#ship : cliff & matthew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snaillamp · 3 months

Text

White Out

“Signal’s out!” A call went across the room.

Everyone looked up from their cubicles and desks as the radios went silent, a couple people cutting out mid sentence. “Shit!” There supervisor’s voice echoes across the still room.

“Which tower?”

“Uhhh, Radio Tower 14, ma’am.”

“Fuck.”

Matthew smirked. He had never heard a supervisor so much as whisper “damn” in his few months time here, and this sweet, plump woman with rosy cheeks and bright eyes was suddenly swearing enough to out curse a sailor. His face fell as he realised that probably wasn’t a good thing.

“What communications do we have?”

“Faint signal from Radio Tower 10 and 18, but they are too far inland. 14 is the only tower to reliably pick up ship signals in this are-”

“I know that!” The supervisor snapped.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am.”

“Can we get any signals from anywhere?”

Johan, the radio operator spent a few minutes calling around. Nothing. Phones were down. The supervisor walked off, muttering something about needing a shot of coffee directly into her brain.

When she came back she stood in the front of the room, watching as everyone went about their business, tuning the radios they could and monitoring ship routes and synoptic charts. “Probie!” She called pointing at Matthew, who stood to attention.

“Ma’am.” He spoke quickly, slightly afraid of her in this cranky state. Nobody liked night shift, sure, but she was in a fouler mood than he had ever seen her tonight. “How much do you know about radio towers?” Matthew frowned, trying to think. “Not much, ma’am. Except the basics of course.”

She nodded, “Suit up, we need you to see how bad the situation is.” A few of the senior members stood up, protesting. “Ma’am, with all due respect, it’s too dangerous, he could get caught in a whiteout!”

One of the older guys spoke up. “We need to know what we are working with here.” The supervisor argued back. “That can wait, the storm could make it worse, we can wait for it to pass over before adventuring out. At least let the worst of it pass.”

The supervisor bit her lip, Matthew’s stomach flipping with anxiety as he waited for his fate. “You’re right, Peterson. Thank you. Wait for the storm to ease up, then go check it out. In the mean time, prep him up.”

She snapped her fingers at Matthew, who was making a face that was a mix of confused and scared. What was he going to do? Peterson and Mann two of the more senior coast guards came over and walked him towards a corner. “Probie, you can say no if you want to. Mann and I will happily go, we know the area, we have the knowledge and expertise, we should go, not you. She’s picking on you cause she’s pissed.”

“No, I want to go.” Matthew insisted, smiling at Mann, who grimaced. She looked to Peterson. “We can’t let him do this, Mark.” Peterson scowled. “I know.” He looked across the room at the pacing woman, getting redder by the second. “Bastard.” He whispered. “You three, quit chatting, get prepped!” She screamed across the room, pointing at them. Peterson’s face went dark. “Helga, See what you can do. I’m going to sort the kid out.” Mann nodded, walking away, ready to rage harder than the current snowstorm outside.

Peterson lead Matthew to the back rooms, where all the gear was. “You’re gonna need a suit, don’t wear it yet, you’ll get too warm.” Peterson went around the room grabbing tools, lights, compasses, maps. “You’ll need to know where you are, we’re in cliff country, and you’ll walk right off one if you don’t know where ya’ are.” He pointed at the map.

“You can read it right?” Matthew nodded, map reading was a basic skill he had learned as a scout when he was 13, but it was a skill all coast guards had. “Good, that’s your life line out there. Lose that? Stay still, let us find you. Don’t want you tumbling down no ledges.” Matthew nodded, getting oriented and ready to leave.

The radio tower wasn’t that far, though, in the blizzard anything went. The older man’s stress creased face looked at him, sympathetically smiling. “You’re so young, kid. Why you out here?” Matthew shrugged. “I like it.” Peterson shook his head, looking up as Mann walked in. “She gave me a fucking dressing down. I couldn’t sway her, you’re going when the oncoming calm spot reaches us, and he’s going alone, apparently we’re too short staffed to loose two people and it’s only a report, its not like he has to fix the thing.” Mann imitated the supervisor with a scowl.

“You have maybe 30 minutes tops. I’m so reporting this.” Her thunderous glare made Matthew shudder a little. The adrenaline was already pumping.

30 minutes later, the screaming wind died down a little, the snow bashing the windows a little less forcefully. Peterson nodded at Matthew, who looked back as the entire station watched him leave. The supervisor was a little less red now, watching them sternly. “Wait!” She called after them, making them turn around. “Be safe.” She said quietly, nodding at him. Matthew nodded in return, before going out the door and into the white.

The first 40 minutes of the trip were fine, the coast guard silently trekking, concentrating on where he was going with his compass, the cold wind biting at his skin.

When the hour mark hit, the wind suddenly picked up again, assaulting Matthew with ice. His gentle walk slowed to a slow, barely moving crawl. The snow was piling up around him as he hiked, the wind blowing harder and harder against him. Matthew wondered how long it would take to get to the tower, if he was even going the right way… Checking his compass he sighed, he was, for now.

After a while more of trekking through the blizzard, Matthew spotted the glinting of a red light in the distance. It was the tower’s signal light blinking in the storm. “Yes!” He shouted, before he frowned, “Why is it so low to the ground…?” When he arrived, he found the radio tower had been destroyed, bent and twisted beyond repair in the storm, a large, old tree collapsed on top of it.

Spotting a small shed by the tower Matthew staggered towards it, opening the door. As he opened it, the wind ripped the door out of his hands and off its hinges, the old wood splintering against the ground. Matthew stumbled inside shivering, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t call for help… Could he? He decided to try, hoping that something could pick up his signal. “Th-this is Coast G-Guard Mat-Matthew… Ki-Kin-Kind…b-berg… I-I’m at Rad-d-io T-T-T-Tower F-F-F-Four-t-t-t-t-een… As-asss-sss-ist-ta-tance re-qu-qu-quried…” All Matthew could do now was hope to hell and back someone could pick up his message. He was so cold…

Enjar groaned, lifting his head and easing out of bed. His handheld radio had picked up a signal, waking him up. It wasn’t something that was uncommon, and he usually ignored it, but on a night like tonight, he figured no one would be using a radio unless it was an emergency. Shuffling over the the radio and pulling on an extra jacket, he sighed, slumping down in the sofa and grabbing the radio.

“As-as-tance re-qu-qu…”

Frowning, Enjar spoke into his radio. “This is Tower 4, can you repeat that?”

“Coa-Rad-tower 14-brok… Ne-help… he-p ple- hel-m-please…”

The signal was weak, cutting out in the storm, but Enjar had heard enough.

“This is Tower 4, Radio tower 14, do you read me?”

“Y-ye-yes… T-T-T-Tow-w-wer F-F-F-Four.”

“Stay put, I’m coming. Tower 4 over and out.”

Switching channels he tried to contact the Coast Guard Base, but he couldn’t get through. Trying the ancient shortwave, he spoke his message. “This is Lighthouse Tower 4, I have received a distress signal from Radio tower 14. I am responding, assistance required. Do you read me?”

Static greeted Enjar’s words. “Shit.” He murmured.

Enjar grew serious as he collected his gear, tying back his hair and grabbing his warmest clothes. Radio tower 14 was about an hour long walk from his lighthouse, he could get there in two shakes... In good weather. He grabbed the microphone of his old shortwave. “Tower 4 to Base come in. I am responding to a distress call at Radio tower 14, requesting assistance. Do you read me?”

Nothing.

“Well, here goes nothing…” He murmured. Grabbing his compass and portable radio, he set out, hoping that he would get there in time.

He hiked through the blizzard, struggling to find the trail as he staggered his way around in the dark, icy night. The conditions were getting worse, but the best he could do was hope he got there in time.

“Hey, Radio tower 14. You still with me?” Enjar hoped that the signal from his portable radio might be picked up by something as he trekked, but mostly the person at the tower. “Ra-dio t-t-wer f-f-four-t-te… I-you.” The signal was a little clearer as Enjar got closer, but it was still broken. He must only be getting signal from inland, Radio Tower 10 or something.

“What’s your name R-t14?” Enjar panted as he climbed up a steep incline, before finally finding the path. The blizzard was picking up again. “M-ma-matth-th-ew…”

Enjar nodded. “I’m Enjar. Keep talking to me Matthew.”

“O-o-kay…” As Enjar climbed, he felt colder and colder, moving slower and slower. Soon his teeth were chattering as he walked, his body feeling wet and chilled to his very bones. “So… What-t are you… d-doing out in this-s storm, Math-th-thew…?” Enjar stuttered a little, stumbling as he tripped on a root or something. He staggered, steadying himself as the wind pushed him forward, before he shined his light at the trees, regaining his bearings and following them along the path again. “Tower broke… I ca-ca-ca-came che-k-k-k-k the-the dam-ge…”

“In this weather?” Enjar asked himself, a small fire igniting in him. Why was a guy out at this tower in weather like this?

~~ Matthew shivered as he collected the splintered wood from the ground, gathering it best he could with his numb hands and bringing it into the small maintenance shed. He picked up a couple other scraps of wood laying around the shed too, hoping he could start a fire. His radio crackled to life, a faint signal coming through. The tower must still be emitting something, there must be someone close by who could just catch the signal. “Hey, Rad-tow- st…with me?”

“Rad-rad-d-di t-t-tow-t-teen… I hear...” The sound of a man’s voice made Matthew want to cry. Someone was coming. Someone could help him… He felt so cold and numb and tired. “What’s-name-four?” Matthew lit up. “M-ma-matth-th-ew…” He spoke into his radio, hands shaking as he used his light to search for an accelerant. He couldn’t expect the fuel to light in this state.

Nothing. It occurred to him he didn't even have matches. All he could find were a few bent nails and some tools and a tarp, nothing useful for lighting a fire. “I’-m Enja-. Keep-14.” Matthew didn’t know what to say, so he grabbed his radio, responding with “O-o-kay…” before curling up under the tarp with the radio, the voice of the man the only thing keeping him sane. Matthew tried to imagine what he looked like.

He was probably old, like most of the guys around, so mid 50’s? All the guys also had big beards or moustaches, like Peterson’s big, grey moustache. He sounded tall, Matthew guessing at least 6 feet, with long powerful legs and strong arms to carry him back to Base, and a broad, warm chest he could lean against to warm up… Yeah… that would be nice.

“So… What-t-you… d-doing-s-storm, Ma-?” Matthew frowned, trying to figure out what the voice was asking. “Oh… Uh…” He mumbled, fumbling with the radio, his shaking fingers refusing to move. “Tower broke… I w-went ou-t-t to see the-the d-dam-mage…” He was fighting to stay conscious, the cold seeming into his body and slowing him down so much. Surely a little nap wouldn’t hurt. Just until his rescuer got there.

“R-t-t-t-t 14?” Enjar spoke into his radio again, shuddering as more wind ripped at his clothes. He was so close, but he couldn’t see the light… Where was the tower? “Matthew, y-you st-still-ll with me, b-b-b-budd-d-dd-dy?” His voice grew urgent as a burst of energy surged though his shivering body.

“Yeah… I’m -ol-l-ld…” Matthew sounded tired... 'Shit.' Enjar thought

“I need you to stay awake for me. Stay awake. Stay awake. You copy?”

“Stay… wak-” a weak reply greeted him. Enjar felt his stomach drop. That wasn’t good. “Matthew? Why don-n-n’t you tell me more ab-b-bout yourself. Wha-t-t-t do y-you l-look like?”

Silence greeted him from the other end, while Enjar waited with baited breath, watching the trees thin. The tower had to be close. He was nearly there.

He had to be.

“T-tall…” Matthew replied, Enjar letting out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“I’m 6’2… It’s fu-nny my par-rents are both short… Gue-ss… I won the genet-genetic lottery…”

Enjar smirked. “6’2 huh? How’s the v-view from up th-there?”

“P-pretty good… Could be bett-tter right-t-t n-now…” The signal was becoming stronger, but it was harder to hear over the wailing winds.

“What else? Keep talking… I’m alm-m-most there.”

“Brown eyes… Kinda dir-r-t-t-ty bl-blonde h-hair… Ta-tt-tt-ttoo…”

Enjar grunted as he pushed through the almost knee deep snow. His feet were wet and numb.

“Yeah? What’s your tattoo?” He spoke quickly, trying not to stutter.

“B-b-bear…”

“G-got any meaning or just a s-s-s-sick tatt?” Enjar was trying to keep both their spirits up as he crested a hill, where the tower was supposed to be. A slightly glowing lump of snow made him frown.

“M-m-my nick…nick-name…. Is B-Bear… Cause I’m sss-sso tall and… hairy…” Matthew half laughed but Enjar could tell he was slowing down.

“Nice. Well… I’ve always b-b-been t-too chick-k-k-ken to get tatt-ttoos. I have… comm-m-mm-m-mmit-t-tment issues.” Enjar joked as he squinted into the storm.

Finally he spotted the outline of the tower, the large main dish on the ground, it must still be working slightly, explaining why he could barely catch Matthew’s radio.

The tower was a load of crap on a good day, maybe it would finally be replaced now, Enjar mused, trying to figure out where Matthew was. “Hey, Matthew, I’m h-here where are you?” He glanced around in the pitch black night, the snow obscuring his view as he turned on his torch, shining it around. A small light flickered from the maintenance shed, catching his eye.

Matthew had been talking to the guy, Enjar who had been trying to keep him distracted. It was hard to hear his voice through the howling winds. Then, words, clear as day came through his radio, “H-h-hey, Matthew, I’m h-here, wh-wh-where are y-you?” Matthew shuddered, not having the energy to speak. Instead he lifted is torch, aiming it out the open doorway and into the snow, waggling it a little. “Shed?”

He waggled the light more. “I’m coming, don’t worry.”

A minute later, as the wind picked up yet again, somehow, making the walls of the shed shake and bend. Matthew was worried it would collapse on him. Suddenly, a bright light flooded the room, making Matthew wince as he covered his eyes. “Matthew?” The familiar voice asked.

“Yeah…”

“It’s En-n-jar. C-come on, we need to g-go…” The outline of a short, stocky guy was standing in the doorway, rugged up with lots of layers. He semed to be shivering badly though.

The guy, Enjar, kneeled down to see Matthew’s cold, pale face, his nose bright red, the mucous frozen inside it. “Damn, what d-did they send a y-y-oung guy like you o-out here f-for?” Enjar murmured stuttering badly, his teeth chattering more as he reached out for Matthew’s hand. Matthew couldn’t see the guy’s face well, but he seemed young, probably as young as he was, maybe a little older. Certainly not what he expected.

“Can you w-walk?” The guy asked, helping Matthew stand. “Y-yeah… It’s jus-just… ha-hard.” Enjar nodded, Matthew seeing a strange mark in his face in the light for half a second. His face was mostly covered by a hat and scarf, but beside his eye there seemed to be some kind of scar. 'Cool...' Matthew thought.

Enjar slung his arm around Matthew, holding him close to him as they began to walk. Matthew leaned into Enjar’s side, he felt a little bit warm, at least compared to Matthew, but he could feel the shorter man’s muscles twitching as he tried to hold in shivers.

“I’ll h-h-eadd to the light-t-thous-s-s-e! I-it’s cl-l-los-s-er!” Enjar’s voice cracked as he yelled over the wind, both men shuddering as they staggered through the white out. Enjar groaned under his breath, making Matthew look up. “W-what’s…?” He tried to ask but his mouth wouldn’t work. He felt Enjar stumble on something, quickly righting himself. “Noth-thing…” The man replied, barely able to be heard over the wind. Matthew watched him pull out a compass from his pocket. He rotated them a few degrees before heading of.

Matthew hoped the guy knew where he was going. Enjar glanced up at their surroundings again. He couldn’t see a foot in front of them, the conditions were getting so bad. The ice was turning into heavy, cold, hard missiles as they walked through it, painfully pricking at their exposed skin. Matthew shivered against him, feeling cold. Enjar pulled him closer, feeling his own body warmth fading as they stumbled through the snow.

They hiked for what felt like eternity, but when they finally reached the top of the hill it had taken Enjar two minutes to descend, he groaned. He couldn’t see the trees anymore, he had no idea where they were going, hoping that they could find their way by compass alone. They kept trudging through the snow, Enjar slowing down more and more. He was shaking violently now, Mathew in no better state.

“Y-y-you okok-k-kay?” The taller man asked him as the wind died down a little. All Enjar could do was grunt and nod, pulling Matthew’s arm back over his shoulder. He could carry the guy if he had to, but with his body so cold and weak, Enjar was starting to have doubts about his remaining strength.

He hauled Matthew along a little longer, the wind finally dying down as the storm seemed to ease up. The snow was falling more gently now as Enjar held Matthew up, the tall guy having gone quiet. Enjar looked on the horizon for any sign of his tower’s light, but nothing.

“S-s-s-o, M-M-Matt… You got a g-g-irl-f-f-friend-d or something…” Enjar tried to make conversation. “N-na-nah…” Matthew replied, taking another step.

“B-boyfri-end-d the-then?” Matthew chuckled. “N-n-ah. F-f-ian-fianceé…” Matthew stuttered, sounding barely conscious. Enjar adjusted the taller man’s weight again. He was getting heavier and harder to carry even step. “T-t-tell m-me about her…” Enjar grunted, adjusting the guy again. He was stating to sweat with the effort, his muscles aching with every step and his head feeling light.

“S-she’s the b-b-best… girl… in-n t-th-the w-w-orld-d. Char-Charl-l-lot-tt-tte.”

Enjar smiled. “Yeah?

“Y-yeah…” Mumbled Matthew, slipping from Enjar’ grip. The short man grunted as he pulled him back up. “C-c-come o-n… St-stay wi…with me…”

“I am…” Matthew murmured. He gripped onto Enjar's arm, feeling the strong muscle in the sleeve, trying to ignore how much it was quivering with cold.

Enjar’s ankle rolled as he suddenly felt the terrain change, staggering and landing hard against the ground. It felt strange below his hand. 'Wait… this isn’t the path…’ Enjar glanced at his compass, he was so concentrated on Matthew up he hadn’t realised the wind had caused them to stagger off course a little. They were a few degrees off course, which, after a while had lead them off the path and towards the small, very deep lake right beside it...

“Ngh… Matt g-get up…” Enjar groaned, pushing himself up as he heard a crack beneath him. He grabbed Matthew, hauling him back through the trail they had made through the knee deep snow, hurling him at the shore he could just see through the snow haze.

The ice splintered and Enjar fell through, Matthew’s body landing on the shore as he went under. Ice cold water washed over him, the air leaving his lungs as he gasped in shock. He looked up, trying to see the surface, but it was dark under the snow. Swimming up, his lungs burning he reached the surface… and his hands hit ice.

Pounding his fists along the ice, he hoped to break it, find the hole he fell through, something… Black spots clouded his vision as he tried to fight the heaviness in his body. The weight of his heavy, wet clothes weighing him down more as he sank, his mind going fuzzy, ‘This is really it huh? I never thought it would be like this. Weird… It’s… kind of…peaceful… at least compared to the first time...’ He thought as the cold, empty void engulfed him.

The last little bubble left his lips, flying up to the surface and breaking against the cold ice...

Matthew landed against the hard ground, hearing a crack and a splash behind him. The wind had died down enough for him to hear it, but the wind was wailing loudly. A chill went down his spine, followed by a surge of adrenaline as he was somehow able to push himself to his feet and race forward into the path of snow they had just been in. In the dark, he could see just Enjar’s light, sinking in the lake, just by a massive hole. “No…” Matthew breathed, skidding across the ice.

He used his own light to look for the man, spotting a figure floating under the ice, just away from the gap. Matthew lay on his stomach, reaching out and managing to just grab onto Enjar’s jacket sleeve, pulling him towards the hole. He hauled him out and dragged the drenched man back off the lake, the ice cracking more under the strain until it cracked again.

Matthew’s feet jolted and he landed in a foot of water, right by the shore. His heart was racing as he dragged Enjar up the shoreline and away from the lake. Shining his torch light, he could see his rescuer’s face properly for the first time. He gasped at the scar trailing down the left side of the man’s pale, grey face. It stood out from the pallor, cutting slightly across blue lips as the man lay there, still and hardly breathing.

“N-n-no…” Matthew breathed, shaking the man desperately.

He sat there for a second, trying to remember what to do, wracking his cold addled mind for his basic first aid training…

‘Airway first…’

With shaking hands, he lifted the man’s head back, opening any airway he might have. ‘Breathing…’ He checked for breaths… They were faint, but the were there.

Rolling Enjar on his side, he hoped that would do anything. “C-c-come on….” He murmured hitting the man’s back over and over hard... Matthew shuddered as his arms and legs went numb from the icy water, waiting as he lay still for a moment.

Suddenly, Enjar made a gagging sound, convulsing as he coughed up water. Shaking as he rolled onto his hands and knees, he threw up more water, his arms quivering as he tried to hold himself up. “Aghn… T-th-th-thanks…” He stammered a strained whisper, shaking. The man stood, staggering as Matthew tried to steady him.

“W-w-w-we… ha-ha-ha-ve t-t-t-t-o… aghk!” Enjar coughed up more water. “W-w-w-we hav-v-ve to k-ke-keep-p-p go-goin-ng-ng…” He stammered, grabbing the compass from around his neck. Luckily, it had stayed on him when he’d fallen. He orientated them again, guiding them up the hill as the blizzard began to ease up, more this time. Soon, he located some trees, pointing at them with a shaking hand. Matthew looked at the guy, ice forming all over his wet clothes.

“Fol-fol-ll-lllow… t-tree-s-s…” He said, sagging against Matthew. “N-no, n-no-not n-n-now…” Matthew gasped, shaking Enjar awake. “Mmmmnngh…” He groaned, head lolling. “Li-ght… li-gh-ght…” He shook his head, sighing off the mind fog. Ice was beginning to form on his wet clothes, the fabric already stiff and frozen.

Enjar pushed forward, pressing through the snow as he clung Matthew’s arm, while Matthew wondered where the hell they were.

Enjar’s vision blurred as he yanked Matthew’s arm along. As they crested the hill, Matthew gasped, catching the glint of a light of a building in the distance.

Base.

Enjar dragged him forwards, suddenly feeling warmer as adrenaline surged through his body. They practically waded through the snow as they raced for the door, Enjar fumbling with the handle and only to find it locked. They started smashing their fists against it, both too tired and cold to yell, until it swung open. Both men collapsed through the doorway, Enjar immediately crawling forwards, trying to get out of the way of the guards as they swarmed into the room. His vision tilted as he leaned up against the welcome desk, his shutting his eyes and tilting his head back, gasping for air.

Matthew staggered through the door, feeling his co-worker’s strong, warm arms grab his own, hoisting him up. Matthew cast a worried glance at Enjar, his rescuer, slumped against the welcome desk. His clothes and body were frozen solid, the water now ice as he caught his breath. Someone wrapped a blanket around Matt, and dragged him into the office. The corners of the blanket were pushed into his numb hands and he tried to hold them, but he could hardly do it, his body was shaking so much, his fingers felt numb and fat... But all he could think about was his rescuer.

He watched as Enjar was wrapped in blankets and helped to his feet, only to be held up between two guys, before both men were practically carried into the station. Matthew was thrust into a chair, someone peeling off his snow suit he had ventured out in. Enjar was slumped in his own chair, shaking badly, his lips blue and the scar on his face easier than ever to see in the bright lights of the office. Matthew couldn’t help but wonder how it got there.

Enjar pulled the blankets around himself, slouching into the chair, shaking. His head felt floaty again as he tried to focus on breathing, head bobbing as he pulled the blankets closer around himself. Even after all this, he still couldn’t get warm… he needed to get out of his clothes into something dry… he could feel the ice melting against his skin, making him wet all over again. There was already a puddle at his feet. His chest hurt, a haggard, grating cough exploding from inside him as his head began to spin even more.

Enjar leaned forward, gasping an awful, wheezing gasp, before he pushed forwards, off the chair and onto his hands and knees, hacking up a lung until a clear liquid came up. “You okay?” Matthew asked, leaning forward a little. Enjar’s arms were shaking as he was picked by up Peterson, and put back into the chair. “Nnnhhh…” He gazed around, lethargic.

Enjar sank back to the chair, Matthew looking at him curiously, as Peterson began tugging off Enjar's jacket, then his wooden jumper, and a long and finally a short sleeved shirt, revealing a sodden thermals underneath. They all fell to the ground, one by one, with a heavy, wet plop as the rescuer's clothes were peeled from his body, his skin a stark white, almost blue from the cold.

Enjar looked up at Matthew, dazed, before mumbling. “You sure you’re okay?” Matthew looked and felt a bit warmer now, nodded in reply to Enjar’s question. Enjar nodded, fighting the haze. “Good…” Minutes later Matthew was wrapped in more blankets as Mann strode in looking alarmed when she saw Enjar, slumped in the chair, half naked and unable to move. His head was bobbing as he continued to fight to stay conscious.

Enjar’s chest pain was getting worse. He glanced up at Matthew. His rescued companion was looking better as he warmed up, one of the guards, Johan maybe, handing him a mug of something to drink. He couldn't tell who was who with the brain fog he had at that moment... Enjar wheezed again, coughing up a little more liquid into his mouth. He realised with a sinking feeling, it was water.

He must still have some in his lungs… Swallowing it, he sighed a weird, rattling breath. He too tired to deal with this right now. He had coughed up so much already surely it would all be out now.

Mann appeared from somewhere, a bundle of blankets in his arms. She wrapped them over Enjar’s shaking, naked shoulders, before going off to find some clothes for him to wear, muttering about how this should've been the first thing to do. ~~

The few staff continued to warm and dry their two companions, Peterson helping the rapidly weakening Enjar remove the rest of his wet clothes and put on some dry ones.

Enjar had noticed Matthew staring at him from across the room while he waited for a shirt, his pale arms exposed as he grabbed the blankets, wrapping them around himself again. He smiled tiredly, knowing what Matthew was looking at. “You’re wondering how I got them, huh?” His voice was low, haggard and husky.

Matthew’s back straightened, his cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment. His slight glance away told Enjar everything he needed to know. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind…” Enjar whispered softly, his eyes kind, but sad. He pushed himself up in the chair, puling back edge of the blanket and revealing the scars on the backs of his forearms.

“It was a long time ago... I was… attacked.” Enjar seemed to be slightly distant as he coughed a little, remembering something. He rubbed one of the scars fondly, “But I don’t mind them now, I used to hate them, but... If I woke up without them one day, I’d… I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

He chuckled slightly. “You know, I don’t even remember what they looked like before. It’s like they’ve always been there…” He shook his head, smiling tiredly.

“I’m sure these hurt more to get than a tattoo would.” He looked at Matthew. “Where’s your bear?” Matthew’s eyes lit up as he pulled up his shirt. “Right over my heart, cause I’m a bear at heart, I don’t know. I was 19 and thought it was cool.”

Enjar squinted at the bear, it did look cool, raised arms and teeth bared. The medical officer, Mary finally came tearing into the room, laden with bags of stuff. “Enjar!” She gasped in a panic as Pettersen returned with some clothes. “Hey…” Enjar croaked weakly, tucking a stand of wet hair out of his face. “Holy shit, you sound terrible!” Mary’s voice was shocked as she replied to the man who rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.

“Yeah... that kinda happens... when I have to run around in a blizzard... for 4 hours... in the middle... of the night... to rescue... your... Probie.” Enjar wasn’t able to yell, his voice cracking as he glared dangerously at the office of their supervisor, panting as he grew more and more breathless with each word.

The supervisor had yet to emerge from her office to see the damage.

Silence engulfed the room as the the medic, Maria Henderson, made her way to Enjar’s side, everyone watching him in concern.

“No…” Enjar mumbled, leaned out of the way. “Make sure he’s okay first.” Enjar gestured at Matthew, who was now looking much warmer. “Enjar, I’m not doing this with you. You were soaked from head to toe and frozen to the bone, I’m doing you first.” “Maria... please…” Enjar’s face softened as he tired to smile pathetically. “I’m fine really. I wanna make sure he’s good first.”

Matthew noticed Enjar’s breathing was faster, his grip on the blanket tightening as he slowly moved back into the chair, away from Maria, who sighed sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re the worst patient, you know that?” Maria groaned, rolling her eyes and looking at Matthew.

Enjar stared at Matthew, his stormy eyes flicking up and down his body anxiously, as Maria checked him over. “He is fine, cold, but fine. Now, will you please, let me check you, Enjar.” She looked at the man, who grimaced. “I’m fine.” He mumbled, curling into himself a little, staring coldly at the supervisor’s office door.

“Hey, we had a deal. I checked him out, now it’s your turn.” Maria argued, putting her hands on her hips. Her tone made Matthew suspect this wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation with Enjar. “He’s. Fine.” Maria spoke again, making her point firmly.

“He might be, but then again he wasn’t the one who fell into Misty Lake at 3am.” Enjar murmured, trying to sound light-hearted, but instead, sounding very tired.

“What?” Maria cried out, turning to Matthew. “Is he serious?! He was wet from head to toe and none of you asked why?” She narrowed her eyes at the coast guards, who all shrugged. “I assumed it was the hiking through snow.” One piped up. Matthew was frowning at the argument unfolding. He’d been so fatigued he’d forgotten to mention Enjar’s brief swim before now. “He fell through the ice, went under and passed out… I managed to pull him out, but took a minute to come around...” Matthew mumbled, looking guilty for not telling everyone before.

Maria sounded concerned. “Okay, shirt up. You need to be checked for... everything! What were you thinking not telling me that En?!” Enjar deflated guiltily, staring at his lap as Maria peeled back his blanket and pulled his shirt up, revealing his pale chest. As she pressed her stethoscope to his chest, his facial scar twisted in a grimace and the rescuer winced. “Cold.” He groaned softly. Maria shot him an exasperated look. “En, it’s a stethoscope, it can’t hurt you. It’ll be done in two seconds if you stop dragging this out.”

Enjar sighed tiredly, slouching back a little in the chair, and letting Maria press the bell of the stethoscope against his ribs. He let his head drop back as he felt the cold metal press into his chest again and again, his eyes shutting as he tried to ignore the brief, blurred, disjointed memories flashing through his mind. Maria listened for a moment in several spots on his chest, watching it rise and fall.

“Breathe in for me.” She asked a couple of times, listening for sounds in his lungs. The final time Enjar did as he was told, breathing in deeply, he ended up hunched over, arms wrapped around his stomach as he coughed and coughed, unable to stop. Eventually, it calmed down, Maria helping Enjar resume his previous position, slumped back in the chair with his head thrown back, his breaths catching weirdly in his throat.

Maria took a few more vital signs, before pulling is shirt back down and replacing the blankets. “Enjar… Can you look at me.” Enjar groaned, lifting his head and looking at her with unfocused eyes. “You’ve still got a little water in your lungs. Sometimes it resolves on it’s own but even if it doesn’t it’s not like we can get you out of here anyway. We don’t even have any oxygen right now, either. The replacements got stuck in the storm.” Enjar nodded, letting his head drop back again, his eyes sliding shut. “Don’t let him fall asleep.” Maria nudged the man, causing his eyes to flutter open in annoyance.

Enjar was nudged awake by Peterson for the third time. “Enjar, you gotta stay awake.” Enjar was feeling his body grow weaker and weaker, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He felt strange, sluggish and drained, his eyes sliding shut again as he sighed. He couldn’t keep them open anymore. His chest did ease a little or he thought it did, as he laid back against the hard chair, eyes sliding closed as Peterson walked over to him, shaking his shoulder.

“Let me make you some coffee.”

Matthew decided to wander around the office a little, his muscles sore from the expedition into the night. Enjar coughed a little, and Matthew turned around noticing the man was watching him sleepily with one eye open. “You good?” He asked his rescuer, as Enjar’s eye began sliding closed, his grip on the blankets loosening and his hand falling from his chest. As Matthew heard Peterson return with the coffee, he watched the scarred rescuer, musing at his face. Peterson handed Matthew a mug of coffee, putting the other one on a nearby desk and nodding at the two men.

Enjar stretched as he groaned, lifting his head up when Matthew gingerly poked him awake again, as per Maria’s orders. Enjar looked at him with bleary eyes, rubbing them and sitting up. “Coffee’s ready.” Matthew said, handing him the mug that Peterson had just given him. Enjar wrapped his hands around it gratefully. “I need this…” He mumbled, his gravelly husk of a voice had gotten worse. “I love you coffee…” He mumbled again, sipping it with a dazed smile.

The two men sat drinking quietly after that, Matthew continuing to gaze around the quiet office, the few remaining staff going about their jobs with a slight tension in the air. Matthew smiled at Enjar, who smiled tiredly back, shadows under his eyes. “You okay?”

Enjar chuckled, “Been though worse. I’m... used to it…” He sipped the coffee, finishing it and placing the mug on the ground. “I’m just… so tired.” His eyes began to slide shut again and a few seconds later his head was drooping, only for Enjar to sniff and lift it back up. “Hope you don’t need me to drive you anywhere…” He joked, rubbing his face with his pale hands. Enjar did seem to be warming up, but much slower than Matthew, who was already feeling toasty. “So what is it that you do out here?” Matthew asked the scarred man curiously. What could a guy like him possibly be doing this far away from society?

Enjar felt his eyelids flutter slightly. “Mn, sorry..” He murmured, righting himself and looking at the guy next to him. “I’m just so… dead from that trip… The whole drowning thing’s really taken the bite outta me.” He looked with glazed eyes at Matthew who nodded. “What did you say?” Enjar asked, smiling softly.

“What do you do out here?” Matthew asked again, as the man nodded, eyes closing again. “Lighthouse keeper… 5 years.”

Stretching his arms, he felt the muscles in his arms and back pull as his joints gently popped, then ruffled his long hair. “Weird… Doesn’t feel that like it’s been long.” He grinned, looking at Matthew. “How ’bout you” He asked, meeting Matthew’s eyes and yawning. “Worked for my dad for like... 2 years at his clock shop, then joined up. I needed more… excitement in my life.” Enjar chuckled, “Yeah… I had a bit too much excitement in mine. Needed to slow down… take life day by day.” Matthew noticed Enjar tracing the scar on his face absentmindedly.

The two men sat for a while, until Enjar finally stood up, easing out of the chair and swaying slightly. He had been eyeing the door of the supervisor all night, waiting for that damned woman to come out, and she just had, timidly glancing at Enjar. “I’ll be a minute. Need to say hi to a colleague of your,” Enjar mumbled, clearing his throat.

Matthew looked at the doorway and watched as Enjar stalked through, looking ready to kill. His scar on his face was pulled tight as he made eye contact with the supervisor, who looked at him and gulped. He looked at her, eye to eye, his face saying it all.

“Andrea.”

He cocked his head a little, eyes fixed on hers with a deadly precision, so much so, she had to look away. As she glanced at her feet, Enjar took another step forward, now almost chest to chest with her and spoke in here ear. “I think you and I are going to need to have a little chat in your office.” His voice was a low, rumbling growl, barely audible for anyone except the supervisor, who went a little pink.

“You can say anything you want here.” She offered, smiling a little. Enjar narrowed his eyes and shook his head a little, staring at her again. “No, I think this is best done in private.” The supervisor went redder, nodding and ushering Enjar to her office on the other side of the room. She shut the door with a quiet click, and the entire office went silent, listening for what was going to happen next, excitement in the air. This guy apparently had some authority around here, and they could all sense it.

At first no one could hear anything, Mann eventually creeping close and miming that she could hear speaking. Suddenly Enjar’s voice echoed through the office, causing Mann to scurry away from the door. It was surprisingly loud considering he was barely able to talk before.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!!”

Everyone sat in stunned silence as they heard Enjar rip their boss several new assholes. They had all known Enjar to be a quiet, reclusive and soft spoken guy, someone who melted into the shadows at big events, and would have quiet, gentle conversations about birds or fishing. But this? This was pure, unbridled rage.

Johan and a couple other coast guards stifled laughs as they heard the creative, colourful language Enjar was using reverberate through the office. The walls were a thick, dense brick, the fact his voice was coming through so clearly meant that the supervisor was probably bleeding from her ears in her office.

Enjar entered Andrea’s office, inhaling deeply as he leaned against her desk. She turned around, smiling at him pleasantly, but she looked scared. Enjar’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. ’You have experienced being yelled at, but I’m gonna make every other conversation look like a kind, whispered conversation.’ He thought in his head. Andrea sat down at her desk, folding her hands in front of her.

“So, Mr Neilson. I believe it is you who we have to thank for the heroic rescue of our Probie. Might I be the first to extend my gratitu-”

Enjar’s face twisted into something between amused and enraged.

“Please.” He spat, “Save me your formal ass kissing bullshit.”

He put both hands on the desk, leaning in so he was almost nose to nose with the woman, his stormy eyes becoming daggers. “We both know that if you didn’t send him out there, I wouldn’t have needed to rescue him in the first place!” His voice slowly raised. It was clear, and loud, the lighthouse keeper forcing it to stay strong, despite his aching lungs.

“So…WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!!” He yelled directly at her face, making Andrea slide down a little in her chair. Enjar stayed leaning over the desk.

“YOU ABSOLUTE, INCOMPETENT, EGOTISTICAL PSYCHOPATH!

YOU’RE LUCKY I HAVE SELF CONTROL, OR THESE ROOMS WOULD BE GETTING A NEW PAINT JOB!

HOW DOES BLOOD RED SOUND?”

Enjar’s shoulders rose and fell as he panted, bearing his teeth as he growled a little. He stood up straight, beginning to pace as Andrea curled up smaller and smaller in the chair. The pure adrenaline running through his veins was temporarily enabling him to yell as he saw red, unleashing even more rage onto the woman.

“WHY WAS HE EVEN OUT THERE IN THAT WEATHER? YES, THAT SIGNAL IS IMPORTANT FOR US OUT HERE, BUT NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A LIFE! TO CALL YOU A FUCKING IDIOT WOULD BE AN INSULT TO EVEN THE STUPIDEST OF IDIOTS!

I MEAN, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?

WAS IT SOME SICK POWER TRIP?

HUH?

OR ARE YOU JUST SO FUCKING POWERFUL THAT YOU CAN STOP HYPOTHERMIA SETTING IN? I SHOULD JUST BOW DOWN AT YOUR MAJESTY, RIGHT? THE ALL POWERFUL ANDREA WHO CAN WAVE HER HAND AND SEND A GUY OUT INTO A DEADLY BLIZZARD WITH NOTHING?

I HAD NO IDEA YOU COULD JUST DO THAT!

WHAT DID HE DO? QUESTION YOU? PISS YOU OFF? MAKE YOU FEEL SMALL?

HOW DO YOU FEEL NOW HUH? SMALL ENOUGH YET?

YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO COVER YOUR ASS AND MAKE YOUR PROBIE SHUT UP, BUT YOU CAN’T SILENCE ME! I DON'T ANSWER TO YOU, AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME FROM SAYING SHIT! BESIDES, WHO WENT OUT INTO THAT STORM AND DRAGGED HIM BACK HERE, HUH? YOU SURELY DIDN'T SEEM TO CARE WHEN HE WAS MISSING FOR HOURS? DIDN'T EVEN SEND OUT A RESCUE PARTY!

YOU DID NOTHING! IN FACT, YOU SHOULDA BEEN OUT THERE, IT WAS GREAT! MATTHEW NEARLY DIED, I NEARLY DIED!” He took a breath, his voice growing dangerous and low.

“And that’s on you.” He pointed a finger at her.

“You’re pathetic.” He spat, walking to the door and ripping it open without even turning the handle. It trembled in his hand. He didn’t even glance behind him as he stormed though, slamming the cheap door so hard the door frame shook. Everyone watched him storm out of the office stunned silence.

Enjar didn’t even look at them as he strode through the room, looking ready to punch a wall. He went back to the chair, grabbing the blankets and stalking over to a nearby desk. Getting down on the ground, he hugged the blankets tightly around himself as he leaned against it. Everyone gave him some space for a few minutes, afraid that he would lash out at them next.

Enjar himself could feel the adrenaline draining from him, his head bowing as he shut his eyes, finally able to sleep…

~~ Matthew looked up from his dozing as Peterson called out. “Enjar!” He shook the unconscious man, but to no avail. They had let Enjar sleep for ten minutes or so, giving him time to cool down, but it proved to be ten minutes too long.

Mann and Johan walked over as Peterson shook the lighthouse keeper, but he didn’t rouse. Shaking him harder, Peterson watched in horror as Enjar slumped sideways, landing heavily against the floor.

He didn’t wake up.

Matthew watched the staff jump into action, pulling Enjar out from beside the desk and rolling him over onto his back, shaking him again whilst Mann shot up to get Maria.

“Hey, wake up.” Peterson said, the slight panic in his voice rising. “Hey!” He tapped the lighthouse keeper’s face, watching as it rolled to the side. Enjar remained unmoving, unconscious on the floor.

Nothing.

Putting his ear near the man’s mouth, Peterson listened for breathing. Mary emerged with Mann close behind, both looking worried. “What happened out here? I told you not to let him sleep.” Maria scolded, looking in concern at Enjar.

Grabbing the blankets and unravelling them from around him, Maria did what Matthew had done before, clearing his airway and rolling Enjar on his side. When Johan pulled Enjar’s arms out to the side to support him, Matthew finally saw the many scars on Enjar’s arms up close, taking them in in their full glory. They were big and deep, covering his forearms as if he had been shielding his face from his attacker.

Peeling his eyes away from them, Matthew watched Mann as she hit the shorter man’s back, hoping to clear his airway, everyone waiting with baited breath…

His breathing was quiet for a minute or too, before Enjar spluttered and coughed up a large amount of liquid. His breathing finally seemed to clear as he took in a breath. He choked as he opened his eyes, continuing to cough as he sat up. Enjar pounded his chest, hoping to clear it. Matthew had a slight feeling they weren’t out of the woods yet, in fact, it seemed they were still smack bang in the middle of them.

The coast guards heaved Enjar to his feet, carrying him back to the chair. As he stood, the world tilted, causing him to stumble a little, Enjar being held up almost entirely by Mann and Johan as Peterson brought the chair over. “You okay?” Maria asked looking over the lighthouse keeper. “Fine…” Enjar mumbled. He looked at the ground, watching as the carpet swirled below his feet. He tried to cough but his chest was too tight.

“Nghhh… t-hhh!” Mary looked at him with a new level of concern, “What’s wrong En?” She watched the blood drain from Enjar’s face as he leaned forward, trying to catch his breath only to collapse onto his knees, trying to breathe.

“Hey, Enjar, talk to me!” She spoke clearly, Enjar looking at her with watering eyes as he coughed up his lungs. “Relax for me, En. Try take a deep breath.” The medic ordered, but Enjar shook his head, laying back against the seat he had just been in. “Can’t…” He gasped.

The medic’s eyes grew wide. “Is your chest tight?” She asked, concerned. Enjar nodded, his breaths hitching. The medic helped him lean back against the chair, and listened to his chest before nodding. “It seems like bronchospasm. I think the water irritated your lungs. Take it easy for a minute. We need you both checked out in an ER.” She said, helping Enjar get comfortable before listening to his chest again.

Feeling his breath come back to him after a few moments, Enjar began to calm down. He let his eyes slide shut again, unable to stay awake. There was no energy left in him…

“He’s out.” Maria spoke up, as Enjar went still again. “Let him sleep, just make sure he’s still breathing. We’ll have to wait until they can dig us out of here anyway, no point trying to force him...” She seemed to be trying to convince herself of this, more than the room. Everyone nodded, covering Enjar over with some blankets to keep him warm, as Matthew began dozing off as well.

Matthew was shaken awake by Mann, who helped him walk to the door, finding a waiting SUV, ready to travel to town. The road had been finally cleared, Enjar already loaded in, looking feeble as he stared at everything through half-lidded eyes, not fully taking it all in. He seemed to sleep for the whole trip, leaning heavily against the window as Matthew sat next to him awkwardly, looking at the scar trailing down his face. He wondered if he would ever learn what had happened to his mysterious rescuer. What kind of past did he have? who was he?

Either way, Matthew knew after what they'd both been through that night, they would be good friends, forever connected by the traumatic, icy trek through the blizzard...

They were brothers now, and Matthew swore to repay his debt to the lonely lighthouse keeper, whatever it took.

~masterlist~

✨Taglist✨ - if you wanna be added to this lmk :) <3

@i-eat-worlds

@emcscared-whumps

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whumpee #environmental whump #drowning whump #snaillamp #original post #whump oc #enjar

19 notes · View notes

stalkurs · 10 months

Text

❥ ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕤 ༒ 𝕊𝕙𝕖/ℍ𝕖𝕣

❥ 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 ༒ 𝔸𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟

Living within a small fishing town as a ship captains daughter was an easy life. There was no king, or mayor, that taxed you, and the only time someone was required to purchase something was when one of the fishermen brought in only a few, tasty fish. Or when the traveling merchant came to town with a cart of new clothes, and crops, sometimes a chicken or two. Yet, sometimes the people of the town got boring, and repetitive. Seeing the same people doing the same things at the same times every single day could send someone crazy.

Especially if said someone was an adventurous 20 year old woman named Y/N. Yet her yearn for adventure never got her far, as the village she lived in with her father was located on a small island north of Antarctica. Far enough they had decently cold winters, and hot but short summers. By the end of her 18th summer she had explored nearly all of the above ground, from the edge of the dense pine trees untouched by the village, to the highest she could walk on the cliff peak opposite said forest. The island was about a quarter size of those island, enough to support one village and walk from side to side within only 4 hours starting from the furthest beach.

Living on the island was a lonely existence without friends or family, and the villagers knew this. With the lack of a prison building, people of wrong doing are were beat with brooms, and ones who committed the worst of all crimes were thrown into the ocean to fend for themselves. With no government to tell them otherwise this is what the village did in means of keeping themselves safe and alive. But of course, with also the lack of any law enforcement it caused the people to leave the punishments based off of democracy. This sometimes leads to an unfair judgement by the village, making an innocent man well framed die.

This was the fate of a boy named Matthew Williams. A friend of Y/N, a friend she had know since she was born. He was her neighbor all through her child and teenage hood, settling in a deep place in her heart. So when he was framed for a murder of a small child only born yesterday, and decided to be thrown to the ocean, her heart broke. She knew he would have never done such a horrid act to the villagers.

The day was gloomy, almost as if mother nature was grieving for a fallen child, rain plummeted to the ground. Two large and burly men charged into the Williams home, despite the screams and pleas of his mother and little sister, they pulled the young man out of his home. His struggling left a trail in the muddy paths, leading to the docks where two men stood. Y/N father and on of his friends, a small fishing boat floating next to the creaky dock. Knowing about the event taking place Y/N had woken early, and stood quietly next to her father.

Hot tears falling down her face as she watched her friend being drug to his death. As she was noticed his pleas for freedom died down as he stared at her with sad and pleading eyes.

"Y/N please! Tell them, you know I would never do this! Please!"

She turned her head away as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her light parka, pulled the hood down so the fur lining hid her tired and glossy eyes. Seeing the betrayal Matthew went silent as he was lifted into the boat and had his hands tied together behind his back. By now over half of the village parents had gathered around, the women wrapping their sleep robes tightly around their frame, few holding their trembling children close to their sides. Others peaked outside their frosty windows, watching as the young man was being prepared for death. When the boys engine started the men and Y/N climbed into the dirty boat, Y/N sitting in front of her childhood friend.

She set a hand on his knee, rubbing her thumb across the top of his knee as they both sobbed. Within a minute of the boat ride she moved next to him, holding onto his underdressed and trembling form.

"I'm so sorry.. I couldn't do anything."

Her eyes became glossy and wet with upcoming tears.

"I'm sorry."

He moved so his head was resting in the nook of her neck as an attempt to comfort the heartbroken girl. They stayed like that for just a moment before they both lurched forwards because of a sudden stop from the boat. The motor noises slowly dulling down till they were nothing but silence.

"God damn old thing! Can't get nothin' done!" Y/N's father yelled.

He leaned over the back of the boat by his waist, slamming his fist on the side of the motor, causing large ripples in the water and any nearby fish to quickly swim away. Y/N sniffled, her cheeks and nose bright red against her pale and cold form. She glanced out to the water, the noises of her fathers anger a distant noise blurred by her mind as she focused onto the dark and calm waves. The sight of a fairly transparent fish similar to many normal fish caused her to jerk and quickly stand. Nearly falling off the other side of the small boat but catching herself and sitting.

The commotion got her family friends attention as he gave a strange look towards the young girl.

"Girl you okay there? You look like you just saw a ghost." He scooted closer. "Maybe the cold is gettin' to ya."

She frantically shook her head as she saw the fin expose fully along with part of the back it was attached to. A deep blue and slightly transparent skin with opaque black stripes quickly made its way towards the boat, and within a blink of an eye here father was gone. The only evidence of his disappearance being the large splash and ripples next the motor, along with sparse bubbles. In a panic the mans friend rushed over and made the same mistake of leaning over the edge as he ran his hand in the water. The man too was grabbed within a split second and pulled under, this time a red color colored the naturally dark water behind him.

Y/N screamed and began to sob at the sudden event.

"Y/N! Y/n! There's no time to cry! Grab the knife in the tackle box and untie me! Quick!" Matthew yelled, taking the lead of survivor.

Weakly nodding she followed his order, opening the messy tackle box and retrieving the hunting knife, beginning to saw at the cloth ropes with the dull and bloody knife. Blurring out the sounds of bubbles and aggressive splashing coming from most likely the monster in the water. Once the restraints were removed he grabbed Y/N by her arm and pulled her to the middle of the already small boat, continuing to mush themselves together.

"We need to stay in the middle. Its the safest place from that thing, plus we need to conserve body heat."

She nodded and removed her already overly large coat, draping it over both of them, more onto Matthew due to him being out here without any proper warm clothing longer.

_____________________

The monster made no other attempts to get at the two in the boat, only every now and then bumping the sides of the tinted green boat. The two cold young adults had also yet to see the thing harassing them, the closest they getting to see being the back and the back fin. It was beginning to get dark, and the friends were beginning to get tired. They had moved to lay on the floor of the boat, both curled up with their limbs intertwined, the coat draped over them. Each side held tightly to prevent a large gust of wind from coming through and essentially causing their death by making the clothing fly away.

Their eyes began to droop and they both fell asleep within a few minutes of each other.

By the time Y/N woke it was by angry splashing and masculine screams. Taking a moment to process what was happening she jumped up and over to the edge where a tail was flailing around and she could see Matthews bloodied and dismembered body floating. Letting out a fearful scream the monster quickly calmed and peaked its head out of the surface of the water, staring at the woman with hungry eyes. She sobbed as she jerked back and listened to what Matthew had said before, sitting in the middle of the boat. Despite her placement it seemed to not effect the monster at all, as it simply grabbed the side and began to yank it down.

Making Y/N scrambled to the opposite side the monsters long and clawed hands. Within no time the boat got enough water in it that it no longer evened out, and now began to sink to the right end. Despite her attempts the monster grabbed her ankle and yanked her body, pulling her into the frigid waters and against its slimy coated body. It let out a gleeful clicking noise similar to an orca as it drives down despite her wiggling and fight. Her attempts to hold her breath was futile as she eventually attempts to breath, instead being greeted with a harsh burning in her nose and empty feeling in her chest. Along with a feeling of panic in the bottom of her stomach as her vision began to become speckled by black dots. As her vision turned black multiple white fish fished figures filled her field of vision and her body went limp in the monsters arms.

#fanfiction #fanfic #merman #mermaid #yandere #fantasy #fiction #original story #fem!reader #merman x reader #x reader

29 notes · View notes

twistedtummies2 · 4 months

Text

The Scarlet Pirate - Chapter 5

This is the penultimate section of a six-part "Chapter Story" for my OC for Twisted Wonderland, James Killian - based on Captain Hook from Disney's Peter Pan. (Also featured are Smitty McCarthy, based on Smee, and Matthew Satyr, based on Peter himself...oh, and Nakoda - my Kaa OC - also has a role here.) The basic premise of this story has been in my mind for almost as long as James has, but for numerous reasons, it wasn't till just within the past few weeks I finally got a chance to develop and write it out.

The result is, I think, the single longest "Chapter Story" for any of my OCs for TW I've created so far. Take that information however you will. So long as this tale, that it went from a planned three-parter, to a planned five-parter, to now being a six-parter, standing at approximately 150 pages in total! Hopefully, all the work and length will be for the best. XD

As is typical for my Chapter Stories, I will be posting this one chapter at a time per day over the course of this week. For future reference, you can find the previous chapter here.

You can find the next chapter here.

WARNING: While this story, throughout all six parts, does not FOCUS on my kinks, there are instances of very mild stuffing/belching related content sprinkled throughout, as well as various instances of implied or near vore situations. If you're into these things, good on ya. If you aren't, just be warned they will show up here and there, although not with any degree of spectacle.

With that said...I hope you enjoy.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Heigh-ho, and up she rises! Heigh-ho, and up she rises! Heigh-ho, and up she rises, early in the mornin’!” The shanty’s tune echoed almost eerily through the bowels of the shadowy stone labyrinth. Down a sloping tunnel, at one end of the vast, maze-like network of passages in the old, abandoned mine, James Killian and Smitty McCarthy carefully marched. James had his right hand on the treasure chest, while Smitty used his left, as they cautiously carried it along between them. James grinned as he looked around at the dank cave at the bottom of the slope: long ago, the Dwarfs had found this spot in the midst of their mining. A part of the river, which ran through the woods and then down into the sea, came into the mountains via this cave. A deep pool of water stretched from the cavern into a short, black tunnel, beyond which was the river itself. There were several tall, rocky formations in the cavern, including one very high, flat-topped stone, almost like a miniature cliff or a rock hill, and a smaller, flatter spot towards the bottom. In one part of the pool, near the tunnel, a sailboat had been moored. Its sails were closed, its anchor stretching into the water; for extra insurance, a sturdy rope had been fastened (with an equally sturdy knot) around a stalagmite that jutted out of the cave’s watery floor. On the boat was brass plaque, which offered the name of the little craft: The Czarina. “Ah, my pretty little crate! We’re now only moments away from TRUE victory, Smitty!” laughed James Killian, his boisterous, booming voice rebounding off the cavern walls. “Who needs a contest prize, when I have enough treasure to pay off a King’s Ransom? This will be plenty for our purposes, once we reach a safe port!” “Aye, James!” smiled Smitty, and paused, closing the eyes behind his glasses and tilting his head upwards, almost dreamily. “Just think of it…finally, out on the open ocean…in a proper ship, doing what we always wanted…” “Indeed,” nodded James, with a more supercilious smile, flourishing his cane in his other hand as he spoke. “Where I shall be captain, and you shall sail with me! Split me infinitives, tis me hour of triumph!” James laughed again; Smitty winced, wringing out one ear with his free hand, and offering a nervous sort of smile. There was a sort of wild gleam in Killian’s eyes, which the smaller man didn’t much like…and there was a strange scent in the air, too. Not just the brine and the earthy odors of the watery cave, but another, chemical sort of odor…like ink… “I just hope it won’t take us too long to sail our way along the river to the sea,” McCarthy fretted. “Ha! Would you think I’m fool enough to not check the miles and depths along the path, Smitty?” scoffed James, resting the long end of his cane upon his shoulder. “I sailed Czarina here meself, and checked the distance to the ocean from this part of the island. I tell you, Smitty, I’ve reached my peak already! NOTHING CAN STOP ME NOW!” “HA HA HA HA HA HA!” James and Smitty froze as a sudden, shrill, deranged laugh echoed through the cave. They looked around, startled to say the least, trying to spot the source. “What in blue blazes?!” exclaimed James. “Wh-who’s th-th-there?” stammered a rather scared Smitty. The mad laugh came again; it sounded lower, more ominous. Cautiously, the pair put down the chest, glancing from the left to the right, peering all around the damp cavern. “Speak!” demanded James. “Who are you, stranger?” A diabolical sort of voice came drifting through the cave. “You have stolen the cursed treasure,” it growled. “Now you shall face the ultimate penalty!”

“What are you talking about?” sneered James, standing defensively in front of the chest. “Tell me your name and show yourself, you craven…!” “JAMES! LOOK!” Smitty’s frightened shout alerted James. He saw his stout little companion pointing with a shaking finger up towards the ceiling of the cave. The scarlet pirate looked up…and his eyes widened as a group of five white-cloaked figures flew out from behind the stalactites that speared down from the roof of the cavern. They giggled and laughed and jeered, drifting together in a circle, like a collection of vultures. Most were roughly human in size, but one was much smaller, no bigger than a tiny child, at best. Sizes aside, it was clear what the pale, hooded creatures were. “G-G-GHOSTS!” squeaked Smitty, and ducked behind James. “What jiggery-pokery is this?” bellowed James, trying to seem unintimidated, but his voice carried an unsteady quiver. “We are the Keepers of the Treasure!” declared the smallest figure, in a yowling sort of voice. “Return to us what is rightfully ours, human!” another snarled. “Or you may face the consequences,” another warned, in a sneaky, subtle, smooth tone. “HA!” James rapped, and grinned ferociously. “I fear no ghosts. We have dozens of them at Night Raven College!” “I fear them,” peeped Smitty, who was trying to hide behind his superior. “Surrender the treasure to us!” hissed a fourth phantom. “Or we will be forced to take it,” the fifth said, rather plainly. James glowered. He had not come all this way to be foiled by a collection of meddlesome specters. “You want it?” he growled, shifting his feet to brace himself. “Ha! Well come and get it!” He then nudged the scared McCarthy aside and snapped at him: “SMITTY!” “Eep! Y-Yes, James?” Killian gestured to the ghosts with a hard, stony sort of glare. “Blast them,” he ordered, in a cold voice. Smitty blinked. He looked pale as a ghost himself. “But…b-but James…!” “BLAST THEM!” James roared. “That’s an order, you blundering blue-footed booby!” Smitty gulped nervously, lifting his arms, as if he were afraid of being struck, then nodded. “Aye-Aye, James,” he whimpered, and paused to adjust his cap, jacket, and glasses before waddling forward. He looked up at the circling white spirits, who were making spooky “Ooooooooh…!” noises as they hovered. Smitty took a deep breath and seemed to pluck up courage…then lifted his right hand, holding the palm outwards.

“Hold back no longer. Throw restraint to the wind. Fire at will,” he intoned in an incantation…and as he did so, the ghosts could see what seemed to be a crimson aura, gathering around his right hand. Then Smitty seemed to physically brace himself, as he uttered the name of the signature spell he now planned to use: “CORKSCREW CANNON!” BOOM! With a sound like a cannon being shot, a crimson sphere of energy shot out from the gathered aura around Smitty’s hand. It blasted towards two of the ghosts, who darted out of the way as the ball of red light flew between them… …But as the sphere hit the stone wall of the cave, it suddenly rebounded back again, bouncing like rubber towards the ghosts once more. The energy sphere struck one of them, and - BANG! - burst like some magical balloon. The concussive explosion knocked the ghost aside as they cried out, and flew back into a wall. “What the…?!” exclaimed one of the phantoms. “HA HA!” James crowed. “My compatriot’s Unique Magic creates an eruptive blast that stuns any enemy it comes in contact with. However, it only affects living things…or, in your case, things that were once living. If it hits anything else, it just bounces off.” “It can only bounce three times,” peeped Smitty, seemingly blushing at James’ elaboration.” “Minor details,” shrugged Killian, and pointed dramatically at the other ghosts, as the one who had been hit rather dizzily hovered away from the wall. “FIRE, SMITTY! SHOOT THEM DOWN AT ONCE!” “Aye, James,” Smitty replied, and sent another ball of energy zipping up towards the cave ceiling, aiming this time for the smallest of the white-cloaked figures. The force of the blast was so great, that it actually made him stumble clumsily backwards, nearly knocking him off his feet. The tiny ghost spun through the air, twirling out of the way. The Corkscrew Cannon once again rebounded off the wall behind them, but this time, the ghost was ready for it, and flew higher, the sphere passing beneath the cut of their white sheet. One of the other ghosts, however, was less fortunate, and got struck, smashing into a stalactite. They had not recovered before a third sphere went zooming upwards. It passed over the head of one ghost, who ducked…bounced once, and missed another, who swerved to the side…bounced twice, missed ANOTHER, who cartwheeled out of the way through the air…but on the third rebound, it struck the tiniest phantom, who yowled and flew back… …Only for one of the other ghosts to catch them.

“We have to avoid those blasts,” the small one whispered. “I know,” their savior nodded, then looked to the others. “GATHER UP!” The ghosts all huddled together, weaving and bobbing through the air as Smitty turned around to try and get a solid shot at them…but they kept ducking behind the stalactites and other cave formations. “LET ‘EM HAVE IT!” James raged, waving his cane around like a madman. “COME ON, YOU IDIOT! HIT THEM AGAIN!” “I-I can’t get a clear shot!” squeaked Smitty. The ghosts suddenly dispersed once more, nodding to each other, as if they’d decided on a plan of action. One of them went flying at Smitty straightaway, while the other four flew off in other directions. Smitty opened fire, and the ghost zoomed out of the way… …And as the red sphere of power struck the wall beyond, it came bouncing back…straight at Smitty McCarthy. Smitty froze. “...Oh, no.” BANG! The little man’s glasses fell from his face, and his cap was knocked askew, as the concussive blast burst before him and sent him shooting backwards. Two of the ghosts caught hold of him and lifted him into the air from under his arms. Smitty kicked and squirmed, crying out in alarm as they carried him to the sailboat. One of the pale, hooded specters in the white sheets produced a length of rope, and they tied him to the mast, making sure his hands were firmly set at his sides. Smitty struggled against the bindings as fiercely as he could. “JAMES!” he hollered. “JAMES, HELP!” James Killian hesitated, torn between helping his associate and guarding the treasure still behind him. Just then, he felt a rush of air behind him, and turned fast…just in time to see the remaining two spirits lift the treasure, each cackling wildly with seemingly crazed glee. “GIVE THAT BACK!” James yelled, and threw himself forward…only for the chest to be pulled away before he could reach it. He fell onto his belly, growling as he pushed himself back to his feet, and watched the spirits lift the treasure into the air… …Then felt something inside of him turn to ice.

The ghosts lowered the chest…and placed it on top of the high, sharp, flat-topped “cliff” of rock, overlooking the water. And there, hovering just a foot or two over the very tip of that outcropping, was a familiar, boldly grinning figure, dressed in green. A pixie sat upon his shoulder. James felt one of his eyes twitch. His free hand curled into a tight, white-knuckled fist, as he gripped his cane tightly. “So, Satyr,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “This is all your doing.” Matthew Satyr grinned wider. “Aye, James Killian,” he teased with a wink, hands on his hips. “Tis all my doing.” “Hey!” one of the ghosts called out. “Don’t take all the credit…” …And at that moment, you threw off the white sheet Sebek had conjured up, revealing yourself. One by one, your fellow “ghosts” did the same. You knew who they were. “After all,” you continued. “It was MY idea.” “Meh. Minor details,” shrugged Matthew, in a joking sort of way. James Killian just glared with more hate than you’d ever seen another human being wear upon their face. And by now, you’d seen a LOT of hatred. “How did you escape the beast?” he snarled. “Beast?” Smitty piped up, stopping his struggling. His eyes widened. “James! Wh-what do you mean ‘beast’?” “I believe he’s referring to the giant monster that attacked us in the pit,” replied Azul, as he touched down upon the deck of the sailboat, standing beside the mast. Sebek touched down beside him, smirking and leaning back against said mast. Nakoda touched down on James’ right, while you touched down on his left. Grim landed directly beside you. All of you glared at him critically. James briefly glanced at the three of you, but soon turned his attention back to Matthew. “What saved you?” he demanded to know. “I would have thought that thing would have at least slowed you down.” “You knew?” Smitty gasped, jaw dropping. “About…wh-whatever was there with them?” James briefly looked back over his shoulder towards Smitty. His expression was dull and vacant. Smitty looked hurt. “But…but you said…” “Quiet,” growled James, and then looked back at Matthew with a vengeful sneer. “How did you get away? Faith and Trust and all that rubbish?” “That, and a little bit of help from my new friends,” Satyr shrugged cheerily. “Easy on the ‘friends’ thing,” muttered Nakoda, who looked a bit uncomfortable at that endearment. James just snarled at Matthew, his fingers tightening harder around his cane’s topper. “Don’t you DARE use that word around me,” he said, venomously. “That’s enough, James,” you interrupted, firmly, and began to approach him. “We’re going back to Night Raven-” “WAIT!”

You jumped back as Satyr flew down from his perch and stopped, hovering about six inches off the ground, and a few feet away from James Killian. He pulled out his metal fighting rod, whipping out the collapsible object to its fullest extent, a steely look in his youthful eyes. “We’re not going anywhere. Not yet,” he said sternly. James grinned, as if he were pleased. “Are you insssane?!” hissed Nakoda. “We’ve already beaten him, what’sss the point?!” “I agree!” Azul called out. “We have what we came for, we should-” “NO!” Matthew said indignantly…then a sort of sadness crept into his voice and his expression. “None of you understand. This isn’t a normal fight. This is a duel. And it’s been waiting for a very long time. I need this…we BOTH need this.” He pointed his baton at James. “This man is mine.” James chuckled darkly and lifted his cane, holding it lengthwise in both hands. “Well spoken, Satyr,” he slithered. “If it’s a final duel you want, I shall gladly give it to you.” CLICK. James gave his topper a slight twist, and a sound like a lock being undone was heard. Then - SCHLING! - the sound of steel scraping against wood rang through the cave. Yourself, Nako, and Grim all stepped back, and worry crept into the faces of Azul and Sebek alike. James Killian flung aside the wooden “sheath” of his cane…and pointed the sharp, dangerous, very real sword tip of the weapon towards his nemesis. “Proud and insolent fool,” he challenged, grandly. “Prepare to taste defeat.” Even in the presence of an actual sword, Satyr showed no fear at all. “Dark and sinister man,” he returned. “Have at thee!” With a sort of scoffing battle cry, James Killian immediately plunged forward, and swung his sword around his head. CLANG! It connected with Matthew’s blade, as the smaller, hovering young half-fae blocked the attack. James whirled about, sweeping out for another, rather theatrical slash. CLING! His blade skimmed the rounded edge Matthew’s weapon, as it was batted away easily. Matthew then went on the offensive himself, whipping his baton about to try and strike at James’ face. With sharp, jerking, almost imperceptible motions, James parried the attacks. From that point on, for a time, there was no advantage on either side. Matthew Satyr was a superb swordsman, jabbing with the baton the way a wasp does with its stinger, in between parries that knocked his rival’s attacks aside with dazzling rapidity. He had the shorter reach, and no cutting or stabbing edge, but his weapon was sturdy and his movements fast.

James Killian was scarcely inferior in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play. The Pirate of Hearslabyul forced his opponent back by the weight of his onset, swinging hard and strong. Time and again, he thrust his weapon forward, and each time he did, a collective flinch flew through every heart of those of you that watched. Each time, however, the thrust was turned aside by Satyr’s dueling rod, and Killian was frustrated again. Kes flitted about the dueling pair, ringing her bells in alarm. Annoyed, James swiped at her with his left hand…then squealed as Matthew smacked him in the rear, just as he had in the forest. With a roar of outrage, James lifted his sword up in a chopping motion, but the harsh blow was blocked by Satyr. Kes zipped over to Sebek, flailing her arms as if to get his attention. He seemed to understand what she said… “We should stop them!” he bellowed. Nakoda hissed with a nod, and began to stride forward in an attempt to do just that…but Azul halted all with a sharp call. “Don’t!” he snapped, and his own attention was on the dueling pair, his expression wary and razor-focused. “Let them sort out their differences. This is between them. It’s out of our hands now.” “Then shouldn’t we leave?” Grim suggested, and winced at another loud CLANG! as the metal weapons met each other. Azul shook his head, still focused on the battle. You soon understood… “James is out for blood,” you whispered, worriedly. “If he manages to get an advantage…” Grim gulped nervously, immediately realizing the gravity of the situation. You could see that Smitty McCarthy, still tied up where he was, seemed more than a little concerned. He was watching with very nervous eyes, chewing on his own fat little lip. “B-be careful!” he called out to the fighters, as each swung and blocked the other’s weapon. Which one he was addressing remained a mystery thereafter.

James seemed to grow tired of the even nature of the duel. His sword had yet to gain its prize. He glared, trying to back Matthew towards a wall…but just as Satyr grew close to the stone behind his back, he leapt up and over James’ head, flipping clean over him and landing on the other side. James spun ‘round and lunged, but Matthew spun out of the way, flying over the water. He laughed and came swooping back, swiping with the baton. James ducked the attack, and scowled as he watched the young fairy-boy fly upwards again. At that moment, as he saw Matthew zipping about overhead, a lightbulb seemed to come over James’ own head, and he began to move up the slope of the “cliff” inside the cave. “Go on!” he called out, mockingly. “Fly! Fly! Fly, you COWARD!” Matthew paused in mid-air, once more at the “tip” of the stone hill. “Coward?” he repeated. “Me?!” James laughed tauntingly as he prowled up the slope in a creeping predatory manner. “Ha Ha HA! You’d never DARE to face me man-to-man, foot-to-foot! YOU NEVER COULD!” he barked. “You’ll always fly away, like a COWARDLY SPARROW!” The words “cowardly sparrow” echoed through the cave for several seconds, as James finally reached the flat top of the rock, standing upon it at the ready. Matthew glared down at him, clearly offended. “No one,” Satyr said, seriously, “Calls ME a coward. Least of all you, James!” And then, Matthew Satyr did something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do on his own: he hovered down slowly towards the tall, stone tower…and landed upon it, his feet finally touching the ground. “If that’s how you want it,” he said to James Killian, daringly, and held out his rod almost invitingly. “I’ll fight you man-to-man. One hand behind my back!” James grinned ferociously. He leaned close, lifting his sword. Steel and steel slid against each other as weapons crossed, and he moved till he was almost nose to nose with Satyr’s defiant face. “Do you mean…you WON’T fly?” he cooed. Something about the way James said that made your blood run cold. “Don’t agree to that!” you shouted up at Satyr. “Keep the advantage!” Azul called out. “LISTEN NOT TO THAT RUFFIAN!” bellowed Sebek. “It’sss a trick, I promissse you!” warned Nakoda. Matthew Satyr didn’t seem to hear any of you. “I won’t fly,” he promised. “I give my word, James.” You heard Grim facepaw at your side and mumble, “Moron.” James Killian, for his part, looked like he’d just been made the happiest sleaze to ever sail the seven seas. “Good!” he cheered. “THEN LET’S HAVE AT IT!”

Without warning, James slammed himself against Matthew, knocking the smaller young man backwards. Matthew stumbled back with a grunt, and barely managed to avoid falling off the edge of the cliff. He had just enough time to block a ferocious, hacking slash from James’ sword, before the taller duelist swung up again, hammering blow after blow upon his foe, in a wild, frenzied sort of way. Killian seemed determined to drive Satyr over the edge. Finally, Matthew managed to duck and get behind James, but if he hoped to find an advantage that way, he was sorely disappointed. James spun around and slashed again. Matthew barely had time to duck, and then lifted his rod to block another strike. James wasn’t slowing down at all, and - unable to flit and swerve out of the way as he so often did while airborne - Satyr was clearly beginning to lose the fight. “I’ve had enough of thisss!” hissed Nakoda, clearly growing anxious, and began to try and run up the slope. “NO, DON’T!” you called out, afraid he would end up cleaved by Killian in the proverbial crossfire. James soon spotted Nakoda approaching and glowered. “DON’T INTERFERE!” he roared, and shoved Matthew aside. Satyr cried out as he fell over the edge…but managed to catch himself before he could hit the water. As Nakoda approached, extending an arm in an effort to grab hold of James, the left hand of his quarry swung out and slapped him across the cheek. Before Nakoda could recover from the sudden smack, James snapped his fingers…and Nakoda hit the stone slope like a sack of potatoes, weighed down by the crushing intensity of his own negativity. “Nako!” you cried out, and hurried up the slope to check on him. Nakoda had his hands on his ears, gritting his fangs as he curled upon the ground. “Sh-shut them up,” he whimpered, as if the fear, loathing, and sadness that filled his heart was bringing voices to his head. “Shut them up, please!” Grim mewed as he trotted up beside you, nudging the naga, but Nakoda just flinched away. Both of you looked up with great concern as you saw Matthew then return to the top of the stone. James wasted no time and swung his sword again… …And, to your horror, just as Satyr regained footing, his metal dueling rod was sliced clean in half. It had been weakened by the battle, and a final, strong strike had rendered it officially useless. Desperately, Matthew flung the blunted half at James, who swatted it aside, then jabbed out with his sword. Satyr stumbled and fell onto his back. Matthew looked more scared than you’d ever expected, as James Killian pointed the tip of his cane-sword at his throat. “Looks like I’ve got the upper ‘hook’ now!” taunted James, showing off the tattoo on his left hand. He then swept it behind his back and reeled back with his sword hand. “And now we end this…”

“NO! JAMES DON’T!” you shouted. “YOU CAN’T!” Grim yowled in alarm. James wasn’t listening. There was murder clearly visible in his eyes… …But you two weren’t the only ones who saw it. “He’s…he’s actually going to do it!” Azul gasped, as he heard James’ words. “We should stop him!” insisted Sebek, as Kes frantically nodded in agreement beside him. “How?” Azul said. “If we get close he’ll use his power on us.” “We can hit him from afar!” Sebek insisted. “Don’t you think he’d be expecting one of us to try that?” Azul snapped back. “Let me loose.” The two looked up at Smitty McCarthy. “What?” they asked in unison. “Let me loose!” Smitty repeated, struggling against the ropes. “And fast, before it’s too late!” The head of Octavinelle and the guardian of Diasomnia looked at each other…then nodded. The octopus and the crocodile hurriedly undid the knots…and just as James began to ready himself for the killing strike, Smitty landed on the deck, and lifted his right hand. “JAMES!” he shouted. Killian looked up, alerted…just in time to see the red energy gathering around Smitty’s hand. His face showed something close to horror. “HOLD IT, YOU FOOL!” he shrieked. “NO! NO!” Smitty shut his eyes tight, as if to try and give himself deniability…and launched his attack. BOOM! The Corkscrew Cannon fired…and the sphere of concussive energy rocketed towards James. Killian quickly tried to plunge his sword down and finish the job…but Matthew, now with ample time and warning, was able to roll out of the way.

The sword’s edge was stuck in a crack in rock…and a second later, the concussive blast struck James Killian, and he was blasted clean off the cliff. He flew off the edge and plunged into the water below, landing with a murky, loud SPLASH! Thus the duel between James Killian and Matthew Satyr was finished by Smitty McCarthy. Smitty opened one eye…and when he saw the ripples in the water, indicating where James Killian had fallen, both eyes leapt wide open. “JAMES!” he shouted, and scrambled his way off the Czarina, racing around the rocky “port” to the side of the deep pool in the center of the cave. Matthew, no longer obligated to keep his word, flew over to Smitty’s side as they approached the water’s edge. Azul and Sebek crept off the ship and over to join them. You, meanwhile, helped Nakoda onto his feet, as he was still reeling from James’ Unique Magic. The naga was clutching his stomach with one hand, letting out sort of hissing whimpers, as if he felt as if he hadn’t eaten in days, or even weeks. “Easy there,” you whispered, and helped him limp along to join the others. “I’ve got you.” Nakoda just let out a feeble sound and slumped along beside you, one arm over your shoulder as your own arm slung over his. Grim followed close behind you both as you approached the lake. Kes was floating over Matthew’s head, a nervous look in her eyes, as if she was scared of the water…or something inside of it… “James!” Smitty called out again to the water, as the pool began to still. His voice held a note of panic. “James, please, come up!” “I’ll go in and get him,” Matthew said, sternly, and began to rise higher into the air. “But he tried to kill you!” Sebek exclaimed. “Yeah, I know,” Matthew sighed, and gave a sort of weary smile. He seemed ready to dive down into the water from his height. “It’s hard being a hero, isn’t it?” Kes suddenly rang her pixie bells in wild alarm, and flew in front of Matthew’s face, shaking her head frantically. “Don’t try to stop me!” Matthew snapped. “I can’t just-�� KA-ZLOOSH! Satyr’s words were cut short, as was any attempt to rescue James Killian, when the water of the cave suddenly seemed to explode outwards, as if a bomb had gone off. Kes hid behind Matthew in an instant. All of you stepped back, Grim yelping and ducking behind your legs…as a familiar swirl of inky black mist came spiraling out of the cavern lake. In the middle of the black cloud, pulsing red and violet light could be seen, like a glowing heart beating rapidly. “Wh-what’s going on?” Matthew exclaimed, somehow jumping in startlement in mid-air. Azul and Grim shuddered. They knew very well. “Overblot,” hissed Nakoda, ominously; he was equally familiar.

Sebek growled, gritting his teeth and moving into a battle-ready pose. As for yourself and Smitty, the two of you watched with matching, anxious expressions, as the black cloud began to dissipate… …And the first thing you saw were the iron hooks. Upon James’ left hand was visible a metal gauntlet, the fingers of which ended in long, hook-shaped claws, almost like a raptor’s talons. Upon the back of the gauntlet was painted the image of a red skull and crossbones, a shade of crimson that matched his long, red coat. The coat now more closely resembled a red Naval uniform coat from days long past…the cuffs of which were completely soaked in black ink, as if they had been dipped in the stuff, some of the ink spilling in ribbon-like patterns back along the sleeves. The brass buttons of the coat also were speckled with ink, and the black lapels seemed to drip ink onto other parts of the tarnished red outfit as well. The coat and the skull-and-crossbones were the only signs of vibrant color upon the whole ensemble. Beneath this, James’ usual outfit was visible, but the colors had changed; the boots were still black, but now ended in what looked like steel toes, which were spattered with drops of ink. He wore black trousers, a black shirt, and a belt the color of mud, the Jolly Roger buckle of which had turned silver instead of gold. Instead of a bandana, atop his head was perched a tricorn hat, colored a sort of pale, grayish purple, with a raven’s feather stuck in it. To top all of this off, the rings around James’ fingers on his un-gauntleted hand had also turned to silver…and one of his eyes had turned a glowing shade of crimson, with a familiar, fiery aura surrounding it.

James glared at you all, sneering as he floated downwards, soon lighting upon the rocky poolside of the dank cave. His voice echoed through the cavern, and seemingly through the entire mine, as frigid as a bitter North Wind. “Children,” he snarled. “I am surrounded by children. Selfish, idiotic, backstabbing little monsters who think they know better, when they know absolutely nothing. And the worst part is, when I decide to show the same form, they seem to think I’m being unfair. Loathsome! All of you! Well, I’m through playing games. I’m through spoiling you all with victory after victory. This time, I’M going to win! This time, I’M going to come out on top! And so I think it’s time all of you recognized…” He held out the gauntlet clad hand, fingers splayed out. “...What it feels like to grow up.”

To Be Concluded in Part 6…

10 notes · View notes

awardseason · 1 year

Text

21st Annual Visual Effects Society Awards — Film Winners

Outstanding Visual Effects in a Photoreal Feature Avatar: The Way of Water – Richard Baneham, Walter Garcia, Joe Letteri, Eric Saindon, JD Schwalm — WINNER Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore – Christian Mänz, Olly Young, Benjamin Loch, Stephane Naze, Alistair Williams Jurassic World: Dominion – David Vickery, Ann Podlozny, Jance Rubinchik, Dan Snape, Paul Corbould The Batman – Dan Lemmon, Bryan Searing, Russell Earl, Anders Langlands, Dominic Tuohy Top Gun: Maverick – Ryan Tudhope, Paul Molles, Seth Hill, Bryan Litson, Scott Fisher

Outstanding Supporting Visual Effects in a Photoreal Feature Death on the Nile – George Murphy, Claudia Dehmel, Mathieu Raynault, Jonathan Bowen, David Watkins I Wanna Dance With Somebody – Paul Norris, Tim Field, Don Libby, Andrew Simmonds The Fabelmans – Pablo Helman, Jennifer Mizener, Cernogorods Aleksei, Jeff Kalmus, Mark Hawker The Gray Man – Swen Gilberg, Viet Luu, Bryan Grill, Cliff Welsh, Michael Meinardus The Pale Blue Eye – Jake Braver, Catherine Farrell, Tim Van Horn, Scott Pritchard, Jeremy Hays Thirteen Lives – Jason Billington, Thomas Horton, Denis Baudin, Michael Harrison, Brian Cox — WINNER

Outstanding Visual Effects in an Animated Feature Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio – Aaron Weintraub, Jeffrey Schaper, Cameron Carson, Emma Gorbey, Mad God, Chris Morley, Phil Tippett, Ken Rogerson, Tom Gibbons — WINNER Strange World – Steve Goldberg, Laurie Au, Mark Hammel, Mehrdad Isvandi The Bad Guys– Pierre Perifel, Damon Ross, Matt Baer, JP Sans The Sea Beast – Joshua Beveridge, Christian Hejnal, Stirling Duguid, Spencer Lueders Turning Red – Domee Shi, Lindsey Collins, Danielle Feinberg, Dave Hale

Outstanding Animated Character in a Photoreal Feature Avatar: The Way of Water: Kiri – Anneka Fris, Rebecca Louise Leybourne, Guillaume Francois, Jung-Rock Hwang — WINNER Beast: Lion – Alvise Avati, Bora Şahin, Chris McGaw, Krzysztof Boyoko Disney’s Pinocchio: Honest John – Christophe Paradis, Valentina Rosselli, Armita Khanlarpour, Kyoungmin Kim Slumberland: Pig – Fernando Lopes Herrera, Victor Dinis, Martine Chartrand, Lucie Martinetto

Outstanding Animated Character in an Animated Feature Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: Geppetto – Charles Greenfield, Peter Saunders, Shami Lang-Rinderspacher, Noel Estevez-Baker Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: Pinocchio – Oliver Beale, Richard Pickersgill, Brian Leif Hansen, Kim Slate — WINNER Strange World: Splat – Leticia Gillett, Cameron Black, Dan Lipson, Louis Jones Turning Red: Panda Mei – Christopher Bolwyn, Ethan Dean, Bill Sheffler, Kureha Yokoo

Outstanding Created Environment in a Photoreal Feature Avatar: The Way of Water: Metkayina Village – Ryan Arcus, Lisa Hardisty, Paul Harris TaeHyoung David Kim Avatar: The Way of Water: The Reef – Jessica Cowley, Joe W. Churchill, Justin Stockton, Alex Nowotny — WINNER Jurassic World Dominion: Biosyn Valley – Steve Ellis, Steve Hardy, Thomas Dohlen, John Seru Slumberland: The Wondrous Cuban Hotel Dream – Daniël Dimitri Veder, Marc Austin, Pavan Rajesh Uppu, Casey Gorton

Outstanding Created Environment in an Animated Feature Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: In the Stomach of a Sea Monster – Warren Lawtey, Anjum Sakharkar, Javier Gonzalez Alonso, Quinn Carvalho — WINNER Lightyear: T’Kani Prime Forest – Lenora Acidera, Amy Allen, Alyssa Minko, Jose L. Ramos Serrano Strange World: The Windy Jungle – Ki Jong Hong, Ryan Smith, Jesse Erickson, Benjamin Fiske The Sea Beast: The Hunting Ship – Yohan Bang, Enoch Ihde, Denil George Chundangal, John Wallace Wendell & Wild: The Scream Fair – Tom Proost, Nicholas Blake, Colin Babcock, Matthew Paul Albertus Cross

Outstanding Virtual Cinematography in a CG Project ABBA: Voyage – Pär M. Ekberg, John Galloway, Paolo Acri, Jose Burgos Avatar: The Way of Water – Richard Baneham, Dan Cox, Eric Reynolds, A.J Briones — WINNER Prehistoric Planet – Daniel Fotheringham, Krzysztof Szczepanski, Wei-Chuan Hsu, Claire Hill The Batman: Rain Soaked Car Chase – Dennis Yoo, Michael J. Hall, Jason Desjarlais, Ben Bigiel

Outstanding Model in a Photoreal or Animated Project Avatar: The Way of Water: The Sea Dragon – Sam Sharplin, Stephan Skorepa, Ian Baker, Guillaume Francois — WINNER The Sea Beast – Maxx Okazaki, Susan Kornfeld, Edward Lee, Doug Smith Top Gun: Maverick: F-14 Tomcat – Christian Peck, Klaudio Ladavac, Aram Jung, Peter Dominik Wendell & Wild: Dream Faire – Peter Dahmen, Paul Harrod, Nicholas Blake

Outstanding Effects Simulation in a Photoreal Feature Avatar: The Way of Water: Fire and Destruction – Miguel Perez Senent, Xavier Martin Ramirez, David Kirchner, Ole Geir Eidsheim Avatar: The Way of Water: Water Simulations – Johnathan M. Nixon, David Moraton, Nicolas Illingworth, David Caeiro Cebrian — WINNER Black Panther: Wakanda Forever: City Street Flooding – Matthew Hanger, Alexis Hall, Hang Yang, Mikel Zuloaga Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore – Jesse Parker Holmes, Grayden Solman, Toyokazu Hirai, Rob Richardson

Outstanding Effects Simulation in an Animated Feature Lightyear – Alexis Angelidis, Chris Chapman, Jung-Hyun Kim, Keith Klohn Puss in Boots: The Last Wish – Derek Cheung, Michael Losure, Kiem Ching Ong, Jinguang Huang — WINNER Strange World – Deborah Carlson, Scott Townsend, Stuart Griese, Yasser Hamed The Sea Beast – Spencer Lueders, Dmitriy Kolesnik, Brian D. Casper, Joe Eckroat

Outstanding Compositing & Lighting in Feature Avatar: The Way of Water: Landing Rockets Forest Destruction – Miguel Santana Da Silva, Hongfei Geng, Jonathan Moulin, Maria Corcho Avatar: The Way of Water: Water Integration – Sam Cole, Francois Sugny, Florian Schroeder, Jean Matthews — WINNER The Batman: Rainy Freeway Chase – Beck Veitch, Stephen Tong, Eva Snyder, Rachel E. Herbert Top Gun: Maverick – Saul Davide Galbiati, Jean-Frederic Veilleux, Felix B. Lafontaine, Cynthia Rodriguez del Castillo

Outstanding Special (Practical) Effects in a Photoreal Project Avatar: The Way of Water: Current Machine and Wave Pool – JD Schwalm, Richie Schwalm, Nick Rand, Robert Spurlock — WINNER Black Adam: Robotic Flight – JD Schwalm, Nick Rand, Andrew Hyde, Andy Robot, Mad God, Phil Tippett, Chris Morley, Webster Colcord, Johnny McLeod The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power “Adrift” Middle Earth Storm – Dean Clarke, Oliver Gee, Eliot Naimie, Mark Robson

Emerging Technology Award Avatar: The Way of Water: Depth Comp – Dejan Momcilovic, Tobias B. Schmidt, Benny Edlund, Joshua Hardgrave Avatar: The Way of Water: Facial System – Byungkuk Choi, Stephen Cullingford, Stuart Adcock, Marco Revelant Avatar: The Way of Water: Water Toolset – Alexey Dmitrievich Stomakhin, Steve Lesser, Sven Joel Wretborn, Douglas McHale — WINNER Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: 3D Printed Metal Armature – Richard Pickersgill, Glen Southern, Peter Saunders, Brian Leif Hansen Turning Red: Profile Mover and CurveNets – Kurt Fleischer, Fernando de Goes, Bill Sheffler

#visual effects society #visual effects society awards #ves awards #ves awards 2023 #winners

8 notes · View notes

armandjolras · 1 year

Text

9 people you want to get to know better (thanks for tagging me @fitzrove and @wo-der-horizont-beginnt!)

Three Ships:

Recency bias and embarrassing to admit, but lesbian Rudolf/Stephanie. I love the concept of a female Rudolf, and musical Stephanie is one of my fave characters; i want to write more butch/femme fic for them. Sorry historical Rudolf but you’re a lesbian to me now 😭

Mary/Matthew from Downton Abbey

Very rare one, platonic Jesse&Daniel from the Vampire Chronicles. I love the idea of them as bffs bc they have so much in common; i even wrote a fic for them once but never published it

(Though my fave “ship” is just playing mix and match with random women from Rebecca)

First Ever Ship: Before I knew what ships (or gays tbh) were, Felldoh/Brome from Martin the Warrior 😅. I loved their tragic intense wartime friendship

Last Song: “I’m Here” from the Colour purple musical

Last Movie: Cabaret (1972) rewatch. i like how it captures the mood of the book and imo handles Cliff/Brian’s bisexuality/homoflexibility better, but not how it gives Sally cliche daddy issues

Currently Reading: Monstrous Regiment, but not actively — I’m a bit busy rn and while I do have free time, I like to save reading for when I can actually devote my full attention to it and get wrapped up in the plot. So it’s on hold but I will continue when I can 😭

Currently Watching: nothing 😬 I’m bad about getting into tv shows

Currently Consuming: hot chocolate :)

Currently Craving: Petting a cat, I haven’t in 2.5 years and miss them. Maybe eventually I’ll go to a cat cafe and stay as long as my allergies allow

Tagging (but with no pressure): @sebyecosesimili, @szabadmadar, @astreetcarnamedliv, @webbysmuse, that’s not nine ppl, so anyone else who sees this!

#this was really fun to do!#but it turned out so long rip

10 notes · View notes

thevagabondexpress · 7 months

Note

HI! I know we've been on each other's dashes for a while, but since we took the leap and followed each other, just want to say hey!

Okay uhhh I'll ask questions.

Favourite TSC characters? Ships? Books?

What's your favourite kind of fruit?

Tell me a weird and wonky fact about your live?

Favorite TSC characters . . . obviously Christopher (reminds me of myself a lot, also annoyingly attractive for someone I won't ever have canon aged-up content for) and Grace (that I happen to like We Have Always Lived In The Castle does not help), also Will particularly in his dad phase because once he started clawing himself back from the "I have to be a nasty asshole because otherwise I might kill somebody" cliff he started reminding me of both myself and my father (similar terrible sense of humor, similar level of 'hyperactive extrovert' energy), and also Edwin the bit-part vampire who had half a scene in Chain of Thorns, I dunno, something about him stuck with me. Also Ty but kinda specifically the scary going-on-assassin-levels-of-silent-jumpscare headcanon-Ty that lives in my brain.

Favorite TSC ships . . . Gracetopher, but I also like Lucie/Grace a lot (I cannot decide and have come to the conclusion that it depends on context). I like most of the ships in TSC but those are the ones I have the most thoughts/fanfic ideas about (crushes do not help). I also have a lot of thoughts about Jordelia and about Matthew/Cordelia though I wouldn't say I'm so much seriously hardcore into these ships as they have so many layers of things to look at and so many different paths that could have been taken and I want to dig into it.

Favorite books: Chain of Gold, Chain of Iron, City of Bones, all of TID.

Favorite kind of fruit: technically a fruit, since it's a fruit juice, I'm hopelessly addicted to cranberry cocktail to the point where it's kind of hilarious now (it's what I got onto trying to get off of the overly sugary things I was drinking that were messing with my sleep schedule).

Weird/wonky fact(s): I have many, but the top of the list of ultimate weirdness (I think) is that I live in a county which has what look like literal altars with bronze turkeys on them at the county line on most major roadways in and out. They also have altars to chickens at the county fair. I will get a photo of a least one of these someday as proof.

3 notes · View notes

grandhotelabyss · 1 year

Text

Good question! Given the nation-summing implications of Great American Novel, Nightwood—but not Gravity's Rainbow—is an odd choice. Yet it seems to me to be a particularly urgent book right now. As the era of left-identitarian moralism gives way to renewed varieties of right-wing culture, whether revolutionary reaction at the avant-garde fringe or Christian populism in mainstream electoral politics, the political complexity of Nightwood—a lesbian and transgender novel also plausibly described as a fascist one—deserves our attention for conceptual reasons alone. In my almost eight-year-old essay on Nightwood, I tried to sum up its extraordinary complications:

A modernist anti-democrat, like her champion Eliot, Barnes sees the masses as perennial forces of conformity, enemies of art. This is not really surprising; what is surprising is that anybody ever wanted to identify bohemia—sexual and aesthetic—with the political left in the first place. The intention of its various partisans notwithstanding, the left has historically empowered the state and its centripetal agencies. The state, tolerating nothing outside itself, not only threatens to use the masses as justification for the cleansing of bohemia’s cruising-ground pissoirs and carnivalesque circuses, but, as I said above, it also extirpates the tradition against which bohemia necessarily defines itself. It razes the edifice of Christianity, brings the wandering Jew home, and abolishes the night in which Robin Vote and Dr. Matthew O’Connor sport like fauna in the forest. Even internally, bohemia is not democratic: it is, rather, an aristocracy of spirit. For these reasons, Nightwood is among the most reactionary of American classics, despite or even—what will confound the identity politics of today—because of its having nary a straight white male in its cast of characters.

Perhaps now that the American literati, chastened of its moralism, is undergoing a strange fit of Ernst-Jünger-mania—I essayed on The Glass Bees around the same time I wrote on Nightwood; I'll write about On the Marble Cliffs if someone gets it for me from my wish list—they will be prepared to hear out this side of our own homegrown conservative revolutionary, Djuna Barnes.

Your question also gives me a sensory memory, reminding me that literature is not primarily conceptual: the first pandemic summer, when stores and cafés and libraries were still closed, and I would walk around the city for hours and for miles, dripping with sweat—they always tell you how cold Minneapolis gets in the winter but never how hot in the summer—listening to any podcast I could find. My recollection is that Judge said on his show, whatever he would Tweet later, that those were the three greatest works of American prose, which isn't quite the same thing as greatest American novels. Nightwood's prose, the vision it discloses, is incomparable, something like late James in a fever dream:

Like a painting by the douanier Rousseau, she seemed to lie in a jungle trapped in a drawing room (in the apprehension of which the walls have made their escape), thrown in among the carnivorous flowers as their ration; the set, the property of an unseen dompteur, half lord, half promoter, over which one expects to hear the strains of an orchestra of wood-winds render a serenade which will popularize the wilderness.

I first read Nightwood for my oral exams in grad school; when I conferred with my advisor after reading it, her only comment on the novel was, and I quote, "It's a hoot!" I second that.

The virtues of Gravity's Rainbow qua Great American Novel are more obvious. I explored them here:

Gravity’s Rainbow, set in Europe, is a Great American Novel because it criticizes America (or, in the orthography of the period, AmeriKKKa) in the name of universal emancipation. [...] Slothrop, “Providence’s little pal,” descends from the Puritans—his ancestor, William, came over on the Arbella, the ship bearing John Winthrop, though William, a dissident among the elite, stood up for the preterite (the novel’s system of allusions doubling Slothrop with JFK suggests a more historically proximate example of a dissident elite done in by Them). Yet what could be more faithful to Puritanism, to John Winthrop himself, than such a jeremiad? Only a disappointed lover could turn into such a castigating prophet: why rail so furiously against the New World unless you really were expecting a City on a Hill?

Much as Pynchon's brand of stoner comedy sometimes grates on me, much as I find that book harder to read than is strictly necessary even for its radical political purpose, our reclusive author seems to me to have earned the title.

Personally, I wouldn't exclude either book, I would just make a longer list: The Scarlet Letter, The Portrait of a Lady, My Ántonia, Light in August, The Adventures of Augie March, Invisible Man, Song of Solomon, Blood Meridian, Underworld, etc.—each of us can add or subtract.

#djuna barnes #thomas pynchon #american literature #literature #literary criticism

2 notes · View notes

whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Thursday 18 August 1836

7 35

12 40

no kiss Ingham waited for me ½ hour - downstairs at 8 10 - spoke to him about the walling at Hilltop - thought it should be done at 9/. per rood - sent him to see - then out with the workmen - Robert 4 on this side levelling the slope between the middle garden door and the rocks - had Mr. Husband - settled with him about the timber received back £9.10.9 out of the £130 given him on Saturday - no wainscot (oak logs) to be bought - no deals in store - bought them out of the ship, of Barker and Spalding, - they had but 40 oak logs and they were all sold before the vessel arrived - great demand for wood - fine morning but dullish F58° at 9 ¼ at which hour breakfast - Rain at 10 for an hour or 2 - had Ingham again about 11 or before - and staid till after 12 - 38 roods of walling - could not take it under 11/6 - why so high - long before I get fairly at the bottom of it - Mark Hepworth would be bound to nothing about the carting, and would not let the stone come thro’ his land unless he carted them himself - would not cart them by the rood - would work by day, 10/. a day - would not say how many times he would go a day - but let it out that he might go 8 times - and could bring a rood at 4 times - plenty of stone at Freeman’s delf in my yew trees wood quarry - but the man would not let anybody have them at less than 6d. or load - Ingham if he would make any abatement for ready money - no! but Mark Hepworth might make some allowance if he liked - I did not want any mischief but thought Mark rather hard in not binding himself to anything so that I- durst not engage for less than 11/6 a rood – I said I had no idea of not having the privilege of having stone carted for me across my own land - that would not do - but I would give Mark 7/6 per rood for stone and carting and I- 2/9 per rood for walling - the latter agreed upon with I- and said I would try to have stone ready on Monday - but would let I- know - I- said if the weather was fine he could do the 38 roods in a fortnight - I- thought 7/6 a rood for stone and carting fair - 8 times a day (bringing a rood at a time) = 2 roods at 5/. = 10/. + 8 loads at 6d. = 4/. or 14/. and at 7/6 per rood I should pay 15/. one shilling over to give the men for helping to loaden, or not, at Mark’s discretion - with Booth in the servants hall - pulled down the new larder today and throw it to what was Eugenie’s bedroom - then with A- till 3 - (she off to Cliff hill about 3 ¼) - out with Robert + Wood and Matthew and Jack and Sam and John Booth levelling and soiling for the planting strawberries between the middle garden door and the rocks till 6 or after - rain again and rain repeated showers after the hour or 2 of rain from 10 to 12 in the morning - wildish windy rainy day and ditto now tonight at 11 ½ pm - dinner at 7 - coffee - A- did her French sat talking - letter from Miss Wright Lenton house near Nottingham - good character of F. Hudson (she lived 3 years in the family of Miss Wright’s father) - but bad temper - with my aunt from 10 to 10 ½ - A- and I sat talking in the blue room about servants etc - then till 11 ½ wrote all but the 1st six lines of today - F50 ½° now at 11 ½ pm - Ingham speaking of yew trees wood stone said it was six yards thick of good stone - (Mr. Freeman gave me 4/. a yard for it with allowance for ruttle!)

4 notes · View notes

burningdarkfire · 2 years

Text

the sandman thoughts (compiled from my drafts)

this show is soooooooooo profoundly british it's hilarious.

i feel like we are at a cultural moment where personifying concepts as just people is Not Very Cool (i would want them to be monstrous u know?) or perhaps i simply hate the actor’s face a little. intentional?

anyway my friend promised me the most pathetic sad man alive and you know what? he's right. we made it to episode 3 and not only is he pathetic and sad but he is annoying about it too which is exactly the kind of fucking combo that i love. when matthew was like yea boss i promise whatever they’re doing right now they’re not thinking about you and then it smash cut to the lesbians making out .. that’s humour

episode 4 with lucifer/gwendoline christie: an incredible banger i love her. also still being in love with someone after 10000 years? simp. putting her in hell and telling her he doesn’t forgive her? petty bitch. i love him

episode 5: honestly the slow roll was just toooooooooooo slow when it’s not doing anything new

episode 6: yessss besties it’s time for the best episode of the show .. white men looking at each other!! pop the bottles we are shipping

episodes 7-8: something about the dialogue and rose's dialogue in particular is so stilted? so awkward. she talks way younger than 21

my interest fell off a cliff in the final arc and it took us like a month to finish the show after that. overall i liked it and i think dream is a great character and a great protagonist, but i feel like it wasn’t particularly well adapted to a tv season? i don’t want my tv shows to feel like comic books, i want them to feel like tv shows. the pacing in particular was very odd/bad for a tv season.

my friend gifted me the first volume of the comic so in theory i’m going to start reading them except that (oops) i don’t really like the art style so. we’ll see how far i get

#my posts #liveblogging tv #the sandman

1 note · View note

matthewgiggles · 2 years

Text

‘The King’s Man‘ - Review

After quite a saga thanks to my Belgian government closing down our cinemas for 5 weeks, only to be forced to re-open them again by our courts after just 5 days… I quickly booked my ticket to see the film, before any more unexpected delays!

After all, Matthew Vaughn’s prequel to The Kingsman franchise was originally supposed to be released by November 2019! Just a couple of weeks before the release of Sam Mendes’ stunning WWI drama ‘1917’ (more on that later).

The film features an ensemble cast that includes Ralph Fiennes , Matthew Goode , Gemma Arterton, Rhys Ifans, Tom Hollander, Harris Dickinson, Daniel Brühl, Djimon Hounsou, and Charles Dance, and focuses on several events during World War I and the birth of the Kingsman organization.

Naturally you probably just want to know about Matthew Goode’s performance as Morton 😉. Unfortunately it’s almost entirely impossible to talk about Matthew in this film without mentioning spoilers.

However to keep it short and sweet for those who wish to remain spoilers - free:

Matthew is an utter brilliant scene stealer in the film and gives so much energy to his performance. He really gives his all 💯 and his scenes with his good ol’ friend Ralph Fiennes (Orlando,Duke of Oxford) are the highlights of the film and so much fun to watch!

The King’s Man has a terrific cast and is entertaining throughout - and blends action, drama and comedy very well indeed. If you want pure historical accuracy about the period : go see ‘1917’. (Well it’s also worth a watch in any case) However this is a Matthew Vaughn’s production and a Kingsman film with a twist - so if you are familiar with the franchise, you already kinda know what to expect.

So definitely go see it in cinemas if you can and if you feel safe enough to do so.

SPOILERS ⬇️

I won’t go through the plot of the entire film and will leave out some spoilers. Will just highlight a few Goode things 😉

The film starts in 1902 in South-Africa during the Boer War and this is where we first get to meet Morton , who is Lord Kitchener’s aide (Charles Dance - Game of Thrones, The Imitation Game). Something very tragic happens to Orlando, Duke of Oxford (Ralph Fiennes) and his family when he visits a concentration camp there while on a mission for the Red Cross. Which is then followed by a 12 year long time-jump to 1914. During those 12 years, Morton remains by the side of Lord Kitchener - Secretary of State for War. So for more than a decade Morton seems like a very trustworthy and loyal soldier of the British Army and defender of the British Empire.

So once we arrive in 1914, we get a first glimpse of our Shepherd in a large barn at the top of a cliff surrounded by goats, who is instructing his flock of his plans to destabilise and destroy the entire British Empire. His motive is revenge for his family and Scottish ancestors : for all those hundreds of years of oppression and suffering at the hands of the English. We never get to see his face until the very end of the film, but oh boy do you hear him! 🤣 So the plan is to pit Queen Victoria’s three grandchildren against each other, (because as cousins growing up they already had a childhood feud) by infiltrating the courts of the Russian, German and the British Empire. You can hear such a pure evil menacing cackle of laughter (it’s the best!) as he explains that he already has a mole at the heart of the British government. I guess this was Vaughn’s biggest hint at giving the audience a clue of the Shepherd’s true identity 😉.

Matthew Vaughn was rather clever here: because even if the audience now suspects that it could be Morton who is the double agent, the events and scenes that follows - immediately puts this theory into doubt. As the plot moves forward, Lord Kitchener and Morton find themselves on a ship bound for Russia who is then torpedoed by a submarine. So for all intent and purpose everyone thinks that Kitchener and Morton perished together at sea.

Unfortunately for our Shepherd he isn’t the only one who has secret operatives all around the world, as Orlando (Duke of Oxford) and his son Conrad together with Polly & Shola get into the action themselves to try and put a stop to all his murderous plans. Rasputin gets his chance to shine, but is rather quickly dealt with.

However the Great War rages on, and as the film depicts the brutal reality and heroism of WWI on the battle field and the trenches - this entire section of the film is truly emotional to watch. And I get the similarity with Sam Mendes’ 1917 here. It’s the real heart of the entire film.

Eventually Orlando & co find out where to find this mysterious Shepherd, and the big reveal is a joy to watch! Matthew uses his voice perfectly here, as before showing his face he switches slowly from that loud booming Scottish accent to his more natural everyday speaking voice as Morton. Brilliantly done! 👏

The confrontation and sword fight with Orlando is outstanding! I am sure Ralph and Matthew had so much fun and the best time rehearsing some of those tricky sneaky moves (together with stunt doubles I know…). I absolutely loved it! I am also beyond thrilled that it was Matthew who got his “Manners Maketh Man” scene and got to say it too! 😊

Now about those goats eh 🐐 🐐🐐They are very rare CASHMERE GOATS thank you very much, and Angus is his favourite! 🤣 Sadly for the goats… their Shepherd has quite a bit of a temper when his plans go south - and even manhandles Angus with his sword 🗡 , by cutting a piece of his horns. 🤬 So when the time came for the villain of the film to come to his untimely death… I am pleased to say that Angus got his revenge by sticking his abused horn right through Morton’s already wounded leg - causing him to lose his momentum against Orlando. With the Duke of Oxford now on the winning end, he decides to let Morton fall to his death. So a few moments later our Shepherd ends up at the bottom of the cliff. It was a very very very long drop and 0 chance of survival - or sequel appearance chances.

Matthew’s Scottish accent is EVERYTHING! 💥 His intonation is just perfect as always and it’s just dripping with malice. I also loved hearing him swear “You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me” and “for f*ck’s sake” throughout the film! 😁 If swearing bothers you… 🤷‍♀️ I wonder how many non-Goodey fans guessed he was the villain? Because from reading and listening to Vaughn’s interviews, the audience really isn’t supposed to know it was ‘Morton’ who was pulling the strings all along. It’s not MG’s fault in the slightest as his two ‘voices’ in the film are very different from each other! However, Matthew’s voice is so distinctive - especially to us who have watched him over so many years , that we can’t but recognise it instantly. 😊

Which brings me to the PROMO and media campaign, together with the critics’ low ratings of the film.

The premise that the events that leads to WWI are orchestrated by a Scottish radical nationalist is hilarious! Yet for some reason it was blasted for its silliness and historical inaccuracy. 🙄 FFS It’s meant to be entertainment! If you have watched the Marvel films and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. , the Shepherd is basically the head of Hydra and his flock are all the secret double agents manipulating people and events for their own benefit. Vaughn never claimed to make The King’s Man 100% accurate! He did want to make a WWI film that audiences from all ages could enjoy. It’s not like everyone will suddenly forget the history lessons from school, Uni etc… 😉

By keeping our temperamental Scottish lunatic’s identity secretive throughout the film, I do understand why it was difficult to involve Matthew in the promo campaign. However as a direct result - all eyes were on Rhys Ifans’ Rasputin. Countless of trailers, posters etc showed a teaser of his most iconic scene in the film: the dancing action sequence and his sword fight with Ralph Fiennes. With all that promotion I think everyone thought he would have far more scenes, and thus end up disappointed.

The critics also have a collective tantrum over the so called ‘tonal changes’. I wonder if these same critics have watched ‘Silent Night’? Because let me tell you: watching The King’s Man is like sailing on a gentle wave compared to the devastating tsunami of SN. The tonal changes aren’t jarring at all. I loved the mix of poignant raw emotional scenes of the WWI battles, the father-son relationship and of course the pure joy and fun watching our maniacal Scottish swearing friend at work behind the scenes. The King’s Man has comedic notes, but after Rasputin’s demise there’s not that many laugh out loud scenes anymore. Which fits with the changing tone of the film as we see the devastating ravages of war and its consequences.

The King’s Man is bombing at the box office sadly and it’s a real shame as it deserves far more credit. I truly hope that Matthew Vaughn will release his extended edition of this one in a couple of years, as he said he had to cut 1 entire hour from the film!

Matthew once again excels at playing the bad guy, so you truly won’t be disappointed by his performance! 💥😆

The King’s Man is out now in theatres and will be released for streaming sometime by end of February.

📷 All pictures belong to Marv Studios / Disney / 20th Cent Fox

#the king’s man #kingsman #the king’s man review #kingsman spoilers #the king’s man spoilers #matthew goode

43 notes · View notes

idrisnnet-archive · 3 years

Text

Ten bucks and a date

IDRISNNET'S HALLOWEEN EVENT - week 1: free choice!

SHIP: Thomas x Alastair

TROPES: Meet cute, College/University AU

WORDS: 2 383

•

“I hate Halloween.”

“Why? It's fun!”

Thomas sighed. “Halloween is just a rootless American evening that is created not to honor any ancient holidays (not really and you know it) but to take people's money through corporations that create costumes and candy that benefit - guess who! - the American economy and do local businesses dirty.”

Thomas, Matthew and Christopher were at James' house, waiting for him to bring something to drink.

“The hell?” Matthew said, blinking at him.

Thomas shrugged, crossing legs on the sofa.

“So,” Christopher said, raising his head from his homework. “You hate Halloween because it's American?”

Thomas groaned. “This is all you heard?”

“It's all that mattered,” he said. Thomas shook his head.

“Kit,” Matthew said. “What do you think?”

Christopher shrugged. “I don't see the point of it. I understand it's supposed to be fun. But candy and dressing up aren't my cup of tea.”

“I'll jump off a cliff,“ Matthew murmured.

“Hey,” James entered the room, bringing a few bottles of water. “Why will you jump off a cliff?”

“Jamie,” Matthew said. “Please tell me you like Halloween.”

James shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Matthew beamed. “Finally! I knew my best friend wouldn't disappoint me!”

James curiously looked at the Merry Thieves. “Did I miss something?”

“We were talking about some Halloween party at the Bridgestock's house tonight and Matthew wants us to go,” Thomas said.

“And then Thomas revealed he has no soul,” Matthew said with a serious expression.

A pillow hit him in the face.

•

In the end, they went. Matthew had his way of making people do things. It also helped that Lucie convinced Thomas it wouldn't be completely awful.

She was dressed as Harley Quinn. She was still doing her makeup when they came but the costume was on. Her hair wasn’t blonde but the haircut was accurate.

Matthew was excited to make them dress in costumes. He himself was Dorian Grey. Lucie helped him with his make up for it. James was dressed as Peter Pan. Green suited him but he refused to wear a wig and make up. Christopher was convinced to be Einstein. He even put on the wig. He didn't look too happy though. He said Einstein is a physicist and Kit was a chemist. But he admitted he liked being in a laboratory apron.

Thomas' costume was simpler. No makeup (even though Lucie very much wanted to). Just the Joker costume and a mask with his makeup (that Thomas took off fast anyway).

They all went to the party, Matthew looking smug he had made them go. For a while they were together. They danced for a while, then went to drink something.

At some point Christopher disappeared. James went to the bathroom. Matthew dragged him to a quieter room, with a few people on the floor, playing "True or Dare". Matthew, and even James when he came back, joined the game. Thomas quietly left the room with the excuse he'd look for Christopher.

He returned to the main room, walking through the crowd. The music was so loud he couldn't hear his own thoughts.

He spotted Christopher through the window. He was in the backyard, sitting next to Grace Cartwright. She was dressed as a ghost - white dress, remaining a wedding one, but in gothic style with black elements. Her whole face looked so beautiful but cold as a marble.

But then she said something and Christopher laughed, tilting his head back. Grace also smiled.

Thomas knew there was something between her and James that ended up badly but he never shared with them. But someone who made his cousin laugh like this couldn't be that bad.

Thomas decided not to bother them. He continued past the window, towards the stairs. He saw some people smoking. Or rather smelled it. Some drunk girl dressed like a witch waved at Thomas with a big smile. He waved back.

As he was approaching the second floor by the stairs, the party became quieter. The music wasn't so loud here and it had fewer people. Thomas was passing by rooms from which were coming out suspicious noises. He hurried to leave them behind.

He ended up at the end of the corridor. One door was ajar. He couldn't hear anything from inside. He pushed it aside, stepping in. It was unexpectedly chilly. The balcony door was open. He could see a person sitting on the floor, smoking. He approached them, trying to make some noise to not startle them. They had an earphone in one ear. Thomas could hear the music.

“Hey, um,” he said. “Is it okay if I stay here for a while? I think this is one of the few rooms that isn't busy with… two people.”

“Sure,” the person, who turned out to be a guy, said. “I needed to escape myself.”

He didn't have a complicated costume either. He was wearing a skeleton tuxedo with a skull mask that covered half of his face. Thomas guessed he hadn't removed it because of the beautiful node on his nape.

As Thomas sat next to him, he put out the cigarette. But when he started to stop his music, Thomas said, “No need to stop it. I love this song.”

“Oh,” he blinked at him. Then smiled. “Not many people know Freddie Mercury's solo stuff. I'm impressed.”

Thomas laughed. “Don't be. I just like the 80s. The golden era of music.”

“Couldn't agree more,” the boy smiled. “Even though I think I prefer the 70s.”

“Why?” Thomas asked, curious.

“Elton John.”

Thomas couldn't help a laugh. “Fair enough.”

Thomas really wished he had brought his rainbow pin at this party. But of course he would talk with some cool guy about queer musicians at some stupid Halloween party without it.

“Are you here alone?” Thomas asked. At least he could know if the guy was single or not.

“Technically, no,” he said. Thomas' heart dropped in his stomach. “I came with my friends. But they're all too busy hooking up with somebody,” he snorted. “So I just came here to listen to some music instead of that loud trash.”

Thomas laughed again, relieved. “I feel you.”

He handed Thomas the other earphone. “Do you want to listen too?”

Thomas took it and put it on. Freddie Mercury's voice filled his head, clear and beautiful. The volume wasn't too loud so they could talk and listen to it at the same time.

Maybe this Halloween party wasn't that bad.

•

Alastair's heart was going to jump out of his chest. The guy's laugh was still ringing in his ears.

“I'm Thomas, by the way,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Alastair,” they shook hands and Alastair smiled. “Nice to meet you too. It's good to know there are men of culture here.”

The guy - Thomas - smiled again. It was a nice sight.

“How about you?” Alastair said. “Are you here alone?”

“I also came with friends. But…” he made a face. “I'm in a similar situation.”

“Well,” Alastair said and looked at the sky. “It's good we found each other then.”

“Yep,” Thomas said. “Or else I would have been sitting on the corner, waiting for one of my friends to get drunk so I can take him home.”

Alastair laughed. “Good thing my friends don't get drunk.”

“I don't believe you. Everyone who isn't religious or in good health, gets drunk at these parties. And there is, like, ten percent of good people like ourselves who can have fun without alcohol.”

“I disagree,” Alastair raised an eyebrow. “You know what? Let's bet.”

“Okay,” Thomas said with a laugh. “What is the bet?”

“If you lose,” Alastair said. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“And if you lose,” Thomas said with sparkling eyes. “You owe ten bucks and a date.”

Alastair's heart jumped. He grinned. “Deal.”

They heard a noise from the backyard in front of them. Alastair couldn’t see what the drama was about but there were quite a few people.

“I have to go,” Thomas said and got up. He was looking at someone in the backyard.

“Oh,” Alastair spared him a glance. “Okay.”

“I'm so sorry,” he said. “I just saw one of my friends is drunk as fuck and he gets really... loud when he's like this.”

“It’s alright,” Alastair grinned.

Thomas was almost at the door when he turned back and said, walking back. “Find me some time in the faculty of history!” then, almost running, disappeared from Alastair’s view.

Alastair stayed on the balcony a little longer. The group of people in the yard were gone by a few minutes and it was quiet again.

Alastair decided it's time to find his friends. He got up slowly, putting out the cigarette he had lit after Thomas left. To be honest, he was kind of pissed at them. It was Kamala that insisted they dress up and Jesse to come here as a group. Yet at the end of the evening they were all in different places in the house, talking with other people.

He left the room, closing the door after himself. Now it was definitely less crowded. The music was quieter too. As he descended the stairs, he looked around. The last remaining people were either sleeping on the floor or some random objects that could be laid on. A few were smoking near the windows and some people that seemed very much drunk were dancing.

He spotted Grace close to the back door, smoking. He went to her, calling her name. She turned to him and smiled a little. He sat next to him and she handed him her cigarette. He took of his mask and took the cigarette.

“Where have you been?” she said.

“Well,” Alastair said, exhaling the cloud of smoke. “I was trying not to die of social interaction after all my best friends left me alone.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “You always have to be dramatic, don't you?”

“Only when it's needed,” Alastair grinned. “Where are Jesse and Kamala?”

“I'm pretty sure Kamala is hooking up with somebody. And by "somebody" I mean Anna,” Alastair snorted. Every damn time. “And I think Jesse went somewhere.”

Alastair eyed her. “He went somewhere?”

Grace shrugged. Anyone else would say she didn't care. But Alastair could see the tension in her shoulders.

He continued to stare at her. Grace exhaled and frustrated said “He left with Lucie Herondale.”

“Oh,” Alastair said.

“Don't "oh" me,” Grave said, annoyed. “I'm fine. I'm just pissed he still tries to hide it from us. Like he can keep a secret,” she snorted.

“Give him a break,” Alastair said. “He's only worried you would be upset he's dating your ex's sister.”

At the time when Grace dated James, she had discovered her aro-spec identity. She had a hard time with it - she didn't want to hurt James but also didn't want to pretend. Alastair didn't know the whole story - he guessed Jesse did - but the things between them had become ugly. Finally they broke up but Grace never talked about what exactly happened between them.

“I know,” Grace said, staring at her cigarette. “I just… I feel like he doesn't trust me.”

“Bullshit,” Alastair said immediately. “If he trusts anyone in this world, it's you. You know it.”

“I suppose,” Grace said hesitantly. She eyed him. “But seriously, what have you been doing the whole time?”

“You can't mind your own business, can you, Cartwright?”

“Nope.”

Alastair sighed. “I was in one of the rooms upstairs. I… met someone.”

Grace's eyes widened. “And you survived the social interaction?!”

“Shut up,” Alastair rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” she said. “Spill.”

“Okay, okay… his name is Thomas. And he's bloody tall.”

“Promising beginning,” Grace laughed.

“Seriously though,” Alastair said, a small smile on his face. “He's cool. We talked about queer musicians. Oh my god, Grace, he's an actual fan of Queen and Freddie Mercury. Not like the people who know their three greatest hits and claim to be the biggest fans. He knows their music. It was awesome.”

Alastair continued to talk a bit more. Grace was just listening with a smile on her lips.

“Oh, and a question,” Alastair said at some point. “Do most people at college parties get drunk?”

Grace stared at him.

“What?”

“Alastair,” she said. “This is the point of college parties.”

He frowned at her. “No, it’s not. The point is to have fun. Dance and all that shit.”

“Yeah,” Grace said, putting out the cigarette. She didn't light another one. “But for most people fun at these parties means hooks up, alcohol and then dancing.”

“Damn.”

“You're an idiot,” Grace said.

“Maybe,” Alastair said with a sly smile. “But I'm an idiot with a date.”

Grace arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“Thomas and I made a bet,” he explained. “If I win, he owes me ten bucks. If he wins, I owe him ten bucks and a date. And I lost.”

Grace shook her head with a smile.

“So,” Alastair said after a while. “Who was this dude with the glasses you were talking with?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” she said. “We are not talking about this. All I know is that he's demi and he knows I'm aroflux but we are not talking about him. Because if we do, you'll tell Kamala, she will tell Jesse and y'all are going to obsess over him.”

“Come on,” Alastair grinned, repeating the same thing she said to him. “Spill.”

Grace gave him a dirty look. “Fuck you.”

Alastair raised hands in the air like he was surrendering.

“Okay, okay.” Grace was right. They were going to obsess over him. But only because Grace sometimes dated assholes and with time they have become overprotective. They wanted only the best for her

Grace exhaled. “Thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence Alastair whispered. “What faculty is he in though?”

Grace got up immediately. “Nope. I'm going to look for Anna, you stay here and be happy about your date.”

Alastair grinned looking after her. She disappeared from sight, probably walking towards Kamala's room. He looked at the yard again, still holding his skull mask. They had a lot to clean up. The whole house was a mess and they had only two days before Kamala's parents came back. But he couldn't take the smile off his face.

#thomastair #tlh #tsc #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #ours #by sav #tlh fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #t: fanfiction #ch: thomas lightwood #ch: alastair carstairs #ch: grace blackthorn #event 1: halloween #idrisnnetdaily #tsccreatenet

77 notes · View notes