#I cried for his death and then he woke up at a mortuary

[just2bubbly]

Watching the show Railway Man rn and God nothing infuriates me more than AMERICANS I was gonna say government employees before AMERICANS IN POWER THAT CHOOSE TO DO NOTHING AND ALLL THE AMERICANS ON TUMBLR THAT ARE GOING TO COME TO ME I DON'T CARE I HAVE SM RAGE IN ME RN AND BEFORE I GO ON A RANT ON HOW THE SHOW IS GOOD I WANNA SAY THIS

Imbecile American can rot in their "free world" for they did nothing good out of global welfare and alliance

Yeah, now why are safety measures never working when you need them the most?! For those of who that came across this post and have no idea, this is about the Bhopal Gas Tragedy where about 8000 people were killed due to MIC, which is an extremely poisonous gas. And watch this show Indians should definitely watch this show. This show infuriates me to no extend over incompetent Government employees that don't know their job and corrupt politicians that can't fucking do atleast one thing right. And God save us for there are only "some" officials and people in the country that atleast do care. And that gives me hope for the future of the country. Men, women and children dying because there was no way of control and I have to say 'why are people so hard to restrain?!' when you tell them there's danger, don't get out of the train kyu train ke bahar aana hai, khud ke liye platform pe lashe giri dekhni hai— listen to the people that are looking out for your safety. Politicians, people in power, higher ranking officials that choose to sit silently for the danger isn't close to them are imbeciles, one that are legit the only harm to mankind. There's no gruesome crime than having a person in charge that doesn't have ounce of humanity.

#the railway men #babil khan #r madhavan #k k menon #I cried for his death and then he woke up at a mortuary #also my cousin was like 'ab yeh uthega' and I told him this ain't an Hollywood movie #woh sach mei uth gaya 🥲 #But yea I cried for Riaz and SM and Vijaya and Prasad and Kumudini and his child #this show is so haunting and gruesome #everyone should watch it and yea you won't regret it #bhopal gas tragedy

[spehllmanbound]

AMBROSE'S FIRST SELF RESURRECTION;;

Ambrose was ten when his father was brutally murdered by witch hunters. He had spent most of his life learning the craft, learning the satanic bible, learning the ways of a warlock, He had always wanted to make his father proud so he studied and dedicated his life to magic, when he found out his father died because of what he was, Because of his practice and what he believed in he spiraled out of control, He dug into the dark arts and he broke into the morgue, he stared at his father's lifeless mangled corpse he begged satan, begged the powers that be to bring him back, and his eyes sprung open and he gasped for air "Ambrose.." he rasped out and ambrose cried and cried and clung to his father "What have you done boy.." ambrose wiped his eyes with bloodied hands. " I brought you back pa." his father looked at his chest's open wounds. "Ambrose...no...this is wrong..." ambrose was confused all he wanted was to save his father before he could speak again His father's eyes glazed over and his breathing began to slow. "Pa?...PA?" ambrose screamed and gripped him tightly. "goodbye son.." he whispered and once again he was gone. His mother found him huddled over his body crying, His mother had to pry him away and sedate him with a spell, The next morning he woke up and begged her to let him try again he was so close he could do it right this time, His mother explained to him how dark Necromancy worked, How he could not bring his father back without taking life and little ambrose at age ten thought about it and stewed in his room for days until the funeral, He was no killer, he couldn't even squash bugs, BUT his own life ... was another thing. A day before the funeral, He took Belladonna, slipped into sleep, and died. He awoke in the dirt gasping for air his mouth filling with soil as he desperately tried to get out of the dirt, He was pulled out and saw his mother's face crying as she held him, She explained how the Spellman could come back from certain instances of death, HIS father was not a Spellman... How certain soils and grave pits could bring them back... He did not attend his father's funeral and ran away from home, He spent the new five years roaming from place to place until he joined the cult of Aleister Crowley, He preached a new form of magic, a way to practice without worshiping the dark lord, Ambrose was lost and hung on every word he said and when they planned to blow up the Vatican he had no issue with it, AFTER the failure of the plan and him being arrested Ambrose was given the choice of either surrendering the people who helped him OR Eternal damnation unless he spent his life in house arrest, They contacted Ambrose's mother and she came in front of the witch tribunal and refused to take responsibility for him, Ambrose was then sent to his Distant aunts and to prove his loyalty the tribunal made him Sign the book of the beasts on his sixteenth birthday And he spent the rest of his years locked up in The Spellman Mortuary until he made a deal with a demon selling his soul for his release to help his cousin.

#tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw self harm #tw death #hahaha this hurt

[unorthodoxsavvy]

Whumptober Day 25: Silence is Golden

Malcolm woke up strapped to a table in some sort of crude, underground medical room. The straps lay fully over his arms, chest, and legs both above and below his knees, so that he was able to separate his legs and move them from side to side, but unable to lift them at all.

Malcolm looked around the room. It was small, with only the one gurney he was laying on, and a metal table with a drain beside him. On a wall were square, metal doors. There were cabinets of various chemicals and tools to the other side of the room. It looked like an abandoned morgue.

Malcolm drooped his head back down, tired from holding it up, and instead stared at the light that was positioned over his head. He heard a door on the side of the room open.

"Hey, doc, what's the diagnosis?" Malcolm asked with a wry smile. He wasn't worried. He'd made it out of worse scrapes than this.

The "doctor" didn't answer. He was out of Malcolm's sight, so Malcolm lifted his head up once more and glanced over. The man was sitting at a desk with a computer, writing something down on a clipboard, as if this really were a working morgue and the man had files to submit.

"Whatchya writing? Making sure you got the right dead guy?" Malcolm joked. "Ah, but I'm not dead yet, am I? That's the fun part! The torture!" Malcolm nodded along to himself.

The man continued writing.

"You know, I've been in a LOT of medical labs before, quite a few as a hostage, in fact, but I think this is my first time as a hostage in a morgue. Of course, I'm always in a morgue anyway, what with being a profiler for killers and all, and I've even laid on those metal tables before, which are unsurprisingly not comfortable, but I've never been strapped to a gurney in a morgue against my will before. Is that your thing? Like some sort of necrophilia fetish, but you want to get them fresh? I thought the bodies being stiff and cold or whatever was part of the draw, but maybe not."

The man finished his writing and clocked the pen closed, placing down the clipboard.

"Were you a mortuary assistant in another life? Or a coroner? Or maybe even this life! Maybe you still are! Does it pay well? I should know, my friend's a medical examiner with the NYPD. She loves it when I help her out on cases. I have a lot of medical knowledge from my father, who was a surgeon, and also THE Surgeon, like the serial killer. I also know a lot about how drugs work from living with my mom for eighteen years."

The doctor, or whatever or whoever he was, was prepping something over on a metal side table on wheels.

"What's your thoughts on life after death? Is there a heaven? A hell? Something else? Something inbetween? How about burial vs cremation? I want to be planted as a tree myself."

The doctor turned around and Malcolm saw what looked like a spool of thread in one hand.

The doctor set it down beside Malcolm on the table he was strapped to and pulled a clamp from his coat pocket.

He opened the clamp and reached one hand out towards Malcolm's mouth, pulling his lips shut with a pinch and then placing the clamp painfully tight over Malcolm's stretched lips. As Malcolm watched the doctor carefully made a few attempts to thread the needle by hand with his blue latex gloves before successfully pushing the thread through the small eyelet.

He tied the thread after cutting it and bent over Malcolm, blocking his view of the light above him and casting him in shade.

Malcolm's head rested in a large clamp like the kind they used when patients were given electroshock, and the doctor tightened the clamp on either side of Malcolm's head so he wouldn't thrash around.

Malcolm felt the needle press into his bottom lip up into his mouth and then through his upper lip. Malcolm cried in pain, but the cry was muffled due to his lips being shut.

Malcolm felt the needle push back down in his upper lip and then back into his lower lip.

The doctor continued his zigzag stitches until he reached the side of Malcolm's mouth closest to him. Then he pushed the needle back up through Malcolm's lower lip and went back down the length of Malcolm's mouth using a stitch that wrapped around the outer portion of Malcolm's lips, making sure that Malcolm wouldn't be able to open his mouth again.

When the doctor was done he tied the thread and cut it from the needle.

"There," he smiled. "Silence is golden."

#whumptober 2022 #no. 25 #silence is golden #prodigal son fic #prodigal son #malcolm bright