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#''imagine dying frightened and in pain and having that be the only part of you which survives... i wouldnt like that at all''
resetme · 1 month
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JOSIE RADEK 🌺 Annihilation (2018) dir. Alex Garland
"It was so strange hearing Sheppard's voice in the mouth of that creature last night. I think as she was dying part of her mind became part of the creature that was killing her. Imagine dying frightened and in pain, and having that as the only part of you which survives. I wouldn't like that at all."
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vampirecorleone · 1 year
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"It's not like us... it's unlike us. I don't know what it wants, or if it wants, but it'll grow until it encompasses everything. Our bodies and our minds will be fragmented into their smallest parts until not one part remains... Annihilation." | "Imagine dying frightened and in pain and having that as the only part of you which survives."
Annihilation (2018) dir. Alex Garland
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buckybarnesss · 5 months
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Even the framing of that shot fucking kills me: the nogitsune confidently staring at Chris, almost amused, and then Derek comes into frame and he's visibly frightened
And he's not looking at Stiles. He's scared of what Chris is going to do TO Stiles. This is really his biggest fear, what he's been worried about this entire time. And what can he do??
the whole thing is just a masterful stroke on the nogitstune's part. it's torturing everyone in that scene including stiles.
like, of course it's obvious how these events hurt the sheriff. that's his child being tortured by an ancient creature and forced to do terrible, terrible things and also who is clearly becoming more like a walking corpse every minute. it used claudia's illness against both him and stiles to make them lose hope. how he maintained any composure i don't know. i'd be a fucking wreck of a human seeing my loved one worn like an ill fitting suit to prom.
for chris? this is a guy who we've seen intimidate teenagers for no real reason other than because he can. he's held scott at gunpoint for daring to be with allison and nothing else but he hesitates here. he hesitates despite hedging with derek earlier about what he would do.
this moment such an inverse to season 1 going all the way back to that confrontation in code breaker between chris and stiles.
i can guarantee chris was recalling it.
argent: let me ask you a question, stiles... have you ever seen a rabid dog? stiles: no. i could put it on my to-do list, if you just let me go. argent: well, i have. and the only thing i've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. do you wanna know what happened? stiles: not really... no offense to your storytelling skills... argent: he tried to kill me, and i was forced to put a bullet in his head. the whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. can you imagine that?
and allison? allison's already made the horrible decision of harming boyd and erica that started the dominos that led to erica and boyd being taken by the alphas and erica being killed.
now she's confronted with this monster wearing her friend's face toying with their emotions. she tries to subdue it but all that does is piss the nogitsune off and annoy him.
she's been manipulated by both kate and gerard to see her friends as being enemies when they weren't only to be faced with the reality of it here.
allison wants to save her friends so badly to make up for her mistakes but with this she might not be able to.
derek's position is just heartbreaking. this is really his greatest fear and failures playing out again.
we don't often see derek express fear. he usually expresses anger rather than let anyone know he's afraid but here? here derek is afraid.
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3A set up that derek and stiles had become friends, that stiles had been working with him over the summer to look for eric and boyd, that derek trusted stiles so much it broke jennifer's magic over him ---
and the nogitsune brings itself to derek's loft for protection because it knows derek will do anything to protect stiles.
he's already lost so many people. he's had to mercy kill people he cared about before. again stiles is one of the few who know about paige, stiles witnessed what happened with boyd and peter and jackson. he knows all of this about derek which means the nogitsune does too.
i'm not really sure what kind of derek we would've seen if stiles had died due to the nogitsune.
of course the person often lost in the psychological warfare of the nogitune is stiles.
stiles had to watch all this. had to see his knowledge used against the people he cared about over and over. his hands and body used for terrible things. the nogitsune fed off that more than anything. stiles's fear and confusion and pain. stiles was dying.
it's why the nogitsune was the best villain lol
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PROPAGANDA
NAOMI MISORA (DEATH NOTE)
1.) I know everyone is gonna submit Misa but honestly she had it worse.
She gets introduced as this competent lady who’s gonna help find Kira but then she just, decides to show some teenager her real ID as a show of trust and whoops that’s Kira.
Also part of her introduction was her fiance going “You don’t need to worry about this tracking down the killer nonsense, you’re gonna be my wife, you should just be worried about raising kids in the future :)” or some shit. And it’s barely addressed, because she just fucking dies.
2.) She was the only woman in the series to show any level of competence. She figured out more about how the death note works from some small context clues than L did in considerably less time. She was apparently so competent that the author decided to kill her off despite initially planning to make her a main character, fearing she would distract from the L and Light rivalry.
3.) the victim of “writer doesn’t understand women and also hates them” disease. Like, seriously, the author of Death Note could only imagine a female FBI agent as the fiancée of another, more senior FBI agent. The main character Light kills her fiancé Raye Penber (in honestly a really tightly written and cool episode) and so she tries to figure out who killed her husband. Unlike Raye who only figured out that Light was Kira as he was dying because Light basically told him, Naomi figures it out a lot sooner so oops guess she’s gotta die because she’s too good at her job.
ORIHIME INOUE (BLEACH) (CW: Child Abuse, Ableism)
1.) Her powers were incredibly versatile but only ever used for healing or defense. She had offensive capabilities too, but as she isn’t an aggressive person, they were barely ever used. Her healing power isn’t so much healing as it is “rejecting” the existence of something. This power could have been so insanely strong, to the point that even one of the show’s major antagonists remarked on how frightening it was, but as I said, it was only ever used for healing, and her personality held her back from using it as an attack. She was kidnapped by said antagonist for an entire arc. I’m not even going to get into the amount of times she was used for fanservice. Fandom opinion on her varies WILDLY.
2.) I realized I hadn’t added enough the first time, but I also don’t know how much I added the first so:
She’s introduced as a character to be saved. Most are, though, even the boys and men in this arc It’s also mentioned in the manga that she had horribly abusive parents, to the point the second her brother turned 18 her grabbed her and ran. This fact is removed in the anime. The evil ghost attacking her turns out to be the degraded ghost of her brother.
She in general, in light hearted moments, spends a lot of time being sexualized. Of the minor characters (as in under 18), she is the one that is sexualized the most. Usually against her will, with people making creepy remarks (despite not wearing very revealing clothes… Which Is true to life. It’s because she has big breasts).
She then gets cool abilities, but she’s the only one of the group not to get a big fight in the Soul Society arc.
She is then the SECOND female character in need of a big rescue arc (while I agree with how it was written for both female characters, intertwined with the other ones’ ingrained following of a horrible system and neglect by her adopted family and for Orihime a desire to prevent any friends from dying, the fact is the third major arc like this has a male character “defect”. So rescued are only for the girlies). During that arc she goes through a lot of psychological horror and pain that I will defend her choices in to the end. She is built up, in that arc, however, as someone whose healing abilities aren’t really healing and instead rejection of reality/rewriting reality. She is also built up as the person who may be able to destroy the Nebulously Powerful artificat that was at the center of this arc and the twist motive of the antagonists in the previous arc. And… Nothing happens. She doesn’t get to do it.
She gets some cool things in the next smaller arc, but also gets psychically fucked with (while all of them do, she doesn’t get to have the power ups or later fights. And her previous arc was her just… Being psychologically tortured).
The end arc is complex because, yes, it was rushed because the creator was injured. But her “cool” moment -while a triumph and circling back to character development - is that she gets to be in a duo-fight briefly with the main character. Not the last fight against this boss. And she never gets to do anything cool with objects or breaking things, both which would fall under her being a pacifist still.
I disagree with a lot of discourse about her being infantalized, because she seems very ADHD-I coded, as someone who has that. That doesn’t mean the author meant her more than just a “weird” girl, especially with how the state of ADHD treatment is in Japan . So we can throw in some ableism. Which gets me to the anime adaptation.
The anime was made by Studio Pierrot, which has a reputation with adapting female characters from manga to anime. Esp cially in shonen anime.They DID infantalize her (ex, changing a daydream comment from about the main guy to pee and poop??), including removing many of her daydreams and context, changing her intro scene, removing more introspective moments (she is very emotionally intelligent in the manga), and removing moments with the main protagonist. The latter is an issue because they added moments with another female character, which implies their attachment to either is solely in favor of romantic scenes with the male lead
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: Ichigo looking to the side. Someone off screen says "I… Ichigo!" Panel 2: Someone standing in front of Orihime between her and some shadows indicating people. There is a sound effect "SHOOM". Panel 3: Orihime smiles. There is a sound effect "SHOOM". Panel 4: A close up shot of Orihime's breasts. There is a sound effect "ZOOM". Panel 5: A character (Ichigo?) with stars for eyes blushes, clasps his hands, and shouts "Heaven!! I'm in heaven!!" followed by a heart. Panel 6: A distant shot of Orihime and the person standing in front of her. There's a mark of action off to their left and the sound effect "FWUP". Panel 7: Two other characters say "He… flew?!" Panel 8: A close up of a shoe as someone lands on something with the sound effect "TUMP"]
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: A shot looking down at Orihime from an angle. She's dressed in a baseball uniform and shouts "Yeah! C'mon, Tatsuki, give it to me!" followed by a heart. Panel 2: A shot of stairs with an arrow pointing to someone labeled "Kon". Kon is Bleach's mascot character. Someone off screen says "Th… …That's!" and Orihime says "Hey!" Panel 3: On the left is a close up of Orihime's breasts with an arrow pointing to them. In the bottom center right is Kon with his paw over his mouth. He thinks "Orihime!!!" There is a sound effect "BOOM" behind Kon. Panel 4: White text on a black background. The text reads "target 1: Orihime Inoue". Panel 5: A distant shot of Kon going down the stairs. He thinks "Yes! I'll play the innocent stuffed animal that just happens to be lying on the ground in front of her. Panel 6: A close up of Kon with his paw in front of his mouth. He thinks "She's got the heart of the Virgin Mary, so… …She's bound to pick me up and hug me and nestle me in the valley of paradise!!"]
(Cleanser that isn't relevant to propaganda that follows up on the previous:
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: The mascot character Kon is blushing and is in front of a large soccer ball. He thinks "And then I'll be umm-ummm-umm…" Panel 2: Kon gets hit by the soccer ball with the sound effect "WAP" Panel 3: On the right is a character after they kicked the ball. They're shouting "Dragon Bazooka!!!" There's a note by the speech bubble that that's the name of the shot. On the left is Kon getting hit by the soccer ball with an arrow pointing to him. There's a sound effect "THWAK". Panel 4: In the foreground is the soccer ball driving Kon forward. In the background is Orihime standing at home base of a baseball field; she's standing with a baseball bat ready to swing. Action lines indicate that Kon and the ball are moving toward her. Panel 5: A close up of a distressed Kon. Panel 6: A close up of a smiling Orihime. Across panels 4 to 6 is a speech bubble of Kon's saying "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"]
yes she hits him with the bat in the following page)
[Description ID: A character hugs Orihime from behind and grabs breasts while shouting "Morning, Orihime!!!" and while Orihime gasps. Orihime kicks said character in the face.]
[Description ID: A panel of Orihime; someone off-screen says "Her powers violate divine law."]
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: Orihime stands in front of a dark doorway with hands reaching out of them. Panel 2: Close up of an eye. Panel 3: A woman with black pigtails grabs Orihime from behind and covers Orihime's mouth with her hand. There is a sound effect "WHAP".]
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: Woman with black pigtails tells Orihime "You're finished."" Panel 2: Close up of woman's face. She says "I'm going to take back everything you took from me!!" Panel 3: The woman tears off Orihime's sleeve with the sound effect "SRIP".]
(Had some supposed Orihime fans - saying that as a huge Orihime fan myself - claim this wasn't misogynistic as hell because "girls do that in real life")
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: A man with a bucket tells a distressed and blushing Orihime "Oh. Be careful with that dress. It's designed so that when you close the middle, they pop out from either side." Orihime shouts "WAAAAAA!!!" Panel 2: A character shoves their hand upwards through Orihime's cleavage so that it's sticking out from between them. The character says "Okay, it's okay. Don't cry, don't cry." There is a sound effect "SHPA." Orihime has tears in her eyes and is blushing in a distressed way. Panel 3: Orihime shouts "WAAA!!!" off screen. Ichigo has a distressed or shocked face with a blush and says "Y…".]
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(How an antagonist in the Hueco Mundo arc restrains her)
And one of those scenes weirdly changed and infantilized from manga to anime (these are both the official releases, not fan translations). They're not the only one but they're the easiest to show:
Manga:
[Description ID: Manga page. Panel 1: POV shot of Ichigo looking down at presumably Orihime. Panel 2: Orihime blushes with closed eyes and says "Oh no, Ichigo!! Close-quarters combat!!" There are two sound effects: "WHOMP" and "ZING" Panel 3: A shot of from behind Orihime stands on her knees and shouting "Ow!!" A man in the foreground asks her "Orihime! Are you all right, Orihime?!!"]
Anime:
[Description ID: Anime screenshot. Orihime is lying on the ground asleep while a man looks down on her. She says "No… Not Poo-san, it's Pee-tan…!"]
3.) In the arc that literally centers around her, she is described as having a power that infringes on the territory of God because she can Reject events from happening (this usually manifests in her "rejecting" people's wounds giving her pretty much The Perfect healing ability). There is a lot of emphasis placed on this and on her personal arc about how she feels pretty weak and useless compared to her friends, so she figures out that there is something that Only She Can Do! Which is, Reject the Macguffin from ever existing. And guess what she never gets the opportunity to do? And instead watches her LI (the main character) fight multiple people on her behalf and literally die in front of her and resurrect himself through sheer force of HIS will, not hers? (Like, OK, granted that sheer force of will was born out of his strong desire to save her, but it still isn't anything SHE did.)
In later arcs, she does get more of an upgrade power-wise but it's nowhere near the scale that was implied earlier on. (this might be more because it's a difficult thing to write around if it's really that OP, but I still side-eye it a bit) And in the final arc, she's given a pretty sexualized outfit that's both given explicit attention and also played for laughs, but in a way that feels very much at HER expense.
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espinosaurusrexex · 2 years
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Dying Isn't So Scary with You, Either
BuckyBarnes x female!reader
In which Bucky and Y/N have to put their deep late night conversation to the test.
This is part two of an imagine I posted. I guess it can be read independently, you just won't get all the references.
a/n: sobbing rn, please tell me what you think, because I was so pleased with how the first part came out, and I'm not sure if this one put the feels across just right
word count: 3k
warnings: angst, angst, oh and did I mention angst?, death of a character, mentions of blood, some cussing, and I guess a little fluff
𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑
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I also recommend listening to 'the same' by mehro when reading this. It's so beautiful, and I listened to it while writing this, too.
The air was drowning in dust and smoke. Rubble of former buildings was surrounding the site and unfolding for the helicopters that were reporting the incident. There was screaming and alarms, motor noises, and explosions. Everything was chaos. 
Bucky had about 300 feet of broken cement beneath him, held up by god knows what, just waiting for the next blow to finally rip it apart.
“Take my hand!” He screamed as he reached over the edge of the building, his foot anchoring him to the roof. He was scared - deeply and utterly frightened seeing the person he loved hanging on by a thread.
“I can’t!” Y/N’s voice was broken and disrupted by heavy breathing. Her fingers probably lost feeling after the amount of time they had held onto the metal ledge, where sharp edges tore through her skin. “I can’t reach you, Bucky!” Her eyes glazed over with tears, but there was a determination within them, barely flushed by the salty water.
Bucky looked around frantically. “Hold on just a little longer!” The sound of blood rushing in his ears trumped the sounds of distant ambulances and helicopters and made everything seem like white noise. He had only one focus: Save Y/N. 
"Come on, Bucky. Think," he muttered to himself, angry and frustrated at the same time. He felt so scattered, as though he had no control of his thoughts, spilling worst-case scenarios over him from a big bucket of worry. He couldn't have that now. Looking around, he tried to silence his mind by occupying it with solutions - or the attempt to form them.
There was another building about 20 feet beneath him, if he could get down there, chances were high he could break Y/N’s fall - if she could hold on for that long. 
Unfortunately, there was no easy way down to the next building, and Bucky didn’t have time to look for something to help him ascend. So, he peeked over the edge. This was a bad idea. A very stupid, bad idea, but he didn't care about that. It was all he had come up with under the pressure he found himself under.
Watching the depth beneath him and ignoring the mental image of him smacking the floor with his head, Bucky mumbled a last 'fuck it' under his breath.
He took a couple steps backward, shot a look at the sky to take a deep breath, and then he ran. Once he had reached the end of the roof, he jumped forward, leaping to the next roof and falling for the remaining distance down. He rolled over his metal arm after he reached the floor, easing the pain from the impact. When he stood again, he saw Y/N barely hanging onto the metal ledge that reached over him now. 
One of her hands slipped as the building she was attached to began to stagger. A high-pitched scream escaped her mouth when she looked down at the 20 feet separating her from steady ground. She tried to get her hand back up, but the moving ledge made it difficult.
“Y/N, I’m right here!” Bucky screamed over the noises that had somehow gotten louder. “Just let go!”
“No!” Her head shook violently. She was scared, too. But Bucky knew that it wouldn’t affect her fighting for her life. She was strong and enduring. He just needed to remind her of that.
“You can do it! I know you can!”
Her eyes were pleading and Bucky could clearly see that she was hoping for another solution to present itself. But there was no other possibility. Y/N slipped further down the ledge as the building tumbled again. It was now or never.
Bucky opened his arms - held them away from him to be able to catch her. How he would really break her fall? - he didn’t know. But one thing was for sure: he would do anything to help her survive this. The serum in his veins had to be good for something. He’d rather break all his bones than see her have to deal with any type of pain - use his stupid powers for something good.
A final explosion ripped through the skyscraper with an ear-shattering ‘peng’, and just as it began to fall, Y/N let go. She fell along with the rubble. But other than the cement chunks, which eventually hit the ground and shattered hundreds of feet beneath Bucky, Y/N fell into a safe embrace. The force of her momentum was strong, and the Super Soldier struggled to protect her from scratches as they rolled across the roof until they came to a standstill. Bucky had cradled her body with his, legs and arms wrapped around her like a life west, her head securely tugged in his chest.
His heartbeat was pounding through his veins ferociously. He could feel it pulsing in his neck, toes, and fingers. It took a couple breaths to subside and finally, after he felt Y/N moving in his grasp, a wave of relief washed over Bucky.
“You did it.” He stammered as he wiped the dust from her forehead. Not that he had doubted her for a second.
“I’m so glad you’re alive.” His statement was followed by a warm kiss on Y/N’s temple before he unwrapped his body from hers. Watching as the tower tumbled to the ground with dust clouds climbing to the sky, Bucky squeezed her hand with his flesh one. 
Y/N’s breathing was rapid but steady, the shock of the situation etched onto her face as she watched the chaos she had escaped from. As Bucky squeezed her hand again, her breathing began to slow.
“Thank you.” Y/N averted her gaze from the ruins beneath them to the brunette beside her. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
A smile painted her features when she got up and pulled him up with the hand still latched in his.
Bucky nodded in acknowledgment. He would have done everything and so much more to help her. And Y/N knew that, too. That’s why he didn’t feel the need to reply. He looked at her for another second, appreciating her lively eyes and warm smile. He could stay like this forever, holding her hand and catching her mesmerizing gaze with his eyes. But sadly, that had to wait until later, when they were safe and sound at the compound again. So Bucky turned around with reluctance, retracting his hand from her heated fingers to search for a way down.
He explored the roof for anything. A fire escape, a door - hell, even a window one story below would have done - but there was nothing. It was a dead end. The sirens surrounding them echoed in his skull, adding to the quickly built frustration of this situation and growing an unbearable headache.
“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands buried in his hair as he paced to another possible exit.
They had made it so far. And now? They let the lack of a ladder stop them. This was ridiculous. There were still people who needed saving, as well as idiots who needed to get their asses kicked. Bucky made another round to check for anything he had missed. He would certainly not be defeated by this inconvenience.
His vibranium hand was pulling on the door of an AC unit until his quest was interrupted by a strained voice.
“Bucky, I-” Y/N started, but her sentence was interrupted as she bent over, pushing her hand under her ribcage.
His instincts were on high alert again, flashing like a big bright 'DANGER' sign. She was in pain, though her expression fought to remain stoic. 
Bucky jumped at the sight before him, heading in Y/N’s direction - his prior plan seemingly forgotten. Everything was fine, right? She had made it. She did not fall to her death, he had saved her... right?
He searched her eyes for answers, desperate and hopeful to see her smile. But when Y/N looked up at him, Bucky’s blood ran cold. He had seen that look before. And it meant nothing good. 
Her eyes were wide open, her lips pressed together as her jaw wired shut. Darkness spread over her features, pained and unforgiving. There was nothing but utter fear within her usually bright orbs. It took up the color of her irises like a shadow, turning everything stone cold.
“What? What’s the matter?” Bucky’s movements were hectic as he reached for her shoulders, eyes roaming her entire body to figure out what was going on.
Y/N pressed her eyes shut with a grunt. Her knees gave out, and before Bucky knew it, she was falling back to the ground. He leaped forward, desperate to catch her, but just ended up on the floor next to her. He sat up quickly, eyes wide in horror at the body before him. What the hell happened?!
Then, Y/N’s hand moved slightly and that’s when he saw it: crimson red staining her suit in one decently sized blotch, growing bigger by the second.
Shit. Shitshitshit!
How did he not notice? How could he have been so careless? Had she been shot? Impaled? Bucky didn’t know. All he saw was red hot blood seeping from her torso. And judging by the look on her face, the adrenaline that had rushed through Y/N’s body just moments prior steadily subsided. This was bad - really fucking bad.
“Y/N, doll, you’re going to be fine, okay?” Panic surged up his spine. He cradled her head in his lap as his metal hand rushed to press on the open wound on her abdomen, drawing a pained hiss from her lips. “I’m so sorry. I’m- Nothing bad’s gonna happen, I promise.” He was trying to convince himself rather than console her at this point. He didn’t know what to do. He always knew what to do in battle, but right now, his mind was swept off rationale as it got occupied by fear.
“Bucky-“ He pushed some hair from her forehead as he looked down. “I will get you to an ambulance. It will be okay, I promise.”
"No, Bucky-“ But his panicked babbling made him unaware of the weak voice coming from her lips.
His head was racing with ways to get her down to the ground. How to move her without excruciating pain, and how to do it quickly before she had lost too much blood. Take the stairs? No, there were no stairs. Wait for a helicopter? Too risky - there was no time. “We could-“
“Bucky.” Y/N’s voice was stern and seemed as though she had put every last bit of strength into his name. His gaze drew back to her face at that - his eyes distressed and helpless. Y/N’s hand found his jaw, stroking it softly and gaining the last of his attention again. 
“It’s okay,” she whispered. And there was a certain peace in her features that made goosebumps travel up Bucky’s spine.
“But, but you’re bleeding. You-“ A sob broke through his speech. Something was off, he didn’t know what it was but deep down he felt, it was bad. It made itself known through a horrible feeling that squeezed his insides harshly and painfully.
Y/N smiled. “It doesn’t hurt,” was all she said as her eyes conveyed an uneasy calmness.
“What?” He didn’t know why he asked that dumb question. But in hopes of denying what he thought her words meant, it had slipped his mouth. This couldn’t mean anything good at all. She was hosting a hole the size of a quarter in her body and claimed to feel okay - she clearly wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” she soothed again, her thumb still drawing weak circles on his skin. And even though her hand was warm on his skin, a fast wave of goosebumps spread down his body. It was dread. Burning hot and heart-wrenching fear that settled deep within him.
“No,” Bucky whispered, tears streaming down his face, “we will get you down here, and then we will be back in the compound. Sitting on the roof like last time. Remember?”
This was not the end. He couldn’t accept that. They had defeated death so many times before - it would work this time as well. It had to. There was so much he wanted to experience with Y/N - so many moments in the future he had dreamed of once this was all over. This was not how it was supposed to end. Not here, not now.
But Y/N shook her head weakly, her eyelids looked like they were heavy with sleep.
“No, please,” Bucky’s voice broke as his hand cradled her head tighter to his body, “please don’t leave me.” I don’t know what I’ll do without you, he added in thought - pained and already devastated by the knowledge of what was to come. There was no way he would survive in this world alone - not after he had gotten to experience how life could be… with her.
“I’ll be with you,” Y/N whispered. It was barely audible and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. “Right here,” her hand lowered to his chest, resting on his heartbeat, “remember? It’s the best place I could be, too.” Y/N smiled weakly, her eyes droopy and gray before her breathing began to grow heavy.
“No, no!” His second hand came up to her face, staining her cheek with deep-red blood as he brushed over a single tear falling from the corner of her eye.
“I love you.” Her mouth barely moved, but there was definitely a somewhat representation of a smile in her statement.
Bucky pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, too. I love you. I love you. I love you,” he muttered like a mantra.
And then her hand fell from his chest. Bucky tried to catch it in time to press it back on his skin, hoping his rapid heartbeat would revive it again, but it was too late. His hand met his chest as his eyes fell on the lifeless wrist beneath him. He clenched his fist in his shirt.
Pain. The most unbearable pain he had ever felt in his entire life. Nothing compared to the things Hydra put him through. This, somehow, felt more real to him. It started out as a mental spark and then transformed into real physical misery. His heart felt squeezed, and it sent sharp shockwaves to the parts of his body that were still touching her, holding her, keeping her safe in vain.
A sudden shiver overcame him as he was slowly pulled from reality. This was all he had now. A part of her soul within him. And he knew exactly where it had settled. Because warmth mixed with the aching in his heart and somehow soothed the rest of his body - strengthening him when he felt like falling apart.
A static overtook his ears then, erasing every other noise in his surroundings. And for the first time, Bucky realized how lonely it was up on the rooftop - when all of the environment was shut down, leaving a tunnel vision leading towards the horizon to unfold before him.
The view was nice - beautiful, even. Y/N would have loved it, Bucky thought as he watched the sun go down beneath the compound. He did that a lot, now. Thinking of the things Y/N would have enjoyed if she were still here. But she wasn’t. And it still broke his heart, it would probably never stop doing that.
“How are you holding up, pal?” Steve’s hand laid on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky concentrated on its weight to stay grounded. 
“I should have saved her,” he whispered, “I promised her that nothing bad was gonna happen.” And it lay guilty on his chest. He had lied to her. He should have noticed her wound before she even fell off the edge. He should have prevented it, maybe even taken the hit instead of her. But he didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even remember when it happened that day.
“Hey, everything was chaotic that day. None of us would have noticed.”
This conversation had taken place over and over again during the past few weeks. And even though Bucky was pretty sure that everyone had already grown tired of his moping, Steve didn't let it show at all. He was there, by his side. And he made sure to tell him that that would never stop. Bucky tried to hold onto that promise, but he knew, promises could get broken and fate could be vicious with the people it took from him.
Bucky’s head fell back as he closed his eyes with his arms crossed. He took a deep breath and when he opened them again, they landed in the orange sky above him. He had heard that sentence too many times now. None of us would have noticed. This Super Soldier serum must have been good for something. All his senses were heightened, and yet, it didn’t help him at all. Y/N was gone - at least physically. Bucky grabbed his chest at that thought, feeling for his steady heartbeat, reminding him of the little consolation he carried with him every day.
Steve sat beside him on the roof and watched as Bucky slung his other arm around his knees, looking ahead into the distance.
“You know what they say,” the brunette started low, not averting his gaze from the horizon, “When you die, a piece of your soul stays with the person you spent your last moment with.” His voice was shaky as he recited Y/N’s words.
Steve was silent for a moment, directing his gaze to the setting sun as well.
“You think that’s true?” He asked after a while, curiosity evident in his tone.
And finally, after weeks of grief and sadness, Bucky smiled, as he realized what the answer was. His hand pressed deeper into his chest, rubbing on his shirt slowly. It was warm and it tingled.
“I know it’s true.”
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Redemption
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Chapter 4: Nightmares
Summary: With the news that Rayn is alive, Jaime is plagued with memories of the past.
“Let me serve,” Jaime begged. “Let me do my duty. You will need good men by your side.”
But Rhaegar refused. “Our mission is dangerous in ways we cannot perhaps imagine. I charge you to remain in King’s Landing and keep my wife and children safe.”
“You won’t regret this,” Jaime vowed, “I promise.”
“Dad!” A tiny girl’s voice called out. “Ser Jaime! Please help!”
The words Rhaegar had used to describe him played over and over.
“He’s a good fighter, a brave knight. If I’m not mistaken, he’ll be one of the finest.”
The screams of Ellia calling out for help made Jaime shoot up in bed.
“No!”
His bed chambers were dark, the drawn curtains keeping out either the sun or the moon. He was drenched in sweat from the dream and was glad Cersei wasn’t here with him. Jaime needed a comforting hand and Cersei was anything but.
Tossing the sheets aside, Jaime climbed out of his bed and wandered over to a table where he had a pitcher of water and a cup waiting for him. He tried his best to pour with his left hand, but water still spilled onto the tabletop. Sighing, he grabbed the cup and moved to one of the windows. Pulling the curtain back slightly, he could see it was dark still.
It had been the same nightmare every night. Ever since he found out Rayn was still alive. His Rayn.
No, not his Rayn. Not anymore. Not since the night Robert’s Rebellion was won.
When he was young, when he came to the Red Keep for the first time and laid eyes on Rayn, Jaime had secretly hoped they could run off together. He knew Tywin would never allow him to marry some handmaiden. If Tyrion couldn’t keep Tysha, what hope had Jaime - the heir of Casterly Rock - have in keeping his Rayn? But that didn’t stop him from having fantasies about it. Especially after he and Rayn shared that first kiss. Visions of him running off with her to parts of Essos; Lys, Braavos, Volantis, anywhere away from his father and his birthright. He would have risked stealing a sack of gold from the mines if it meant he could be with her.
But in the end, all he got was a lifetime in the King’s Guard, no sword hand, and Cersei.
As if he had summoned her by merely thinking of her name, there was a knock on his chamber door.
“Ser Jaime?” A tiny voice called out. If Jaime remembered correctly, it belonged to Cersei’s handmaid. But the name escaped him.
Sighing again, Jaime pulled on a shirt and opened the door. The frightened girl stood before him.
“Sorry for disturbing you, Ser. Her Grace has requested your presence.”
Of course, she has, Jaime thought bitterly. She only comes to me when she’s at her lowest.
“Forgive me, but I am unable to meet with Her Grace at this time. I am unwell.”
This caused the girl’s eyes to grow wide. “Shall I send for Qyburn?”
Jaime internally shuddered. The former Maester may have prevented Jaime from dying after his hand was cut off, getting rid of any corrupted tissue, but Jaime couldn’t bring himself to be treated for anything else by that man.
“No, thank you. It’s just…old pain in my wrist. Nothing a bit of wine and more sleep won’t fix.”
“O-of course, Ser Jaime.” She did a quick curtsey and then practically ran from his room.
Jaime closed the door but didn’t bother locking it. It would only make Cersei angry as she would undoubtedly be on her way once the handmaid came back to report. And the last thing he needed was Ser Gregor - or rather, what was left of him - breaking down his chamber doors.
He also knew why Cersei was calling for him so late. She wanted…comfort. And he refused to be used. Not anymore.
So very quickly, Jaime got dressed and checked that a bag he had packed was still ready to go by the window. When he packed it - the day he found out Rayn was still alive and heading back to Westeros - Jaime almost unpacked it immediately afterward. He tried to convince himself that he wasn’t leaving Cersei or King’s Landing. That his role was here by his sister’s side as Tywin would have wanted. Well, maybe not in the way he had been before.
But the more he thought about everything that had happened in the last years - hells, since Robert’s Rebellion - the more he realized he didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong by Cersei’s side. But where he wanted to go…it would end in either life or death.
Speaking of his twin, she didn’t even bother to knock as she entered his room. Jaime barely caught sight of Clegane standing outside the room before the door closed. If he was leaving tonight, it certainly wouldn’t be out that door.
“What’s this I hear of you not feeling well?” That was Cersei’s way of greeting him. She was still in her dress from court and Jaime wondered if she slept like that now. They had not shared a bed since his latest return.
Jaime resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Just my wrist. It will pass as it always does.”
“I’ll have Qyburn-”
“No,” Jaime cut her off and Cersei raised an eyebrow. Between her facial expressions and her military-style gowns, it was like facing a female version of Tywin. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “No, thank you. I know you trust him, but all he will do is give me milk of the poppy and I would rather be in pain than have a foggy mind.”
“If you insist,” Cersei began to walk around the room and Jaime’s eyes darted to the bag by the window when she turned her head. “You haven’t come to see me since your return.”
“We’ve had several meetings about the Targaryen girls since my return.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
Jaime sighed and then wondered if he had the strength for this conversation.
“You lied; you are afraid of me.”
Jaime scoffed. “No, not afraid.”
“Then what is it?!”
He turned and looked his twin in the eye. “Disappointed. I’m disappointed.”
Cersei tried her best to keep her face straight, but Jaime could see it in her eyes. He had hurt her. Good.
“Disappointed?” Now she was trying to look angry, but the sadness was still strong in her eyes. “What gives you the right to be disappointed in me? I’m not the one who got herself captured by Robb Stark and then lost my hand.”
“No. You’re the one who raised our children to turn on us. I couldn’t be in their lives and Robert clearly didn’t give a shit. And you were too busy grabbing for power to notice how you were failing as a mother.”
He hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, but there they were and there was no going back now.
Cersei’s eyes grew wide. “How dare you?! I was a wonderful mother to our children!”
“Yes, of course. How could I forget Joffrey; the firstborn so spoiled and entitled that he could never assume his actions would have consequences. Such as when he chopped off Ned Stark’s head and plunged us into war. Or how he would have had Sansa beaten - possibly to death - by Meryn Trant if Tyrion hadn’t interrupted.”
“Don’t you bring that monster into this! He-”
“Yes, yes, he killed our father. And don’t bring up Joffrey’s death. You and I both know if that was Tyrion, he did the realm a favor by removing Joffrey as king. What about Myrcella? You and Joffrey created such a hostile environment she wasn’t even safe in King’s Landing. Your own daughter you claimed to love so much.”
Cersei slapped him, tears rolling down her face once he mentioned Myrcella. “Her death was Tyrion’s fault!”
Jaime didn’t even bother to rub his cheek. “Yes, Tyrion didn’t pick the best spot for Myrcella. But I know Tyrion adored those children. Don’t argue. Just because he spares you no love, doesn’t mean he didn’t love Myrcella and Tommen.”
“He hated Joffrey!”
Jaime rolled his eyes. “We all hated Joffrey except for you. And I believe that is only because he came out of you.”
She tried to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist.
“And speaking of Tommen, I understand the need to get rid of your enemies. But from what I have heard, the Faith Militant is your fault. You were so desperate to get rid of Margaery Tyrell that you killed our son with grief and turned the Reach against us.”
“How dare you speak to me this way!”
Her cries caught the attention of The Mountain and he burst into the room. Jaime immediately let go of Cersei’s wrist and took a step back.
Cersei took a deep breath. “Clearly, the news of Rayn still being alive has clouded your mind and made you forget who you are. Ser Gregor, please remain outside my brother’s room until he remembers he’s a Lannister, not a Targaryen.”
Jaime kept his face neutral as Cersei left the room with Clegane right behind her. The door slammed shut and he knew that the massive zombie would be right outside his door.
That was fine with him. When he freed Tyrion from prison, he learned a few things from The Spider.
Grabbing his bag, he walked over to the fireplace in his room and gently pushed on the painting next to it. The wall opened up into a door and Jaime took a deep breath.
Ok, Rayn. Here I come.
Chapter 5
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wanderingnork · 7 months
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Best Dying Screams in Horror Movies
Horror is a genre where we celebrate the power of a good scream. We revere "scream queens," female characters whose screams of terror in the face of a monster or killer become the ultimate symbol of horror. (There's a conversation about this idea and the idea of the "final girl" and where they overlap and how they differ, but that's for another post.) A common refrain about the movie Hereditary is that Toni Collette in her leading role was cheated out of an Oscar for her magnificent portrayal of a grieving mother--largely thanks to her screams upon finding her child's body. Screams can be of grief, of fear, of rage...or, as the title gives away, as a final expression of despair and terror before a violent demise.
I'm putting the recommendations under a cut, because the circumstances of these screams will be discussed. By nature, that's gonna get disturbing quick. Besides, since this is about dead characters, it's going to be full of spoilers for twists and plots and deaths. Tread with caution!
Final Prayer / The Borderlands: Released under two separate titles, this movie deals with Vatican investigators sent to look into reports of miracles at a rural church in England. Turns out that the church isn't just a church: it's the maw of an enormous, ancient, supernatural being. Said being is awake. And hungry. Two of the characters find themselves deep inside the tunnels under the church, and stumble into the creature's stomach. This movie put me off saying the word "melt" for three weeks. While we do get a scrap of dialogue at the very end (nearly-silent sobbing and the faint whispers of the Lord's Prayer), it's...quite clear that by this point, both characters are functionally dead.
Saw (2004): The last thing we hear from Adam, as Jigsaw closes a steel door to leave Adam alone in a room of total darkness with no key to unchain himself, are blood-curdling screams. To the point that director James Wan had to leave the room while the scene was being shot, because Leigh Whannell (playing the character of Adam) is his best friend and the screams became far, far too real for Wan to handle. Game over.
Alien: In the final action sequence of the movie, as the Xenomorph hunts down the crew, Ripley sends the other two survivors to get ready to self-destruct the ship. When the Xenomorph catches up with them, Parker gets a quick death by a simple bite. Lambert, on the other hand...well, we see a giant spiked tail sliding up between her legs, then cut to Ripley who gets to listen over the radio to Lambert's dying scream. As an acknowledged scream queen, Veronica Cartwright (Lambert) really gives it her all. On my most recent watch, it occurred to me that doesn't just sound like a dying scream, if you know what I mean. Given the highly sexualized imagery surrounding the Xenomorph...there's probably something to unpack there. And with the knowledge that Lambert is canonically a trans woman, we can add another layer. But later.
IT (2017): Right out of the gate, we get a scene that sets the tone of the rest of the movie: the death of Georgie Denbrough, who has the unfortunate luck of losing his paper sailboat into a storm drain where Pennywise the Clown is waiting. His actor pulled off panicky howls of fear so well it puts a pit in my stomach, and his final cry for help to his brother Bill as Pennywise drags him into the sewers is gut-wrenching. As an older sibling, this is my worst nightmare, and it's so very well-captured here.
Annihilation: This one's different than the other recs on this list, because the dying scream...comes out of the mouth of the killer. It's the bear. When the bear kills one of the team members, we hear a copy of her dying screams for help through the bear's roars when it returns to hunt down the rest of the team. One of the other characters even muses on it later. "Imagine dying frightened and in pain and having that as the only part of you which survives."
Food for thought: What's the emotional impact of a noisy death versus a more silent death? If any of these characters died without screaming, would it change how you felt about that death? Why DO we idolize screams so much in this genre? Do we feel the same about other loud expressions of emotion in horror? Does any of that translate to real life? And, reflecting on that quote from Annihilation, what do you think about the fact that audiences remember many characters in horror only for the fear and pain they endure?
(Previous Recommendations)
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zablife · 2 years
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Little Harlot (Part 9)
Jack Nelson x Scarlett Shelby (OC)
Summary: John’s twin sister is a battle-hardened WWI field nurse who shares her brothers’ philosophy that every day back home is extra. In a bid to curb her disastrous thrill-seeking, Tommy sends her to Boston to keep her out of trouble and handle legitimate business. Tommy’s plan backfires when she meets rival gangster, Jack Nelson.
Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon with a few changes. The story is told with flashbacks, which I’ve listed with dates. 
Warnings: 🔞, smut, language, mentions of drinking and drug use, mentions of ptsd
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Masterlist Parts 1-8
Boston, 1924
Jack sat up in bed smoking a cigar, still too high to fall asleep. He held Scarlett to his chest as she slept, moving strands of hair from her face and wiping the dried blood from under her nose. God, she was something else the way she could match him drink for drink, line after line of cocaine and then fuck like the filthiest prostitute he’d ever known. But when she slept, the tough exterior faded with her consciousness. The careful mask with poised brows and pouty lips fell away for a moment and he glimpsed the tenderness that resided underneath. He had only just met this beauty, but something about her made him want to protect her. Scarlett couldn’t fool him with her lies, she had once been fragile and was now broken into sharp pieces. Although he didn’t know what her past had been like, he imagined something made her this way.
Late that night Scarlett dreamt of row after row of dying soldiers bleeding out. As she looked around, she realized she was the only nurse for them all and she rushed through the rows of cots as men reached for her screaming in pain. The hands tangled in her skirt and apron until she was falling to the ground being ripped apart. The deafening noise of their shouts and the smell of blood and rotting flesh was overtaking her senses. A hand pulled her from the pile of bodies before she could suffocate and she was grateful until she realized it was the officer from Epsom. His smirk was sickening as he held her throat and pushed into her painfully. She wanted to run, but she was rooted to the spot as he brutalized her and Tommy wasn’t there to save her. “Get off me, stop!” she called out pushing Jack away in her frenzy. 
Jack woke immediately and looked over at Scarlett tossing in her sleep. Her rolled toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Scarlett, wake up, baby,” Jack urged shaking her gently. When she didn’t respond to his touch he switched on the light by the bed and her eyes opened suddenly. She was still in the stupor of her dream and searched the room for an imaginary threat with wild eyes. Her behavior frightened Jack and he held her shoulders looking at her sweat drenched body with worry. “Hey, hey…it’s me, Jack. You’re alright,” he said pulling her into him. She didn’t resist this time, collapsing into his broad chest and tossing her arms around his neck desperately like a frightened child. “It was just a dream, doll. You’re safe with me,” he assured her. 
————————————————————————————————
Ada’s House, London, 1933
Ada and Jack sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed to be an eternity waiting for Scarlett. Finally Ada ventured, “Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Nelson?” 
“I’d love a whiskey, but I’ll wait for Scarlett,” he said politely.
“No need. She doesn’t drink anymore unless it’s a single glass of champagne at some boring society function. She still has to fit in with the aristocrats after all,” Ada stated with a chuckle.
“I see. A lot’s changed about her over the years, hasn’t it?” Jack asked venturing an open ended question to see what her sister would say in return.
“Scarlett has changed quite a bit,” Ada agreed politely.
Jack knew he would have to ask something more direct to get an answer from her.
“What happened to your brother, if you don’t mind my asking?” Jack said with soft eyes.
Ada trusted him and confessed, “John was killed in the vendetta with the Changretta family. He was shot on his doorstep on Christmas Day 1925.”
“Scarlett mentioned that she came back to see him,” Jack said relaying what he knew from his discussion with Scarlett.
Ada looked down at her lap, taking a breath before answering, “Scarlett had come to warn him after she was attacked in Boston, but she got there a day too late. She still blames herself for not being able to save him.” Jack nodded, understanding Scarlett’s choice of a name for their son even more now. 
“She never talked about her problems, but I knew there was something deeper with her,” Jack said lost in thought.
“Scarlett pretended she didn’t need anyone, but she was the most vulnerable of all of us. The way Tommy used her was wrong.” Ada said stopping herself before she revealed too much.
“What do you mean?” Jack asked feeling his jaw clench.
Ada twisted her hands together, unsure of her decision to open up to Jack. She knew Scarlett wouldn’t like her telling all her secrets, but Ada could tell this man cared for her sister deeply so she admitted what she knew. Ada talked until she had told Jack about everything-the rape, the prison term and Scarlett’s banishment. 
Jack leaned forward with his head in his hands. He knew Scarlett had gone through something, but he assumed it was the trauma from the war. He had no idea she’d endured so much more after that. Although it saddened him, he also admired her strength. No other woman he knew of could have taken on so much and come out the other side.
“Look, Ada, I appreciate you telling me all this. I want you to know that I love your sister very much and I intend to protect her from now on,” he said with renewed determination. Scarlett didn’t deserve the things her brother had done to her and Jack vowed to make Tommy pay dearly.
Ada looked up with a hopeful glint in her eye, unaware of the thoughts crossing Jack’s mind. She wanted to believe that he would be the man to change Scarlett’s life for the better. “That’s good, I always hoped she would find someone.” 
Suddenly the bell rang and Ada excused herself to open the door for Scarlett. “I’m sorry I’m late, I’ve just come from seeing Lizzie,” she said looking grave.
“Scarlett, what’s happened?” Ada said taking her sister’s hands.
“It’s our Ruby. She has TB,” Scarlett said as a tear rolled down her cheek. 
“Well, what’s the prognosis?” Ada asked with concern.
“It was in one lung, but now they think it’s in both. It’s moving quickly. They collapsed the left lung, but it made no difference. They’ll start her on the gold salts tomorrow.” Scarlett stopped for a moment contemplating the horrible notion, “Do you know how many people die on the gold treatment, Ada?” She said sadly. Ada nodded solemnly. 
“Is Tommy with her?” Ada asked, knowing her brother’s habit for disappearing during a crisis.
“No, that’s the worst part, Ada. He’s left Lizzie all alone while he goes up into the mountains. Meanwhile Lizzie is the one taking away the bloody rags and watching her disappear. He’s a fucking coward, our brother,” she spat. At that moment, Scarlett looked over to see Jack standing in the doorway, she came to him and embraced him suddenly. He pulled her into his strong arms and let her cry. 
“Scarlett, can you see her at least?” Jack asked.
Scarlett pulled away shaking her head, “No, they say the risk of contagion is too great. Lizzie and Tommy could very well have TB now,” she said.
“I understand. Can I help somehow?” Jack asked feeling a deep empathy for his former lover. 
“Stay with me?” Scarlett asked looking lost. She searched his eyes for understanding.
“Of course, doll,” Jack agreed wanting to support her any way he could.
------------------------------------------------
After a mostly quiet dinner at Ada’s house, Scarlett and Jack retired to the upstairs bedrooms while Ada excused herself to the master on the first floor. When they met on the landing, Jack grabbed Scarlett’s hand. “Can I talk to you, please?” He asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Scarlett agreed, leading him into her bedroom. As she readied herself for bed, Jack watched her at the vanity the way he had so many years ago in Boston. As he stood staring, lost in thought, Scarlett asked, “What did you want to talk about?” She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes bright with curiosity. 
“I wanted to say that I still love you, Scarlett. I want you think about bringing John to Boston,” Jack replied truthfully. 
Scarlett sighed and dropped her head, “Yes, I know, Jack. Please give me a bit more time.” She felt guilty asking for that, but knew that he needed to know it was not easy to abandon her life with Colin.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but don’t count me out,” he said approaching her and rubbing her shoulders gently.
“I won’t," she said grasping his hands in hers and giving them a light squeeze. "I always secretly hoped I would see you again, you know,” she said looking up with a smile. Jack felt a surge of love from her words even though she hadn’t given him much. He savored what she was willing to share. 
“Scarlett, why did you act so cold that night at the ball? You could have told me about John then. I would have understood,” Jack confessed.
“Those parties aren’t a place to discuss secrets, Jack. The people there aren’t like us. They will use information against me and I couldn’t risk that,” Scarlett said.
“You mean you wanted to protect Colin?” Jack said with a sigh.
“Yes, but also Tommy. Sir Mosley is a formidable enemy and he’s been trying to get me to give him information on my brother for years. Tommy's particularly vulnerable now that he's begun having seizures,” Scarlett said standing to face Jack. 
Jack looked to Scarlett once more, wheels turning in his mind, “Scarlett, can you get me a meeting with Sir Mosley?” 
“Yes, why?” She asked with furrowed brow. She hated asking favors of Mosley, but she knew it must be important if Jack was asking. 
“There’s something I need to discuss urgently,” he said, pretending politics were on his mind.  
“Alright, I’ll see him tomorrow,” Scarlett promised. “But no more talk of politics tonight. I need you, Jack” she whispered into his ear. Jack brought her close, inhaling her familiar perfume and felt transported. No time had passed and in his mind, they were back in Boston once more as he lifted her gently, carrying her toward the bed.
“Jack, make love to me,” she pleaded placing kisses along his jawline.
“Anything for you,” Jack replied, stripping her of her gown. When she was laid bare before him, he kissed every inch of her in appreciation of this one opportunity to see her again. 
“God, I missed you so much, angel,” he said as he placed kisses to her neck and shoulders. He ventured further to her chest and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly as she ran her long nails through his hair. 
“Oh, Jack…” she cooed, pleasure coursing through her for the first time in years. She had dreamt about the time when she would see him again, but this was better than any fantasy.
“I need you,” she said into the darkness. She pulled his head up to her waiting lips and kissed him passionately, having been denied his love too long. Jack reciprocated with equal fervor, wishing it would never end. When he could no longer stand the ache in his cock, he freed himself from his trousers and pushed into her suddenly.
“Mmmm…” Scarlett moaned, feeling full and satisfied. She held his hips, silently communicating for him to still within her so she could savor the feeling. He breathed deeply enjoying her warmth more than anything he’d felt in a long while. When she let go, he began moving within her, the feeling of her overwhelming his senses. 
“God, you feel good,” Jack moaned surrendering to her completely. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her back and head in his hands as he thrust slowly. Scarlett brought her legs up to cross behind his back raising her hips to him in need. He responded with deep thrusts, an unbridled desire to make her feel him for days to come. He moved his hands south to dig his fingers into her hips to form bruises. He wanted her to remember this if it should be their last time together. 
Scarlett panted softly as she neared her end. Noticing the familiar signs, Jack reached down to play with her clit, expertly maneuvering himself within her to elicit the moans he had longed to hear. Scarlett came with a gasp and Jack leaned forward to capture her in a kiss. 
“Going to fill you up,” Jack said panting in her ear. She nodded eagerly wanting everything he could give her. Jack’s hips stuttered as he emptied himself into Scarlett with a sigh of satisfaction. 
“I love you, Scarlett,” he said quietly, feeling a familiar exhaustion overtake him.  
“I love you too, Jack,” Scarlett admitted moving to place a leg over his and place a hand on his chest. 
As the moonlight shone through the bedroom window, she looked at the man she had been infatuated with for nearly a decade. It was bittersweet to make love to him while her husband waited for her at home, but tonight she would forget her guilt and enjoy the pleasure of Jack’s company. He made her forget every worry and concern she held. 
—————————————————————————————-
Parliament, 1933
Scarlett removed her gloves and placed them delicately in her handbag as she waited for the large office door to open. She inhaled deeply, before entering with an air of confidence. She found it helpful to steel her mind before visiting Sir Mosley, keenly aware of the energy it took to spar with him. Luckily, he had always carried a thinly-veiled desire for her which tended to cloud his judgement. 
“Lady Becker, always a pleasure to see you. Would you care for tea?” Mosley asked eyeing her.
“No, thank you, I can’t stay long,” Scarlett informed him taking a seat in the chair opposite his desk. 
As he took a seat across from her, he waited patiently for Scarlett to announce the reason for her visit. He interlaced his fingers, leaning forward to show his interest. 
“I’m here on behalf of the man you met at Lord Stanley’s ball, Mr. Nelson, the adviser to President Roosevelt…”Scarlett began. 
“Yes, I recall,” Mosley said seemingly uninterested in the name. 
“He would very much like to meet with like minded individuals while he’s in London. I thought perhaps you might grant him an audience as a well-respected member of the House of Commons,” she said, stroking his ego.
“And what assistance precisely might I provide our American friend? Your brother has the ear of the Prime Minister these days or so he often boasts” Mosley said emphasizing the last word.
“Goodness, I’m not versed in the intricacies of politics, but I do know that one wouldn’t want to be accused of nepotism,” Scarlett lied, hiding her intelligence on the matter. “However, I do know there’s much President Roosevelt would like to know about your political movement,” she appealed to him. “Mr. Nelson could relay that information thus helping you build a bridge, as it were,” Scarlett explained succinctly. 
“Yes, well, I think I might have some time next week. My secretary can confirm my diary,” Mosley said as Scarlett moved to stand.
“Thank you, Sir Mosley. You’ve been most gracious,” she said with a nod.
“And I admire your dedication to furthering our cause, Lady Becker. Although, I wonder if your interest in geopolitical affairs isn’t purely philanthropic?” he said looking as though he had just realized something very important. 
“Well, I do hope to use my status wisely,” Scarlett said dodging his question. She recognized the warning sign of a strike, but wasn’t quick enough to evade it today.
“Yes, you should always be mindful of how these affairs effect you…and your son,” Mosley said darkly. 
At the mention of her son, Scarlett slipped out of her carefully constructed posture to bite back defensively. “What’s my son got to do with any of this?” Scarlett asked, revealing her anger and fear.
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself, Lady Becker. I’m sure you’re aware of the whispers regarding his parentage?,” Mosley struck back with ease.
Scarlett held her tongue, although she wanted to rip him apart for threatening not only her son, but Colin as well with that information. His unyielding stare and malicious smile were enough to convince her to abandon the fight lest she give away her hand completely.
“Let’s leave children out of geopolitical affairs, shall we?” Scarlett ventured shakily.
As though a switch had been flicked, Mosley’s expression changed to one of business like detachment. “Quite right, Lady Becker,” he said clipping his words and opening the door for her with a gallant wave of his arm. 
As she exited the building, Scarlett stopped to place her hand on the cool stone to catch her breath. If Mosley decided to reveal the sham of her marriage, Colin would be the one to pay the price. Although she did not love him as a wife loves a husband, she had grown fond of him over the years, admiring the way he cared for her and John. The meeting would leave her shaken for days to come, Mosley’s words replaying in her mind. 
———————————————————————————————
Scarlett's home, 1933
Two weeks later, she sat at breakfast waiting for Colin and John to join her. She was always first to the table which gave her a sense of peace and calm to the day ahead. Although today her thoughts were drifting to Jack and their last rendezvous. She sipped her tea with a contented smile as John burst into the room. “Sit and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” Scarlett said ruffling his hair. “Do I have to eat my eggs, mum?” John complained.
“Yes, Mrs. O’Connell made them especially for you because you said you liked them last week,” Scarlett reminded her son.
“Yes, mum,” John said eyeing his sausages first. He would soon gobble them up and leave the eggs for last. 
Just then Colin descended the staircase and entered the dining room.
“Good morning, my darling,” he said kissing the top of Scarlett’s head.
“Good morning, my love,” she said warmly. 
“What have you got there, John? Has Mrs. O’Connell spoilt us with her famous sausages again?” He asked enthusiastically. 
“Yes, Dad!” John said smiling with grease dripping down his chin. 
Colin laughed heartily as he buttered a piece of toast.
As the family ate, a knock came at the door and the butler went to see who would be visiting at this early hour. “Stand aside, we have a warrant for the arrest of Sir Colin Becker,” one man stated in a loud clear voice which resonated through the front hall. Colin stood from the breakfast table upon hearing the commotion and was alarmed to see four police standing in the front hall.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Colin asked in his usual, jovial spirit. He believed this was nothing more than a mistake. “You’re under arrest for gross indecency,” the policeman informed him. Colin protested as he was carried out and Scarlett tried to shield John, begging him to stay at the table. She held her son to her as she cried. Had she brought this on with her visit to Mosley? Her guilt weighted heavily on her. In moments like these she still craved a drink. Instead, she stayed strong and sent John upstairs to his nanny and rang Jack on the telephone.
As the line rang once then twice she heard him pick up. “Jack?” She inquired with a shaky voice. Jack could tell something was wrong immediately.  
“What’s happened, Scarlett?” Jack asked with concern. 
“It’s Colin. He’s been arrested. Tell me now Jack, did you have something to do with this?” She said knowing he had just had a meeting with Mosley. She held such contempt in her voice it was unnerving to him.
“God, no! How could you think that?” He said hurt that she would assume he would sink so low to get her back.
“I don’t know…I don’t understand anyone anymore, Jack. I don’t know who to trust…”
Continue reading Part 10
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mqcknbrd · 1 year
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FILM  AND  TELEVISION  INSPIRATION  :  BOBBI MORSE.  
     OLIVIA POPE,  SCANDAL. you taught me that the only constant worth holding onto is the republic !  you made me in your own image.  i am just as you made me.
     ELIZABETH  KEEN,  THE BLACKLIST. i read people. i tell people exactly what they need to hear in order to do what i need them to do.
     JENNIFER JAREAU,  CRIMINAL MINDS. give me a word. a term, a label, something that explains what i have. i can’t let this go.  i can’t.  what is the word for that ?  
   THE PROTAGONIST,  TENET. T: i’m the protagonist of this operation. P: you are a part. did you think you were the only one capable of saving the world ? T: no. but i am.
     MARJAN MARWANI,  9-1-1 : LONE STAR. O: you’ve racked up eleven reprimands in one year. that has to be a record. M: i’m allergic to poor leadership.
     RUTH,  FAST COLOR. don’t be in such a hurry to leave.
     JOSIE,  ANNIHILATION. imagine dying frightened and in pain, and having that as the only part of you that survives. i wouldn’t like that at all.  ventress wants to fight it.  you want to face it.  but i don’t think i want either of those things.
     MELLIE GRANT,  SCANDAL. i will go nuclear. i will bury him, and i will dance on his grave.
    MINA OKAFOR,  THE RESIDENT. i am not interested in being in your line of giants. i am the first of my own line. an ancestor.
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myrfing · 9 months
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“imagine dying frightened and in pain and having that as the only part of you which survives” ohhh okay so basicly
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dvrast · 11 months
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a thing about jesper is that he is constantly afraid. angry and frightened— that's what the fjerdan had called him. what had matthias and inej seen in jesper that he didn't understand ? / [ stop treating your pain like it's something you imagined. if you see the wound is real, then you can heal it. ] / you taught me to lie. [ to keep you safe. ] i had a gift. you should have let me use it. [ it's not a gift. it's a curse. it would have killed you the same way it killed your mother. ] i'm dying anyway, da. i'm just doing it slow. it's a genetic disease, father to son. inheritance. power, from his mother. fear, from his father.
it was one thing to be born zowa in his father's house, a weight impossible to tip - toe around with the old farm floorboards creaking under every step, something reaching deep down in his chest to hold his breath from a young age. it was that easy, as breathing, as long as it kept the fear off his father's face ; even easier, whispering truths like pearly whites tucked inside unassuming seashells with his mother. she was brave, braver than the both of them, and she made it easy, until she couldn't. after her death, colm's fear deepened, widened, and it swallowed jesper whole.
the world was always too small for jesper, too big, for grisha of any kind, an open range with traps and snares littered every few feet like landmines. you're born as prey animals native to every continent, or trained into predators in ravka. there isn't a single hill or meadow that's safe, not really. this is a part of why he leaves for ketterdam in the first place, no matter how afraid he is to leave his da, alone in a haunted house. but he can't stay there, not when it feels like the same thing that killed his ma is lurking under the floor, hiding in the rafters, breathing down his neck. but it wasn't the house. it was a part of him, some heavy, extra organ, and he takes it with him wherever he goes. it begins to feel like some kind of birth defect, something somewhere just a millimeter out of line, killing him slowly with every too - fast beat of his rabbit heart. sleeping, waking, this inescapable, primal paranoia. it'll kill him, just for being born.
jesper has what we would call generalized anxiety disorder on top of his attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, and it's at its worst once he realizes this feeling isn't something he can leave back home in his father's house. one could go mad with it, not a single place in which you can feel yourself, safe, whole, and he feels a little mad, at first, digesting this revelation ; this is his life, a blessed death. this is what it means to be zowa, his mother's son, his father's prodigal, home or far from it, everywhere, anywhere in the world. he can't ever catch his breath in ketterdam, since before even that, light and heavy all at once, a freedom you can only feel from falling. he feels like a dead man walking the streets, less to lose than even that, and it's easy, easy as breathing, to lay down what little money fit in his pockets with or without the promise of it earning any of it back. ketterdam is alive, though, and he learns quickly how fear is in the very air, but with it, an immunity in its people. something fearless in the water. it was almost inevitable, then, that the most fearless creature in the barrel is who jesper finds himself drawn to even more than the promise of a light burning brightest before it goes out, like a moth to flame. kaz brekker makes him feel like he could be brave for the first time since his mother. like he could survive.
fear is a lot easier to face if you don't ever look away in the first place. if you never come down from the high, there's never any crash - landing, and life with the dregs is a rollercoaster of ups and downs to simulate a freefall that's in his actions instead of his bones. joining the dregs, joining kaz, it gives a name to the grip in his chest— a false one, but a name all the same. he can't be afraid of living if he's dodging death left and right. this fear he has is for a bullet in his head, a knife in his back, dime lions or black tips or stadwatch or debt collectors instead of slavers or drüskelle or ravka or poisoned little girls in need of saving or his father's scared, scared eyes— ketterdam is where taking a deep breath could get you killed anyway, and it's the first place he feels he can live in. the first place he feels he could survive, because living in ketterdam demands it.
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#86 Mary Anne and Camp BSC: Chapter 9
Ugh, sorry again for the delay in posts! I’ll make sure to stay on top of this so I can actually get to some NEW books soon!
In this chapter, it’s the return of Jackie the Walking Disaster, so get ready to be beaten over the head with examples of how clumsy he is.
Now we get an(other) entry from Kristy in her handwriting this time about the cookout. Though...when did Stoneybrook Academy (SA) become SMS? Weird. Inconsistency #3! Oh, and the BSC girls should be quaking with fear because look who's joining Camp BSC now...Jackie Rodowsky! Turns out his family had been on vacation, so now he was going to come to camp. So get ready for endless, over-the-top examples that he's a Walking Disaster. While Karen's brattiness goes unnoticed. Favoritism!
And why are Archie and Shea not coming? Shea’s older (I forget if he’s 9 or 10), so I guess that makes sense he may be too old. Archie’s 4, he’s the same age as Andrew and Jamie, so he isn’t too young. Jackie kind of overshadows his brothers anyway.
Jackie shows up at Camp BSC just in time for the cookout and right off the bat, he drops the napkins in the dirt. Whoops. The kids clear a space for the campfire, and they bring out the food: Turkey hot dogs, baked beans, coleslaw and s'mores. Mary Anne says they got turkey hot dogs because Dawn refuses to eat beef or pork. Sure thing, Your Highness! She adds the kids won't know the difference between turkey and beef hot dogs but I call bullshit because there's a definite taste difference! 
While the kids roast hot dogs, Ricky pesters Logan, asking if he knows any ghost stories. Logan says he doesn't believe in ghosts and Ricky looks at Logan as if he just told him there's no Santa Claus. And since we're talking about ghost stories, Karen joins in and tells the group that ghosts are everywhere and there's even ghosts that eat hot dogs! Ooooh spooky. Are there ghosts that eat loudmouth, obnoxious bratty kids too? I sure hope there are.
Logan tells Karen in a very nice way she's being a pain in the ass. “He'd encountered Karen's world-class imagination before!” ARGH. This double-standard pisses me off. Karen isn't annoying and bratty...she's funny and has a wild imagination! Don’t these girls ever get sick of Morbidda Destiny or Ben Brewer?
Oh, and Jackie's turning his hot dog into a black, burnt mess and as he eats it, he spills his baked beans. Because, you know, he's a WALKING DISASTER! We get it, Nola Thacker! The kid's clumsy! Kristy reassures the kids that there will be ghost stories, because they're a real camp that has cookouts and you tell ghost stories at cookouts. It's sad she had to stick that last part in there because her stepsister and her friends have put a damper on everything.
Nicky says Pow should have come because he'll eat up all the food that everyone's spilled, leading into a discussion about everyone's dogs. Which means when Shannon says something, we have to reiterate that it's Shannon Kilbourne saying it, not Shannon the dog. Because dogs are known to talk, so we have to distinguish. And this is the first time I’m hearing of Shannon being at the camp - hi, Shannon!
They go into the barn for ghost stories, and Karen tries to frighten everyone with the mention of the...Barn Ghost. Logan, who's prepared for this, tells her that the Barn Ghost only comes out after midnight and can't follow you home because it's just the ghost of a barn mouse. Thank you, Logan.
Logan attempts to tell the story of the guy with the yellow ribbon around his neck but Charlotte, of all people, finishes the sentence up “and when he untied it, his head fell off,” and asks for something good and scary. Are we sure this is Charlotte Johanssen, and not another Charlotte? Because she's as big of a scaredy cat as Mary Anne is!
Mallory then tells a bloody and morbid ghost story with everyone dying. The sitters aren't too amused but the kids love it. The ghostie forgot to mention it was about a family of eight kids and all but the eldest died at the hands of an evil ghost. The eldest then sold the bodies to Sweeney Todd and with the money, got a nose job and some dibble sparkly sweatshirts.
Karen then tells one of her stories. Let me guess - is it Morbidda Destiny or Ben Brewer? Oh, it's the one about the cave full of vampire bats. I guess she made this one up on the spot. Mary Anne even tries telling one about a ghostly cat, which she says kind of happened to Dawn once. Um...wasn't it Mallory and the Ghost Cat? 
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Geez, even the ghosties hate Mallory! Now Dawn's stealing her mysteries! Inconsistency #4 in this book!
Kristy then manages to scare the shit out of everyone (including Karen) with the story of a ghost that hated cookouts and haunted them. She says the ghost spotted a group of kids go into a barn and then Logan jumps out and scares everyone. Take that, Karen! I guess they were afraid because the book says the campers cried out “Eeeeeeehhhh,” which I guess is supposed to be shrieking.
Oh, and when roasting marshmallows, Jackie burns his to a crisp and adds that into a s'more. Because, you know, he's a WALKING DISASTER, DAMMIT.
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fortune-fool02 · 2 years
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I don't remember if I shared this :"D
We all love to eat glass and I want to offer you more glass. I think Joseph was morally and mentally traumatized anyway while having the rings in his body. He wakes up at night with a phantom sensation of choking in his throat and chest pain and he choking, or a panic attack can overtake him in broad daylight, Joseph forgets he doesn't have the poison rings in him, he feels like he is dying, he tries to scream with heavy breathing that he needs an antidote. This is especially frightening for his family if the panic attack occurs in front of them.
Imagine this happening to Joseph in Part 3 during the journey to Dio. Jotaro seems to be the only one who knows the history of his grandfather's panic attacks, he gets softer but doesn't lose his stone look, and calms Joseph down by telling him to breathe and reminding him that there are no rings in his body. The rest of the Crusaders don't understand what's going on, but try to help
Awww!! I love this! I do love the idea of Joseph being traumatised by the rings, as it would be understandable given his circumstances and what happened.
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ccrv-7 · 2 years
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“imagine dying frightened and in pain, and having that as the only part of you that survives.”
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tilbageidanmark · 9 months
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Movies I watched this Week #128 (Year 3/Week 24):
Nils Malmros’s Tree of knowledge (”Kundskabens træ”) has always been my favorite Danish movie, and also one of my general All-time Top-Five favorites - Ever. Together with Truffault’s ‘Small Change’, it’s also the best movie about the pains of puberty and the joys of adolescence.
It was hard to find online, and seeing it again after many years, is like meeting an old lover after 40 years apart, and they hasn’t age a day. It’s a perfect masterpiece without a single faulty frame.
A nostalgic trip to provincial Århus at the end of the 1950′s, Malmros spent two years filming a group of teens as they struggle with first loves and heartbreaks. A tragic story of innocent lost. (Photo Above).
Later Edit:
A second viewing the next day confirmed that it is indeed an impeccable classic, subtle and precise. So many Friday night jazz parties where for their first time the kids are allowed to dance in the dark cheek to cheek to Gershwin’s ‘The man I love’.
“You probably don’t get that there’s only has to be very little for people to talk”:  The misery that befalls Erin as she turns from the popular girl into a pariah is crushing. 10/10.
🍿   Lourdes, my 1st film by Austrian filmmaker Jessica Hausner, starring the incomparable Léa Seydoux as a young nun with a twinkle in her eye. A rarely seen subject of Catholic cripples and handicapped pilgrims who flock to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes, searching for a miracle. With priests who look like Cardinal Mahoney, Holy water sprinkled around and piously praying invalids, it feels very much like a blanding of Buñuel and Haneke. It must have been shot with the permission of the church, as much of it looks like part of the real rituals going on there. However, it hides a certain unorthodox subversiveness. 7/10. 
🍿   
2 more by British director Michael Radford:
🍿 “...If you want a vision of the future, Winston, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever...”
Nineteen Eighty-Four, the original hopeless dystopia. Orwell’s frightening vision of totalitarianism, mass surveillance, thought-police and total repression was anti-Stalinist when he wrote it, but it became a real-life blue-print for today’s hyper-Capitalist societies too.
Many of the scenes were shot on the days noted originally in the novel. The scene where Winston Smith writes in his diary, dating the entry April 4, 1984, was filmed on April 4, 1984. It was Richard Burton’s final film, and was photographed by Roger Deakins. 9/10.
Terry Gilliam’s ‘Brazil’ came a year later and also described a doomed love story in a cheerless bureaucratic nightmare. But unlike Brazil, 1984 had only dark and painful reality to deal with, no flights of surrealism and fancy.
"...Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's.  You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's...”
🍿 Lovable 80-year-olds Shirley MacLaine and Christopher Plummer fall in love in New Orleans in Elsa and Fred. He’s reserved and bitter, she’s exuberant and over-whelming, and there’s a Picasso drawing of her that is used as ‘Chekhov’s gun’.  Also, it was George Segal’s last film. 5/10.
I love it when an unusual musical note in a movie signifys an emotional high-point, and when checking the clock, it’s exactly 47:30 minutes in - the middle of the movie!
Maybe it’s time to watch Fellini’s ‘8 1/2′ again [The Anita Ekberg dive in the Trevi Fountain is the film’s driver].
🍿
The Farewell Party (’Good Death’ in Hebrew) is a tragic-comic story about old age and mercy killing. A group of seniors at an assisted living home develop a machine for self-euthanasia. They reluctantly use it on one of their dying friends, but once the word gets around, more and more people want it. 7/10. 
🍿   First watch: Bergman’s magnetic, early romance film Summer with Monika. It was considered scandalous at the time, because of “frank” nude scenes. Star-making vehicle to young rebel Harriet Andersson (still alive and 91-year-old). 100% score on ‘Rotten Tomatoes’ and no argument from me there. Terrific Mise-en-scène, crisp cinematography and rich visual story-telling.
It featured Åke Fridell (’Plog’ from ‘The Seventh Seal’) as her father. On the official Bergman site, there’s a good list of many of his other collaborators.
[There are some early Bergman’s films I haven’t seen yet, which I have to remedy ASAP] 🍿
2 more with Robert De Nero: 
🍿 Sergio Leone’s last, overrated film, Once upon a time in America, the 229-min. Cut. It’s a crime saga about Jewish gangsters, a Spaghetti Godfather if you will, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Coppola’s. ‘The Godfather’ is perfect in spirit and execution, and every element in it works. Leone’s facsimile is epic and stylish, but most of it feels like a vacant rip-off. Some good performance from De Nero, and some great romantic scenes (Jennifer Connelly reading the Psalms, and reuniting with Deborah again), but the young characters (and many of the others, including wooden James Wood) are bland and unauthentic.
Without Ennio Morricone’s swiping score elevating every scene it plays with, the film wouldn’t get half the accolades it received. And the brutal, unprovoked rape scene was shocking and uncalled for. Not a superb film - 5/10. 
RIP, Treat Williams!
🍿 Ellis, a short (15 min.) poetic evocation of the large hospital complex in Ellis Island. Basically it’s Robert De Nero, “The immigrant”, walking slowly in abandoned corridors, accompanied by some vaguely-moody piano chords, reciting in a somber voice-over some vaguely impressionist lines about dreams and immigrants and yearnings. 1/10.
🍿 
2 very different documentaries:
🍿 Close to Vermeer is a very moving Dutch documentary about the staging and preparation of last year’s Rijksmuseum Vermeer exhibition, the largest ever mounted. Only 34 paintings are universally attributed to him today, and the museum’s curators were able to bring a total of 28 of them for this magnificent event. Scholars and researchers, collectors and art historians participate in this sober, quiet and passionate exploration of the enigmatic 'Sphinx of Delft‘.
Close to transcendence - 10/10.
(The trailer in inferior to the film itself.)
[This is the 3rd Vermeer film that I’ve seen (after Penn & Teller’s documentary ‘Tim’s Vermeer’ and Scarlett Johansson’s ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring’, both terrific!). As a completist, I now discovered 6 more films that I will watch in the near future: ‘All The Vermeers In New York’, ‘Brush with fate’, Dan Friedkin‘s ‘The last Vermeer’ (That one sounds odd!), the Dutch ‘A real Vermeer’, and two more documentaries, ‘Vermeer: Master of Light’ narrated by Meryl Streep, and the newest ‘Vermeer: The Greatest Exhibition’, about this same exhibition at the Rijksmuseum. Can’t wait!]
🍿 The art of the prank is a fun 2015 documentary about provocative Culture Jammer Joey Skaggs, who had been staging elaborate media pranks since the 60′s. Like previous hoaxers ‘Coyle and Sharpe’, and later ones ‘Yes Men’ and ‘Improv Everywhere’, he builds ‘Fake news’ performances art events, designed to stir shit and embarrass the inane world of television news. Things like ‘Cathouse for dogs’, ‘Celebrity sperm bank’ and ‘Comacocoon’.
🍿  Hacksaw Ridge, my first film directed by known homophobe / antisemite Mel Gibson. [Watched after encouragement from Ahmad]. I’m not big on war dramas, even when they’re about a real-life conscientious objector. Trying to combine the opening from ‘Saving Private Ryan’ with ‘Full Metal Jacket’ boot camp hysterics. But I still can’t stand Andrew Garfield, Vince Vaughn is no Lee Ermey, and the war parts were simply not interesting. 4/10.
🍿 
“I Really Don’t Like Netflix” X 2:
🍿 Inside the mind of a cat, a typically-trash Netflix documentary, narrated by a highly-irritating “pleasant” voice. The only way to endure it is by turning of the sound and reading the subtitles. Lazy and un-inteligent, but “Hey: Cats!” - The second most-common reason to go on the internet.
🍿 After years of anticipation, Season 6 of Black Mirror finally dropped. Was it as good as some of the previous ones? An Emphatic No!
Episode 1, ‘Joan is awful’, was awful. An average woman is stunned to discover that Netflix has launched a prestige TV drama adaptation of her life, in which she is portrayed by Salma Hayek, and taking a shit in a church. Inception-like Meta-Netflix labyrinth with an unlikable cast making fun of themselves. 3/10.
Episode 2, ‘Loch Henry’, a meta-making of a True Crime series about a notorious serial killer who tortured his victims in a quaint faraway Scottish village. Unoriginal horror tale. 2/10.
Episode 3, ‘Beyond the sea’ too was sub-par on every level. A sadistic sci-fi, all superficial with no depth of emotions. Using Charles Trenet’s “La Mer” improves any movie immeasurably, from the opening to LA Story to the ending of Mr. Bean. But here, in a typical Netflix appropriation, it felt 100% fake. 2/10.
Episode 4, ‘Mazey Day’: Another hit-and-run thriller + unscrupulous paparazzi + LA Thomas Guide (which means it’s the early 2000′s!) which turns into a gory ‘American werewolf in London’ fantasy-thingy. 4/10.
The set up of Episode 5, ‘Demon 79′ was ridiculous: “A young Indian Sales Assistant accidentally frees a ruthless and handsome demon-in-training who is required to damn a soul to hell in order to become a full-fledged demon. The sales assistant is told she must kill three people for the demon-in-training, with the demon threatening to cause a nuclear apocalypse if she refuses”. But it was the only episode in this season that worked, and the only one that will be worth re-visiting. It was directed by the guy who also did ‘USS Callister’, another absurd concept that he got right. 8/10.
🍿 
2 shorts from ‘Nag:
🍿 Morocco Arise, by nomadic vlogger Brandon Li. His ‘Director Commentary’ was just as captivating.
🍿 Greenpeace takes aim at “fossil fuel party” with Don’t stop, a star-studded Fleetwood Mac cover. Exec-produced by Steve McQueen.
🍿 
Throw-back to the "Art project”:  
1984 Adora.
Adora with the pearl earring.
Black Mirror Adora.
🍿  
(My complete movie list is here).
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hallowedmuses · 9 months
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discord chat: echolocation
SUMMARY: Pestilence unleashes a plague on angel kind that starts to affect some key players. Dagon and Belgirel accidently stumble upon the key to curing their people in the form of another Void sibling. TRIGGERS: Illness, Body Horror, Depression, PTSD, Death Mentions WRITTEN WITH: @offallenfeathers (Belgirel, Beelzebub, Murmur, Echo) @hallowedmuses (Dagon, Nadia)
BEELZEBUB & BELGIREL: This plague felt like it had sprung out of nowhere, and for the most part, it had. Raphael believed that it was Pestilence's doing as a way to get back at them for ruining his fun on Earth, but it wasn't just Raphael feeling the pain here. The disease spread quickly. At first it was mainly heaven's angels that were affected. The guardians were the ones who spent the most time on Earth, so they got hit first, and then it spread from there. Some of the fallen got infected, and while the healers of both heaven and hell tried to help, none of their treatments were working. Raphael was leading the search for a cure, but unfortunately, their other biggest healer was in an alternate universe. Of course this would happen when Belphegor was gone. The patients were quarantined in the Empty despite Belphegor's absence. Before leaving, they had opened up a gate to let the living move freely in and out of the Empty, and they'd left Belgirel in charge of the place. Beelzebub knew he had to be regretting that now. Thankfully, the disease didn't seem to affect the dead, only the living, and none of the archangels seemed to be affected either. For a while, the Lilim seemed to be okay too, but when it finally started affecting them, the symptoms were bad. Beelzebub felt like he was going to die when Nadia got sick. He might not have been so terrified if it weren't for the fact that some of the patients were dying from their illness. Beelzebub was trying to split his time between his kingdom and the Empty, but he felt guilty for every moment spent away from his daughter. His daughter at least made sure she wasn't alone. As he came to see her, her own bed was empty. Although it had scared him the first few times, he knew where she had gone. He walked next door to Dagon's room. They'd been further apart before, but Belgirel had moved them into adjacent rooms after the third time Nadia snuck out to be with Dagon.
Sure enough, when he walked into the room, Dagon was laying in the middle of the bed with Nadia and Murmur on either side of her. The kids were asleep, but Dagon seemed to be awake and uncomfortable. He could imagine how bad it had to feel to have two sick, hot, and sweaty kids clinging to you when you were sick yourself. He was envious of her all the same. He wanted to have his baby girl wrapped around his arm. He wanted to feel like he could keep both of those kids safe in his arm.
A fake cough to his right alerted him to Belgirel's presence, sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. Belgirel was glaring at him as if he'd over stepped. Beelzebub knew what that was about, but it wasn't really Belgirel's girlfriend that had entranced Beelzebub. He just wanted to hold his daughter. "You two look like you could use a break, why don't I take over for you, and you guys can get some air." He was addressing mainly Dagon. He didn't know if she could even get up, not just because she was sick, but the children had both learned from Seir. Their limbs wrapped around like tentacles and didn't always let go.
DAGON: She felt terrible. Her body was so sore and her mind was foggy from the fever. She was continuously switching between having hot flashes and the chills. Right now, it was definitely hot flashes. They weren't helped much by the fact that the kids were plastered to her. She wasn't complaining though. Feeling the rise and fall of their chests was reassuring, though it did frighten her sometimes when the coughing fits started. Right now at least both kids were asleep. She tried to respond to Beel's suggestion only it came out as a small cough that she tried to quiet down. "Hmmm, I think you're right," she replied once the repressed coughing fit died down. "I'm going to melt into seafoam like the little mermaid if I don't." Though, she had to admit a bath in some exceptionally cold water sounded really good right about now.
She started to untwine herself from the kids which was no easy feat. Their limbs felt so much heavier than before. She glanced at Murmur as she untangled his hands from her torso and her features softened a little. She removed the damp cold cloth, which was now exceptionally warm, from his forehead and brushed aside loose strands of hair from his face. Dagon frowned at the sight of the rash developing on his face. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead, using them to gauge his temperature. He was still so warm. "Baby, can you get another cold cloth for him?" she asked Gears as she adjusted Murmurs blanket around. He was shivering. There was no cure yet for this ailment but they were still doing whatever they could to make everyone comfortable under the circumstances.
As Gears worked on squaring Murmur away, she turned her attention to Nadia and giggled softly. She looked like Princess Anna from Frozen after a nap. Her hair was a net of tangles around her and she was drooling a bit. Dagon thought it was the cute though it didn't offset her concerns. "Oh, baby shark," she sighed as she moved a few loose strands of hair out of Nadia's face and kissed her forehead. Nadia looked so pale and her breathing was shallow and raspy. Dagon felt Beel approach the bedside. "There's breathing treatments in the cupboard if it gets worse," she told him. "In about an hour, all three of us have to take the cocktail again, but I'll be back before then." The cocktail was simply a bunch of different cold and flu medications taken at a dosage that would kill most humans. It barely kept the fever at bay for most of them.
As Gears came around again, Dagon held out her hand to him so that he could help pull her out of the bed. She didn't have the strength to do it herself. Slowly, but surely he got her out. She was a little wobbly on her feet and leaned on him for support. When she turned to look at the kids again to make sure the movement hadn't woken them up, her heart nearly melted. In an attempt to fill the space and warmth that was now gone, Murmur and Nadia had both rolled toward the center of the bed and were now snuggling one another. "Well, we probably won't see this for several more centuries." She wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks. "I don't even have my phone." The battery had died a half hour ago and she didn't have the energy to plug it in.
BELGIREL & BEELZEBUB: Belgirel shifted forward when Dagon started coughing. There wasn't anything he could do for her. She just had to get through the fit, but it still made him want to be closer to her. He was a little jealous of Nadia and Murmur. He wanted to be able to hold her and feel her breathing against him like they were able to do, not that they were conscious enough for that. He didn't know who or what the little mermaid was, but he wouldn't have made her melt into seafoam. "On it, love." He got up and took the cloth from her, frowning at it in his hand. He wasn't sure if she realized just how hot it was. Parts of it weren't even wet anymore. They'd dried from the heat. He took it over to the trash and threw it away before pulling a clean cloth out of the cabinets. He soaked it with cold water, filled a bag with ice and wrapped it around that. He brought it back as Dagon looked over Nadia. When he placed the cloth on Murmur's head, it looked like it was steaming. It was terrifying.
For Beel, it was even worse. Belgirel might've been fond of Nadia and Murmur, but to Beel they were his children. It was a cruel thing to make a parent watch their children go through such a horrible disease without being able to do anything for them. Angels weren't supposed to need to breathe, but this disease was not only draining them enough to the point where they had to breathe, but it wouldn't even let them breathe properly. The heat coming off of the three of them was enough to almost make Beel feel sick himself. He turned away from the bed, walking a few paces away as he pulled his hair back over his head. He pushed out air through his teeth as he spun back around and moved closer to his daughter and Dagon. He was itching just to be able to hold Nadia in his arms. "I'll take care of them," he assured Dagon as she gave her instructions. Despite her being sick herself, she was still trying to play the doctor.
Belgirel took Dagon's hand as she held it out. She was hot too, but he was glad to at least be able to hold her and feel her pulse. He wrapped his arm around her once her feet touched the floor, so he could better support her. "You okay?" he whispered as he kissed her cheek. "Do you want me to get you a rolly chair?" He wasn't sure if it was really a good idea for her to be walking, but he imagined she wanted to stretch out her legs a little. He was never usually able to stay long in a bed himself, even when he was hurt.
Beel was already pulling out his own phone. Nadia wouldn't have been happy about this, but they needed to preserve the memories, especially if . . . "I got it," he told Dagon, his eyes watering as he snapped more than a few pictures. "I'll send it to you." He stepped closer to the bed. Murmur's cloth had fallen off of his face when he'd rolled over, so Beel picked it up and put it back on his forehead. He pulled up a chair next to the side that nadia was on and started rubbing her back, whispering a song to her that Belgirel didn't know. "Eras niña de largos silencios y ya me querías bien. Tu mirada buscaba la mía. Jugabas a ser mujer. Pocos años ganados al tiempo  vestidos con otra piel, y mi vida que nada esperaba también te quería bien. Te extrañaba yo tanto que no al verte a mi lado ya soñaba con volverte a ver, y entre tanto te estaba inventando de niña a mujer."
Belgirel felt like he was intruding now, so he started leading Dagon out of the room. They walked slowly, so it wouldn't be too much for Dagon. "Do you want to get some air outside?" he asked. There were so many emotions here. He knew Belphegor had given her something to suppress that, but he still imagined it had to be harder now.
DAGON: She smiled to herself as she watched Gears play nurse. He was stressed out, there was no doubt about that, but he was holding it together. She was proud of him. This was nothing like what she imagined his first time leading the Empty would be like and she wasn't sure he'd want to do it again or that Belphegor would take the risk of leaving this place again, but Gears was doing a good job regardless.
She turned her attention to Beel who was radiating profound levels of stress and anxiety. This was a hard position to be in as a parent and despite being centuries old, this was a new hurdle for both of them. Angels didn't get sick like this. "I know you will," she replied and squeezed his hand in a we'll get through this sort of gesture.
It felt nice to be up on her feet even though the world felt so much heavier today. "I'm okay," she assured Gears. Things weren't great, but she watched the progression of this disease on other patients and knew it could, and would, be worse later on. She didn't think about that though. For now, she was okay, her kids were okay, and that was all that mattered. She shook her head when he asked if she need a chair. She wanted to stretch her legs and as long as he was beside her, she'd be okay.
"Thanks, Chef. I think it's going to be my new phone background," she smiled and tried to sound upbeat though she was far from it. As Beel began soothing the kids (and his own nerves) with a song, she and Gears made their way out of the quarantine room. She nodded when he asked if she wanted to get some air. "I'd like to walk down to the river if we can manage it. But if we can't get that far, that's okay too." She always found it soothing down there. Many cultures believed that water had healing properties. The water of the Empty was deadly to the living, but it still held an allure to her that she couldn't quite place.
She leaned into Gears and savored his cool touch as they walked in the direction of the river. The heat flash was passing, but she knew it would be followed by chills pretty shortly. "I'm sorry that your first time leading this place is going on like this..." she began now that they were some distance away from the zone. "Are you okay?"
BELGIREL: Belgirel knew that it was subjective from Dagon when she said she was okay. She absolutely wasn't okay. There was no way Belgirel could ever call anything about this okay, but telling herself that she was okay probably helped her hold herself together, so he let it slide. He said goodbye to Beel as they left the room, staying quiet enough to not wake the kids. A part of him wanted to wake them up though. He thought maybe Beel and Dagon would feel a little better if they saw those eyes open, but being awake and sick was probably worse for them. He didn't know. He'd never seen people be sick before. Injured and dying? Sure, but never sick. It reminded him of the birds they used to take care of. They always tried to save everyone they could, but they couldn't do anything here. It was frustrating. He didn't like the idea of them not making it down to the river. She needed a win right now, and so did he. "We can manage it," he assured her. He crouched down to tip her into his arms, carrying her outside towards the river. She was still going to be able to walk. It would just be when they got there and not before then.
With Belgirel’s speed, they got there quickly. He didn't find the river all that appealing himself. It wasn't like rivers on Earth. Although it flowed like regular rivers, it didn't have the rushing sound of water hitting rocks that he found soothing. It ended up feeling eerie to him. He set her down in the sand, so she could stand and walk on her own. He smiled a little when she apologized for his experience leading this place for the first time. It wasn't the first time she said it. "If anyone could've predicted it, they wouldn't have left and put me in charge." He didn't mean that in the sense that he was bad at this. He just was pretty sure Belphegor would've been freaked out by the idea of him handling things like this, or anything really. He didn't think they would've let the others in the Empty help either.
He sighed when she asked if he was okay. "No," he answered honestly. "All of this terrifies me. You guys aren't supposed to get sick. I know that. . . If something happens, you'd end up here, but as much as I want you here with me all the time, I don't think it's right to subject you to being stuck here like I am."
DAGON: She giggled and held on tightly as he picked her up and began carrying her over to the river. She could get used to this mode of transportation. She leaned her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. Her chest ached, but the breeze felt so nice on her feverish face. Gods, she wondered if she'd ever stop feeling like she was burning from the inside. The last time she'd felt like this was when her grace was ripped and defiled by the fall. She opened her eyes once he stopped and set her down on the sand. "That had to be record time," she smiled and kissed him. "Thank you."
She kicked her slippers off so that she could feel the sand on her bare feet as they walked down the shoreline hand-in-hand. If anyone was watching from a distance, it looked as though Belgirel was walking with a ghost. Dagon was pale and so very waif like now. She wore a white cotton wrap dressed that billowed a little in the breeze. There were no more snakes in her hair for her body couldn't even bring itself to manifest them. Still, she persisted forward though she leaned heavily on Belgirel and the walking was set to a very leisurely pace. "Well, you're doing a great job regardless," she assured him. "Leading in a time of crisis is never easy." She'd know firsthand given how she came to rule her kingdom. "I know," she sighed and squeezed his hand. "I'm scared too. Mostly for the kids and Andras. And for your brothers...they won't survive down there without me," she half joked.
BELGIREL: It was nice to hear her laughing. No one really had been since this plague started. It was hard to believe she even could still laugh given her condition. He treasured it while he still could. It was nice to feel her in his arms as he ran. She was breathing. Her heart was beating, if a little fast, but she was alive. "It wasn't too fast for you, was it?" he asked. He wasn't as medically knowledgeable as she was. He'd had basic healing training when he was younger, but he didn't remember most of it. He didn't think it included anything like this. Breathing didn't seem like a natural thing, and he didn't know what a normal heartbeat was. He didn't know if going so fast could make her worse. He hoped he wasn't killing her by bringing her out here. He realized he was overthinking this when she kissed him. His lips met hers gently, worried he'd hurt her somehow if he put too much into the kiss. "I love you."
He shifted his arm around her to help her keep her balance as she kicked off her shoes. He picked them up to carry them for her and make sure sand didn't collect in them. Although Dagon still looked ill, Beel had been right that getting some air would be good for her. She looked like she needed this. The truth was that he did too. He might not have needed to breathe, but he felt like he could now. It felt less pressured out here when it was just the two of them, even with the threat of an unknown future ahead of them. "I don't know if I'd go as far to call it great, but I'm managing, which I guess is all I can really be expected to do. Aamon's been helping a lot on helping me figure out what to do, but there's not much I can do about this, especially when I just want to spend all of this time with you." Unfortunately, there was still a lot of work he had to do both in regards to this plague and as the stand in leader of this realm. People were looking to him for guidance, and he didn't know what to tell them. He wished Aamon or Michael could tell him how to stop this disease, but no one knew. That was the problem.
He felt like he'd cry when she squeezed his hand. It was so light and weak and reminded him how sick she was. His eyes teared up when she mentioned Andras. "I've never seen him that still and quiet. It's not right. Belphegor's not going to be able to handle it if he ends up moving here." That was the only way he could put it. If something . . . happened, no one would die, they'd just move here. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes. The slippers he was carrying wiped across his face, giving him a scar of sand across his cheek and nose. "I think they already aren't. Beel's been coming back and forth between the Empty and Hell, but I don't think he can go back again after seeing what Nadia and Murmur are like now. Lucifer might not have children in this like him, but he's holding onto every ounce of humor he has to get through this. I know you still aren't too happy with Gabriel, but he looks like he could do something even more stupid than before if the Avanis don't start getting better." And it wasn't just his brothers that were experiencing things like that. "Honesty had to stop face clocking Ten updates about Seir because they're getting so bad." He kicked a bit of sand. "What if things don't get better? What do we do?"
DAGON: "It was fun," she assured him. It made her forget that she was sick for a moment, but she could see that he was worrying. Even his kisses were paper thin so she cupped his face and deepened the kiss. He'd described death to her as a sort of dullness of all sensations before so if she was going to die, she wanted to feel every feeling as deeply as she possibly could before her time came. She pulled away from the kiss feeling a little bit dizzy but also a little giddy. "I love you too," she smiled.
She nodded when he replied that he was managing. She was glad Aamon was helping, but she wished it could've been her instead. She felt absolutely useless. "That's generally all that leadership is most of the time," she assured him. "Managing and delegating. And you're doing a good job at it. The dead working the quarantine zones are as sad as the rest of us, but I can also feel that for once they feel like...I dunno. Like they have direction, purpose." She was proud of how the Empty listened to him. She'd been observing him work from the high windows in her room before the kids came in looking for comfort. As they walked, she kissed the back of his hand when he said he just wanted to spend time with her. She knew it was hard to split time like that, but she was being well cared for. He'd be the first to know if something was amiss with her.
She could see how hard he was taking everyone's condition, Andras's in particular. He was probably taking that harder than Andras but her twin rarely thought about the implications of things. "I'll be happy for the chaos he causes Asmo when he gets better." That was really the only reality she was willing to accept right now. That Andras would get better. And so would her kids, and Seir, and Maze, and the Avanis. Maybe she'd be able to talk Beel into going to see Zophiel. "But if things don't get better than we just have to adjust. We can--" her train of thought was cut off by a coughing fit. Normally, she was able to reign these fits in and suppress them but it was catching up to her. She was finding it hard to breathe and every violent cough made her chest hurt more and more. Dagon doubled over as the fit continued. "I--" she tried to apologize; she could see she was scaring Belgriel, but she couldn't get the words out as the fit continued.
BELGIREL: Belgirel knew that Dagon looked like she was having fun, but it didn't mean it wasn't making her suffer too. The two weren't mutually exclusive. He knew a lot about having fun while in pain, but her pulling him in for a deeper kiss was the reassurance he needed. "Oh, was that first one not good enough for you?" he asked teasingly. He needed these kinds of smiles from her.
He chuckled a little when she said that managing and delegating were all that leadership generally was. He hadn't really meant managing in that way. He just meant that he was skirting by holding things together, but that's probably all leadership was too. "Yeah, I feel a little bit of the same too. It's not a great time to be leading everyone through this, but it makes me feel like I'm not just some piece of decoration on the wall for people to use to get over their guilt." He knew that wasn't really how his family felt about him. Most of them still felt guilty about his death and torture, and there was nothing he could really do to take that away from them. He just hated the look of guilt they all tended to have around him. "I just hope we can still all have things to do once this is all over. I think everyone could use the tasks."
He smiled when she said she was looking forward to the chaos Andras would cause when he got better. "Yeah me too. Maybe he and I can cause some chaos together." He didn't know what they could do. Belphegor made it hard to do any kind of dangerous fun here, and he didn't want to upset them either. He flinched when she coughed. He knew that he usually just had to wait these out, but it seemed to keep going. He was getting more worried that it wasn't going to stop. "Dagon?" he asked nervously. He started lowering her onto the ground to make it easier for her. "Dagon?!" He didn't know how to help. "Dagon, what do I do?!" He looked around frantically. "Help! Please! Somebody!" There was no one around besides the river.
ECHO: The river, as it turns out, had been listening. They always listened, though they found it hard to speak themself. There were some words they knew. They'd gotten a taste of speech before, back when the world was more open before God had a chance to shut them out, or maybe he'd locked them in. The Silence couldn't remember. It was too long ago, and who were they to tell anyways? With what words? The dead had their words, but the Silence couldn't repeat them. Death had a way of removing the life from the words too, but the living? Their words had something to it. A spark. Or something. One of their brothers had described a difference between the living and the dead. He'd tasted them both. They had . . . flavor. They supposed the living's words had flavors too. They liked the taste of them rolling out of their body, so whenever the living were near, they listened. It didn't happen often. The Silence knew that both the living and dead had been warned to be careful around them. This was reasonable. To the living, their waters were deadly. Too much time spent in them could have them joining the dead too. For the dead, their waters weren't dangerous, but they did mark a boundary of safety. Although the river of silence spread across several areas of their settlement, the Belphegor had used part of the outer edge of the river as a sort of border between their settlement and the dangerous forest of the Empty. The Silence believed this to be a wise decision on behalf of the Belphegor. It didn't mean everyone stayed away. A few found comfort by the river, couples especially.
They'd watched as a pair sped down away from the others towards their river, though they didn't come into it. The Silence could see that while one of them was dead, the other was close to death. There was a sickness inside of her that needed to be washed away. They could sense it, the wrongness in her body, and in very little time, it caught up to her, choking her. Her partner cried out a name that sounded familiar to them. Dagon. Their brother had used that name before. The Silence had never known a mother before, but apparently that was one. A living mother. Living for now anyways. They'd have to do something to keep her living.
They rose up with the water, creating no sound as it splashed down around them. The Silence's body spread out like a cloak around them with a long tail trailing behind them. Golden teeth formed a mouth in what should've been the humanoid's stomach. Eyes looked out from what should've been the shoulders, but above that was a completely human-like face. A sheet of smooth flesh grew on half the head, trailing down the shoulders to mimic hair. Everything about them was a little too smooth. They glistened from the water on their flesh, appearing like a sting ray in humanoid form.
Never stopping once exiting the water, the silence glided across the ground towards Dagon the mother and her . . . caretaker? He wasn't a very good one, and like the others, he pulled back away when they approached. They frowned. It wasn't easy to communicate with these beings. They didn't speak in the mind like the Silence could do with their brother, but they could borrow words. Not from him, but from the living mother. They had been saving them. Instead of the mouth on their humanoid head, the mouth on their stomach was the one to speak, to echo the words they'd heard before. "won't survive down there without me." They pointed. The voice that came out belonged to the living mother. They hoped it was the right words.
DAGON: "I just knew that we could make it better," she teased back as she rubbed her nose against his. She knew he felt a sense of purposelessness throughout his recovery. If this went well, and she had to believe it would, maybe they could talk Belphegor into letting the Empty carry more weight. "The only piece of decoration on the wall is going to be me when I get better," she declared. She knew there wasn't much chaos that could be done around the Empty, but maybe they could find some harmless fun somewhere. Hell knew they all needed it. She was so tired of feeling so heavy all the time.
Of course, she wasn't better yet so the heaviness persisted both in her chest and in her heart. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she simply couldn't cough it out. Gods, the coughing hurt so much. Every reverberation of her chest felt like her lungs were about to collapse from the rattling. She was vaguely aware of Belgirel pulling her away from something. He looked terrified, but she couldn't catch her breath to comfort him.
A moment later, she caught what was causing all of his fear amid the panic. The being was beautiful in a way that Dagon might've thought she hallucinated it had it not been for Belgirel's reaction. While he was afraid, Dagon was not. She did not feel any malicious intent from the river creature. It held the same energy as Devour. He'd mentioned a sibling, the Silence, that called the river home. The topic of the being had come up when they were talking about Dagon's...! "Healer..." Dagon coughed up for that was what the Silence was. A healer like her. "Please...help..."
BELGIREL: "We can always make it better," he assured her, and he wasn't just talking about the kiss. He wanted, and needed, to believe that she would get better, that everyone would get better. He just wasn't sure what they needed to do to get there. He and his family were supposed to have another meeting about that tonight to discuss what other steps they could take. He was sure part of that conversation would include talking about bringing Cupid and Belphegor back home, or at least Belphegor. Belgirel didn't know if Cupid's connection to Belphegor would protect her from this virus or if she might get infected too. They'd have to discuss that with the couple once they got to them. He hoped that Belphegor could help Raphael enough to get this solved.
Belgirel's eyes widened when Dagon suggested that she be the decoration on the wall. It was always a little funny whenever she said something that was exceptionally horny. When they were younger, she always seemed a little put off by their sexual jokes, but now that she was in a relationship with him, she fired them off just as well. It made him love her so much more. He smirked, and his eyes went heavy with lust. "I'll take care to plaster you there and view you at every angle."
He didn't particularly like the view of her he had now though, struggling to breathe, on the verge of death, and then with this creature approaching them, he didn't know what to do. She radiated the same energy as the Void, and the water reminded him all too much of being drowned. He wondered if that was what the Void had drowned him in, or if it was just something that lived in those same waters. He only managed to pull Dagon away a little, but he was too scared to move too quickly. If he made a run for it, it felt like they might lunge at him. It only scared him more when they spoke. They didn't have their own voice. They just echoed what Dagon had said before. It felt wrong, like it was trying to trick him into a false sense of security, like a predator mimicking the call of its prey to lure them out. He didn't trust its words either. There was no way this thing could do anything to help Dagon. They were just going to drag them both into the water and drown them.
He only paused once Dagon managed to speak a few words. Healer? Why did she think this thing was a healer? But she was talking directly to the creature now. Had she met them before? He didn't think Dagon had told him about meeting anything like this. He didn't think she wouldn't have told him, but . . . in his pause he considered again why he felt so afraid of this thing. It was like the Void, yes, but he had met another thing like the Void too. Dagon had introduced him to Devour. Although he had scared Belgirel too, he understood that the being meant him no harm. Was that what Dagon was implying now? Maybe Devour had told her about this one. He relented and stopped moving away, allowing the creature to come towards him, though he was still shaking with fear.
ECHO: The dead boy kept moving further away from them, which was a little annoying. It made it much harder to help the living mother, Dagon. If he wanted her helped, he should've let her help, but he was making this tedious. They could see that he was afraid. Maybe that was wise. Being afraid kept you safe, but it was not keeping Dagon alive. They followed as he moved, repeating the same line as they pointed at Dagon. "Won't survive. Won't survive. Won't survive." They couldn't change their tone to show their annoyance with him moving away. They couldn't explain much of anything that he'd understand. Maybe their words sounded too threatening. They tried a different set of words the living mother had used. "We just have to adjust." She waved him to come towards them. "Get better." Finally, the dying mother said something else they could use. "Healer," they nodded. "We could make it better. Help." Their voice sounded choppy, like a set of recordings sliced to fit together to form a sentence, but it seemed to get the message across. The dead boy stopped, and they moved closer. He was watching her closely, though it was clear he wanted to look anywhere else. The Silence did not care. They tried to take Dagon from his arms, but he would not release. "Healer, help," they reminded him, but they did not pull on Dagon again. They made a waving up motion that he seemed to understand. He shifted his hold on Dagon to have her sitting up.
The Silence brought out a pouch of some sort and tipped it over Dagon's mouth. A dark liquid flowed in. "Record time." The word record wasn't said with the right inflection, but she hoped the boy would understand. With each second that passed, the Silence's tail hit the ground to record the time that the water spent in the mother's body. They knew that this wouldn't be comfortable for the Dagon. Waters like this weren't typically meant for the living, but there was death inside her that needed drawn out. It would feel like it burned from the inside, but if she endured the pain, she would survive. The waters would clear out the disease, and in the end, all she would need to do is throw the water back out once it had finished going through her system. It only took a few minutes for the water to do that. They didn't know how to explain this procedure to the dead boy or the living mother. They mimicked the sound of her coughing, but the dead boy just looked confused and scared still. The Silence frowned and turned Dagon in his arms so her head faced the ground. She stuck her arm into the Dagon's mouth, activating her gag reflex to make her start throwing up. It should've worked to clear out her body, and in time, she would be feeling better as her body was able to fend for itself again and start regaining energy. "Better."
DAGON: She smiled when he agreed that they can always make things better. Whatever life threw at her, even if it ended up being death, she knew it was better purely because she had him. The look of surprise that graced his features when she flirted with him always made her giggle. It felt like being carefree, young, and unburdened again. "I'll hold you to that promise. Or, in this case, you'll be holding me really," she teased.
Of course, the flirty fun couldn't last. It was awful really. She was coughing so hard she could see flecks of blood on her hands now and she could taste it down her throat. Would she drown in her own blood if it continued? Would she literally cough up a lung? It hurt so bad. She just wanted it to stop. The Slience's echoing of her voice was terrifying. Won't survive. Won't survive. Won't survive. But the inflation was the same as the way Dagon had said it before - like a joke. There was suddenly nothing funny about it. Dagon nodded to her when the creature said adjust and get better. "Help." She squeezed Belgirel's arm in between coughing fits to try to let him know that it was okay and that she accepted whatever help this creature could offer even if it might've been death. "Help."
Belgirel shifted her into seated position and the creature brought over a small pouch full of dark liquid. Dagon didn't hesitate to open her mouth and drink it though she regretted it almost immediately. The taste was bitter and it burned. Her reflex was to try to spit it out but she felt hands on her mouth demanding that she swallow it down. The fallen angel obeyed but the coughing was now replaced by screaming. She felt like her insides were melting like she just swallowed holy fire. The demon cried and choked and screamed as the liquid made its way through her body.
Dark veins appeared throughout her body as the liquid traveled down and around. The veins were creeping back up her body and along with them came the desire to vomit. She was grateful to be turned face down. She started throwing up the dark liquid and it felt just as bad coming back up as it did going down. Tears streamed her face as she puked out the remains of what she swallowed. Even when the convulsing and vomiting stopped, she remained face down and sobbing. Her chest hurt and dark sickness stained her clothing. "Am I dead?" she asked through shaky breaths. She couldn't tell the difference anymore. Living and dying felt the same.
BELGIREL: He loved to see her smile, and even more to hear her giggle. He wanted to believe that they'd have more times like this, that it wouldn't turn so dark to the point of her getting stuck here. "I'll hold you now," he offered, his voice turning from lustful to something softer. Holding her was all he wanted to do right now, so he did. Even as that creature rose from the waters, mocking Dagon's voice, he held her. Despite the fact that he felt completely terrified, he tried to trust Dagon's intuition. It was her body, and her decision on who she received help from. He just made sure the creature didn't pull her away. He didn't know what they put into her mouth, but if they were a healer like Dagon said, maybe it was medicine of some kind to clear out her throat.
When the screaming started, he tried to pull Dagon back away from the thing, but it held her where she was. "Let go of her you're killing her!" He screamed. Their tail beating on the ground felt like war drums in his ears. It felt like impending death. He couldn't take this. His chest and head were pounding. It felt like he was dying all over again. He was drowning. This was his torture, but what cut through his panic was his worry for Dagon. Through his hyperventillating, he grit his teeth and growled, "If you kill her, I will find a way to dry out your river until it's dust, and then I will burn whatever's left of it."
ECHO: While they focused on fixing the living mother, Dagon, they kept an eye on the dead boy. His fear was understandable, but unnecessary, and it was only making things worse. He reminded her a little of how the numbness had been. Always stuck in this dark state of mind. "I know," they said when he threatened her. "I'll hold you to that promise. Or, in this case, you'll be holding me really. A time of crisis is never easy. But if things don't get better, then we just have to adjust." Water shot out at Belgirel, pushing him away from Dagon, so the Silence could continue working on her unbothered. If he wanted her to survive, then he needed to back off. They also needed him to breathe, and the water that shot out, formed a bubble around his mouth. Their water wouldn't harm him since he was already dead, but it did give him a sort of breathing apparatus to help calm him down, along with a sort of sedative to make him less hostile. He fought against her at first, but as Dagon finished throwing up, the Silence let him go. "Survive," they answered. "Healer," they indicated at themself. "Make it better." She looked at the dead boy. "Am I dead?"
BELGIREL: He wasted no time once he was let go to rush to Dagon's side, pulling her away from the river monster and back into his arms. He held her face in his hands, pushing stray strands of hair to the side, so he could see her. She was covered in black bile that looked like what the river was made of, but she was breathing, she was okay. "You're okay," he answered, tears speckling his eyes before he hugged her. "You're okay. Thank heaven you're okay." He forgot that it wasn't just them for a moment until the creature spoke. He still held Dagon close as he looked at them again. "You're okay. For now." He sighed. He knew that he should've been grateful for whatever they just did, but he was still reeling from feeling like she was dying and that he was under attack.
DAGON: She was so afraid. She wanted to be held and comforted. If these were going to be her final moments, they were truly awful. She wished she'd taken her own life instead. The thought had crossed her several times even before this, but those thoughts always resided in the back of a depression demons mind. She fought through them, hoping to expel them along with the vomit. The black bile stopped flowing although she continued to dry heave. Survive. The Silence told her as it released Belgirel. Dagon's body eased into him as soon as she felt his arms around her. She was so tired. Survive. Had she survived? Belgirel confirmed that she was still alive. The episode hadn't killed her, but she didn't know if she could survive something like that again.
"No..." she shook her head when he thanked Heaven. Her voice sounded hoarse and raw from vomiting and screaming. She turned to the river creature, the Silence. "Thank you, healer," she whispered. Her breathing calmed a little though the aching did not go away. She was shivering now. The warmth of the bed which she'd left now seemed so inviting. She just wanted to go back to her room and hold her kids. "Can we go back?" she whispered into Belgirel's chest.
ECHO: The Silence watched as Belgirel ran back to Dagon. It was an interesting interaction that they weren't used to seeing. They had seen people be sad. She'd heard the screams of the dead as the Void tortured people. They'd never been able to make their own noises when it tortured her though, but to the Void's satisfaction, they could still communicate their pain to it. This crying from these two wasn't like that though. They were both sad and in pain, but there was relief to it too. "Thank you," she repeated, tasting the words as they come out of her. She quite liked that one, and it felt nicer being said to her. She smiled, the sharp teeth on her stomach spreading into a wide grin. "I. Feel. Happy. to. Help." The words were chopped up and conveyed the emotions Dagon had when saying them, which was a wild range from a low sigh to a slight optimism to a joking tone to slight optimism again and then finally to a breathy dying tone. They nodded when Dagon asked if they could go back. "Go back?" They were agreeing with Dagon, but couldn't shake off their questioning tone. The Silence glided across the sand and back into the river, making no sound as she disappeared into the murk.
BELGIREL: He held onto Dagon as if both of their lives depended on it. He rocked back and forth a little, mainly for his own sake rather than Dagon's. He still felt on edge, even now that Dagon seemed to be okay. He panicked for a second when she told him no. Was she not really okay? Was something else wrong? What had that thing put in her? She'd been screaming before like it'd been torture, did it do something else to her? Was she going to be okay? He shouldn't have let that thing near her. "Oh," he sighed in relief when he realized she was just telling him to thank the creature and not heaven. He didn't really want to. It felt like it hurt as much as it helped, but he mumbled a quiet "Thank you . . ." anyways. The creature's response was unsettling, and he really didn't want to be here anymore. Neither did Dagon. He rubbed her back as she shivered and leaned into him. "Yeah. . . " He watched as the creature slunk back into the river. He was glad to see it go. He picked Dagon up and started carrying her back to her room. "We can go back. I'm sorry. I should've let you stay in bed."
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