remember it.” “Does that matter? You do.” You pushed yourself up on your toes to turn his face back to yours and you smiled, “Babe… tell me how you felt. Right now, tell me how you felt.” “Like when you first told me you loved me.” You scoffed, but Ralph continued, “My heart kinda… went on overdrive. I know I was grinning like an idiot. Just… overjoyed. I guess, but Y/N she won-” You pulled him to your lips to stop him from getting negative, “Channel it. That feeling and that positivity. Into your interview.” “Y-Yeah okay.” Ralph sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get away with it, and then couldn’t help but smile, “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. But it was bad dreams, I didn’t wanna worry you.” “Ah, I did wonder why she woke up in our bed.” You kissed him again, “I gotta go, daddy, but I’ll see you after your interview.” Ralph hesitated in your arms at your repeated phrase; “...I’ll need 20 drinks at this rate.” You laughed, but the fact that he was now blushing didn’t escape your notice, “Me too!” “How’s it all going-?” “Oh no.” You shook your head, “Interview first, case later. I got some more interviewing of my own to do!” You turned to him at the door with a smile, and blew him a kiss, “Later, Mr. Anderson.”  

***  

Flint City PD needed a new Captain. This rumour of retirement had been circulating a while with absolutely no weight to it. But earlier this month the Captain had announced that this time, those rumours were true and he would be retiring in a few months’ time - interviews starting imminently. Ralph hadn’t needed any encouragement to sign up, he knew he was getting to the age where he ought to be thinking of desk work as the main part of his job. Also, how often did the opportunity come up? You’d had one simple chat with him about it, that one where he tried to convince himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t apply, and you told him to shut up and go for it. So Ralph had, and his interview was today. He knew he wasn’t the only one in the precinct to apply for it, and he knew that there were applications coming in from outside Flint City - heck he’d seen a bunch of ‘em walk in to be interviewed. (Always with you and Yune looking at them and throwing comments around that Ralph thought were supposed to help encourage him, but wasn’t always entirely sure) But from what he’d gathered, most of the FCPD wanted it to be him that got the position. Ralph was - obviously - humbled, but he wasn’t one for counting his chickens.

As his interview approached, he’d broached the conversation more seriously with you. Right now you were his detective partner. There wasn’t a lot of conflict of interest there, because you always worked cases together.   But if he was the Captain, and you were a detective under him, he could see why that would cause an issue. You’d moved to Flint City PD to further your own career, and Ralph didn’t want to put a halt on that just because he was the Captain of the department. And Ralph liked working cases with you - aside from you actually being his girlfriend - so there was that element that might disappear too. And he wasn’t sure he wanted that: “So, if I do get it - theoretically - I’ll have to promote you into a senior role. Otherwise you’re a ‘junior’ detective working cases that someone of my current role should be doing. Or I can just put you in my role… But then, do I pull someone else in? Y/N, I want to partner with you still. Would that be okay?” You raised your eyebrow and played into his ‘theoretical’ world: “You’re the Captain.” “Yeah, but conflict of interest.” You frowned, considering it, “Well, no-one has exactly said anything before now. But I see when you’d be in a position of authority over me why it’d cause trouble.” You shrugged, “See what the general consensus is; at work, with the people of Flint City. The DA’s office.” The legal side was very important. You couldn’t risk cases getting thrown out. “I don’t give a damn if the DA’s office cares-!” With that jokey tone - and the inference of your friendship with Samuels behind it - Ralph leant across and kissed you, “Good idea, Ms. S.S. Andersson.” You smiled, but shook your head at his nickname, he was always after that double-S. “I do have them, occasionally!”  

**  

Ralph knew that he wouldn’t get the peace and quiet he really required to prepare, when he rolled into the parking lot and Yune was standing outside the precinct doors, arms folded. ‘Just perfect.’ He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair - really Ralph wasn’t sure why he was panicking so much about the interview; he knew enough that was fairly certain. Maybe he wanted it too much… maybe - with the consequences of your relationship - he didn’t want it enough. He chewed on his lip, sitting in silence for a minute. You were likely right about him being a dead cert, but Ralph was not about to bet on it until that paper arrived on his desk officially.

Yune came strolling over the second Ralph opened his car door; “How you feelin’?” “Honestly, pretty terrible. I’ve had more cups of coffee this morning than I can count. I haven’t had a real interview in years. I don’t even know what I’m expecting in there. Usually I’m the one asking questions.” “Well don’t act like a suspect and you’ll be fine!” Yune chuckled, but the quirk of Ralph’s eyebrow told him that wasn’t helpful, so Yune jogged his arm instead as they walked towards the precinct, “Man you got this in the bag!” “Look, can I just have the interview first-? Speaking of, I thought you were helping Y/N today?!” Yune shrugged, “I offered to get everyone coffee.” “So you could stand outside and wait for me?” Ralph pushed open the door, turning to his friend, “A little. But while she’s in there I can talk to you!” Ralph’s smile was a little crooked as he opened your office door, “About what?” Although he knew full well where this conversation was going. “C’mon man! About what!”  Ralph threw his jacket over the back of his chair and booted up his computer. His interview notes were still on top of his desk where he’d left them yesterday; you had little cue cards you’d been asking him questions from and he’d been able to answer with a confident smile on the drive home. Maybe he just had to pretend the Captain was you - Ralph had second thoughts on that helping. “Can I just get through today before you get onto me about any of that.” “Geez, what are you so worried about today for?!” Ralph bit his lips together and again blurted it, “Renée called me daddy last night and I- I just… I dunno what I do with that.” Yune’s eyes immediately widened, “Holy shit-” “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was after a bad dream, she wasn’t properly awake-” Ralph waved his hands towards the floor to calm Yune down, but it didn’t work. “-This is all falling into place! Especially when you’re thinking of…!” Yune’s face lit up, “HA!” Ralph shook his head, “Geez, but it’s all a little too convenient right? Like it’s all just happening a little too… at the same time.” Yune let out a frustrated sigh, making sure the door behind him was closed, “For fuck sake Ralph, just propose to the girl already, you’re killing me here-!!” Ralph looked panicked for a second as he waved his hands once more and pressed his finger to his lips to shut Yune up, looking pretty stern, “Shush!” “She loves you, her kid loves you, you’re gonna get this Captain’s job. It’s all gonna work out. Sometimes things just work Ralph. I know you’re not a big believer… even when you know there’s other forces at work out there.” “...Things don’t just work… there’s gotta be reasons!” “Yeah, I just gave you three, they aren’t connected, they’re just happening at the same time. Stop looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” Yune crossed the room and shook his friend’s shoulders, “Cheer up! Ace this interview!” Then he chuckled, “Now I’m gonna go get coffee before Y/N kills me.” Ralph couldn’t help but chuckle back, “Yeah. I would, and I won’t be stopping her!” “Aw,” Yune feigned hurt as he walked back through the door, “now that’s unfair-! After all my support!?”

Ralph sat back at his desk, finding himself needing to take an even bigger deep breath and wishing Yune hadn’t brought up the proposal. It had been a tentative idea thrown out there the last time the two of them had after work drinks, and Yune had immediately leapt on it. He liked asking if Ralph had thought about what he was going to say, and where, and how, and if he’d got a ring yet. And although Ralph was serious, and he knew in the back of his head such a proposal was imminent, he didn’t know anything beyond the fact he was going to do it. He placed a hand to his forehead and groaned, turning back to his notes - this was priority one, everyone was right. Once Ralph knew what his future was going to hold, he could start thinking about what his future with you would look like - and exactly how he’d change that last name of yours.  

***  

Anderson and Andersson had been a running joke between nearly the whole damn city since you’d arrived here. Yune had refused to tell Ralph your name until the Captain had introduced you. And you’d had to on the spot explain to a surprised looking Ralph that ‘mine is spelt with a double-S’ - hence his sometime-nickname for you. With Yune standing by trying his very best to hold in his laughter with a poker face. How you had to introduce yourselves as “Detective Anderson & Andersson” and everyone got that look on their face. And how you started adding the quip of “Yes, we’re partners.” when you’d started dating. But people started to think that you were already married - and then began the process of explaining the spelling, to every person in Flint City who gave the same little amused smile.

When Ralph had started to joke with you about the possibility of getting married, he’d always said something along the lines of; ‘We need to get rid of that extra S - shouldn’t be too hard!’ You’d never really known - or particularly cared - if he was serious or not. You never seemed to be fishing for marriage, the only time you’d brought it up semi-seriously was when you’d had a tentative conversation of having kids of yours own, your comment being ‘At least change my last name first-!’ Your main concern really was his influence on Renée’s life - and you didn’t need to be married for that to continue the way it was going. She didn’t need to refer to Ralph as her father, but he was certainly a father figure for her. Although ever since that night he’d wanted her to say it again, accidentally, or maybe again in a half-asleep state; it hadn’t happened. And you’d watched Ralph try not to look disappointed, or try not to look like he was wishing for it so hard… You both knew it would take her time, but it looked like it was killing him.

He got the Captaincy easily enough, it was barely even an interview; basic competency questions before what felt much more like a chat. Although Ralph was very cautious of slip ups even then. Of course the Frankie Peterson case was brought up, and all Ralph really had to say was that lessons were learned, no-one was perfect, Terry was done right by in the end. We got the guy - though for obvious reasons he didn’t add that. Ralph was fully prepared to admit to mistakes, but thought the rest of his career would speak for itself. And it clearly did. Basically the whole precinct had been called together when it was announced and had a party for him. (Your little family and his closest friends had a more relaxed and intimate dinner together afterwards, where Ralph let himself go a little bit). Ralph was very humble about accepting it, and careful about his transition period. Especially when it came to you, everyone seemed alright with things as they stood - they had watched you both for several years as partners and how the relationship had played out there. It was all very ‘let’s see how it goes’ - and Ralph would take any complaints or comments about professionalism, favouritism or conflicts of interest very seriously. He had sent a general enquiry to the head of county police, but hadn’t heard anything back yet. Ralph just didn’t want to have to move you somewhere when you were so settled. You joked about going to the DA’s office, but that didn’t go down well - for obvious Bill Samuels related reasons, but also because Ralph thought that might make things even worse. You only ever rolled your eyes at him, “For the millionth time I’m not gonna run off with the guy-! He’s a very good friend.” “I thought he was your best friend.” “Ralph Anderson.” You smiled gently, brushing your lips to his, as if he didn’t know. “You have gotta be out of your mind.” Of course, once the position was in hand, there was barely a day that went by that Yune didn’t give him a look of significance. Ralph quite often had to kick him under the desk or strategically hit him with a folder. ‘Now isn’t the right time.’ ‘No, now is perfect! Don’t tell me you’re scared!?’ ‘I’m not scared-!’ ‘Good, cuz you faced off against a shapeshifting thing in a Texas cave, you can propose to your partner.’ Ralph’s laugh was choked, ‘How is this less scary than that-!?’

Ralph was a little scared of getting down on one knee. He had no plan. No game play. Heck he didn’t even think he knew your ring size - some detective he was! - and Ralph didn’t think he had the skill to enquire nonchalantly, or steal one from your jewellery box to get measured somewhere without you noticing.  And he wanted it to be a surprise for you - another reason why Ralph wanted Yune to keep his damn mouth shut. Either you were bound to overhear, or gossip would get it back to you. But it was his last name. Would you want to change yours? It might have been one letter, sure but… you’d still be taking his name. You’d often said of his last name that it was ‘lazy’ when he told you yours was spelled wrong: ‘Somewhere along the line someone got lazy and decided they couldn’t be doing with that second S.’ ‘Why can’t yours be spelled wrong!?’ ‘Most popular surname in Sweden, definitely not spelt wrong.’ Then you’d look up at him; ‘Or you’re Scottish. Anders-son. Son of Anders. Vs… I think yours is Andrew. With that missing S.’ He’d quirked his eyebrow ‘Something wrong with that-!?’ ‘No.’ Though you gave him a teasing little smirk as you’d mused on it for a minute, ‘I’m still going for that lazy angle!’ Not that Ralph thought that would factor any into your decision to marry him, but it was a conversation that kept flooding his brain as he got more and more anxious about asking you. 

Then, suddenly, the perfect idea came to him…

***  

You’d had another day visiting smaller ‘crime scenes’ and filing legal paperwork. Overjoyed when Bill kept congratulating you on being the only one who actually did half this stuff yourself. “One of a kind, Y/N, I tell ya!” “Anything for my favourite DA, of course.” “Which is why we gotta work against those idiots in the PD, right?” “Team work!” You grinned, “Although one is about to be the permanent Captain.” “Ah yeah, well, I’m still the DA. So, if he gives you trouble-!” Although Bill’s smile was warm - Ralph and he had their differences in the work place, but would certainly consider each other friends out of it. You laughed, “Oh, I’ll be right over!” Now you were back at the precinct and pretty buzzy with good energy. All your work was done for the day, and there was nothing too strenuous to pick up from the crimes either.

Your new Captain was standing outside, hands on his hips and smile on his face. You stopped in the grass and tilted your head at him. Ralph looked so happy, but also a little shy about it. You wondered what was up. But couldn’t help but think how lovely it was to see him looking like this. “Captain.” You grinned as he crossed to you, “You need me for something?” “Well I have been waiting for you.” “Oh, not long I hope?” “Well, I mean, I guess I’ve been waiting a while but… better now than never.” “What is?” Ralph reached into his jacket pocket and held out a little booklet for you. It looked like a detective badge, although you wore your own on your belt you always liked the ID booklet ones. Maybe you’d start using one more if this was a new one. You knew that your own promotion was imminent, in line with his own. “It’s about time you started spelling your last name right.” That smile on his face was gorgeous, and yet altogether quite indescribable and you couldn’t help but smile back.

A little confused at first, you took it from him delicately, opening it up. At first you noticed the title at the top. Quite correct: you’d been bumped up a rank; that didn’t surprise you, Ralph already had discussed with you that was something he would do if he got the Captain’s position. Then you scanned the rest of the document and paused. 

‘Y/N Anderson’. You stared at the name for a good few seconds, even though you knew exactly what this was. Your small smile ended up stretching across your cheeks and you could feel your blush rise as you looked back up at him again slowly. Ralph looked like he was trying to fight a smile until he had the answer, although how he could think he’d even need one was really beyond you. “Yes.” “Yes?” Somehow he looked surprised, even at the confidence in your voice. “YES!” You threw your arms around him, perfectly aware that you’d just shrieked it and you were about to start crying. “God, I love you SO much Ralph Anderson!” Ralph held you close with a laugh, “I mean I don’t have a ring; we’ll have to go shopping. but I-” “Are you kidding!?” You pulled back for a second looking back at your new badge, that wasn’t something you cared about right now, “What were you going for, most original proposal ever!?” “I mean I can get down on one knee and actually ask the question, if you want me to. Heck maybe I should I just--” You shook your head and wiped your eyes, “Just ask me. If you want to ask, you don’t need to. This is… perfect.” Ralph chuckled again, and took a deep breath, “Y/N, will you please let me take that damn ‘S’ out of your last name?” You couldn’t help but cackle, thinking that he might just ask you straight, “You may!” “So you’ll marry me?” He grinned, and instead of answering you pulled him into a kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck as Ralph pulled your body closer to his. He would change her name too, that significance was not lost on you. If he was your husband, he would be Renée’s step-dad… and maybe he’d get called it regularly. Time would surely tell if Ralph Anderson would get his unspoken wish.

Your making-out in the parking lot had not gone unnoticed by Ralph’s best friend, and Yune’s whistle broke you apart. “Hey! Captain! Did she say yes!?” You both looked to each other and then to him. You were still holding that little booklet in your hand and you looked from Ralph to Yune and back. Ralph’s eyes remained on his friend, grinning although he didn’t answer, arms still around you. Of course Yune knew about this, of course he was in on it. You left your very-new fiancé and sprinted across the parking lot to hug the police lieutenant, very nearly screaming: “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Ralph shook his head watching you almost drag Yune to the ground with your hug, but laughed. Oh, he knew what he was getting himself into alright. He crossed the parking lot to help his friend before he got too smothered. Day 1 of the rest of his life, and that proposal hadn’t been so bad. You had just specifically agreed to take his last name, and Ralph’s heart swelled. If he was a crier, he’d let the happy tears he could feel prickling at his eyes fall.   He guessed the jokes would have to change now… Still, he’d trade those jokes for this.

Detective Anderson & Anderson didn’t sound so bad to him, after all.

---

Thank you for reading my precious babies! 💙💙

[keyofjetwolf]

Pitch Me your thing!

HELLO HELLO MY SUNBEAMS. For most every category, there was an impressive turn-out for pitches, so I thought we’d utilize the weirdness of this year’s GIFTENING to give something new a try. The popular vote winner for each category will happen on the first day, but on the second, the winner will be chosen from YOUR PITCHES. Mostly those pitches will be to me. The exception is in Miscellaneous, where you’ll be pitching to my family, because what I want to do and what is most entertaining isn’t necessarily the same thing.

So! How will we do this thing? GLAD YOU ASKED. I’ll link you to a form in a minute with space for one pitch. Once you fill it out, you’ll be asked if you want to do another. There’s no limit to the number of pitches you can send in! But remember that if you submit multiple entries for the same category, you’ll basically be competing against yourself.

NOW WE’VE GOT SOME RULES FOR DOING THIS (which I mostly stole from Holligay, because I have no creativity this year). Please read them carefully! I’ll toss pitches that break any of these, and I’d rather your hard work not go to waste.

Pitch Me is open for your submissions from RIGHT NOW (22 December) through the very last day of this hellyear (31 December) at 11:59pm MT.

The thing you pitch must have come from what was nominated for THE GIFTENING 2020. (Full list of those nominations in every category below the cut on this post.)

Entries must be unsigned! I’m looking to chose based on the pitch alone, regardless of who submitted it.

The pitch itself must be 100 words or less. HAVE PITY ON ME I CAN ONLY CONSUME SO MUCH.

If you’d like to get some help, ideas, feedback, all that good stuff, the Discord is a FANTASTIC resource I encourage you to use.

HERE IS YOUR PITCH SUBMISSION LINK

And, as promised, below the cut you’ll find the list of all the nominees in every category you guys sent in this year. IT’S A LONG LIST HAVE FUN WITH THAT

Anime

A Place Further Than The Universe/Sora Yori mo Toi Basho Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban) Action Heroine Cheer Fruits Aggretsuko Aho Girl Air Master Akuma No Riddle Alien Nine Angel Beats! Angelic Layer Appare-Ranman Aria Aria the Animation Arrietty/ The Secret World of Arrietty (Ghibli film) Ascendance of a Bookworm Azumamga Daioh Baccano! Beastars Black Cat Blood + (the series) Bloom Into You Blue Drop/Tenshitachino Gikyoku Bodacious Space Pirates (starting right where you left off) BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense Boku no hero academia Bubblegum Crisis Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card Cardcaptor Sakura Castlevania the Animated Series Cells at Work Chaos; Head Chihayafuru Code Geass cowboy Bebop Cyborg 009 Death Note Death Parade Deca-Dence Demon Girl Next Door Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Diebuster: Aim For the Top 2 Dog Days dorohedoro Dot Hack//SIGN Dr. Stone Elfen Lied Erased (Boku Dake Ga Inai Machi) Escaflowne Excel Saga Fantastic Children Fate/Zero Flip Flappers Fresh Precure Fruits Basket 2019 Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Ga rei Zero GaoGaiGar gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex Ghost Stories (dubbed) Girls' Last Tour Great Pretender Hoseki no Kuni/ Land of the Lustrous House of Five Leaves/ Saraiya Goyou Inari konkon koi iroha Interviews with Monster Girls Inuyasha Isekai Izakaya "Nobu" Jellyfish Princess/ Kuragehime JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable Kaguya-sama Love Is War Kaleido Star Kannazuki no Miko Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! Kemono Friends Kiki's Delivery Service Kimi ni Todoke: From Me To You Kino's Journey/Kino no Tabi (2003) Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni) Little Witch Academia Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files EP0 {"A Grave Keeper") Love is Hard for an Otaku Love Live! Sunshine!! lupin the 3rd part 4 Madoka: The Rebellion Movie Magic knight rayearth Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha March Comes in Like a Lion Mardock Scramble Master of Martial Hearts Mawaru Penguindrum Megalobox Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Mob Psycho 100 Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) Monster Mushishi My Bride is a Mermaid (Seto No Hanayome) My Love Story!!! My Neighbor Totoro My Next Life As A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom My Roommate is a Cat NANA Naruto Natsume’s Book of Friends Neon Genesis Evangelion (hateblog) New Cutey Honey Nichijou Ōban Star-Racers One Piece Ouran High school Host club Outlaw Star Paranoia Agent Perfect Blue Please Save My Earth Pop Team Epic Pretty Cure Fresh Princess Jellyfish/ Kuragehime Princess Mononoke Princess Principal Princess Tutu Project A-Ko promised neverland (/yakusoku no neverland) Psycho-Pass Ranma 1/2 Re: Cutie Honey Re:Creators Read or Die (OAV) Red Garden relife Revolutionalry Girl Utena Rose of Versailles Ruroni Kenshin Sailor Moon Sailor Moon (viz dub) Samurai Champloo (english dub) Sarazanmai School Days School-Live! Scum's Wish Senki Zesshou Symphogear (listed as just "Symphogear" on Crunchyroll.) Serei no Moribito (Guardian of the Spirit) Shin Sekai Yori (From The New World) Shirobako Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle Smile Pretty Cure (Japanese original)/ Glitter Force (english adaptation) Snow White with the Red Hair Sound Euphonium Strawberry Panic (yuri) Sweetness and Lightning The Devil is a Part-timer The Devil Lady The disasterous life of saiki k (saiki kusuo no Sai Nan) The End of Evangelion (movie) the Promised Neverland The Twelve Kingdoms Tiger & Bunny Tokimeki Tonight ToraDora Tsubasa Chronicle Umineko When They Cry Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid Vinland Saga Violet Evergarden Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) With a Dog AND a Cat, Every Day is Fun Yona of the Dawn Yu Yu Hakusho Yugioh Duel Monster Yuki Yuna is a Hero Yuri Kuma Arashi Yuri On Ice!!! Zoids: Chaotic Century Zombie Land Saga

Non-Anime Animated

Adventure Time Amphibia Animainiacs (Original) Animaniacs (Reboot) Archie's Weird Mysteries As Told By Ginger Barbie Life in The Dreamhouse Batman the Animated Series Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot Big Mouth Bob's Burgers Bojack Horseman Bravest Warriors Captain N: the Game Master Carmen Sandiego (1994) Carmen Sandiego (2019) Castlevania (Netflix) Cats Don't Dance Coco Courage the Cowardly Dog Craig of the Creek Cyber Six Daria Darkwing Duck Dragon Booster Dragons: Riders of Berk DuckTales (2017) Exo-Squad Fern Gully Fillmore! Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Futurama Gargoyles Glitch Techs Godzilla: The Animated Series Green Lantern the Animated Series Hedgehog in the Fog (Ёжик в тумане) Hey Arnold Hilda Infinity Train Iron Giant JEM Kim Possible Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts Legend of Zelda animated series (1989) Legion of Super-Heroes Liberty Kids Magical Girl Friendship Squad Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart The Legend of Korra Moominvalley Motorcity My Little Pony (Classic, NOT FiM) My Little Pony: Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks Onyx Equinox Over the Garden Wall Over the Moon (2020 film) Owl House Primal Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure Redwall Rise of the TMNT Roco's Modern Life Rugrats RWBY Samurai Jack Seis Manos She-Ra (1985) She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Sonic Boom Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse Star vs. the Forces of Evil Strange Magic Super Mario Brothers Super Show Superman: The Animated Series Teen Titans The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo The Animals of Farthing Wood The Dragon Prince The Hollow The Legend of Tarzan (TV series) The Magic School Bus (1994) The Mysterious Cities of Gold The Pirate Fairy (Disney Fairies) The Powerpuff Girls (1998) The Real Ghostbusters Thundercats (1985) Thundercats (2011) Transformers: Prime Tuca and Bertie Twelve Forever Undone Venture Bros Wakko's Wish Wakfu Wander Over Yonder We Bare Bears (TV) Winx Club Wreck-It Ralph (2012) X-Men Evolution X-Men: The Animated Series Xiaolin Showdown

Live Action

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea 28 Days Later 3rd Rock from the Sun A Series of Unfortunate Events American Horror Story: Asylum Babysitter's Club (2020) Batman (the old Adam West version) Better Call Saul Black Mirror Blackbeard's Ghost (Peter Ustinov) Boston Legal Boy Meets World Boys Over Flowers Bromance (Taiwanese tv series) Brooklyn 99 Buffy the Vampire Slayer Cadfael Cagney and Lacey Charmed (2018) Chopped Cleopatra 2525 Cloak and Dagger Clue (1985) Community Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Dead Like Me Dead To Me Deadwood Death Note (Netflix) Derry Girls Dimension 20 - The Unsleeping City Doctor Who (New) Doom Patrol Dracula's Daughter (1936) Escape to the Chateau Farscape Fingersmith Galavant Godzilla (2014) Gokushufudo (2020 Japanese TV drama) Golden Girls Good Omens H20: Just Add Water (somewhere in seasons 1-2) Happy New Year Harley Quinn movie Hateblog a REALLY STRAIGHT soap opera. Haunting of Bly Manor His Dark Materials (HBO series) Holes Hot Fuzz House Inception Inside No. 9 Iron Chef America Joan of Arcadia Julie and the Phantoms Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Kamen Rider Build Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Kamen Rider Fourze Killing Eve Knives Out Letterkenny Leverage Little Women (2019) Lucifer Matlock Majisuka Gakuen MASH Merlin Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol Money Talks (1997 film) Motherland: Fort Salem Murder She Wrote Mythbusters Nailed It! Never Have I Ever Once Upon a Time Orphan Black Pen 15 PGSM Pi (1998) Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018) Pride and Prejudice: A New Musical Puppy Bowl Pushing Daisies Rome (hateblog) Russian Doll Sabrina Sense8 Sera Myu: Un Nouveau Voyage Shameless Sierra Burgess Smallville So Weird Star Trek: TOS (or their films) Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Star Trek: Voyager Stargate Atlantis Suckerpunch Supernatural (out of context speedrun the last three episodes) Sweetheart Switched at Birth Tall Girl Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles The Addams Family (1964) The Big Flower Fight The Booth at the End The Bride With White Hair The Crown The Fresh Prince of Bel Air The Good Place The Kissing Booth The L Word The Librarians The Magicians The Muppet Show The Pregnancy Pact The Room The Steve Harvey Show The Stranded The Untamed The Witcher The Wolfman (1941) Torchwood Twilight Zone (original) Twin Peaks Ultraman Nexus Umbrella Academy Van Helsing Warehouse 13 Warrior Nun What We Do In The Shadows (tv show) Will & Grace Wynonna Earp X-Men 2: X-Men United Xena: Warrior Princess

Miscellaneous

Alpha Flight #41-62 Anime music dance party, the logistics of which are to be determined! Ask Hot Pocket and/or Mina-pup AskSharknado: Giftening Edition Attempt to make French macaroons Commentary on old Goggles Critical Role Crowdsourced: A Black Mirror-style day where Jetty has to ask what her choices are of the audience for everything! I give you a menu, you decide what she has for dinner? What does she wear? Does she walk on the track or do the eliptical? Does she go to a movie with Doc or play a video game with Mike? Can be done alongside other stuff. Doodle Day Dramatic readings of fan fiction! Drunk History (or whatever your favorite subject would be) with Jet Wolf! Drunk Sailor Moon Exorcising Closet Ghost Fic Prompts Day Figuarts Day! (Not specifically freeing anyone, just various fun poses and such) Guess the plot of a show based on its opening Her Shim-Cheong (manhwa) House of X/Powers of X Hubby's Choice IDW Jem comics liveblog Intros Only (watch show openings, give commentary, guess what show is about, etc.) Jackbox Games Jet Wolf paints along with Bob Ross Jet and Doc go to Heaven/Hell, respectively: Jet gets to write reams of words about the awesomeness of Rei Hino and Doc has to read all of them and say ONLY NICE THINGS. Jet does Tiktok dances Jet Liveblogs Holligay: A Nature Documentary Jet Ranks Sailor Moon Image Songs Jet Reads Goosebumps Jet Reads Legion of Super-Heroes Jet redesigns the Wolf and Gay offices! Jet shows off her knitting Jet Wolf attempts to recreate scenes from Sailor Moon with Mina and Hot Pocket and/or whatever is in the house Jet Wolf reacts to Sailor Moon tiktoks (in blog form) Jet Wolf reads Love and Rockets. Jet Wolf reads the Jem comics by IDW Jet Wolf reviews her old top 100 Sailor Moon moments list Jet Wolf talks about Archie Comics Jet Wolf talks about each cel she owns and why they are so awesome. Jet Wolf writes Poetry Jet Wolf's Top 5's Jet, Hubby and/or family play board games Jetty Rants and Raves Jet Wolf tries to crack the Gravity Falls Codes Kiwi Blitz on Hiveworks Let's Play on Webtoon Liveblog: Favorite X-Men comic book arcs Livestream Pathfinder one-shot LOONA (Collection of music videos with an ongoing story/universe about GIRLS who are FRIENDS and SAVE THE UNIVERSE) Lore Olympus on Webtoon Mike regales us with "the story of your love" while you get increasingly embarrassed Mina and Hot Pocket day - liveblog like a nature documentary Mister Tsukino Does His Taxes and the Household Budget (Sailor Moon fan comic by Shadowjack) Nancy Drew: Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake Not So Shoujo Love Story on Webtoon Pitch Mishaps for Untitled Senshi Game (it is a lovely day in Juuban, and you are a Horrible Minako.) Pitching hubby's favorite media at (readers/holligay/jill/momigay) Playing with dolls (because how could 3 women not have any dolls between them) Re-Take By Studio Kimigabuchi (All Ages Version) Real or Fake Anime (people submit descriptions of anime you guess if it is an anime that actually exists or not) Reviewing succulents Scavenger hunt! Not entirely sure how it would work, maybe folks could send in asks for you to show things like your favorite Rei Hino object, or the thing that's been with you the longest, etc. sewing/knitting/baking tutorial Share or rant about a Roman history topic Sleepless Domain on Hiveworks Talking to Docholligay 2: Doc Harder (basically you talking to Doc's future womb evictee while still in there and telling them stuff like say the greatness of Rei Hino) The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess (manhwa) The Polar Bear Plunge--I take Jetty to our finest Lake Elmo in January, and she jumps in! Note: THIS IS NOT DANGEROUS, WORRYWARTS. I'll bring a life preserver, I've done it before, and I would do it with her if I weren't pregnant. The Senshi Helpline--The Senshi, taking your advice questions, here and now! The World of Moral Reversal Virtual knitting/crafting circle! Let us craft and chat with you! What-If #24 Gwen Stacy Lived Worm the web serial Write an explanation for a drawing we send you! Yuri Hell's Kitchen

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 7

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 2k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

A week of tests and blood draws passes, and then they’re escorted to a wing on the next floor up. The door to the suite reads Imaging & Diagnostics and Joel recognizes the tube-shaped contraption in the next room as an MRI machine.

“Whoa…it’s like a fuckin’ spaceship,” Ellie gasps, immediately reaching out to touch the machine, poking her head inside.

Marlene chuckles. “Kind of. It’s going to take pictures of you. Hopefully.”

 Joel narrows his eyes. “Hopefully?”

“Well…you can imagine what it took for us to get this thing working after twenty years of gathering dust…corrosion…and finding someone with the right skills to refurbish it. And it’s hell on the power supply when it’s running.”

“So what, I just…lay down?” Ellie says, hopping up on the narrow bed.

“Yep. We’ll set you up there, and the tech will give you instructions. You’ll be able to hear them through a speaker inside. We’ll be keeping an eye on everything from there,” she says, pointing to the little room with the glass window. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Afraid? Why would I be afraid? This is so fuckin’ cool.”

Hours later–when she’s been forced to lay still on the hard bed for what seems like forever, when they have to restart the machine multiple times, when it shorts out something in the power grid and the hospital goes dark while a Firefly runs to the basement to reset the whole system–Ellie is less enamored with the spaceship machine.

They trudge back to their room, Joel’s back protesting the hours spent in the same uncomfortable chair in the observation room, Ellie fidgety and restless from her enforced confinement.

They hadn’t gotten a single usable scan.

“Still wanna save the world?” he asks, tongue in cheek.

She scowls, then shrugs. “Better than the hole.”

“‘The hole?’”

“It was a FEDRA school thing. You get in trouble, you go to the hole.”

He shoots her a look and she sighs.

“They had this room that was basically an old closet, no windows. You had to sleep sitting up. At least in the MRI thing, I can see. And there’s enough room to lie down.”

Solitary confinement for children, Joel thinks, a pit forming in his stomach.

“You get put in there often?”

She side-eyes him and smirks. “What do you think?”

He can’t find it in himself to return her smile.

“Wouldn’t have been so bad but…there was no one to talk to. The guards were like here, they’d get in trouble if they even looked at you. So it was just me and an empty room for days. Went pretty fucking crazy after a while.”

“How long?”

They’re back in their room, and Ellie hops onto her bed, feet dangling off the edge, kicking the sides with the backs of her heels.

She shrugs. “Depends on how pissed off the CO was. My longest stretch was seven days.”

Seven days. Seven days of isolation for a fucking kid. Joel thinks he’s going to be sick.

He clears his throat, tries to lighten his tone. “Well, maybe we can, uh, make it a little easier next time. We’ll bring one of those comics you like and I can read to you while you’re in there.”

She brightens. “Oh? That’d be cool.”

“Sure, kid.”

The next day, when the MRI is working again, Ellie hands him one of the books from the bin at the nurse’s station before they’re escorted upstairs.

“‘Little Women?’ Really?” Joel wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t think this’d be your kinda thing.”

“It’s not, but the comics won’t make sense unless I can see the pictures while you’re reading. And one of the girls in this is kinda cool. For, like, a kid who lived in ancient times.”

“The Civil War wasn’t ‘ancient times.’”

“I guess you’d know,” she sighs. “Having lived through it and all.”

“Jesus. I wasn’t alive durin’ the Civil War, kid.”

She grins, eyes flashing. “Second World War, then?”

He feigns a scowl. “See if I read to you, you little twerp.”

But he does, of course.

Joel reads about the adventures of the March sisters over the tinny speakers. He can see why Ellie identifies with Jo. The machine does its job and time passes. Soon Joel sees the first scans appear on the screens in his peripheral vision–outlines of her head and torso in dark blue marked with large swaths of white.

The tech remains stoic as each layer of the scan is captured. She says nothing, but he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that what they’re looking at isn’t normal. The sight takes his breath, leaves him trailing off mid-sentence to stare.

Tendrils sprout from a large cluster at the base of Ellie’s neck, winding tangled fingers deep into her brain and down her spine. Little offshoots like the branches of a tree thread their way throughout her body in a fusion of human tissue and fungal growth, until it’s difficult to tease apart where one ends and the other begins.

Until now, he’d thought of her immunity as something intangible, an invisible formula that ran in her blood, but this is something else. He thinks of inoperable brain tumors and cancers, things equated with sickness, with death. But here she is–talking his ear off and kicking his ass at Boggle and careening down the hall in an office chair.

A walking fuckin’ miracle.

Still in the machine, Ellie blinks and fidgets, looking up toward the speakers where his voice should be.

“Hold still,” the tech snaps over the intercom, startling him from his reverie.

“Sorry, kiddo. Uh…where was I…”

Mouth suddenly dry, he clears his throat and starts reading again.

When the scans are done and they’re walking back to their room, she’s talking a mile a minute, probably something about the book, but he’s distracted, unable to get the image of those tendrils out of his mind.

“Joel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, uh–”

“You’re not listening.”

“Sorry…I’m, uh…just tired.”

“Did they tell you anything? When they were looking at the…y’know. The scans?”

“No.”

“Did you get to see my brain?” she asks.

He swallows hard. “Dunno what I saw, kid.”

He can’t shake the fear that’s taken root in his heart as solidly as the fungus in her brain. She’s precious to him; he knows that now, has known for much longer than he’d willingly admit. But something about seeing the visual proof of her immunity–physical evidence that her life is irreversibly entwined with the fungus that demolished his world–makes him feel like he’s that much closer to losing her.

“What, am I some kinda monster?” she jokes, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Ellie,” he says quickly, seriously, his tone taking some of the levity from her eyes. “You’re not a monster.”

You’re a miracle, he thinks. But in his experience, miracles are too easily taken away.

Ellie

“So if you’re taking my blood all the time…does that make you a vampire?”

Nurse Cooke huffs and doesn’t answer. Apparently, she’s just as enamored with her jokes as Joel was at first.

Ellie will wear her down.

“Nurse Cooke–that’s kinda like two jobs, one name, huh? Maybe you should have been a chef. Then you’d be Chef Cooke–”

The nurse withdraws the needle more roughly than she needs to and Ellie bites her lip to stop from crying out at the sting, hissing a soft fucker under her breath instead. The last thing she needs is Joel getting all pissed off in her defense. Again.

His grumbled Is this really necessary? is already a constant refrain, to the point where Ellie has to cut him off with a glare every time they come at her with another needle. Usually that’s enough to shut him up, but he’s been acting really fucking weird ever since the MRI thing. Sometimes she catches him looking at her with this sad, faraway stare, like she might disappear into thin air. And he’s always asking if she’s feeling okay, which is dumb, because he’s the one who’s still recovering from a concussion.

When the draw is done, Nurse Bitchy McBitchface leaves and Ellie goes to the window, hopping up to the window seat.

They also take biopsies now, tiny cores of her flesh to be studied under microscopes, something about examining the progression of the mycelium scarring under her skin. Her arm looks badass after, covered in black marker, like a tattoo in code.

“Hey Joel, do you think I should get a tattoo?”

She examines the latest biopsy markings. If she squints, she can almost make out a pattern in the marks, like a cool constellation of stars.

“A what?”

“Y’know, a tattoo,” she says. “Ink. Maybe like…a dragon? Ooh! No, a whole solar system all up this arm, and then maybe a–”

“Jesus, kid, you’re fifteen.”

“So?”

“So you’re way too young to be permanently colorin’ all over yourself like that.”

“They’re already sticking me with needles all the time. Can’t be any worse than that.”

His face twists into an expression she can’t place like he’s tasted something bad.

“Do you have any tattoos?” she prompts.

“No.”

“You should get one,” she tries. “I could draw you something really fucking cool, like a heart with thorns and a dagger through it, dripping blood–”

“Not gonna happen,” he says.

“Dude, c’mon! Or you could get, like, a cowboy boot with spurs and a hat and–”

“I ain’t a cowboy.”

She narrows her eyes. “But…you said you were from Texas.”

“Not everyone from Texas is a cowboy, kid. I was born in Austin. That’s a city. Or…was a city, I guess.”

“But you read those dumb westerns! You ride horses and shit.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling a little, the way he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “So do you. That make you a cowgirl?”

“What about a guitar?” she tries. “You like guitars.”

“I ain’t gettin’ a guitar tattooed on my ass.”

“Dude, gross. Why the fuck would you put it on your ass?”

“Well, the only way I’m gettin’ this theoretical tattoo of yours is if it goes where no one's gonna see it.”

“Ugh, you’re a dick, you know that?”

“Yep.”

She turns back to the window, puts her chin on her knees. From this vantage point, all she can see is concrete and overgrowth, the rooftops of the building next door, a portion of the street.

“Joel? Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being…out there.”

He snorts. “Don’t miss the starvin’.”

“Well, duh,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

He turns, and there’s that stupid look again. Worry etched in every one of his old-man creases. His voice softens.

“What’re you askin’ me, kiddo?”

“Nevermind,” she mutters. “It’s nothing.”

She’s not sure how to say it…that everything has changed.

The outside was hard, but the rules were simple. They had routines and plans and an understanding, and even if the circumstances were unforgiving, they shared a common goal: Stay alive.

Here, Joel is different. He’s still a broody asshole but he…worries more. Not that he didn’t before, but now it’s a different kind of worry. The kind that makes him drawn, darkens his face until she has to tell a shitty pun to bring him out of it. A sad kind of worry that scares her more than she’d like to admit. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

But she can’t say any of that, because he’ll take it the wrong way. He’ll tell her they should go back to Jackson. He’s already mapped out their exit and keeps his bag packed. He doesn’t understand.

How can she turn away now?

She sighs and stares out the window. She misses the simplicity of long days where they’d walk until her feet felt like they’d fall off, misses the spray of rainwater on her face and the cozy heat of a campfire. She misses the stars, how every night in the wilderness was spent under a black canopy of pinpricks.

Everything in the hospital is flat, sterile, unchanging.

Safe.

Boring.

Really fucking boring.

[amandabe11man]

a VERY LONG post about Hell on Wheels

YEAH i forgot about this post in my drafts... it’s been like a year since i finished the show now and i feel i’ve barfed everything out into this post (that i can think of), so here it goes (you’ll have to shield your eyes after the spoiler warning if you don’t wanna be spoiled btw. i can’t seem to be able to add a read more-link...) :

SO... i finished watching “hell on wheels” at last, pm half a year since i started. it’s funny because i was under the impression that i’d sOMEHOW be able to binge all five seasons within just one month (reason: i wanted to watch it before my free trial on HBO’s website went out). honestly, that wouldn’t have been possible because it was a LOT more emotionally draining than you’d think at first glance... after being gutpunched three times in a row in season 4, any reasonable human would need a little break.

anyway, it feels-- weird. i’ve never been big on following tv-shows so i haven’t been able to relate to that feeling ppl describe once they’ve finished a show they’ve become so attached to, except NOW i can relate. the show’s not groundbreaking, it’s not perfect, but i’ve had a lot of fun. what a ride it’s been...

looking back, i’d say HOW’s biggest weakness is its tendency to forget or ignore certain plot points. i guess that’s not too weird, with such an arsenal of characters, but still, i find that’s what bugged me the most, if anything bugged me at all. for example--

[SPOILERS for those who might wanna watch it after seeing me go on abt it, idk]:

first off, what REALLY grinds my gears is how ezra dutson’s plotline was handled. it was set up perfectly in the beginning; having him escape from the swede (who promised him that, and i quote: “i’ll find you, ezra! i always do”), the original plan was obviously for ezra and the swede to “reunite” some time in the future so that ezra could tell everyone that the swede killed his parents, thus tying up loose ends and giving some closure to that whole arc. some might say this would’ve been too predictable, but i would rather have that predictable storyline than having it just end unceremoniously like it did, with ezra dying ACCIDENTALLY and off-screen by sidney snow’s hand, simply as a way to further bohannon’s pain and set the stage for ruth’s final arc. this might’ve been fine, if the writers had made it so that ezra actually, y’know, TOLD SOMEONE WHY HE’S AN ORPHAN TO BEGIN WITH. but they didn’t even give the viewer that form of closure, instead just deciding to use him as a plot device for the other characters’ increased angst... bohannon and the others were never even made aware of ezra’s last name, and this is all what bugs the everliving SHIT outta me: the only ones who know, or will EVER know, ezra’s full story is the swede and the viewer, tho after season 4′s end, ezra is never mentioned or acknowledged again-- not by bohannon, and not even by the swede. ezra went from convenient character with a PURPOSE to “nameless” orphan forgotten by history. thanks, writers...

then there’s the whole deal with campbell coming to town to reinforce The Law™, which wasn’t a bad arc, mind you-- campbell and his goons were the most infuriating little shits for a while there-- but the thing is; didn’t campbell LIE to his men about the president giving him the position as governor? i might’ve misunderstood it, but i’m PRETTY sure the president didn’t give him THAT much of an upstanding role, but that campbell just went ahead and took that position anyway? if that was indeed the case, then that’s another plot hole, cause nobody finds out about campbell’s possible trickery to become the governor. nobody rats him out, despite literally no one in “his” town liking him all that much, so they’d have no reason to protect his “secret”. (correct me if i’m wrong on this one though. i might be misremembering things)

then there’s the other pretty infuriating issue of bad guys never getting called out for doing bad shit (unless it’s the swede, who gets all the blame, all the time), for example:

major dick bongbendix(???idk he had a silly name like that) is presented VERY MUCH as a bad guy in the beginning. y’know, just casually beheading natives on all his missions and collecting those heads and taking them to the bar like a fucking nutcase-- those little details. he also seemed to believe in racial biology, so yeah, definitely not a good guy. but by the end, he’s been watered down into some quirky guy who’s ALMOST on friendly terms with the main characters. yeah, uh-- seems everyone (writers included) collectively forgot the whole public display of cut-off heads he had going on...

aaron hatch: started off as a guy too proud for his- or his family’s own good when he shot the police officer, BLAMED IT ON HIS FUCKING SON and then just kinda let bohannon hang the kid even though it was pretty obvious hatch was just shifting the blame away from himself. THEN he reappears with some other mormons and causes a full-on shootout in the town (probably getting some people killed, i don’t remember), TAKES EZRA (also a mormon) HOSTAGE SO THAT BOHANNON WILL COME WITH THEM WILLINGLY and passive aggressively forces bohannon to marry his daughter who bohannon knocked up. somewhere along the line, hatch’s bad side is just thrown to the wind, and bohannon at one point describes him as “a good man”. yeah, ABOUT THAT--

sean and mickey mcginnes: unlike the ones mentioned above, these two started out as seemingly decent dudes, but ended up pm as secondary villains in the end. however, like the ones mentioned above, they hardly face any consequences for whatever crap it was they did in boston, OR the fact that they killed and fucking mutilated/dismembered a man in cold blood (a man who WAS gonna kill them, yes, but HE did it because he thought they had killed his friend, which wasn’t a farfetched idea since mickey DID brag about killing the dude even though he didn’t actually do it). sure, they face their OWN demons as time goes on, they get ostracized, and they start losing faith in each other as well, which ends up with mickey killing sean before the latter can confess(?) his/their crimes. so, while sean was spineless and a creep, at least he thought about finally owning up to what he’d done in the end, whereas mickey lives on to keep doing shady shit, killing people, and getting increasingly more corrupt. he does end up pursuing new goals in the end, but it’s obvious he’s not happy about it anymore. that’s-- really all the comeuppance he ever gets, and the only one who knows about his shady businesses are pm just bohannon, durant and eva (also, personal gripe here-- they seemed to not settle for “just” tarring and feathering the swede and publicly humiliating him, but i’m pretty sure i recall mickey telling bohannon they were thinking about having the swede killed too. keep in mind, this was BEFORE the swede truly lost it and started killing people left and right. apparently, being kind of a douche about taxes is bad enough to warrant being tortured and cast out by the entire community... i’m obviously biased here, but still-- the mcginnes bros’ double standards are amazing to behold)

now that i’ve aired some of that out-- here are some highlights, according to me:

unexpected friendships, like that between eva and durant. i’d say the swede finding that stray dog and fawning all over him qualifies into this category too

durant and campbell fighting in the mud before finally coming to an agreement -- just- durant and his competitors being petty as fuck, honestly. it’s hilarious

bohannon trying to get through to elam by reminiscing about their friendship, especially since bohannon isn’t one to show his feelings often OR get sappy -- in fact, EVERY time bohannon loses his stoic facade is a good moment. when he was gonna bury elam and he just broke down completely for the first time since we were introduced to him... that shit had me in tears as well, but man was it a great scene

jimmy two-squaws

every time the swede opens his mouth (yes, even when he’s spouting some lies and bullshit like that)

ruth’s character development. i admit i didn’t like her at all in the beginning, idk something just felt off about her, but man did she ever grow on me. just-- how everyone kinda relied on her eventually, even though she’s only like in her 20′s or something... she still became a pillar of the community. bless ya, ruth :’ı -- also, her essentially adopting ezra was Pure as heck. I Lov it

the fact that this was the 1800′s and the only backlash the (openly) LGBT characters faced for it was pm just “yeah they’re a bit confused maybe but they’re not hurting anyone”. maybe that’s not very realistic but WHO GIVES A SHIT AMIRITE

mr tao just being a sweet old man

chang’s sunglasses, straight out of Django Unchained

mr toole’s complete heel-turn from racist POS to someone who sticks by his word to turn himself around. that shit was impressive coming from him, tbh

bohannon just calmly running into a buffalo by the train tracks

mei posing as a grown man instead of a boy (which is what she looks and sounds like, oml)

another thing i realized is that bohannon is a classic gary stu. there’s just no getting around that fact after seeing him being revered by most everyone he meets, how he’s somehow the only person able to build the railroad(s) fast and efficiently, and even wooing the literal PRESIDENT and becoming close friends with him-- all this despite his Bold and Brash personality. of course, there’s more to bohannon than these gary stu-symptoms, but i felt someone should bring it up, for the lulz

[natewallace]

COMMISSION:  THE SMELL OF SULFUR

A fic for HBO’s Barry, where Barry and Sally confront a couple of things.

for: @ehlsea ♡ by Sam WC: 2252

                               this was awesome!! thank you so much!!                                                                        commission info + AO3 + ko-fi

Barry Berkman stalks up and down the small space of his bedroom. Riddled thoughts like a thousand, raging hornets smash their stupid, screaming faces up against the inside of his thick skull.

Killer. Fuck you. Killer. The queen is dead. She’s dead. I’m dead. I should be dead. Why aren’t I dead. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. The queen is dead and you fucking killed him — her — them? Fuck you.

He yells for the sixth time today, connecting his fist with his bedpost, marking the beginning of another bruise on his knuckles; another shot of pain like slivers of glass up through his arm and into his fingers. He stands delicately still, still enough to hear a pin drop, though the ringing in his ears would make that nearly impossible, now. A knock on the door makes Barry jump.

“Barry? Barry! It’s Sally, oh my God, God, I know I told you this already but you were incredible tonight It went so well, oh my God, can I come in? Please?”

Barry stalks out of his bedroom and takes wide strides towards the front door. He doesn’t open it; he stares at it, instead, as though expecting it to open all on its own. Inside the hornets’ nest of his own skull, something burns inside of him to tell her to go away.

“Barry?” Sally knocks again, this time harder. He clenches his fists as another bolt of pain shoots up his arm.

You’re an idiot if you’re going to let her in now.

Shut up.

The queen is dead, and the lady is next.

Wordlessly, he fumbles to unlock the door, nearly yanking the chain off its bolt with shaking, bruised fingers. He’s wordless when he opens it, and sure enough, Sally’s small frame stands there, taught with excitement.

“Barry, oh my God!” Sally throws her arms around his neck in a tight hug, rooting him in place as she lets out a giddy sob. He can’t quite tell if she’s crying or laughing — maybe both. It takes him a moment to hug her back, hesitantly. Mechanically. Moving through the motions.

“I did well, I think I did so well. How did you do that today? What did you have to picture? What was going through your head? Can I come in?”

Barry blinks. A beat of time passes before he nods wordlessly, stepping aside to let Sally hurry inside.

“Seriously, Barry, that was — that was just. Just wow. Honestly, I didn’t think you were capable of it. You gave me everything I needed. I have an agent! An agent!”

“That’s great, Sally. Really.”

She grins again as she collapses into his small kitchen chair, fanning herself. “Thank you. Really, thank you...you need to tell me how you do that.”

He nods as his stomach lurches, causing his knees to buckle for a brief second.

“Barry? Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yeah, fine — need a drink. Acting is thirsty work. I think.”

Sally grins, watching him curiously. “It is. Why did you pull out a carton of eggs?”

Barry looks in his hands. Eggs, not a beer, are clutched tightly in his grip. One cracks and leaks yellow ooze inside the carton. It looks like blood leaking from a cracked skull. But it’s yellow, because egg yolks are yellow, and Barry Berkman is certainly not losing his fucking mind right now.

“Do you want an omelet?” he asks quickly. Sally opens her mouth to respond, and the kitchen seems to tilt on an axis. Barry stumbles and the eggs fall from his hands and splatter to the floor in a gory splatter of yellow and bits of shell.

“Shit,” Sally breathes. “I’ll help you clean that up, just let me — “

“Sally, Ikillpeopleforaliving.”

The words tumble out of his mouth faster than he can gather them up again. He looks down at the mess of eggs on the floor. He feels like a shattered egg. Barry wonders if his brains would look yellow splattered across the kitchen floor like that.

Sally blinks at him, a small smile stretching across her face. “I guess if you want to practice monologing again, we can do that! But you can’t just stand like that and give me deadpan lines over a bunch of cracked eggs. Sometimes it’s best if you — “

“Sally!”

Barry’s voice thunders across the quiet kitchen. Sally blinks, recoiling as she half-stands from her chair. Guilt wracks his body for raising his voice, but he shoves it aside with a desperate groan.

“Sally. Listen to me. I’m not acting. I’m not monologing. I’m being serious. I kill people. For a living. I — I’ve tried to stop. Really tried. And each time, I just get sucked into it more and more and more. I’ve lied, I’ve lied to you, to Cousineau, to everybody — “

“Barry, what the hell — “

“No! No, listen to me! I was supposed to kill Ryan, but the fucking Chechneans got to him first. That’s why I came to acting class; to murder him. I suck as an actor, Sally! I had to literally kill my friend today or else he’d rat on me. And — and I can’t get out of this! I’m fucking...I’m fucking stuck, okay? I’m standing here, egg yolk on my goddamn shoes, and it looks like blood. These fucking eggs look like — like blood and blood is all I can see, sometimes. I taste it, I — I fucking smell it, I dream about it, when I look at you all I see is —”

And the lady is next.

Sally blinks at him, her face an unreadable eight-by-eleven printer sheet of stupid printer paper that he forgot to pick up this morning. He killed someone today, and he’s thinking about Sally and printer paper and he wants to cry or else he’ll scream instead. But he doesn’t cry. And he doesn’t scream. He watches Sally, instead.

A long, agonizing minute passes before she says anything at all.

“What...do you see when you look at me?” she asks quietly.

“Sally —”

“Tell me right now.”

Barry grips his hair, groaning loudly as he brings his uninjured fist down on the counter. Sally flinches.

“I see you covered in egg — in blood. I see me killing you because — because it’s the only option. Because something worse will happen to you if you don’t. Because I’m a bad person. Because I can’t — because —”

He looks at her miserably. He wishes Sally would throw the table across the kitchen, shove him against the refrigerator, and punch him. He wishes she would hit him, throw something at him, call him a monster, and send him to jail. He wishes she would take a gun and shoot him and leave his body for someone to find.

But Barry seldom gets what he wants, and she does none of that. Why would she? He could kill her with one hand, easily, and within seconds. He knows that; and now, she knows it, too.

“Because you love me? You’re afraid you’ll kill me because you love me?”

Barry feels like he’d just been slapped. He opens his mouth, only to shut it again in numb resignation.

“Because that would be really, really funny,” she laughs bitterly. Her lips press together in a hard line as she stares straight through him. “You’d sound just like my ex-husband. He used to hit me. Hard. I had bruises, you know? Then he’d tell me he loved me. Never said anything about killing me, though. Or other people. That’s — that’s new for me, Barry.”

The calm, steady way that she throws those razor-sharp words down his throat makes him reach behind the counter for support. His knees had grown too weak for him to stand.

“I know,” he croaks. “I’m sorry.”

“Right. Yeah.” Sally slowly backs away from him, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbles to her feet. The chair tips over and thuds to the floor.

“You...scare me, Barry. Honestly? If you killed people for a living...pff, I’ve seen worse. I could work with that, you know? I’m an actor. I can be flexible. I can live on the wild side, sure. I bet most of ‘em had it coming anyway, why not?”

Sally takes a deep breath.

“But you don’t kill people for love, Barry. You don’t think about killing people for love. That’s fucked up.”

Barry stares at her, and Sally stares back. She nods in weary, grim acceptance.

“Clean the eggs yourself.”

And with that, she grabs her purse and stumbles towards the front door. She throws it open, and it heaves shut with a hard slam that makes Barry jump. He’s sure he heard a strangled, muffled sob leave her throat before it closed.

The eggs stay on the floor, that night. In a daze, Barry goes to bed with his clothes on and stares at the ceiling well into the night and early into the next morning. The smell of sulfur jars him from his stupor, and he thinks someone’s poisoned him. Upon further, weary inspection, Barry finds that it is not poison, but the smell of reeking, broken eggs leaking on the kitchen floor.

“Fuckers,” he grumbles. He cleans them and doesn’t go back to bed. But he does go to acting class the next day with wear acceptance of his own, miserable fate. If Sally rats him out, they’d find him one way or another, wouldn’t they? He doesn’t have the energy to hide, or run, anymore. If the SWAT team wanted to take him during class or with his dick out in the shower, then by God as his witness, he’d accept it.

If Fuches decides to have him killed, he’d accept that, too.

Barry is tired, and more tired still from not having slept last night. Be it prison, death, or some other cosmic punishment, Barry would accept it warily and with only minor complaint.

“Barry!” Gene greets him when he stumbles into class, ten minutes late with dried yolk on his shoes. “You look terrible. Sally is your partner, today. You’re doing facial warm-ups. Run along.”

Fuck me, I guess, Gene. Thanks.

They say nothing while Barry puckers his lips and widens his eyes. Sally mimics the motion with a piercing stare. Her eyes are red; she’d been crying last night. Three beats of silence pass before either of them say a word.

“You smell like rotten eggs,” she points out.

“Thanks.”

She widens her mouth and bares her teeth. Barry winces.

“You know I’m not — I’m not going to kill you, right?” he whispers.

She blinks at him and puffs her cheeks.

“No,” she shoots back under her breath. “I don’t know that.”

Barry groans quietly.

“How can I convince you that I won’t? Really, really won’t? I’m not — I’m — I’m afraid, Sally. I didn’t have time to explain myself last night. Not that I deserve it, but — “

He catches Gene staring at them, and he rolls his eyes and bares his teeth in a mock stretch of his face.

“No, you don’t,” she snaps. “That’s why you’re going to invite me over tonight and teach me how to use a gun. The right way. Like you use it.”

Barry gags on his spit.

“What?”

“You heard me, asshole.”

Barry blinks and quickly widens his mouth in an exaggerated look of surprise when Gene walks past them.

“Sally,” he hisses quietly. “I can’t — “

“Oh yes you fucking can. I won’t live in fear of you, Barry. I lived in fear of that...fucking pig for too long. I won’t be afraid of you, too.”

Barry winces and tries to make the wince look like a puckered ‘O’.

“Why not just put me in prison, then?!” he hisses. “They’ll find evidence if you turn me in. I’ll go away for the rest of my life.”

Sally sighs. She doesn’t meet his wild stare.

“Barry, I told you I can...work with all that, right? You’re not a bad person.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, I’m willing to believe it. I can do that. I can try to do that. But what I won’t try — again — is fear. I won’t live in fear of you. And if it means learning to defend myself, I’d rather learn from the guy who uses guns for a living and, somehow, wants to be an actor, too.”

Barry might be hallucinating the smile on her face. But he’s too dumbstruck to look into it further.

“I like your shocked face, Barry!” Gene calls back. “Very genuine!”

Barry flashes him a weary thumbs-up.

“So, tonight,” Sally continues. “Your house. We practice without bullets, first. Teach me how to stand, how to unload, reload, and how to do it quickly. And have beer in the fridge.”

Barry nods in dumb acceptance. He doesn’t know what else to do.

“And if it smells like rotten eggs,” Sally continues, “I’m leaving. Deal?”

She offers her hand. Barry takes it and shakes it, and for a moment, he wonders if his eyes burn from the smell of rotting eggs on his shoes, or the dried tears in his eyes that may be happy, sad, or something entirely unidentifiable that only Sally could drag out of the emotional void existing deep inside Barry Berkman.

But he accepts it, as he accepts all things, nevertheless.

[exhoe-imagines]

the hotel styx → lty

summary → you are sent away on a business trip, but soon find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere. the hotel styx seems accommodating enough, but you’ll soon find it isn’t just any hotel...

word count → 2.2k

warnings → incubus!au, mentions of blood/torture (not to the reader or from taeyong), monsters, spooky things, suggestive/almost smut; fem!reader

a/n → shoutout to my nct hoes, hope you guys are having a happy halloween!! this is partly inspired by american horror story (hotel season) and goosebumps ~ admin jewels

You sigh in frustration as the car radio loses its clarity, the 80s pop music fading in and out until it’s completely static. You switch through the channels, looking for anything to distract you from the thunderstorm outside, but find nothing. The car continues down the bumpy, one-way road in search of a town you’ve never visited before. In fact, you’ve never ventured this far into the countryside, but here you are – on a business trip to some town over 100 miles from your house.

It’s completely dark at this point, the only lights around coming from your headlights. Your pulse increases as lightning strikes nearby, much too close for comfort. It suddenly hits you that you haven’t seen any house or building in over 20 minutes. You silently curse yourself for deciding to take such a job. Who knew these rural towns could be so creepy?

You’re just about to pull over and look for an old CD when the engine begins to sputter, slowly at first until it all at once brings the car to a halt. You groan loudly as you retry the ignition, only finding that it won’t restart. You scream in frustration, knowing there’s nobody around to hear you anyway. Oh God… you realize, there’s nobody around… Panic immediately sets in and you reach for your phone to call somebody, but to your amazement, it’s dead. You swore it was fully charged when you last looked at it! That is when you really start to panic, becoming all too aware that you are stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Well, it must not be the middle of nowhere with a red, flashing sign like that – you stare through the front window at the Vacancy sign down the street. You swear you didn’t see it until just moments ago. Oh well, must be some kind of good luck…

You hike up the road to the flashing hotel, cursing yourself for wearing such impractical shoes. By the time you reach the entrance, you’re drenched with rain. You scrunch your eyes as you try to read the name of the hotel on the door – The Hotel Styx? You decide you must be seeing things, maybe the rain is blurring your vision. A warm draft coats you as you enter the hotel, its golden lighting and dry interior already bringing you relief. You head through the lobby, straight ahead to the reception desk – but something seems off… Why is it empty? You spin around, eyes scanning the plush furniture, the empty hall to your right. It really is empty! You’re about to panic again when you hear the notes of a piano from down the hall. The melody reverberates through the lobby, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but follow the sound, as if you were in a trance. The piano grows louder and louder as you near it, just turning the corner from the hall into the ballroom. You see the piano straight ahead, a flash of red hair appears behind it – and then the music suddenly stops and there’s a hand on your shoulder. You jump, emitting the smallest screech you’ve ever uttered.

“I’m sorry madam, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes as you turn around to face him.

His red hair is the first thing you see, its color shockingly bright and unusual. His slender eyes crease as he smirks, some kind of cruel humor on his face. It seems he is amused at your shaken state.

You cough and attempt to straighten your posture, “My car broke down, I need to contact the nearest auto shop.”

“Ah, well I’m sorry to say, it’s over an hour away. They most likely wouldn’t arrive until the morning,” he replies, “but… you are welcome to stay here for the night. Come right this way,” his voice is suddenly chirpy as he guides you to the reception area.

“No, I didn’t say I need a room,” you trail after him, “I still have over 50 miles to drive tonight!”

“Listen, darling,” his voice and face flatten as he stares at you over the counter, “Nobody is available tonight. Your best bet is to stay here.”

For some reason, his answer silences your worries and you decide it may not be so bad to stay here for the night. After all, the rain and lightning outside was pretty scary to drive through.

“Here you are,” he hands you a bronzed key with a smirk, “Room 311, take the elevator on your right.”

“I need to get my luggage –“ you begin.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll bring it up for you.”

“Uh - thanks,” you say as you head to the elevator, surprised by his hospitality.

The halls are quiet as you navigate them, far too quiet. Eventually, you find your room and crash on the bed. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from all that driving… You decide to relax and watch some TV. You grab the remote, pressing the power on and waiting to see what HBO is airing tonight. Some kind of reality cooking show appears, where multiple contestants in chef uniforms are running around a luxury kitchen. You scoff as you see a plate of what looks like human brain being served to a judge – isn’t Halloween like 2 months away? These people celebrate far too early, you think before changing the channel. The next channel shows a doctor talking to a patient in his office. Based on the doctor’s flawless complexion and taut cheekbones, you assume he’s a plastic surgeon.

“You know, I’m just so insecure about it-“ his patient explains as she turns around, pulling her hair back, “I hate being reminded of how I died. It’s just so – morbid…”

She parts her hair to unveil… a fully open gunshot wound in the back of her head? You cringe in disgust, immediately flipping the channel once again. Is everyone celebrating Halloween early now? You’re distracted from your thoughts by a scream emitting from the television. A man is layed out on a metal slab, his mouth is stretched open by some contraption, and the skin on his face is almost completely removed. Another man stands over him, a scalpel and set of pliers in his hands as he giggles horrifically toward the camera.

You’re screaming and slamming the off button on the remote in no time, rushing out of the room. What kind of hotel is this? You panic as you scurry down the hall, looking for the elevator. You realize you’re lost as you hit a dead-end with no exit in sight. You turn around, running back the way you came, only to find another dead-end. Luckily, a hotel room door swings open to your right - a plump, older maid exiting with her maid’s cart.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, concern plastered across her face.

“No! No, I just - I need to get out of here. Where is the elevator?”

“Oh darling, what in the world is the matter?”

“The TV! It’s showing horrible things! Evil things, evil!” you hide your face in your hands, the image of the tortured man running through your mind over and over again.

“Now, now, I’m sure you’re just imagining that. Let me come take a look,” she says, allowing you to lead her back to the hotel room.

Your skin crawls as you reenter the room and see the television set in front of you.

“There! Turn it on, you’ll see,” you motion toward the remote on the bed.

She takes her time waddling up to the screen and pressing it on. You creep up next to her, afraid of what will be on the screen next. The image of the tortured man reappears, this time his teeth are being plied from his mouth one at a time. You scream, clamping your hands over your ears to muffle his cries.

“Is this what you were talking about?” the maid questions, her voice unaffected.

“Yes!” you scream, turning away from the TV, “Turn it off! Please!”

She’s silent and you’re worried for a moment that she’s in shock, but soon enough you hear her. She begins to laugh, softly at first, building up into a loud cackle. You spin around to find her utterly transformed, no longer a soft, pudgy grandma. Her eyes have sunken in, the skin of her face has become faded, almost like decomposed skin. Your voice is caught in your throat as she comes near you, still laughing in that possessed manner. It takes far too long for you to react, but finally you’re running to the door, screaming for help at the top of your lungs. You sprint down the hall, only to turn and find her running after you like a banshee – her legs far too agile for her age. Your heart is ready to give out when you run into someone and are knocked to your feet.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?”

Of course, it’s the bellhop. He seemed to be just getting off the elevator when you ran into him.

“The maid!” you scream, pointing wildly behind you, “She’s a monster, she – she’s possessed!”

He chuckles lightly as you spin around and see the maid behind you. Somehow, she’s back to her grandma self, standing politely in front of you.

“Get away! Get back,” you yell, backing up behind the bellhop.

She smiles sweetly at you before turning to him, “I’ll go back to cleaning, don’t mind me.”

He nods to her as she turns around and heads back down the hall to her assigned rooms, leaving you in a sweating puddle in the middle of the carpet.

“C’mon darling, let’s get you back to the room,” he coos as he helps you to your feet, offering his arm for support, “I think you’re seeing things…”

With his help, you make it back to the hotel room safely, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

“What kind of establishment is this?” you cry as he helps you lay on the bed.

You swear your vision is becoming hazier by the minute. Everything seems like it’s… glowing?

“It’s a pretty great establishment, don’t you think?” he smirks as he sits on the bed next to you, “In fact, it’s my establishment, so you better like it…”

His words filter through your head, but once he’s spoken them, you can barely remember them. All you can see is the increasingly scarlet color of his eyes and the way his lips glisten like they’re covered in silk. You begin to lose your breath, like something is pulling you into a trance. The fuzzy feeling reemerges, washing over you like a wave. You’re afraid you’ll fall asleep when suddenly the bellhop is lying next to you, staring into your face.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Taeyong.”

An overwhelming wave hits you as he speaks. You realize then that it’s him. He’s calling you to him and you know you have no will to resist. You’re drawn to him like a magnet, planting your mouth onto his with ease. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, like this is what he had been waiting for the entire night. His hands are everywhere at once, you swear he must have a dozen hands. The smoothness of his mouth accosts you with every kiss, like he’s coaxing the essence of your soul out with every breath.

“Give into me,” he pulls away from your lips to rip off your clothes, “Don’t hide. I see you.”

You’re completely at his mercy as he unclothes you, his eyes burning into your naked flesh.

“I see you.”

A noise stirs you awake, the bright light of the sun streaming through the windows into your eyes. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust and your body to fully wake up. You yawn, pulling your hair out of your face to find that you’re seated in the front seat of your car. Your keys are on the seat next to you, like you had decided to stop in the middle of the night and rest. You sit up and take a look at your surroundings outside. Fields stretch for miles on all sides, aside from the single-lane road you had been driving on. You thank yourself for deciding to park and sleep, rather than risk your chances dozing off while driving. You check your phone, thanking God that it’s fully charged. And luckily, you still have several hours to make it to your meeting. You grab a drink from your backseat and turn the car on, ready to get this trip over with.

You sigh as you make it into the Best Western, leaving your luggage by the door and diving into the bed. You’re relieved that you made it to the town with time to spare, allowing you to rest for an hour before heading to the appointment. You’re about to drift to sleep when you roll over and feel something poking you in your side. You yelp, sitting up and rummaging through the pocket of your jacket. A bronze key emerges, a small piece of red plastic dangling from it. The Hotel Styx? Where did that come from?

[thebumblebyog]

Cotton Candy Slurpies

Good evening my dears! Have you missed me? I’ve missed you! And I have returned, stronger and gayer than ever! So come on down to fanfic town and sample my often imitated, but never duplicated, Cizzie fan fiction! Browse my fanfic tag to read all of my stories leading up to this one!

Izzie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “Almost there!” read the text from Newton.

“I am so in love with you” she typed out before rolling her eyes, erasing it, and settling on a thumbs up emoji. She had been worried that Newton was going to flake on her. Even after they had smoothed things out at school, she had seemed a little distant. But now they were finally going on a date…well, Izzie was calling it a date in her head anyway, but she still wanted to be 100% sure of where they stood before-

Suddenly, there was a car honking at Izzie. She was so surprised that she jumped and turned around mid-air. It was Newton. Izzie’s look of shock faded into an annoyed smile as her best friend waved to her through the windshield. Newton pulled up to the corner and unlocked the car; Izzie opened the door and punched Newton’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Newton shouted and smiled, grabbing her arm in (mostly) mock pain, “rude!”

“Awwww, I’m sorry,” Izzie said in a patronizing baby voice, “Let me kiss it better.” She leaned over the gap between the seats and gently kissed Newton’s shoulder. Newton blushed. NEWTON WAS FUCKING BLUSHING DEAR GOD IT WAS SO CUTE.

“So, what’s this big surprise?” Izzie asked, feeling a bit of blood rushing into her own face. Maybe she should tone it down; it would be a mistake to freak out Newton by trying to move too fast.

Casey put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. “If I tell you, then it won’t be a surprise.”

“You’re no fun,” Izzie said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I’m tons of fun! Surprises are fun. You don’t like surprises, so you’re no fun.” Newton said this half to herself, glancing around in the paranoid way that people only ever do when they’re driving.

“Whatever, dork.” Izzie couldn’t help but smile to herself; even after all of the weirdness of falling for her, Newton was still her best friend. They could just get together and make dumb jokes while they drove around. Still, Izzie raised an eyebrow as Newton pulled onto the highway.

“Okay, seriously Newton, how far away is this surprise?”

“All in good time, my dear.”

“You know, if you’re kidnapping me then you probably shouldn’t cross state lines. That makes it federal.”

“But I went through all the trouble of building a shack in New Hampshire!”

“Ugh, the woods? Really?”

“I promise you’ll love it; it’s got a sex dungeon and HBO.”

“I’m not gonna drive more than thirty minutes if I don’t know what we’re headed towards.”

“It’s forty five minutes, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“At least give me a hint.”

“Hmmmmmm…no.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.”

“Would the worst download It on audible so we could listen to it on the drive?”

There was a long pause. It was a horrible, terrifying notion and they were totally gonna do it.”

“Maybe.”

The next forty five minutes were filled with horrified screaming, nervous giggling, and repeated pausing and replaying of the creepiest book either of them had ever read, heard, or even heard about. Izzie was actually kind of disappointed when Newton pulled off the highway; part of her wanted to just keep driving and listening and laughing and screaming like this forever. What could possibly be better than this? Especially in…were they at a gas station?

“So…what’s here exactly?” Izzie asked, trying not to sound as judgmental as she felt.

Newton cracked her quite nearly evil smile.

“You remember what you said about cotton candy slurpies a few weeks ago?”

“No, no way.”

“Oh yeah, get ready to put out.”

Izzie got out of the car, she rushed inside of the gas station, running to the back where the slurpy machines always were. She had really found them; Izzie hadn’t had one since she was eleven, back before her life was so fucked up. Newton had given her that; Newton had brought her back to a little, perfect moment in her life.

Newton caught up to Izzie, still smiling like she was the smartest person in the world.

“They’re really…You really…” Izzie couldn’t find the words. “How?”

“It wasn’t easy, but thanks to a surprisingly informative gas station food subreddit-“

Izzie hugged Newton so hard it practically floored her.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

Izzie turned back around and filled a cup as fast as humanly possible, speed chugging half of it. It was just as delicious as she remembered, like a high fructose arctic carnival. She refilled the cup and kept drinking.

“Woah, yeesh, slow down!” Newton pried the cup away from Izzie’s lips and filled her own, taking both cups to the counter and putting five dollars down on the counter. She got her change and they walked back to the car where they sat for the next hour and a half, repeatedly working up the nerve to start playing It again until they got too freaked out and finally gave up. Izzie was so happy; she couldn’t believe how happy she was, how lucky she was. She never thought anyone would do anything like this with her.

“I can’t believe we drove four towns away just to find a 7/11 that serves cotton candy slurpies,” Izzie blurted out. She felt stupid for saying it like that; as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

“I have no regrets,” Newton responded.

“I regret that I haven’t kissed you yet.” Izzie thought.

But that was about to change.

Keep your eyes pealed for the next chapter! I’ll have it posted some time around *vague hand waving* so be on the lookout!

[mmazzeroo]

Jonerys Advent Calendar 2018

@helloimnotawesome 

Dear Val! I’m so excited (and nervous) and honoured to be your Jonerys Secret Santa!

Just a real quick shoutout to Val’s story ‘I Chose You’ - go read it if you haven’t already! *hearteyes*

Never done anything like this before, but got this crazy idea in my head and just couldn’t get it out. So I thought why the heck not?! Why advent calendar you ask. Because they are a vital piece of Christmas celebrations in my part of the world, and as a child I loved them so hoped you might too. Beginning your day with a small piece of chocolate what’s not to like, right? (I still do sometimes even when it isn’t Christmas, please don’t tell my mom). There are advent tv-series where children (usually) somehow end up saving Santa or Christmas or both. So I thought I’d try to transfer the concept into writing by giving you a little drabble-ish sized bite each day from Dec. 1st to 25th.

Fair warning: Virgin fanfic writer (written non-fic pieces though). Un-beta’ed, so apologies for that. English isn’t my native tongue. Any and all grammatical and spelling errors, plot-holes and messed up timelines are entirely mine, and I own them proudly. Since this is based on fiction I’m not trying to make it realistic, just plausible enough to be believable. Totally ball-parking everyone’s ages! Also, because it’s Christmas time I’ve tried to keep the story light and cheery despite the underlying current of heartbreak. (Did I give too much away now?)

Hope you’ll enjoy the story - and the ride! Can be read here below or on AO3.

NB: All rights belong to George RR Martin and HBO. Also, all lines and quotes from various movies, tv series and songs belong to their respective writers / producers / owners. I own none of the content.

ARYA I - What A Shit day!

"Sir! Sir! You need to lay still! We're here to help you, ok?"

She was looking into steel grey eyes as wide as saucers. Like a deer caught in the headlights. Wide with fear and pain. Always the same mix only the degree of either varied. The grey eyed man unfortunately seemed to learn towards fear. Damn it! Fear only made her job more complicated. Fear was only a few steps away from panic and panic was lethal. Panic shut down the brain and prevented her from reaching or reasoning with the patients.

"My wife!" He grabbed her collar and pulled her closer to his face. "Save my wife! She's 8 months pregnant! Please!!" His voice broke at the last word and he loosened his grip on her jacket. Yup, definitely need to calm him down. Shit! She took a quick look towards the tree-line feeling like she was being watched.

"Sir, your wife is being tended to as we speak, ok? She's in good hands. Now can you please tell me your names?"

His lips moved but she couldn't hear a thing over the helicopter taking off just then. Brilliant! Thanks Rakharo! She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. By the old gods and the new please keep the woman and her child safe. Brienne was an amazing paramedic and always did everything within her power to keep everyone alive. She had to have faith, yet she could never help herself to say a little prayer whenever she was on a scene. Especially one like this.

Detective Bronn from King's Landing City Watch had already arrested the drunken sod who'd caused this mayhem. SUV hit in the side, pushed off the road, rolled down a hill and burst into flames. Metal pieces, glass and blood spread heavily all the way down. Pools of blood where the bodies of the driver and passenger had landed. Strange how being thrown out of a vehicle could suddenly be looked at as 'lucky', but it had prevented them from being trapped in a burning car. The blood was all too easy to see in the snow even though the only light available was that from the flames of the burning car - which the firefighters were working on putting out - and her own headlight strapped to her forehead. Both bodies had appeared unresponsive until she and Brienne had managed to get close enough. The drunken driver had gotten off with a broken nose and a busted eyebrow. Fucking asshole! If any lives were lost this evening he'd have a much worse hangover than he could possibly imagine. DA Martell would make sure of that!

A couple of decades ago the Starks and Targaryens had entered an unprecedented partnership. While the Tyrells and Martells were battling over who should reign supreme over Westeros, the wolves and dragons set out on a different mission: They united their medical skills for both humans and animals alike. Under one roof. Together. So today when an emergency call was made they sent out paramedics and a tracker for the hurt and scared animal. To help all injured beings. At first there was the usual scepticism when someone does something new, but gradually people began to understand. Her dad and the late Commander Targaryen both believed the idea of 'leaving no one behind' must include ALL family members regardless of number of legs or wings or scales etc. President Tyrell had successfully managed to get a law past about a decade ago which clearly stated that 'a life is a life' and 'any life taken by outside forces will henceforth be considered a criminal offence and proper authorities shall investigate as such'. So if Tormund and his bloodhounds didn't find and come back with a living breathing dog belonging to the grey eyed man...well then mr. drunk-with-a-busted-eyebrow would be waking up to murder charges tomorrow morning.

"Can you tell me your name, sir?"

She had leaned closer to try to maintain eye contact with him. His eyes blinked once, twice, then closed, she felt his breath on her face and felt his hands slip from her jacket, fall and landed limply in the snow. There was a cry from the woods sounding almost like a wolf, but there were no wolves this far South.

"Clegane! CLEGANE!! Get your arse over here! We need to get him out of this godsdamned snow!"

Sandor Clegane was by her side in a few big strides. He helped strapping the man to the board and helped pull him uphill. He hopped in the driver's seat while she went to work in the back of the ambulance.

"Don't you dare die on me now, buddy! C'mon!" Still no reaction. "C'mon damn it! Wake up!!" Fuck! Cutting his clothes to get to his torso she was met by a sight she'd never seen before. His upper body was covered in scars. Some clearly old while some looked to be pretty resent. Seven hells! What's happened to you?! If only she knew his name. People tend to respond well to hearing their name. She kept working on the man while listening to a symphony of Sandor cursing the King's Landing late night traffic. There was a strong pulse again. Good.

"Yes! He's stable again. ETA?"

"5 mins"

"Roger that."

She searched his pockets for any ID's or papers of any kind but came up empty handed.

"Sir, can you tell me where you are?" She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We, we just..." His breathing was shallow and laboured. "We just wanted to find our family." Tears started to pool in his eyes and he was visibly shaking now from trying to keep himself together. "And now," he took a deep shaking breathe, "it's all gone to shit." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. Once again crashing.

"Damnit man! Stop doing this shit, it's getting real old! You hear me?!" We're so close to the hospital, just hold on a little longer. Leaning in she whispered in this ear, "Your family needs you."

When they arrived at the emergency entrance at the Lyanna Stark Memorial Hospital, Dr. Lannister was already waiting for them.

"Male, injured in vehicle accident. In and out of consciousness, but stable for now. Seemingly superficial wounds to left side of the head. Broken ribs and possible punctured lung on the left side of the chest."

"Has he said anything, Stark?" Dr. Lannister lifted his eye from his notes and looked straight at her. He didn't mean to she knew that, but the fact that he was so tall he literally looked down at her tend to make her feel like a child being scolded whenever he spoke to her. She did not like that feeling. Despite being one of the best surgeons Dr. Lannister wasn't arrogant though. Sure he would often state the fact that he's better than most, but does telling the truth make you arrogant? She wasn't sure.

She lifted her chin towards him and said, "Only few words here and there about his wife and family, doctor."

"Alright. I'll take it from here then. Time to go fix this daddy!"

He started pushing the gurney down to the lift. She took a few steps down the hall.

"Know anything about his wife?"

"Dr. Martell and Dr. Stark are working on her and the babies as we speak. They're in good hands, Arya." His kind green eyes met her own concerned grey ones.

She nodded.

"Wait! Babies? Plural?"

"Twins!", he shouted before the lift doors closed and he disappeared up to the OR.

Twins! Now she hoped even more that Robb and Dr. Martell could work their magic. She knew her brother was a skilful paediatric surgeon, but rumours had it that he was particularly skilled in neonatal care including surgery. Had to be why else would someone like Dr. Martell pick him as resident? Not known for doing favours she wouldn't give two fucks who his dad was if he didn't have any knowledge and skills of his own. Deep breathe. Ok, so overall the country's top surgeons were busy working on her grey eyed patient and his family. That had to be enough. It had to be!

Normally she'd go check the status of the affected animals over at the vet wing, however not expecting Tormund and his hounds to be back already and since technically her shift had ended while out on the call, she went straight to 'Hot Pies & Ale'. Not exactly the most inventive of names, but as Davos said 'we do what it says on the tin.'

Much to her surprise she heard the rambunctious wildling's voice the second she set foot in the pub.

"For fuck sake Bobby, stop licking Bessie's tits! At least buy her dinner first, you dog!" Tormund shook his head as he took a sip of his beer.

"Well, he is a dog so what did you expect?"

"Ha! Little Stark! Smart as always. Bobby B's a dog, aye, but does that mean I want to listen to him licking his girlfriend's tits all night? Tell me that!" He said challengingly, his eyebrows up and chin raised.

"I'm not 'little Stark'—", she said through clenched teeth

"Only because Bran's sitting in a chair!" he bellowed.

"—and 2nd, I don't know what the hells you like listening to!"

Turning towards the bar she hopped onto one of the stools and nodded to Tyrion and Viserys sitting side by side chuckling, probably at her and Tormund's little exchange.

Giving them an annoyed side glare, idiots, she turned around slightly to face the red-haired man. "Didn't expect you back this early. Is that good or bad news?"

"Good. Found it not too far off in the woods. Growling like a motherfucker though, had to sedate the poor thing. Must've taken some hits in that tumble down the hill. Had a few burns as well not too bad all things considered."

She remembered all too well the sound of the growling coming from the car as she had manoeuvred around the vehicle to get to the man. When the firefighters had managed to cut the lock to the crate open all she saw was a flash of white fur, and it was gone between the trees.

"Dr. Tyrell and Sansa was with him when I left."

Giving him a puzzled look he clarified, "Dr. Targaryen isn't expected back until tomorrow. Anyway, Dr. Tyrell says the dog should be back up and running in a jiffy." Giving her a reassuring smile he continued with a wistful look in his eyes, "Could swear it looked like a winter dog. Albino one at that. White as snow. Big gorgeous beast!" He ended with one of his signature big grins.

"Do winter dogs howl?" she asked while taking a sip of the soda Davos had placed before her.

"This one did that's what led me straight to him. Up North they do and the wolves will reply. Can keep you up all night with their howling banter", he laughed out loud and shaking his head as if remembering something. "We'll know for sure tomorrow when Dr. Stark comes."

"Dad's coming??", she asked perhaps a little too excited.

"Aye, Dr. Tyrell called him down for a consult to make sure. If it is a winter dog then he's more wolf than the huskies she's used to."

"Speaking of howling", Viserys interrupted and looked at Tyrion, "your sister was causing quite a ruckus this evening," he chuckled.

Sighing deeply Tyrion asked, "Do I even want to know what she did this time?"

"She kept yelling for more wine", Viserys laughed trying to immitate Cersei "More wine! MORE WINE! MOOOORREEEE WIIIINNNEEEE!!" Leaning back on the barstool, hand on his stomach laughing out loud he continued, "she almost couldn't sound more looney even if she tried!"

Everyone laughed out loud at that including, and especially, Tyrion.

"I swear rubber cells were invented for the likes of my sister."

"Tyrion!", she slapped him on his arm, "she may be crazy but she's still your sister."

"That's exactly why I say it! If set free she'd be a menace to society." He took a big gulp of his beer. "Speaking of menace, have I ever told you the story of the jackass, honeycomb and brothel?" he asked with a grin wiggling his eye brows.

Leaning closer to him with a big smile on her face she answered "Ooh do tell Mr. Lannister!"

"Well, I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel—"

He was interrupted when the pub door was ripped open and the voice of a furious woman yelled, "Hey! Watch where you're going fuckface!!"

Stepping through the door she practically threw her bag to the side as she stomped straight to the bar.

"Dany! Good to see you again, sis", Viserys leaned in to kiss her on the temple, "Flight catch some disturbance did it?" he chuckled.

"Oh if only it was the flight", she growled, "Davos, give me a shot of your Dothraki booze."

"As m'lady wishes", Davos poured a shot while exchanging a look with both Vis and Tyrion. "Here you go."

Dany put the glass to her mouth and threw her neck back taking it in one shot. Resulting in heavy coughing and wheezing. "Gods! I hate that stuff! Give me another one. Now, Davos!"

"Hey, why can't I have any of that by the way?", she suddenly asked pointing her index fingers at everyone's drinks.

"Because Arya," Gendry, having been quiet this entire time, said and raised his hand to point at the sign hanging at eye-level clearly saying '21', "you must be this high to ride this ride." Everyone around her laughed out loud with him. A smug look on his face indicating he was very pleased with himself.

"Fuck you! I'll be 21 in just a few months!"

"Few months isn't 21 today, sorry Arya", Davos said sympathetically.

"Whatever!" She left 5 dragons on the bar and jumped off the stool marching to the door.

Gendry called out to her, "A soda's only 4 dragons."

As she swung the door open she looked back and said, "Keep the change...you filthy animal!"

She heard a choir of laugher as the door closed behind her. What a shit day!

[letterboxd]

Docs.

“I was very intrigued with this idea of the chest-burster scene.” The origins of Alien, and other Sundance 2019 documentaries.

Park City, Utah: Sundance has long had a reputation as the pre-eminent launching pad for cinematic documentaries, and that was especially true last year when a bunch of Sundance 2018 premieres went on to do extremely well at the box office. Titles such as RBG, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? and Three Identical Strangers have made a significant theatrical and critical impact in 2018 (not to mention an impact on our Year in Review).

Sundance 2019 had no shortage of buzzed-about docs on offer, with the highest profile one being Dan Reed’s Leaving Neverland, about the long-term sexual abuse two men claim they suffered as children at the hands of pop star Michael Jackson.

Although it only screened once, it was unquestionably the most talked-about film of the festival, and by all accounts an extremely harrowing watch. HBO will air the film in early March. (Letterboxd member David Ehrlich’s in-depth review is worth a read.)

Other documentary titles that garnered buzz at this year’s Sundance Film Festival include The Great Hack, covering the Cambridge Analytica Facebook scandal, Alex Gibney’s The Inventor: Out for Blood In Silicon Valley, about controversial blood-testing start-up Theranos and its founder Elizabeth Holmes, and Where’s My Roy Cohn?, a look at the life of the infamous New York lawyer best known these days for mentoring a youthful Donald Trump.

There were three other documentaries making waves at Sundance that Letterboxd had the chance to see. Read on for details.

A young Harvey Weinstein in Ursula Macfarlane’s ‘Untouchable’.

Untouchable After Leaving Neverland, this was the title that generated the most discussion around Park City. Ursula Macfarlane’s film examines the sexual misconduct charges surrounding disgraced Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein via gut-wrenching, first-hand testimony from some of his accusers.

It also chronicles Weinstein’s rise to power in the movie business, and his long tradition of wielding power and access to control the way media reported about him. Following the screening, Macfarlane acknowledged that the story being told in her film isn’t finished yet, with Weinstein yet to stand trial.

“We had to make a decision,” she explained. “Because you could carry on filming this story for God knows how long it’s gonna take until there’s some kind of conclusion. But we wanted to make our film evergreen in a way. So we did make a decision quite early on that we would begin with the arrest and we would end with the arrest. It almost became a kind of mythological, epic story.”

“It remains to be seen, of course, as to whether the legal system itself is capable of prosecuting someone like Harvey Weinstein,” added producer Simon Chinn. “Our hope is, through watching [Untouchable] you’ll get a clearer understanding of the nature of abuse in this industry and why the legal system is insufficient in dealing with it, perhaps. But equally, hopefully, you will understand how plausible the women who are accusing him are. For me, the film shows irrefutably that these women are to be believed. Let’s be clear about that.”

‘Untouchable’ on the red carpet, from left: producer Simon Chinn, director Ursula Macfarlane, actor Rosanna Arquette, and producers Poppy Dixon and Jonathan Chinn.

One of Weinstein’s accusers, actor Rosanna Arquette, appears in the movie and was present at the screening.

“A lot of women are not in this [film] because they were too afraid to speak,” said Arquette after the screening. “And I’ve heard from all of ’em, pretty much, during this process. Today. Everybody’s triggered. I’m here for all of them. I stand in solidarity for them, representing them. Just by telling your story, you help another person tell their story, so it’s a chain reaction across the world. So for that, we all very blessed to be a part of that because it’s helping people heal, slowly but surely.”

The Amazing Johnathan is the subject of Ben Berman’s untitled documentary.

Untitled Amazing Johnathan Documentary The Amazing Johnathan is a successful Las Vegas-based magician/comedian with a slightly sadistic edge to his act—his most famous gag involves appearing to slice a knife into his own arm.

Before watching, we weren’t sure that this would be the most inspired topic for a documentary, but the film was not at all what we were expecting. This is one of those documentaries that eventually becomes more about its own making than the ostensible subject matter.

Not that The Amazing Johnathan isn’t worthy of a doc—he’s a plenty interesting guy in a unique situation and the film gets a lot of value out of examining him. But the film has more to say about the nature of documentary filmmaking itself, as director Ben Berman becomes more and more central to proceedings.

There are secrets revealed throughout the film that might make you question its veracity. We won’t spill them here, but following the screening, Berman stood up to attest to its truthfulness.

“It’s absolutely real shit that happened,” he swore. “The biggest theme of the movie is trying to determine what’s truth versus what’s illusion, right? So to have that experience continue into you guys watching it is very exciting.”

The film’s comedic sensibility betrays Berman’s previous involvement in oddball comedy shows like Eagleheart, Lady Dynamite and various Tim and Eric projects.

The Amazing Johnathan himself was also present, and an audience member asked him about his current relationship with Berman, considering that it gets pretty strained in the film. “I don’t know what our relationship’s like,” he replied. “It was only towards the very end that I hated him. He definitely made up for it, what a genius ending.”

A sketch of the notorious chest-burster scene from ‘Alien’.

Memory: The Origins of Alien Screening as part of the festival’s genre-leaning Midnight section, this documentary about Ridley Scott’s 1979 classic Alien is the latest work from film nerd extraordinaire Alexandre O. Philippe, the Swiss director behind such documentaries as 78/52 (2017), which was entirely about the shower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, and The People vs. George Lucas (2010), which examined Star Wars fan discontent.

Philippe’s latest film is a deep scholarly dive into the cultural forces that lead to Alien’s creation. He factors in Greek and Egyptian mythology, underground comic books, sci-fi B-movies and the art of Francis Bacon.

“For Alien to become an A-movie in 1979, it doesn’t make sense,” Philippe said following the screening. “This is not a time when people were ready for it. And what becomes really interesting is this idea of, when a movie becomes that successful, at a time when the environment is not quite ready for it, what does it mean? It means, in a way, that there were certain images and certain ideas, and that we as a collective unconscious, and I truly believe this, that we summoned this film, we collectively put it on the screen.”

Philippe’s film champions the contributions of screenwriter Dan O’Bannon, who is often overlooked in favor of Scott and HR Giger, the Swiss artist behind the film’s iconic creature design. O’Bannon’s first attempt at the screenplay that would eventually become Alien was named ‘Memory’, hence the documentary’s title.

From left: Alexandre O. Philippe, Ridley Scott, HR Giger, Dan O’Bannon.

“To me, this film really is about the triptych of O’Bannon, Giger and Scott, and the symbiosis between those three people. It’s essentially an essay about those three extraordinary people meeting.”

The film was originally just going to be about the film’s most notorious scene before Philippe expanded his scope: “I was very intrigued with this idea of the chest-burster scene and, especially after 78/52, of making another film about another scene that had an impact on us as a culture. It seemed like a natural fit. But we did an early sizzle [reel], and it didn’t feel right.”

The resulting documentary is strong argument for the value of a film that does nothing but critically examine another film.

“What I really hope is that this film will make people look at Alien and consider it in a different light and maybe wanna go and dig deeper into it. Great movies, you can go over and over and over again and you will never ever get to the bottom, you will always see something new.”

Hulu has acquired ‘The Untitled Amazing Johnathan Documentary’. ‘Untouchable’ and ‘Memory: The Origins of Alien’ have yet to announce distribution deals. Reporting by West Coast editor Dominic Corry.