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Rated Mature for the implications of the Battle of the Bulge and WW2 in general.\n\nCyana belongs to Code Blocker on FA. All i own is the story and thumbnail. Any complaints go to me. ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "One story I'm doing for the lovely Code Blocker. Rated Mature for the implications of the Battle of the Bulge and WW2 in general.

Cyana belongs to Code Blocker on FA. All i own is the story and thumbnail. Any complaints go to me. ", "writing": "The night crept along at a maddening speed as the group of scattered soldiers waited and watched the doors and windows as more icy thumps resonated through the house. Summers had long since abandoned the idea of going out to check for who was throwing the damn things, something that Kalvin had whole-heartedly agreed with once he noticed that, even though fresh snow was falling there was still a definite lack of footprints to track. The plan had to bunker down and wait until first light, conserve what ammunition they still had and wait either until the asshole outside decided to give up and go away, or get shot when they could properly see him.\nAnother thud resonated through the walls, jerking Tollen and Nimer awake in response, Tollen sighing in aggravation as they tried to settle back down for the rest of the night, or at least until whatever kraut it was who was screwing with them decided to throw another ball. Rook had taken his shift of guard duty alongside Holmes and Summers while Kalvin slept until his own shift. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing to endure, considering it beat getting shelled in a foxhole or ducking sniper fire in the middle of a forest full of trees that got blown apart from mortars. At least that was what everyone told themselves as another snowball- maybe ice, considering the sound- struck the wall, knocking a flagon off of a shelf that shattered on the floor.\n“You think he’ll run out of snowballs soon,” Jamie groaned quietly as he was jerked awake. “That thumping’s getting annoying.”\n“Doesn’t look like it,” Samson replied, cleaning his nails with his boot-knife. “Still snowing out there and it doesn’t look like it’ll stop soon.”\nJamie groaned and sat up, rubbing at his face with both hands. “I swear, if I see that bastard I’ll blast his ass from here to Berlin.”\n“If he sticks around for you to get a bead on him,” Samson added as he slid the knife back into its scabbard. “After all, Summers and Kalvin are ok just holding up here until first light. We can see about popping a few shots off after that.”\nThe wall shuddered once again, rousing Kalvin from his slumber.\n“Morning, Sarge,” Samson glanced over at the soldier as he sat up, looking around. “Sorry for the mortar fire but Jerry won’t give it a rest.”\nKalvin nodded as he looked up at the roof. “Better than staring down a tiger at any rate.”\nSamson chuckled. “At least with the Tiger you at least have a bazooka, or a Sherman.”\nA snowball struck the front door with enough force to make it shudder once again, whoever it was apparently not letting up with the harassment. At some point the guy was gonna have to go sleep off the excitement and give them a break, although so far that hadn’t happened. Summers had been sleeping as fitfully as the rest of the squad, trying to get as much rest as they could before the changing of the guard and his turn came around. After a while Kalvin, upon realizing that sleep wasn’t going to come to him got to his feet and walked about the room, if only to get the blood going.\nDoc Halbert, back before he got lost in the storm, had warned him about the dangers of trench foot and gangrene if he didn’t keep moving. The snow was a cruel bitch to behold, especially when a campfire or torch of any kind was a bad idea given the light and noise discipline you had to adhere to when you were as close to the line as they were, lest you paint yourself for a mortar barrage or a sniper’s attention. As he circled around the room for the second time he glanced at the door and stopped in his tracks.\nIn the door, just off-center was a splinter-covered icicle sticking through the wood. He blinked, slowly at first before taking a step closer with the thought that he was imagining what he was seeing, that his sleep-starved mind was pretending it was still asleep and he was dreaming. He reached out and tapped the tip of the icicle, recoiling in pain before looking at the tip of his finger and the drop of red that appeared through the skin.\nHe jumped in surprise when he saw another icicle tear through the door as another snowball- which he was sure it wasn’t just snowballs anymore- hit. He took a step back, his hand fumbling for his sidearm before a third and then a fourth icicle struck, catching the attention of Samson and Jamie.\n“What the hell,” Jamie muttered as he got to his feet, grabbing his carbine on the way up. “Is that ice,” he asked aloud as Samson reached for his own garand.\nKalvin opened his mouth to speak when something stopped him. It wasn’t the sound of another snowball thumping against the wall, or an icicle impaling the door once again. It was the fact that silence had returned for a moment. Kalving raised his hand for silence, his .45 clutched in the other as he neared the door, keeping a healthy distance in case whoever it was that was firing icicles was lining up a shot. He leaned in slightly, his head cocked as if listening for something right before the door- and Kalvin- was shredded by a fusillade from a MG42.\n“Shit,” someone shouted amid the gunfire as Samson and Jamie were on their feet in a heartbeat, Jamie putting shots through one of the windows with his carbine while Samson dove to the ground to drag Kalvin to safety. The swathe of gunfire that carved through the floor as the gunner on the other side of the door waivered was enough for Samson to back up as Kalvin’s chest opened up in spurts of red under the storm of bullets.\nOther guns were firing now, the rest of the squad having been roused from their slumber and from their other posts. The gunner from the front door finally stopped firing, either because Jamie had shot him, he had run out of ammo or simply because he ran off with gun in hand. Jamie and Samson didn’t rush out the door even as it collapsed inwards of its own weight, instead Samson pulling a grenade from Jamie’s belt, pulling the pin and chucking it outside. What was left of the window shattered inwards from the explosion, nearly catching Jamie as he dove backwards.\nAs suddenly as it had started, the commotion had ceased and all was quiet again. Samson was on his feet, rifle raised at the door while Jamie half-lay, half-sat against Samson’s leg, his carbine aimed at the window. Summers had appeared with his Thompson in one hand and a flashlight in the other with Tollen and Rook hot on his heels. Jamie motioned to the door and the three soldiers took up positions before Summers waved Rook over.\nThe light barely cut through the darkness outside, even as Summers led the way out of the house, covering the right as Tollen and Rook broke left. Jamie and Samson followed shortly after as Kalvo and Nimer dragged what was left of Kalvin and tried to keep him awake and alive. There wasn’t much to see outside, save for the pile of bullet casings that littered the snow like gold flakes on white sheets as they searched for the bastard that had opened up on them like fish in a barrel.\nAs luck would have it, a splatter of blood could be found on the snow, leading away into the darkness of the village. Rook voiced the idea of going after their would-be assaulter.\n“No,” Summers hissed loudly. “Not in this light. We’ll be sitting ducks out there.”\n“We were sitting ducks in there,” Rook snapped back. “With all due respect, sir, some kraut just opened up on us and wasted Sgt. Kalvin! Do you really want us to let him get away!?”\nSummers rounded on Rook, his eyes glinting with anger. “Stand down, private.”\nRook glared at Summers in kind, fingering the trigger of his carbine in a way that made the sergeant uneasy. Rook was foolish, but he wasn’t an idiot, right? Eventually, Rook lowered his rifle and nodded.\n“Sir, yes Sir,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly not enjoying the idea of staying behind. He didn’t say anything more, and that was all that Summers cared about at that moment. He ordered the men back inside, although Rook was one of the last to head in. When Summers turned to look at Rook he caught the last sight of him disappearing into the darkness, running after the trail of blood.\n“Goddammit,” he swore loudly.\n“I’ll get him, Sarge,” Samson said as he headed for the door, only for Summers to stop him,\n“No. As much as I want him back we can’t risk more men in this light. We need to hunker down and find a new place to hole-up.”\n“Think we’ll get hit again,” Jamie asked, gripping his carbine. “We ain’t gonna get hit again, right?”\nSummers shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Every on sentry duty until first light,” he tore his attention from the rest of the soldiers to kneel next to Kalvo and Nimer as they knelt next to Kalvin. “How bad,” he asked, already fearing the answer.\nNimer shook his head. “He’s gone,” he sighed as he stood up, heading for the corner of the room as Kalvo looked up at Summers.\n“He lost too much blood. There was nothing we could do.”\nSummers swore quietly and got to his feet. First Rook, now Kalvo… they needed to get back to the line and badly. The problem was that there was no telling where the line was, save for the faintest rumbles of artillery and the muffled stutter of MG fire that could have been miles upon miles away. It was a bad situation, made all the more worse but the rest of the men knew that it had to be done. Rook, the idiot that he was, would just have to fend for himself or come running back, everyone wishing for the latter given the choice.\nBy the time morning came fatigue had started to set in, the stress of the situation getting to some of the less-hardened soldiers although everyone had stayed together and stayed alive for another night. Once it was clear enough to see outside Summers waived the men out of the house, leaving Kalvin’s body on a bed to recover later, if there was time. His .45 was nestled in Summer’s field jacket, the cold metal pressed against his ribs.\nThe snow was still falling, although not as much as the night before. The blood trail was almost completely covered in a new layer of white but, with a keen enough eye could still be made out. Nimer took point, leading the squad forward with the bayonet on his garand pointing forward. Normally, Samson or Tollen would have made a joke about having the pig-sticker on his rifle and not being able to shoot straight with it on, but the time for jokes had come and gone. One soldier dead, the other missing, they had a score to settle with whoever it was that had opened up on the house and killed Kalvin.\nThe trail led up one of the streets, one that they hadn’t seen the day before. Summers made a curt motion with two fingers extended before waving his fist towards the right hand of the street before doing the same to the left. Tollen and Jamie broke to the right, rifles raised while Samson and Kalvo stuck to the left leaving Summers to walk behind Nimer. The moved slowly, quietly as windows, doors and even innocuous holes in the walls were watched at gunpoint.\nEventually, the blood trail led into what looked like a shop of some kind, although to them it looked like just another house, albeit with a fence in front and a giant hole in the side that was sprinkled with snow and the blood trail. Nimer glanced back at Summers, who nodded in return before waving a set of signals. The hole was easy enough to clamber through, Nimer leading the way with Summers covering him on the way in.\nThe inside of the shop was as cold as a witch’s tit, as Samson would say, but the inside was an abattoir of pig intestines and blood-stained knives and cleavers. Summers fumbled for his light and soon the inside of the butcher’s shop was illuminated in the orange-yellow brilliance. A sound of revulsion rose from Nimer’s throat when he saw a coil of guts wrapped around a wooden pillar, the blood having frozen on the way down to the ground.\n“So much for following the trail,” Summers sighed as he glanced at the front door, the light rolling over the ground and tables.\n“Sergeant,” Nimer called from deeper in the shop. “You’re gonna want to see this,” he said, sounding genuinely uncertain.\nSummers turned from the door and headed the same way that Nimer had gone, the sphere of light following the ground, passing over Nimer’s boots and continuing until it stopped over the body of a frozen German- a lance corporal if the patch was to be believed- with a cleaver lodged between his jaw and ribs like someone had tried to cut him up like a suckling pig. He was frozen stiff, as demonstrated when Nimer prodded his shoulder with the bayonet.\n“Must have been one hell of an argument,” Summers muttered as he turned the light around the rest of the room. “How long has he been here?”\n“Long enough,” Nimer said, turning to follow the cone of light with Summers. “Sarge, I don’t like this. Not one bit.”\n“I don’t blame you, corporal, alth-…” he trailed off, his eye riveted to something that the light revealed.\n“Although wh-” Nimer said when he too saw the thing that had grabbed Summer’s attention. “What in the helll?”\nBefore them lay a mass of ice and meat in a form that just barely made up a human figure, although that was the most they could make out from their spot. Nimer leaned closer, bringing the bayonet towards the body and prodded its leg, producing a squirt of black.\n“Look at its arm,” Summers whispered.\nNimer turned his eyes upward and noticed an MG42 that seemed covered in ice. The thing that got him, however, was the fact that where the MG42 ended, just behind the belt and trigger assembly it seemed to meld into ice and flesh though some bizarre, nightmarish way.\n“Sarge, just what the hell is that thing,” Nimer said lowly, his voice almost absent.\nSummers shook his head even though Nimer wasn’t looking. “I have no idea, but I don’t think it’s friendly.\nNimer prodded the figure once more and it exploded into movement, lunging for Nimer who screamed and fell backwards as the figure fell upon him but stopped short when the bayonet pierced through the frozen flesh and meat of its chest while Summers jumped just as much, his Thompson stuttering in contrast to the burst of MG fire that stopped short when the belt of 7.92 ran dry. Nimer managed to shove the thing away, using his rifle as a lever as the thing fell hard on its side, no longer moving. Nimer wasn’t about take any more risks and emptied the rest of his garand into the beast as Samson and Tollen stormed into the room, stopping short for a moment when they noticed just what it was that had accosted the rest of their squad.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "The night crept along at a maddening speed as the group of scattered soldiers waited and watched the doors and windows as more icy thumps resonated through the house. Summers had long since abandoned the idea of going out to check for who was throwing the damn things, something that Kalvin had whole-heartedly agreed with once he noticed that, even though fresh snow was falling there was still a definite lack of footprints to track. The plan had to bunker down and wait until first light, conserve what ammunition they still had and wait either until the asshole outside decided to give up and go away, or get shot when they could properly see him.
Another thud resonated through the walls, jerking Tollen and Nimer awake in response, Tollen sighing in aggravation as they tried to settle back down for the rest of the night, or at least until whatever kraut it was who was screwing with them decided to throw another ball. Rook had taken his shift of guard duty alongside Holmes and Summers while Kalvin slept until his own shift. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing to endure, considering it beat getting shelled in a foxhole or ducking sniper fire in the middle of a forest full of trees that got blown apart from mortars. At least that was what everyone told themselves as another snowball- maybe ice, considering the sound- struck the wall, knocking a flagon off of a shelf that shattered on the floor.
“You think he’ll run out of snowballs soon,” Jamie groaned quietly as he was jerked awake. “That thumping’s getting annoying.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Samson replied, cleaning his nails with his boot-knife. “Still snowing out there and it doesn’t look like it’ll stop soon.”
Jamie groaned and sat up, rubbing at his face with both hands. “I swear, if I see that bastard I’ll blast his ass from here to Berlin.”
“If he sticks around for you to get a bead on him,” Samson added as he slid the knife back into its scabbard. “After all, Summers and Kalvin are ok just holding up here until first light. We can see about popping a few shots off after that.”
The wall shuddered once again, rousing Kalvin from his slumber.
“Morning, Sarge,” Samson glanced over at the soldier as he sat up, looking around. “Sorry for the mortar fire but Jerry won’t give it a rest.”
Kalvin nodded as he looked up at the roof. “Better than staring down a tiger at any rate.”
Samson chuckled. “At least with the Tiger you at least have a bazooka, or a Sherman.”
A snowball struck the front door with enough force to make it shudder once again, whoever it was apparently not letting up with the harassment. At some point the guy was gonna have to go sleep off the excitement and give them a break, although so far that hadn’t happened. Summers had been sleeping as fitfully as the rest of the squad, trying to get as much rest as they could before the changing of the guard and his turn came around. After a while Kalvin, upon realizing that sleep wasn’t going to come to him got to his feet and walked about the room, if only to get the blood going.
Doc Halbert, back before he got lost in the storm, had warned him about the dangers of trench foot and gangrene if he didn’t keep moving. The snow was a cruel bitch to behold, especially when a campfire or torch of any kind was a bad idea given the light and noise discipline you had to adhere to when you were as close to the line as they were, lest you paint yourself for a mortar barrage or a sniper’s attention. As he circled around the room for the second time he glanced at the door and stopped in his tracks.
In the door, just off-center was a splinter-covered icicle sticking through the wood. He blinked, slowly at first before taking a step closer with the thought that he was imagining what he was seeing, that his sleep-starved mind was pretending it was still asleep and he was dreaming. He reached out and tapped the tip of the icicle, recoiling in pain before looking at the tip of his finger and the drop of red that appeared through the skin.
He jumped in surprise when he saw another icicle tear through the door as another snowball- which he was sure it wasn’t just snowballs anymore- hit. He took a step back, his hand fumbling for his sidearm before a third and then a fourth icicle struck, catching the attention of Samson and Jamie.
“What the hell,” Jamie muttered as he got to his feet, grabbing his carbine on the way up. “Is that ice,” he asked aloud as Samson reached for his own garand.
Kalvin opened his mouth to speak when something stopped him. It wasn’t the sound of another snowball thumping against the wall, or an icicle impaling the door once again. It was the fact that silence had returned for a moment. Kalving raised his hand for silence, his .45 clutched in the other as he neared the door, keeping a healthy distance in case whoever it was that was firing icicles was lining up a shot. He leaned in slightly, his head cocked as if listening for something right before the door- and Kalvin- was shredded by a fusillade from a MG42.
“Shit,” someone shouted amid the gunfire as Samson and Jamie were on their feet in a heartbeat, Jamie putting shots through one of the windows with his carbine while Samson dove to the ground to drag Kalvin to safety. The swathe of gunfire that carved through the floor as the gunner on the other side of the door waivered was enough for Samson to back up as Kalvin’s chest opened up in spurts of red under the storm of bullets.
Other guns were firing now, the rest of the squad having been roused from their slumber and from their other posts. The gunner from the front door finally stopped firing, either because Jamie had shot him, he had run out of ammo or simply because he ran off with gun in hand. Jamie and Samson didn’t rush out the door even as it collapsed inwards of its own weight, instead Samson pulling a grenade from Jamie’s belt, pulling the pin and chucking it outside. What was left of the window shattered inwards from the explosion, nearly catching Jamie as he dove backwards.
As suddenly as it had started, the commotion had ceased and all was quiet again. Samson was on his feet, rifle raised at the door while Jamie half-lay, half-sat against Samson’s leg, his carbine aimed at the window. Summers had appeared with his Thompson in one hand and a flashlight in the other with Tollen and Rook hot on his heels. Jamie motioned to the door and the three soldiers took up positions before Summers waved Rook over.
The light barely cut through the darkness outside, even as Summers led the way out of the house, covering the right as Tollen and Rook broke left. Jamie and Samson followed shortly after as Kalvo and Nimer dragged what was left of Kalvin and tried to keep him awake and alive. There wasn’t much to see outside, save for the pile of bullet casings that littered the snow like gold flakes on white sheets as they searched for the bastard that had opened up on them like fish in a barrel.
As luck would have it, a splatter of blood could be found on the snow, leading away into the darkness of the village. Rook voiced the idea of going after their would-be assaulter.
“No,” Summers hissed loudly. “Not in this light. We’ll be sitting ducks out there.”
“We were sitting ducks in there,” Rook snapped back. “With all due respect, sir, some kraut just opened up on us and wasted Sgt. Kalvin! Do you really want us to let him get away!?”
Summers rounded on Rook, his eyes glinting with anger. “Stand down, private.”
Rook glared at Summers in kind, fingering the trigger of his carbine in a way that made the sergeant uneasy. Rook was foolish, but he wasn’t an idiot, right? Eventually, Rook lowered his rifle and nodded.
“Sir, yes Sir,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly not enjoying the idea of staying behind. He didn’t say anything more, and that was all that Summers cared about at that moment. He ordered the men back inside, although Rook was one of the last to head in. When Summers turned to look at Rook he caught the last sight of him disappearing into the darkness, running after the trail of blood.
“Goddammit,” he swore loudly.
“I’ll get him, Sarge,” Samson said as he headed for the door, only for Summers to stop him,
“No. As much as I want him back we can’t risk more men in this light. We need to hunker down and find a new place to hole-up.”
“Think we’ll get hit again,” Jamie asked, gripping his carbine. “We ain’t gonna get hit again, right?”
Summers shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Every on sentry duty until first light,” he tore his attention from the rest of the soldiers to kneel next to Kalvo and Nimer as they knelt next to Kalvin. “How bad,” he asked, already fearing the answer.
Nimer shook his head. “He’s gone,” he sighed as he stood up, heading for the corner of the room as Kalvo looked up at Summers.
“He lost too much blood. There was nothing we could do.”
Summers swore quietly and got to his feet. First Rook, now Kalvo… they needed to get back to the line and badly. The problem was that there was no telling where the line was, save for the faintest rumbles of artillery and the muffled stutter of MG fire that could have been miles upon miles away. It was a bad situation, made all the more worse but the rest of the men knew that it had to be done. Rook, the idiot that he was, would just have to fend for himself or come running back, everyone wishing for the latter given the choice.
By the time morning came fatigue had started to set in, the stress of the situation getting to some of the less-hardened soldiers although everyone had stayed together and stayed alive for another night. Once it was clear enough to see outside Summers waived the men out of the house, leaving Kalvin’s body on a bed to recover later, if there was time. His .45 was nestled in Summer’s field jacket, the cold metal pressed against his ribs.
The snow was still falling, although not as much as the night before. The blood trail was almost completely covered in a new layer of white but, with a keen enough eye could still be made out. Nimer took point, leading the squad forward with the bayonet on his garand pointing forward. Normally, Samson or Tollen would have made a joke about having the pig-sticker on his rifle and not being able to shoot straight with it on, but the time for jokes had come and gone. One soldier dead, the other missing, they had a score to settle with whoever it was that had opened up on the house and killed Kalvin.
The trail led up one of the streets, one that they hadn’t seen the day before. Summers made a curt motion with two fingers extended before waving his fist towards the right hand of the street before doing the same to the left. Tollen and Jamie broke to the right, rifles raised while Samson and Kalvo stuck to the left leaving Summers to walk behind Nimer. The moved slowly, quietly as windows, doors and even innocuous holes in the walls were watched at gunpoint.
Eventually, the blood trail led into what looked like a shop of some kind, although to them it looked like just another house, albeit with a fence in front and a giant hole in the side that was sprinkled with snow and the blood trail. Nimer glanced back at Summers, who nodded in return before waving a set of signals. The hole was easy enough to clamber through, Nimer leading the way with Summers covering him on the way in.
The inside of the shop was as cold as a witch’s tit, as Samson would say, but the inside was an abattoir of pig intestines and blood-stained knives and cleavers. Summers fumbled for his light and soon the inside of the butcher’s shop was illuminated in the orange-yellow brilliance. A sound of revulsion rose from Nimer’s throat when he saw a coil of guts wrapped around a wooden pillar, the blood having frozen on the way down to the ground.
“So much for following the trail,” Summers sighed as he glanced at the front door, the light rolling over the ground and tables.
“Sergeant,” Nimer called from deeper in the shop. “You’re gonna want to see this,” he said, sounding genuinely uncertain.
Summers turned from the door and headed the same way that Nimer had gone, the sphere of light following the ground, passing over Nimer’s boots and continuing until it stopped over the body of a frozen German- a lance corporal if the patch was to be believed- with a cleaver lodged between his jaw and ribs like someone had tried to cut him up like a suckling pig. He was frozen stiff, as demonstrated when Nimer prodded his shoulder with the bayonet.
“Must have been one hell of an argument,” Summers muttered as he turned the light around the rest of the room. “How long has he been here?”
“Long enough,” Nimer said, turning to follow the cone of light with Summers. “Sarge, I don’t like this. Not one bit.”
“I don’t blame you, corporal, alth-…” he trailed off, his eye riveted to something that the light revealed.
“Although wh-” Nimer said when he too saw the thing that had grabbed Summer’s attention. “What in the helll?”
Before them lay a mass of ice and meat in a form that just barely made up a human figure, although that was the most they could make out from their spot. Nimer leaned closer, bringing the bayonet towards the body and prodded its leg, producing a squirt of black.
“Look at its arm,” Summers whispered.
Nimer turned his eyes upward and noticed an MG42 that seemed covered in ice. The thing that got him, however, was the fact that where the MG42 ended, just behind the belt and trigger assembly it seemed to meld into ice and flesh though some bizarre, nightmarish way.
“Sarge, just what the hell is that thing,” Nimer said lowly, his voice almost absent.
Summers shook his head even though Nimer wasn’t looking. “I have no idea, but I don’t think it’s friendly.
Nimer prodded the figure once more and it exploded into movement, lunging for Nimer who screamed and fell backwards as the figure fell upon him but stopped short when the bayonet pierced through the frozen flesh and meat of its chest while Summers jumped just as much, his Thompson stuttering in contrast to the burst of MG fire that stopped short when the belt of 7.92 ran dry. Nimer managed to shove the thing away, using his rifle as a lever as the thing fell hard on its side, no longer moving. Nimer wasn’t about take any more risks and emptied the rest of his garand into the beast as Samson and Tollen stormed into the room, stopping short for a moment when they noticed just what it was that had accosted the rest of their squad.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Die eisige Faust Chapter 6", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "1", "views": "56" }