I’ve had a thought nagging at me ever since I first watched ‘Death Takes a Holiday’ and it’s been driving me a little crazy.
My thought is this: when the wounded flood in and the nightmare starts up again, Father Mulcahy, for all his purity and good-naturedness... takes on the role of an angel of death figure.
When Mulcahy tries to do the last rites on the dying soldier in ‘Death Takes a Holiday’, B.J. tells him, “No. You can’t have him yet.” It made me realize that from the doctors’ perspective, if Mulcahy closes in because things are looking dire, that means that they lost. They have to give their patient up. They failed.
It’s not just that episode. It’s also in the way he’s always present in the OR, as crucial a presence as the doctors or nurses, always lingering... in case someone dies. Waiting for someone to die. He’s also there to help if he’s needed for orderly duties, of course, and I’m sure he’s also praying for things to go well - but the main reason he’s there every single time, on hand even when there’s only a few causalities and everyone’s assistance isn’t necessary, is if someone doesn’t make it. He considers that a sacred task, and within his occupation, it is. But for the doctors, his stepping in to do his job means that they failed at theirs, and they lost the life.
On a spiritual level, really, if the healing of the physical body by the doctors fails, then the priest steps in to try to provide benediction to the soul, right? Being a man of faith, Mulcahy believes that’s just as critical, that a soul’s just as if not more important than the body, and it’s a solemn task but one that probably gives him a modicum of consolation, that he’s provided a service that’s essential within his world, and that he was there to provide that to the fallen in their final moments. But none of the surgeons who’d be torn up over losing a patient (aka all of them except Frank) are particularly religious. We don’t know if they believe in a heaven or not. It doesn’t matter to them that Mulcahy’s providing something to the soul, or that the soldier they couldn’t save may be in a better place. At the end of the day, they’ve still got a dead kid on their table, and that weight’s on them.
And it’s not just the last rites. The doctors handle the wounded living; Mulcahy is seemingly the person within the camp who’s in charge of the deceased. In one episode he explicitly mentions serving as the Summary Court Officer for one of the fallen young men: a Summary Court Officer is “a commissioned officer appointed to handle the personal property and effects of deceased personnel.” We see him do this in multiple episodes; Radar and other corpsman usually take care of the living soldier’s belongings (which Mulcahy sometimes assists with), but Mulcahy’s the one we see boxing up the belongings of the deceased to ship them back to their families. He’s often the one who writes the letter that lets them know they’ve lost a son.
As much as all of them hurt for the lives they can’t save, Hawkeye and B.J. get to escape back to the Swamp right after and drown it away with booze, and Radar gets to stare down at a statistic in his report and wonder how a little number could possibly constitute an entire human being - but Mulcahy’s the one shifting through the remnants of a stolen life, trying to find a way to be tactful about something heart-breaking and maybe even life-ruining. He has that burden on him. He’s the one holding the hands of murdered eighteen year olds as they breathe their last breaths, something arguably more personal and intimate than rifling around in anonymous insides like the surgeons do - but that’s not even the end of it. It doesn’t end there. Because afterwards, in his duty to inform the families of their loss, he’s forced to inflict an impossibly painful wound. Can you imagine repeatedly writing letters that, when opened, will bring people to their knees with grief? Worse yet, the depersonalization of it? Especially for someone as people-oriented as Mulcahy. Maybe it’s better, not having to look them in the eye when you tell them, not having to see their initial pain, like a doctor would at a normal hospital after a surgery proved fatal or a person succumbed to a sickness. In both cases, you don’t have to see them after. You tell them the news and you don’t have to stick around to see the years and years of grief.
But there’s a different pain, for the surgeons and for Mulcahy, in how much they care about people, in being forced to do this repeatedly, endlessly, until the causalities all blur, until the deaths don’t even hurt anymore, until forgetting is possible and you realize the family would’ve got the letter last week and you forgot to send a prayer their way. He doesn’t just feel useless - he’s being forced to actively inflict pain. No other priest besides a war chaplain would have that responsibility. As often as a confession goes well and he offers a recovering soldier some peace, does it even balance out? Does a smile and some relief make up for being forced to play ferrymen to the dead?
It’s an impossible task... and it’s never even dwelled on or given focus. He just lives with that.
Really makes me think about all those times he’s stood in such a way that one of the OR lights lit his head up like a halo.
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"poor simon. poor simon, i guess? poor simon, sort of? it's like some part of him wants to be a sad wong lord. but why would anyone want that? is there some incentive?" – finn in astral plane
this is one of my all time favorite episodes, of anything ever. it struck me so profoundly immediately, and i have watched it so many times since it first aired. but i never gave this line much thought until now. i suppose if i'd been asked to i would've made the connection that finn is (perhaps subconsciously) talking about his own father as much as, if not more so, he is talking about the ice king. it's only seeing simon grapple with the consequences of regaining his sanity (so to speak) that i truly understand what finn is referring to here. because, of course, there is an incentive.
living in utter denial of one's grief and trauma is far preferable to actually confronting it, living with it and facing the consequences of the loss and the horrors you've experienced. simon misses being ice king not because he liked being ice king; it was its own personal torment and in his brief moments of lucidity it was obvious that he couldn't stand it. simon misses being ice king because the madness came with the silver lining of obliviousness. sure, being doomed to a life of lunacy and idiocy is a contemptible fate, especially for someone as thoughtful and erudite as simon, but at least when he was ice king he had the memory of a goldfish. yes, he does subconsciously remember betty enough to want a princess bride, and he feels an inexplicable fondness towards marceline, but mainly his body is a vessel for the crown, and that's still preferable to remembering and knowing and feeling when you have suffered so much that lucidity is a crushing burden. simon can drown his sorrows with alcohol, but inebriation is no match for the oblivion of the crown.
similarly, martin was driven mad with grief, and lived in denial and escapism before being given an out from the universe. he had love, he had a family, and that was ripped away from him in a cruel and tragic manner, so he sunk back into his old habits with even less care and consideration than before. unfortunately for finn, he is his father's son. and his denial of his irreparable grief causes him to relapse into unhealthy behaviors he grew out of in adolescence. at the time, he couldn't understand what the incentive was. why simon wanted to be a sad wong lord, or why martin would take the comet's offer. but i think he does now.
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One thing that i love about Diavolo's character is the great Angst potential he has. He lived a life of privilege and luxury while growing up. But he had grown up sheltered within the walls of the palace as an only child. The demon king, his Dad, not only "left" him when he was young cuz he lost interest in ruling and instead decided to "slumber" at the bottom of the Devildom, i'm convinced that he blamed Diavolo for the loss of his Mother, since it's stated that she died after giving birth to him. So Diavolo didn't had the mentor that he needed when he was young until he met Barbatos. He doesn't show it, but he's lonely on the inside. He can't show this side to anyone since he's the future ruler of devildom. I can imagine, every day, he would gaze out of his window at the bustling streets below, filled with commoners going about their daily lives. Burdened with the weight of responsibility. He knew that one day, he would have to rule over his people and make decisions that would impact their lives.
Now imagine placing MC into the picture, and this is something that i haven't seen the fandom talk about, i believe that Diavolo and MC can't just date normally like how you would with the brothers. Firstly, he's a Demon Prince, and MC most likely is a human commoner. Their union would most likely be forbidden by the laws (council of demons) of both their worlds, and any offspring they might have would be shunned by both demons and humans alike. (It's even Canon in the original game that humans and demons can't get married).
So, despite the pain in his heart, Diavolo knew that he had to let Mc go. He couldn't bear to see them with another, but he also couldn't bear to see them unhappy because of him. He once said that he wants to put Mc in a cage and keep them for himself in one of his cards, but he decides against it because he knows it's not right.
So imagine, he didn't want to feel those things he felt, but no matter how hard he fought against them, his feelings for Mc just grew stronger. With a heavy heart, he knew that he would always be there for Them, watching over them and protecting them from afar. He watched in silence as Mc found love with another human, a kind and gentle soul who treated them with the love and respect they deserved. And so, restless Diavolo would watch the stars shining brightly in the night sky on his balcony as he whispered a silent prayer for the human he loved, his heart heavy with the weight of their forbidden love. And as he thought of Mc, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent testament to the love that would always remain between them.
What do you think??
Damn, anon. Are you trying to break my heart????
Poor Dia! I'm pretty sure in the og he says that his father did blame him (or like... had issues with him because he reminded him of his mom or something along those lines). And he also talks about how he didn't really have anyone until Barb showed up.
I also think that the way he often expresses jealousy of the brothers having fun or being chaotic indicates that he wishes he had something similar. Likely because he's lonely.
But oh man, just having MC show up, but it makes it worse because he has to let them go?!? Watch them marry someone else??? Oh, the angst! The suffering!!
I mean, if MC stayed mortal, he'd have to deal with them dying eventually anyway, but at least he could potentially have memories of a life together with them. But in this scenario, all he has is the knowledge that MC was happy without him.
Anyway, I think you've got a really interesting set up here! And yeah, if you're going for angst, this scenario definitely delivers! Ouchies though 😭
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Jonathan Byers This Is An Intervention
“You’re not happy here.”
Jonathan looks up, startled. Will stands in the doorway with his arms crossed. They’re alone in the house, El hanging out with Max and their mom on a date with Hopper. They had to practically shove her out the door before she’d leave, rambling a list of phone numbers and where to find them, as well as reminding them where the leftovers were.
“We know, Mom,” he and Will had chorused, and permitted her to pull them down for one last kiss on the cheek before closing the door on her. Hopper just watched in amusement.
He and Will had eaten dinner before separating to work on their projects, Will with a dnd campaign idea and Jonathan cleaning his camera out. It has more dust than it should, having been sitting in his closet unused for too long. It makes something in him ache, but he can’t make himself pick it up again. There’s something blocking him.
“What?”
“You’re not happy here,” Will repeats. “In Hawkins.”
“It’s Hawkins,” he points out. Being unhappy is a given. He’s always known it sucks here, from the way people treated his mom to the rumors that always flew around when he made his way through the halls. The way they’ve treated Will. He hated this town long before interdimensional monsters factored in.
Will’s frown gets deeper. “I’m happy,” he points out. “Mom’s happy. El and Hopper are happy. We actually have friends here.”
“I have friends,” Jonathan protests, slightly offended. He and Argyle call multiple times a week. He and Nancy are still good friends, and Steve and Robin are slowly growing on him. In a surprising turn of events, Eddie is the person his age he talks to the least, but it makes sense when he thinks about it. Eddie’s brand of freak has always been loud and dramatic, half relying on shock value. Jonathan prefers the quiet.
“When was the last time you actually hung out with someone that wasn’t me?”
Is that what this is about? Something in his heart sinks at the idea that Will doesn’t think he’s enough. “I like hanging out with you. You’re the coolest person I know,” he says, shifting over and patting the bed next to him.
Will sits down with a huff that sounds very fifteen-year-old of him. He’s glad he’s getting to be a kid. “You’re not listening to me,” he complains.
“Then what are you trying to say?”
Will won’t meet his eye, suddenly nervous. “Everyone your age here is leaving,” he says quietly. “Nancy is going to Emerson soon, Steve and Robin are going to Chicago, and Eddie…uh, I don’t know his plans, exactly, he might be going with them. He’s not staying here, anyway. And Argyle is on the other side of the country. So all the people you’re friends with are leaving.”
“They are,” he agrees, laying what he hopes is a soothing hand on Will’s shoulder, “but you know I’m not leaving you, right? I’m not leaving you and Mom.”
Will squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe you should.”
It feels like ice water being poured over his head.
Something in his stomach twists uncomfortably at the idea of calling Hopper his dad. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to. He doesn’t even know if Hopper would want him to. But “dad” is always a word he’s associated with bruises and yelling, the stink of whiskey and a gun in his small, shaking hands. Jim Hopper, with his gruff, fumbling way affection and sweet smiles at his daughter will never fit his version of the word.
“You’re not my dad,” Will says. “You’re my older brother, you should be my brother. You should be moving away and going to college and living your life! You shouldn’t be stuck here because of me.” He seems near tears now, and Jonathan flounders. He’s always been pretty good at making Will feel better, but now it’s different. Now it’s him making his little brother upset.
Will takes a deep, stabilizing breath.
“You’re not my dad,” he says again. “You shouldn’t have to be my dad.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says weakly.
“You’re doing a better job than he ever did.”
“Okay, then how should we start?”
“You could tell me why we’re always running out of tylenol.”
He didn’t even realize anyone noticed that. He’s been replacing it before it was even empty.
The words stick in his throat, reluctant to come out. But he promised. He promised he’d tell him, and he hates to break a promise to Will.
“It’s my back,” he admits. “My boss hit me with a chair, and it hurts all the time now. I used to smoke it away, but…”
He smoked a little too much. He was too reliant on it. He was being neglectful. The reasons stay on the tip of his tongue, unable to admit his shortcomings.
Unfortunately, Will takes it another way. “You stopped because of me.”
“No!”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Mom? We can go to the doctor now, we have insurance.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you go? Why can’t you just take care of yourself?”
“It’s just a little back pain,” he defends, “it’s not a big deal.”
It’s really not. It’s practically nothing compared to what some of their friends ended up with. Will has respiratory problems, Eddie uses a cane now, Max is in a wheelchair and her eyes might never work again. Not to mention Steve’s mix of migraines, glasses, hearing loss, and scars he’s accumulated over the years that put Jonathan’s to shame. His issues pale in comparison.
“It is when you take as many painkillers as you do! You’re going to eat holes in your stomach.”
“If I get an ulcer, it’ll be because I know there’s another world out there full of things that want to kill us,” he says, poking Will in the stomach. He giggles, and then looks mad about it.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you actually happy. I feel like it’s my fault.”
What does he say to that? It can’t be your fault, because I don’t remember the last time I was happy like that? I felt like this long before you went missing? Anything he says will make him worry more.
“It’s not your fault,” he finally settles on.
“But if I hadn’t disappeared—“
“I would still feel like this,” he says, because he has to. He can’t stand the idea of Will thinking it’s his fault when the truth is that something has been wrong with Jonathan for a long, long time. “It’s not because of the Upside-Down, bud. It’s not something you can fix. I’m pretty sure I’m just…like this.”
He’s had moments of happiness, obviously. Sometimes he’ll get days, or even weeks, where he genuinely looks forward to the future. When he was in California with Argyle, he felt even better. But eventually, the heaviness in his chest always comes back. It’s just something he knows how to live with now.
Will sits up, glaring at him. “That’s bullshit!”
“It’s just how it is.”
He squares his shoulders, a telltale sign that Jonathan isn’t going to like whatever he says next. “Mom and I think you should see a therapist.”
Jonathan really doesn’t like that. “You’ve been talking to Mom about this?”
“She’s worried about you!”
“She shouldn’t be!” He’s almost offended. He’s been taking care of himself for years. He was taking care of her for years. “I’m fine! I know how to live with it!”
“I haven’t seen you smile for real in two months!”
“I’m fine!” He snaps again, and immediately regrets it. Will’s lower lip trembles.
“You’re not fine,” he says. “You’re not. Don’t lie to me, Jonathan. You just said you weren’t going to lie to me.”
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