#literally don't know what else to tag i'm all a flurry right now

[starrystevie]

🌿 where the spirit meets the bones 🌿

an appalachian eddie munson fic written for @steddiebang with art by @paintedpatroclus

after finding out that his father passed away and that the munson family home in tennessee is now wayne’s, eddie munson makes his way back to the little house nestled on the outskirts of the appalachian mountains. he brings along someone to help with the heavy lifting, to help carry boxes and clean out the junk the house has accumulated over the years. in walks steve harrington with his hands and arms open and ready to do much more than just the heavy lifting. together, the two work through eddie’s grief and anger, acceptance and closure. it’s all wrapped up in a family house in the mountains of east tennessee. it’s where eddie learns how to let go, how to let people in, and how to live as free as the winds blowing through the overgrown weeds. and if it means seeing steve trying to catch crawdads in the sunshine and seeing the stars twinkling in his eyes in the moonlight, then eddie’s happy to be along for the ride.

read here on ao3

[thebreakfastgenie]

I have read that chapter and I think it's an awfully big leap to ascribe particular meaning to that. As an autobiography, it has a loosely chronological organization so it may be placed in that chapter because of the timing--Mike was an outspoken ally before MASH, but his time on MASH coincided with gay rights beginning to get a lot national attention. MASH is also connected to all of his activist work simply because of the recognition it brought him. The reason for the ellipsis is the next chapter, which deals with his life immediately after the end of MASH, is title "...and Beyond." It's "B.J....and Beyond" referring to those significant stages of his life.

It doesn't surprise me that Mike is supportive of fans choosing to interpret his character as gay. That's exactly the response I expected from him; similar to what Mark Hamill has said about Luke Skywalker. It's a really nice thing for fans, and I'm happy that he's supportive, when many creators still are not.

To address @pomegranate, I was on mashblr a year ago so I watched all of this go down. I don't want this to be misconstrued as an attempt to reinforce your imposter syndrome. I think you presented a great perspective. I'm just presenting mine as well as some things I was able to observe.

First, I don't think anyone is claiming the 2021 interview (which was discovered by mashblr in 2022) is the origin of "BJ goes to Maine." That has been a popular fic trope since 2020. There was as flurry of "BJ goes to Maine" fics in February 2022 and from that point on there have been a lot of tags referencing variations on "BJ would walk across the country."

Most of the posts--then and now--stopped at "BJ would walk across the country if it meant spending time in Hawkeye's company." OP is not the first person I've spoken to personally who did not even know the rest of the quote existed. It is important to read and listen to things and form your own opinion, but it is also naïve to deny that this quote was widely misrepresented. I was suspicious of the hype from the beginning, so I immediately watched the interview myself, and my suspicions were confirmed. There was post after post to the effect of "Mike said BJ goes to Maine!" I would not be surprised if a not-insignificant part of the fandom believed he used the word "Maine" at any point in the interview. I think it's accurate to say there is selective memory being implemented here, which may or not be willful.

I absolutely agree with your assessment that there is a certain faction of shippers that desires confirmation or some sort of canon validation. I can't grasp that mentality either. But that faction of the fandom did and does attempt to spin this isolated quote from that interview as some kind of confirmation from Mike.

People may not have expected Mike to say "Hawkeye and BJ live happily ever after," but people reacted as if he did. There were posts saying he did, and those weren't literal, but they are part of a pattern. There are a lot of posts claiming Mike Farrell was playing BJ as gay, and I do understand that they're largely memes, but when something is repeated enough times as a meme it begins to accrue a certain level of sincerity. I've watched this happen repeatedly on this website, both in fandom contexts and much higher-stakes situations. I'm certainly not saying that every shipper or even the majority engaged in this, but it undeniably happened and continues to happen, and it is that phenomenon that OP is responding to.

I certainly don't look at the full quote as disproving anything, and I don't think OP does either, but it does seriously recontextualize the part that was widely shared. I won't speak for anyone else, but I'm annoyed the whole quote isn't being shared--and that a lot of it is being erased--because the quote, in full, means a lot to me and feels in line with my interpretation of the show.

I see it as more bittersweet than depressing. The absolute thesis of post-war BJ and Hawkeye to me is they have separate lives, so hearing Mike say that was really gratifying! The bond they shared will always exist, but it doesn't hold them together; they've gone in different directions. And that's sad, because we see how close they are in the show. But it's also a good thing, because it means they move on with their lives and aren't defined by the war. Even without such traumatic circumstances, drifting away from the people you were once closest to without loving them any less is a big part of life. That's what I got from this interview and I love it more than I can express. "They made a point of seeing each other again" only underscores that they had to make an effort to see each other, because they are no longer a constant presence in each other's lives. It's about how close they remain, but also, as OP said, how they're not as close as they used to be.

Those of us who are interested in that story, who feel that very deeply, want to see the full quote because it's important to us. Because it tells us something more about Mike's interpretation of what happens later in the characters' lives.

I think the quote is mostly a reiteration of BJ's determination in GFA. It tells us, perhaps unsurprisingly, that Mike thinks BJ is sincere in his promise to see Hawkeye again and keeps it. For what it's worth, Alan Alda has also answered this question:

[laughing] I have no idea. They'd meet again if I wanted them to. If they were both available for a show they would certainly have met again.

All OP is really saying is that the full context gives a very different impression of the interview than the shortened quote that was widely circulated.

Hey. Hey why the FUCK did everyone try to convince me that Bj walks to Maine was gay instead of really depressing.

The whole quote: "BJ would walk across the country to spend time in Hawkeye's company, and it probably wouldn't have been as wonderful as he'd have hoped it was, because their lives have gone in different directions."

Like it’s literally he puts in all this effort to see him and keep his promise, and then they’re different people than they were in the war and it’s not a very good time. Like that’s the OPPOSITE of gay that’s “they’re not as close as friends as they used to be.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Tag Game

post your favourite/most recent photo of yourself

Me in Early November

1) what's your favourite personality traits of yours?

That I'm loyal

2) favourite body part

Lips, they got that cupid's bow

3) favourite aesthetic/style on yourself?

Vintage Edgy boho. I love maxi shirts with tanks or flowy shirts, and at the same time i love black clothes, my leather jacket and boots while leaning toward styles from the 60s, 70s, and 90s.

4) what you're most proud of?

I'm a published author. I literally had my dreams come true.

5) a trait people tell you they like about you:

that I'm kind

6) a personality/physical trait that you used to be ashamed of, but now love/are proud of:

My eyes. So I am the only one in my family alive with blue eyes. Everyone else has brown and they all have different shades too. My brother's are almost black and my dad has these warm brown eyes, and I have blue. But they're not that deep ocean blue, they're more like a bluish greyish mix and depending on what I'm wearing they change shades. But for so long it would bother and freak me out because I had blue eyes - and not even the pretty bright blues - while everyone else had brown eyes. Now I love them because it's fun and neat to see what shade they'll be with what I wear and how I do my makeup and I can't imagine myself having different colored eyes.

7) favourite colour on you?

Olive green or black

8) favourite clothing on you?

Tank top, jeans, either a flannel or a sweater in top and my makeup all done up

9) an aesthetic you wanna try but are too scared:

Can I say confident? 😂😂😂 I would love to wear more skin/revealing clothes but I know it wouldn't look good on me lol

10) thing you like getting compliments on the most:

my writing. It's my life and something I work very hard on and I'm always looking on ways to improve

11) lastly, do you love yourself (if not you should!)?

No. There was a very long time where I hated everything about myself and as a result did things that I can't take back. There still even days now where I find things I want to change to look prettier or be seen differently, and to be honest, I don't know if I'll ever be able to. I like to think of that being the end goal and to get there I have to meet smaller goals, and right now, I smile at my reflection more than I used to do. So maybe one day I'll be able to like myself.

tagged by: @dreamystuffers​

tagging: @mygsii @myforeverforlife  @peonybane  @hobicomeholla29  @yeolkisses @jeonsdear @namsjoon  @kpopcinnamonswirlroll @1997jk @soulofatiny @cherryeoo @minniepetals @minniesmarshmallow @yoongi-sugaglider  @crystaljins @taestfully @i-am-delaney @worldwidebt7 @flurrys-creativity  @apurpledheart @holyfluffly @queen-of-himbos @boymeetsweevil @chans-chair @brokecollegenerd @bubblebeom @writersrealmbts @kpophoneybunny @actuallythatwaspromise  @ladyartemesia @haylo4ever @ggukcangetit @kpopfanfictrash​ @wwilloww @jingabitch​ @jamaiskook​ @thatlongspringnight @ot7always-main  @hauntedlilies​ @koophoriia​ @sweetheart--sannie​  @sweetae-tae​ @iniquitouspoppy​   @hongism​ 

[whumping-every-day]

Hey Sarah! Congrats on getting your card! I'm sorry you've been having a few rough days of writing. Writer's block stinks big time. Could I possibly request mercy killing from your card? If you have time and want to. I'm picturing the whimper maybe doing it to "free" a friend of the Whumpee that has also been captured? Thank you so much for all the effort you put into your stories. Please don't pressure yourself about them. We love them whenever you publish then. It should be fun for you!

Baby, buddy, my friend... thank you so much for your kind words. Also, you may regret asking me this. Because I saw this request, and immediately decided on doing the worst thing ever.

Have an Au of my vampire series, where Callum does not find and rescue Ash in time. Instead, Ash remains with the hunters who originally captured him. Callum happens to stop by years later to visit a friend. 

Content Warnings: Major character death!!! (non-canonical, but still) mouth/face/eye/finger gore, blood, broken/shattered bones, aftermath of torture, injuries, dehumanizing language, muzzles, put on display, tortured literally out of his mind, brief vomit, mercy killing. 

Tagging the vampire gang: @pepperonyscience @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump @what-huh-imconfused  @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @vickytokio @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whump-em @umniyah-s

-- 

The creature twitches and shudders as it falls to the packed earth. The crowd of onlookers is thinner, now, as dusk starts to fall. A few of the townspeople linger, though, and the hunters just stand around and watch as they deal a flurry of kicks and insults to the quivering lump of flesh on the ground. 

That’s all it is, anymore. A lump of flesh. The muzzle is a part of its face, and its eye sockets are empty behind bleeding eyelids. 

There’s the rattling of strained, laboured breathing, but there is no other sound. Not even when one of the larger assailants sets his foot on the vampire’s chest and shoves. Something cracks as the creature’s torso caves in. 

“Alright, alright. ‘m afraid you will have to come back tomorrow, boys.” One of the hunters scoops up the chain attached to the creature’s collar. “Don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere.” 

One of the men laughs, wiping his boot off on the grass as if he’s touched something filthy. “Yeah, I should hope so. That thing’s practically our mascot now.” 

It takes some time, but the remaining villagers slowly start to disperse as the hunters drag the still-juddering corpse inside. It’s breathing, technically, but it’s still a corpse. There’s nothing about it that looks human anymore, not its face or its body. Its skin is still smoking, and the stench of burning meat still permeates the courtyard. Night falls, and the courtyard is empty, and the creature lies in a cage made of iron and floats on a sea of nothingness and agony. 

-- 

“Didn’t you say you have a vampire here?” Callum takes a long draw out of his tankard, drumming his fingers on the wood of the bar. He doesn’t know the hunter in front of him that well, but well enough that not stopping by when he’s in town would be rude. Derik is short and rotund, thick and broad. 

“Aww, yeah, man.” Derik is considerably deeper into his bottle than Callum is. “ ‘s hardly a vampire now, though. It’s a money-maker. Who’da ever thought people would pay to stand around ‘n watch us break it? It don’t even respond, anymore. ‘s boring.” The man slurs, glaring pensively into his bottle. 

Callum hides his grimace fairly well, but his next swig of beer tastes bitter on his tongue. He’s done awful things to these creatures, of course, but he tries to keep it quick. A bolt to the chest, or a clean decapitation with a silver blade. But then, he’s never been short on funds, so maybe he shouldn’t talk. “Hey. If it puts food on the table...” 

Derik snorts. “Barely. ‘sides, tha’s not the point. It deserves it.” 

“Ah.” Callum takes another drink. “So you guys caught it, and just... kept it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Derik’s cheeks are flushed, and he looked about ready to pass out. But his eyes brighten suddenly, and he leans forward, nearly unbalancing on the stool. “You wanna see?” 

“Do I want to-” Callum breaks off. He doesn’t understand why the question fills him with a nameless sort of dread. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to know. And yet, that terrible dread is translating into sick curiosity. “I’ll take a peek.” 

“Yeeaaahh, that’s my man,” Derik crows. He slings a careless arm around Callum’s shoulders, and his breath stinks like booze. 

Callum is starting to regret coming here at all. 

--

“This is your vampire?” The words fall from his lips as horrified, and for a split second, for just a moment, it feels like it’s happened before. But everything is different, this time; everything is worse. 

They’ve disassembled the creature, piece by piece. Callum mistakes the dark lump for a shadow at first, but then the shadow moves. Callum’s hand falls to his knife automatically - but the figure is keening, quiet and raw. It sounds like a child sobbing, or a wounded, dying animal. It sends shivers down Callum’s spine. 

“Oh, yeah. It don’t do much no more...” Derik stumbles over to it, and he’s not steady on his feet, but he’s aware enough to spit down on it. The flesh of its lower face is burned away. Callum can see its cheekbones, and that it’s missing its teeth. Not just its fangs. All of its teeth. 

Callum gags a little and takes a step back, feeling horror roil in his gut. “What is wrong with you people?” 

Derik is busy fumbling with his pants, like he’s going to take a piss right on the creature’s broken body. He pauses at the words though, brow creasing. “Wha’s wrong with you?” He counters. “ ‘s a vampire. I can do.. wh-ever I want.” 

Callum can’t catch his breath, suddenly. The smell in the little stone room is rancid; filth and piss and rot, and the sour, overlaying stench of terror. The vampire is missing fingers, and the ones that remain are bent and crushed. Callum feels very cold, suddenly, and then very warm. 

His fingers shake as he grips his knife and draws it. He is driven by cold horror as he moves, his mind not even catching up with his body. 

Derik is too drunk to see him coming. Callum knocks him over the head with the hilt, and the man drops like a stone. Callum has to stifle the urge to keep hitting him. 

The vampire does not seem to be conscious of his presence... or of anything at all, really. Callum walks over to it, and the longer he stares, the more he feels the alcohol twisting and turning in his gut. 

It’s only when he sees the creature’s severed tendons, and the way the bottoms of its feet have been mangled, that he turns and vomits all over the floor. 

“Oh my god,” he mutters, wiping the back of his mouth. This goes far beyond overkill. This is - this is something else. This is the deepest expression of human evil he’s ever come across. Callum has never been religious, but this is an abhorrence.

There’s a stake in his hand as he crouches beside the trembling lump of skin and bone. Its head jerks in his direction, and the keening gets a little louder. 

He can’t heal it. Callum has tested the limits of a vampire’s body himself, but he’s never seen torture like this. He’d have to drain three people or over to even think of fixing it, and even then... Callum looks at the way its empty eyelids flutter, the way the exposed, caved bones in its chest rattle and wheeze. No. Healing it would not be a kindness. 

The hunter draws in an unsteady breath and grips the stake. It will be easy from here; a quick plunge, not even a moving target. But he can’t help but reach out, just once, as if something else is guiding his hand. As if allowing this creature’s last moments of contact to be violent is too much.

There’s no patch of the creature’s flesh that is not maimed in some way. Callum settles a hand as gently as he can over its empty eyes, and his jaw clenches at the way it shudders and twitches. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, even as he readies the stake. “You can rest now.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to talk to it. It can’t understand him. Callum squeezes his eyes shut just for a moment, as if hoping to purge the gory image from his mind. But it’s still there for him when he looks again, and the creature is limp under his hand, finally fallen silent. It’s waiting, he realizes. Callum’s hands shake with fury, but he squeezes the stake harder and grits his teeth. “I give you mercy.” 

It’s a harsh motion, quick and decisive, and the creature turns to dust beneath his fingers. Callum is left gripping the worn wooden steak with angry tears in his eyes. Everything about this is wrong. Everything. 

He’s sick at heart as he stands, and as he goes back to the bar and pays his tab, and as he finds his way out to the stables and saddles his horse. There are monsters in their world, Callum knows this. But he will never again forget that the worst monster is and always has been humanity. 

It’s just one night in the course of his life, but Callum isn’t ever able to forget what he saw. And when he gets home and goes to collapse onto his cot, for some reason, the lab feels emptier than it ever has before.