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tobi-momo · 4 years

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Cuddling With Them While They Game PT 2

a/n: kasjsdhakdjs pls- when i got this req i sqealed srsly i love it ty for this :p

Type: Headcanons

Genre: Fluff, crack???

Warnings: none :)

i made a part one with bakugou, kirishima, and todoroki!

he doesnt usually play games but when he does he tries his best and its so cute🥺

feel like he has game rage, but its like him trying to smile through the pain and act like he isnt mad💀

HE PLAYS CONSOLE KASKDJSAKD BUT NOT LIKE THE BEANBAG LIKE KIRI ITS CONSOLE WHERE HES ON THE FLOOR RIGHT UP CLOSE TO HIS TV SITTING AT THE FOOT OF HIS BED

KASSDSKHGDAK THATS SO CUTE PLS-

so imagine: you walking in his dorm room, expecting him to be studying or working on his technique, but instead you find him on the floor in front of his bed, a blanket covering his head as he presses the buttons ruthelessly while he whispers little curses at himself starting to get mad

you closing the door got his attention, so he invited you to sit next to him, so you do

at first it was a little awkward bc he wasnt sharing the blanket (you cant convince me he isnt a blanket hog you cant) and his eyes were glued to the tv screen like he forgot you were there

you started to get tired, your head drooping on his shoulder- his body goes absolutely stiff- like- midoryia.exe has stopped working youre gonna have to wait for him to windows 8 reboot

once he finally looks at you and youre like this close to falling asleep he turns your body away rq to move the blanket off his shoulder so your head can rest on his actual shoulder and the blanket is around you too

he usually doesnt have his mic on at all, and if it is he usually doesnt talk unless hes going along w a joke? iykwim?

i feel like he plays games like call of duty and halo (he loves animal crossing and sucks at among us) but he doesnt like when he sees them actually die? like the gore and stuff? idk he just gives those vibes yk? i feel like hed feel really bad kaskjdshad hed get over it tho

i cant really see him play minecraft, tho, i mean unless youre playing w him, i dont think he would play it by himself unless he was like building a fucking castle for you or sum-

but ya you start to go to his room more when he games to hang out and every. single. time. you. fall. asleep. he isnt complaining tho he loves your sleeping face :p

when you sleep on him he usually wrapss an arm around you and when he can presses little butterfly kisses on the top of your head and takes his hand to rub your arm up and down oml kdajsd pls-

he plays both computer and console i just think he plays he console a bit more?

ok this is a lil soft and maybe a bit ooc but i like if you were to come in while hes playing games you would sit down between his legs, your back to his chest while he plays

he would either rest his head on whatever is behind him or he would rest it on your shoulder (if youre more on the taller side)

and okokok i feel like if you were curious ab how the game works he would def let you play for him for a sec, he would guide yu on what the buttons do and what your tasks are yk? (again w the soft shi im sorry kasjhsdfjf *cri*)

he would keep an arm around your waist while letting you play or he would rub your thigh (maybe both kasdjshd) while he watches you play

if you get a lil frustrated he would totally tease you ab it then tell you how to do it right oml

if you get tired he would take the controller from you and let you sit back on him chest, resting on him while he games

he might turn the volume down a lil, but i also think he doesnt care that much LMFAO

i feel like he would rub your side a lil its almost tickly but hes a lil more firm than that yk?

he would keep his curses at a minimum although he doesnt have that much game rage at all bc again, he doesnt care, but ppl are stupid so he might get frustrated sometimes

once you fall asleep and hes been playing for a while he might just leave the game hes in and carry you to bed and get in with you

i dont think hes much of a cuddler at all but a little bit of contact is ok w him

but then you start to shift and scoot towards him in your sleep

until you are either completely ontop of him or your head is in the crook of his neck and hes just sitting there like 😐😤😒

but he warms up to it bc he wuvs you (read: hes fucking whipped)

ao he lazily puts an arm around you and bears it for a couple more hours

but when yall wake up he finds himself literally clinging to you KASDJHSALKDJ

he. plays. computer. end of conversation

he got the wasd game iykwim😩 (ill shut the door on my way out)

he absolutely loves it when you come to sit on his lap while he just- he loves it sm

he plays all types of games (except overwatch. you will not catch this man playing overwatch pls-)

i feel like you wouldnt run into him playing games he would always play them once youre with him in the room

he wants you to be w him while he games, he wants you to watch him or just be there

youd be laying on his bed, hust doing whatever, scrolling on your phone while you hear him set up

you love to cuddle him- i just KNOW hes amazing at it

so when you hear him clicking away and see him sit down you stand up and walk to him

he doesnt even have t look at you before he opens himself up to you to sit on his lap

you watch him play (and his hands kasjlsdh) and sometimes you ask him questions ab it- hed be happy to walk you through it and explain

if you wanna play he'll let you play, teaching you everything ab the character and shit

he is the most patient person on earth i KNOW

he doesnt get game rage

he is literally so stoic- so calm i swear

he doesnt use his mic like at all

HE LOVES PLAYING WITH YOU

teasing to the max th- its cute tho he isnt being a meanie

loves playing among us and animal crossing (he def plays)

yall usually go to your island bc he likes it more kasdslahd

and when hes the imposter? hes like fucking corpse i swear

if youre sleep he's literally a perfect pillow, plus the sound of him breathing while he rubs your back is-

momo.exe has stopped working

HE PLAYS BOTH COMPUTER AND CONSOLE EQUALLY

he uses the mic constantly and is kinda loud- but you dont hate it

he laughs a lot, and gets some game rage but its pretty controlle, he just gets butthurt sometimes :/

when you walk into his room he is getting so into it like he doesnt even notice even notice you come in

he only notices your presence when when you put your hand on his shoulder- he literally jumps

when he plays console he's on his bed, just laying there chillin so when you walk in and say hi he is sooo happy youre there w him omg

he just loves you presence

i imagine you climbing into bed w him and he continues to play his game although he loves it when you touch him (not to sound sexual at all he genuienly loves your touch)

and you up to his side- he wraps an arm around you, telling you how he missed you how mych he loves you (ksadksjhaksd)

when you fall asleep he turns the volume down and probably tones down his voice, although sometimes he jolts bc of some kind of mess up

but he manages to keep you asleep on him until he gets tired too- turning everything off and just wrapping you in arms (he'd prolly end up on your chest ngl)

on the computer when he plays you hesitate o cuddle ONLY bc od how much he moves, like you arent gonna be there comfortable for a while but eventually he calms down

he just gets nervous- his heart starts to beat rapidly and his leg bounces (same kaskh) espECIALLY when you straddle him oml he BREAKS

but he eventually calms down so its more comfy

when you fall asleep he will constantly press kisses on your head omggg

so soft kasdjhksajf pls-

i feel like he plays longer when hes on the computer so he would prlly still be on there when you wake up- looking absolutely dead insode aksjdshadl but you convince him to go to bed, bribing him with a 'i'll go too'

hes literally whipped for you :)

~.~.~.~

hope yall enjoyed a part 2-

taglist: @combat-wombatus @toosharkinternet @alpha3113 @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @zerohawks @hitosushi @katsuhera (sry my tags are being weird)

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jazy3 · 4 years

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Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X4

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

This week we finally got the answer to the question that was on everyone’s minds: Who’s on the beach?!?!? And the answer was none other than George O’Malley! I was right! Ha! I love it when that happens. Yes George was on the beach and we got to see him have a lovely heart to heart with Meredith about life and death, how things were for her and the others after he died, and what life is like for her now.

I was surprised that the heart to heart meaningful conversation turned out to be between Meredith and George and not Meredith and Derek, but I feel like that is coming later. I think the meaningful conversation with Derek will happen right at the end of Meredith’s beach adventure just before she recovers and comes back to the land of the living.

I like that they addressed why Derek and George look older than they did the last time we saw them by having George say that maybe they look older to Meredith and by virtue the audience because that’s how she likes to think of and picture them. The sand isn’t real, the water isn’t real, and Meredith’s perceptions of them and their physical appearances aren’t real either.

We see Richard and Bailey join Meredith and George on the beach at the end sequence when the real life Richard and Bailey move closer to Meredith’s bedside and talk to her which establishes that the beach is neither here nor there. It’s not the afterlife, but it is. It’s not heaven or hell, but it can be. It’s all happening in Meredith’s head, but it’s not. It’s a dream, but it’s also reality.

I liked the call backs to how Meredith, Alex, Cristina, and Izzie laughed a George’s funeral at the ridiculousness of it all. We also got some introspection from Meredith when George asks if she still dances it out like she used to and she says no and that she hasn’t really since she lost Cristina. George gently reminds her that Cristina isn’t dead like him.

She’s still very much alive she just lives someplace else and that she shouldn’t give up on something she loves that makes her happy because Cristina lives in Zurich, Switzerland instead of Seattle, U.S.A. But we also get some insight here that to Meredith, Cristina moving an ocean away felt like a death and still does. She hasn’t danced it out like that since she left because she’s mourning that loss and to her not being able to see Cristina whenever she wants to is akin to not being able to see people like Derek, George, and Lexie like she used to because they’re gone.

Alex’s departure is different in that way in that once the pandemic is over and travel has opened back up and she’s done being mad at him she can go see Alex and Izzie and the kids whenever she wants. She doesn’t even have to get on a plane if she doesn’t want to. She can drive or take the train. The same holds true for Callie and Arizona. But the loss of people like Cristina, Derek, George, Mark, and Lexie is different because she can’t. Getting to Cristina means enduring at least two separate several hour flights across an ocean and she hates flying.

Seeing all of those other people is impossible because they’re not alive anymore. And she feels that loss everyday whether she’s able to verbalize it or not. I loved Meredith’s ending line about finding your people and holding them close because those are the ones that get you through the tough times. The fact that she made Richard her POA comes full circle in this episode when we see him trying to comfort her and make a decision at her bedside.

Richard is struggling about whether to enroll Meredith in the trial when he realizes she’s trying to say something. He gets closer and tells her he’s here for her only to realize she’s mumbling in her sleep and talking to George. Because Richard has seen Meredith and the others through it all he knows exactly who George is. He knows what the significance of that is and he realizes that she’s not trying to speak to him or get better. She’s talking to her friend George on the other side. She’s dying and if he doesn't do something soon she’ll join him. This realization causes him to decide to enroll Meredith in the trial.

I like that we also got an update on George’s Mom who we last saw in Season 8 talking to Callie about her marriage to Arizona and the birth of her daughter Sofia. George tells Meredith that grief is different for everyone and that his mother carries hers and that makes him sad and that sometimes he tries to shake it out of her and try to let her know that he’s still there and he’s still him even though she can’t see him anymore.

I loved how Meredith commented that he’s basically haunting her and George replied, “Well sure if you want to call it that.” The gentle teasing nature they had between them as friends was one of the things I loved most about their relationship and it was nice to see that here. I also liked their conversation about choices. Meredith asks if it’s her choice whether she stays or goes, and George says that it depends. Some people get to choose, and some don’t. He would have stayed if he could, but she appears to have a choice. On the one hand she’s worried about the kids and how losing her and becoming orphans will affect them.

On the other hand, she’s tired and has been through a lot and all the people she loves are on that beach. So, it’s a tough call for her to make. When they were sitting there on that beach and George turned to Meredith and said, “If you stay here you might break him,” and they turned to reveal Richard sitting next to her? Ugh that got me! Also watching Meredith shake convulsively from COVID while unconscious and talking to her dead friend was unnerving and a little scary especially since this is a real disease that is hurting real people. My heart breaks for anyone going through this in real life.

I also loved their exchange about the kids. Where he tells them how great they are and she says he never got to meet them and he tells her that he checks in on her and them from time to time. I also love that his comment establishes that all of the other people Meredith has lost are able to check in on her and the kids and that the other people that other characters have lost can do the same. It’s a nice image and something I think all of us in the real world like to imagine and believe when we lose a loved one. That they’re watching over us.

I loved how in Meredith’s Voice Over this episode she says that Medical schools often ask applicants for an essay describing a time they faced adversity and how they overcame it because they want to know how people will cope with the challenges they'll face as a doctor. And that some students worry they have nothing to write about because they haven't faced difficulty. She didn't have that problem. LOL!

Meredith is the main character, the lead star, and the anchor of the series and they introduced this plot in the premiere this season which mostly likely means that she won’t die or be sidelined by this permanently. And since the show is reflecting a real world disease and pandemic that means that if Meredith lives one of the other characters or someone else close to them will be dying from it most likely. Sadly, it looks like that might be Tom after this episode.

Tom’s got some funny dialogue when he tries to interrupt the staff meeting Richard is holding about COVID by tablet and with Helm when she comes by to drop off his COVID test. I liked how Jackson just walked over and knocked over the tablet to shut him up and everyone just laughed and carried on. His scenes with Helm were pretty funny too. The Zombie appearing on screen scared me though!

In the end we see that Teddy finally comes to talk to him and bring him soup after Helm tells her how bad he’s doing and how much he needs a friend as she desperately tries to save Meredith. When Tom didn’t answer the door or make a sound my first thought was that he had collapsed, but no it’s worse than that because as Teddy turns to leave the camera pans over and we see Tom cold and shaking in a blanket on the other side of the door unable to respond.

Which means his condition has worsened and he’s in pain, but he can’t communicate that to Teddy because he’s too weak to speak or he can’t make his voice loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain. Man that was some downpour! I wonder if it was fake rain that they created or if it rained that heavily the day they filmed that scene. Good to see Tom finally bought a house though! Seeing as last we saw he was living out of a hotel and then got Teddy a beautiful apartment only to find out at the last minute that she had gotten back together with Owen so he went back to living in a hotel again. Glad to see he got some digs.

I’ll be sad if they write Tom off as a character as I’ve really come to like him and he’s interesting and complex. Plus, I love seeing someone call Owen on his crap with such humour! We also got some good social commentary on how health practitioners often base treatment protocols and assessments on the standards of care and presentation developed for white patients, but that because diseases present differently in people of different races and genders that needs to be accounted for.

Especially because your race, gender, and where you grew up affects your predisposition for certain illnesses and can affect the presentation. Owen failed to catch something serious with his patient when they were initially brought in because he was using the standard developed for white patients which is different from the standard for Asian patients.

One of the new interns who is Asian brings this up to Nico who eventually says something to Owen who brings it up to Bailey who calls him on his privilege and reminds him that he needs to not only check himself, but because he is white and is the head of Trauma for the hospital it is his responsibility to update and improve protocols to make sure that every patient is getting the best care possible.

As Bailey says true equality means taking into account that we are all different. And when it comes to medicine conditions present themselves in different ways based on race and other factors. Giving everyone the exact same care based on a standard of care developed by and for white people is not equality because it means that people of colour like his patient receive a lower standard of care which can lead to unnecessary suffering and death.

True equality means providing equitable care that takes into account who a patient is physically when treating them. As Bailey says equitable care is not the same as equal care. One takes into account the reality and ensures true equal treatment while the other gives the appearance of equality while disadvantaging anyone who’s not a white straight cisgender man. While I like that they addressed that Nico was a complete jerk to everyone this episode.

He acted like the whole thing was no big deal when the intern brought it up and brushed off her comments about Anti-Asian racism from earlier in the episode that we’re totally valid. The intern was looking for some solidarity and for someone above her to back her up on some real issues. Instead Nico blew her off and talked down to her only to bring the issue up himself to Owen in the exact way he told her not to. Nico’s a good surgeon and he was right to say something, but he is a horrible human being, teacher, and boyfriend.

He continues to treat Levi horribly for no reason and as Jo says Levi deserves better. I liked Jo and Levi’s interactions this episode. They were funny and I love them! Also did anyone else think it was weird that Jo and Levi were having a conversation about how horrible Nico is as a person and how horribly he treats Levi when Nico was literally a metre or two in front of them and could hear everything they were saying? Nico’s an ass and apparently, he doesn't care that he’s an ass and that everyone thinks that of him.

I’m actually liking the whole Jo and Jackson friends with benefits situation. So far, its made for some good comic relief! I like too that we finally saw Jackson admit that he’s jumped from one relationship to another way too fast for his whole run on the show and that he needs to take some time and get some therapy and figure out what he wants. I love that Jo was immediately on the same page and laughed at the idea of them having a relationship right now. She needs a sex buddy, not a partner. He’s got work to do on himself and as she says she feels broken and is still trying to heal from the trauma she has experienced.

I also liked the scenes with Amelia and Link. I like that Amelia was able to express herself and her frustrations and that Link made the decision to support her. My best friend that I watch with made comment that she felt like under the same circumstances Owen would have just stormed back into the house whereas Link angrily moved some toys aside so that he could sit next to Amelia while she felt all her feelings and talked about them because that’s what she needed to do.

I also liked that when Amelia tried to push Link to talk later on he opened up about his process and was straight with her. Talking about all of her feelings out loud and in the open because if she bottles them up, she’ll wind up relapsing is her thing. Link’s thing is to focus on the positive and play his guitar. As Link says he’s happy to support her on her thing, but if she wants their relationship to work she has to support him on his thing. And she does.

My favourite line this episode? “What are you playing?” “It’s a song called ‘If The Virus Doesn’t End Us, Then Climate Change Probably Will.’” Too funny! And accurate! We also learn that Amelia loves to garden and is apparently quite good at it and they appear to have a herb and vegetable garden at Meredith’s house. We get some awkward dinner interaction courtesy of Maggie and Winston’s relationship this episode when he invites her to a virtual Birthday dinner for his beloved Grandmother which is then crashed by his estranged father.

His Grandmother invited him and within five seconds of being on the call he insults Winston and says that the idea that his son who is a Cardiothoracic Surgeon at Tufts is a genius is laughable because apparently he failed sixth grade. This man is an asshole and I can see why Winston hates him. That being said Winston exiting the call and leaving Maggie hanging there with his Grandmother, father, and some other relatives that she’s never met was not okay.

It was extremely rude. He should have told Maggie he had to go before signing off or said that they should both leave the call. Maggie is a class act for staying on that call and asking his upset Grandmother if there was cake. Side note: I did love Maggie and Winston’s conversation about what pencil nerds they both are! This is a match made in heaven so whatever issues they do have they’ll work through them because this is clearly meant to be.

My only real complaint about this episode was the absence of one Cormac Hayes. As my best friend said after we finished watching, “Did you notice who wasn’t in this episode? McWidow. Where the hell was McWidow?” I concur with this sentiment 100%. Hayes makes everything better and I’m sad when he’s not there. I get that Meredith was on the beach with George this episode and that was the focus on her storyline, but it would have been nice to see Hayes stand outside her window or sit next to her or talk to Jo about her condition.

That’s the other thing. Season 16 established that Jo and Hayes are friends and that she’s rooting for him and Meredith to be together and live happily ever after. So I’m surprised that they haven’t had a scene yet this season. We’ve seen Jo interact with Link who she’s close friends with and Levi who’s her roommate, but not Hayes. I’m hoping we’ll get that next episode. So far the majority of Hayes’ scenes have been with Meredith, followed by Jo, followed by Bailey.

If Hayes can’t interact with Meredith like he normally would because she’s unconscious I want to see him interact with Jo, Bailey, Maggie, and Richard more. The fact that we’re seeing intimate scenes with Jo and Jackson gives me hope that we’ll get to see those kinds of scenes for Meredith and Hayes. Although it’s entirely possible that those scenes were filmed last season before the pandemic hit so maybe not.

I also like that we got some important timeline information this episode. Jo mentions murder hornets (remember those?) which puts this episode at the beginning of May. She also says that her and Alex divorced the same year they got married which means that Seasons 14 and 15 span the same year. Which makes sense given the other information that we have and means that the relationship we saw in Season 15 only lasted a matter of months.

Which is good news in the sense that nobody really liked any of the ships from that season apart from Tom and Teddy and Amelia and Link and this establishes that all of those relationships were short lived and occurred over a matter of months, not a full year or more. Based on what I caught of next week’s promo it looks like Meredith’s condition is improving (!) while Tom’s condition is deteriorating, and Bailey’s Mom is in bad shape and is being admitted! COVID is no joke! Buckle up everyone!

Until next time!

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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The Nurse and the Skywalker (6 Undergound Oneshot)

Paring: Four/Billy x nurse! Reader

Word Count: 1847

From anon request: Can you do one with Ben( as 4/Billy in underground 6) getting injured and you’re a no-nonsense nurse having to tend to his wounds and he flirts with you at first, but then he gets serious/tender and vulnerable with you and it makes your heart melt?

Warnings: Swearing, hospitals, mentions of blood, illness, surgery, and injuries.

A/N: Thanks for your patience! Much thanks to @rhapsodyrecs for suggesting a great line! As well as @yourlocalmusicalprostitute and @joeneslee when writers block got me in this one!

The afternoon coffee you had been sipping was gulped in one hot swig when your co-worker ran in, yelling “Y/N! It’s an emergency! You need to hurry!”

The 12-hour shift and it’s exhaustion was forgotten at the words. Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you were led into the room.

“A young man-he has a bad injury-he’s been shot and his bones are broken too!” she cried.

Looking over, the patient was young. Not too far from your own age in fact. He was groaning in pain. His arm and leg were broken. But you noticed a few gashes here and there. Still bleeding. A lot. But he looked up and kept his eyes on you. As you reached over to see some charts the mysterious man left and what could be known, you felt his eyes, and saw him even crane his neck just to keep an eye out on you.

Maybe I spilled something on my scrubs you thought, dismissing the notion as they wheeled his bed out into the hallway.

“Quick, give me the anathesea- and a surgeon- we can get the bullet out, but we have to be swift!”

You were handed the pain medicine to give to the patient.

As you put the tube over his mouth, he glanced up at you. His eyes were as green as a field on a picnic day. And you noticed his hair as well-it was cut short but very blonde.

“I…I’m scared…please don’t…” he muttered lowly.

You felt your guts stir at the sound. He was deeply hurt. If he didn’t have the bullet removed, he was a goner.

“What is your name…?” you asked.

“I…don’t…have…a name…” he croaked.

He turned ghostly white and then pink.

“I…I’m sorry, I should have been stronger…thought I could make that jump…I couldn’t. I’m not that fucking strong…” he muttered.

“Who dropped him off?” you asked your co-worker.

She shrugged.

“This guy with a beard and this weird voice and then after we got the kid on a bed, he just vanished with all the bills paid already in cash! The guy was loaded!” she gossiped, tugging at her bright pink scrubs.

Turning to the patient, you forced him to look right into your eyes.“Okay mister, you don’t have a choice. You got lucky someone paid all of your bills, so you better suck it up and be grateful, got it?” you scolded.

He looked at you blankly before you put it right to his mouth and wheeled him to the surgeon’s office.

Two hours later you got word that the boy got lucky. The bullet was found and removed. It wasn’t too deep and nowhere near any vital organs. But he seemed to be ill and needed to be checked up and have his limbs bandaged.

“Here he is…he’s still on the pain medicine some, so he might be a little loopy…” the surgeon warned, before leaving you alone in the room to do your work.

“Hello…I’m Y/N, I’m your nurse…hang in there, you’re gonna be fine…” you said, he seemed half asleep. Almost in another world. There was no reply.You were checking his blood pressure when his eyes fluttered open. Your head whipped around as you tied the black strap tightly around his arm.

“Hey there…” he croaked out.

“Checking your blood pressure, hold up…” you mumbled, making it tight as possible.

“I must be in a museum…” he said softly.

“Well, I don’t see any Da Vinci any…”

“Because you’re a piece of art.”

Your jaw dropped and your head whipped around to see him. Did that really come out of him? Moments after he was near death.

“Pardon?”

He gave you a half smile and you felt a blush creeping up on you and it made you mad. Of all places this was happening- at work!

Did a patient really just flirt with me? Maybe it’s just my imagination.

You undid the black strap and set it away without a word, writing down the numbers. He reached over and picked up the menu of food options to be ordered for patients.

“Do you know what’s on the menu?” he asked.

“Vegetables. You better order some with your dinner. Eat up, your body’s in bad enough condition…”

“Close, but it’s Me ‘n you.” He added with a devilish grin.

Your ears heard it right alright. You felt them grow hot.

“You know what else is on the menu? This antiseptic,” you ordered. Walking over to the side and getting an orange bottle and some cotton balls, eyes on his wounds. As you began to apply some to the cuts, the cool guy façade dropped.

“NNNnnnnng, no! No! And I’m sorry! Won’t do it! Won’t do it!” he whined. His voice getting a little higher than what was considered manly.

“Just shut up and suck it up, Romeo,” you replied, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

The next day a woman arrived to check on the patient. A beautiful woman with tan skin and yellow hair with a white suit. You felt envy twinge in your stomach as her heels clicked on the tile floor.

She went into the room. If only you did not have duties currently. But no, scratch it, you weren’t interested. Not some cheeky patient that was trying to break all the medical oaths in the book. Passing by the room to put away your lunch box, you forced your ears shut at the quiet conversation they had.

As you returned, she left the door of the room. She looked up at you and pointed at you to come near.

“You are nurse Y/N, right?” she asked in a European accent.

“Yes, I am.”

She glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. Then she leaned closer.

“How long have you worked here?” she asked.

You told her.

“Good, you know what you’re doing. We…we just need a bit of help. He’s on…on my company. He got hurt. Badly.” She said softly.

Yeah, no shit you thought.

“What caused the wounds? I think he mentioned a jump…” you asked, folding your arms skeptically. What kind of sketchy company was this that was all hush and made gallons of money where people got shot?

Her pink lips tightened, she glanced to the left and then answered “It was a fall. Bad one. Just…an accident.”

“What’s your name? And what’s his name? Why did he get shot? Was there a shooting at your job?” you asked.

“We would prefer to be anonymous,” she answered coldly.

“What, why?”

“For protection. He’s here to get better, right?” she answered with a twinge of annoyed anger.

“Yes…”

“Don’t hurt him, then…or make him do anything to hurt himself more…”

She turned around and clicked away, but gave you one look, softened. As if to silently say thank you- even if you did ask questions about whatever this “company” was.

Hours later, you came into the room with the patient. Though you armed yourself to fight off like the black cat with Pepe le Pew, he looked at you and glanced down at his lap. His left arm and right foot was in a cast and he seemed red as a beet in his face. But the light in his eyes were glazed, but had dimmed. And he seemed in pain.

His forehead was like a furnace. Sticking a thermometer in his mouth, you watched the numbers rise above healthy at the end. Gently, you pulled it out to put it away.

A half-grin reappeared on his face.

“Is it hot in here or is it just you?” he said.

“No, you got a fever dumbass,” you replied.

You showed him the temperature and he huffed lightly.

“Well, you will have to stay here a bit longer. Injured and sick. It doesn’t seem bad, but it’s still a double whammy. Three or four days…” you said,

He pulled out his free hand to play with his phone, pouting in defeat. You stayed to type into the pad you used for work to keep track of patients charts.

“Bi-billy…”

“Hm, what?” you said, turning around.

“You wanted my name, I’m…I’m Billy…” he confessed.

“Okay, thank you! I can finally call you something other than Romeo,” you jested.

“That’s not a bad name, either though,” he said.

The doctor working on him informed you that his fever did have a chance of breaking in the night. You offered to stay.

“Why, Y/N…you’re worried about him?” the doctor asked, cocking her head.

You shook away the creeping blush and smile growing on you.

“I just want the extra hours for pay!” you insisted.

You stayed there, reading with him. You realized what he was doing on his phone- watching movies.

“American movies are the best, like, us on the Pond get all the boring, slow stuff- America is where the real movies are!” he commented when you glanced over.

“Hey- that one’s my favorite!” you cried, recognizing it at once.

Indulging it, you watched the rest of it. Talking about your favorite actors, quoting the lines, and smiling ear to ear by the time the credits rolled by on the tiny screen.

“I was so scared…I was gonna die…” Billy confessed, setting the phone down.

“It’s just medicine,” you scoffed.

“No…when I fell…” he said.

“Really?” you asked, leaving the sarcasm.

“I felt that was it. You see…I…no, I shouldn’t…” he mumbled, looking down.

“You can tell me…” you urged.

“I got a chance to…uh, do something important. It was risky, but it was better than what I had before but I…I thought I was dead for good because I slipped and fell…” he added on.

Recalling the first day, he had a bullet in his body as well. How did that get in there? There was no news you checked of a shooting anywhere.

“And you were shot…how did you get shot?” you questioned.

“I…I can’t tell you everything but I just feel…I can trust you…someone was in danger…and I was trying to get him out and some’ow…I got shot and I fell off…” Billy explained.

“Fell off? Of what?”

“The skyscraper downtown…” he confessed, eyes down to his lap again.

“What! No! That’s a hundred feet high! How in hell are you even alive?” you gasped.

He looked at you and laughed.

“That’s some bad fucking words for a medical professional!” he teased. “But that’s a good question, really…”

Outside the window, a bird sat in the darkness on the pane. Its feathers seemed to glean in the moonlight. It was a clear night, even a sky filled with stars could be seen despite the smoke of the city

“I…I’m glad you survived. I’m glad you didn’t die and so you could- you know- help whoever this person is you were trying to help,” you commented. And this time you smiled back.

“I…I’m glad you were there to help me…dunno what I’ll do next time I’ll fall…” he said.

“I should be there then…”

Taglist: @themarchoftherainbowqueen @rhapsodyrecs (thanks for the wonderful line!) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @sgt-stardust-killer-queen @queenlover05 @lady-ofmischief

#nurse! reader #nurse! y/n #6 underground #ben hardy characters #four/billy #four/billy x reader #four/billy x you #four/billy x y/n #ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy x reader #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground fanfic #6 underground oneshot #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy oneshot #carrie writes

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rosie-moons · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast 1 {} Tale as Old as Time || myg

~Pairing: worstboyfriendever!yoongi x travelenthusiast!reader

~Genre: Angst with a sprinkle of fluff

~Word Count: 3.4k

~Warnings: yoongi being the worst boyfriend 😥😥😥, reader crying 😔😔😔, very cliche scenes, a breakup (not the major part though), yoongi crying 😢😢😢, yoongi cheating on reader (YOONGI I SWORE IF YOU HURT OUR OC LIKE THIS I WOULD PUNCH YOU TILL YOU BLEED but you’re saved for the sake of this story 😡😡😡), reader being too forgiving, swearing

~A/N: well. i just had to give you guys angst after dp, didn't i? i know yoongi's stupid in here but pls don't get mad at him bc he's my bb and i love him too much 🥺. also HOMOPHOBES STAY AWAY, CHOHEE AND NARI ARE MY BABES AND I'LL PROTECT THEM NO MATTER WHAT!

~''~

In your relationship, Yoongi had always been the beast.

Missing dates, drinking at the bar and getting wasted almost every night, overall just fucking around… it was common sense that this was what boyfriends were supposed to do, right?

“Right.” was what you always thought- that boys were uncaring and stupid and undeserving of any love.

Well, any love except for yours.

Somehow, Yoongi always thought that you didn't deserve him, that you were the ugly, cold-hearted beast, that you were supposed to love him without anything in return.

And you always thought he was right; forgiving him after his sobbing apologies again and again, taking care of him after drunken nights again and again, convincing yourself that he really did love you again and again- until you decided this couldn’t go on.

No, you had a life outside of Yoongi.

You had dreams.

You had friends, a good social life, a whole group of boys who’d give you the universe if it meant you could be with them.

Why did you choose Yoongi though?

Why not any of those boys, some of whom were more attractive, more caring, treated you better?

~’’~

“Soulmates,” your best friend Nari huffed, turning her head to look at you. You were having a long-anticipated spa night together, cool cucumber slices resting on your tired eyes and some sort of coconut scented oatmeal mush plastered over your face. “You gotta stop believing in that shit, Y/N.”

You sighed.

“I’m trying, okay? It’s just that… I think… I think believing that one day someone will love you for eternity is better than living every day in heartache. At least it gives you hope, a reason to smile, I guess. Don’t you think so too?”

Nari paused for a minute, nodding subtly as she chowed on a cucumber slice. “Now that I think about it, I guess you’re right…”

You smiled, proud that you’d convinced her.

“...but nah, I still think you should face reality more than your imagination, you really have your head up in the clouds too much. All those fairytales- you know why they’re called fairytales and not realistic tales or something? Because they’re just to lull kids to sleep, all that perfect romance doesn’t exist,” her expression softened. “Hey, I really didn't mean to upset you... I was just- are you thinking about him again?”

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to stop the overflow of tears threatening to spill out. “I… no, I’m not. I just… I don’t…”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s alright…” She immediately scrambled off her massage chair, coming over to yours and pulling you into her arms. “He’s a stupid fucker who doesn’t deserve you. There’s so many good guys who’ll die to be with you, Y/N, I’m sure even Seventeen’s Mingyu would date you if you gave him a chance. Really!”

You sniffled, burying your face in your friend’s chest. “Not everyone’s obsessed with Seventeen like you, Nari.”

“Well,” She hmph’ed. “Are there any K-pop groups you like, then?”

“No.”

“How about TXT? Enhypen? Astro? You like none of them?”

“Enhypen’s okay, I guess…”

“There we go! Okay, okay, who’s your favorite member?”

“The one with the really nice smile.”

“All of them have nice smiles, Y/N. Do you know his name?”

“Uh… Sun-something. I think his last name is Kim.”

“Sunoo? You like Sunoo? OMG! OMG! MY BEST FRIEND LIKES SUNOO!” Nari jumps off the massage chair, making “whoop whoop” noises as she dances across the spa room.

A beautiful raven-haired spa attendant creaks open the door, stepping in. “Hello, ladies. I hope you’re enjoying your evening. I just heard… something, and was wondering if you’re doing okay.”

Nari freezes with her left foot still in the air, arms bent in an awkward position. She coughs, blushing as she scrambled to a standing position. “Yes, um, we’re doing fine. Thank you, er…” Her eyes flicker down to the attendant’s nametag, “Chohee ♥” scribbled in pretty cursive handwriting. “...Chohee.”

You flashed your signature wide smile, giving her a thumbs up. “Yep! Nari just gets excited easily, everything’s okay!”

She smiles back, pretty pink lips devoid of any lip gloss or lipstick. “Alright, then. Call me if you need anything!”

“Wait!” Nari calls after her as she proceeds to shut the door. “How are we supposed to call you if we don’t have your number?”

Chohee laughs awkwardly. “Oh… haha… I meant, like, physically call me, not, like, with a phone… haha… but… I mean… like...” She takes a page from the tiny notebook in her pocket, writing something on it. She hands it over to Nari. “Here’s my number, just don’t… spam me… or anything… um…” She clears her throat. “I hope we can… be… friends… or… something…”

Nari smiles shyly, accepting the paper. “Yeah… thanks, Chohee. Um, it was great meeting you…”

They giggle dumbly together before a shrill “CHOHEE! WE HAVE CUSTOMERS WAITING, YOU KNOW!” interrupts the glassy moment. Chohee immediately jumps back into professionalism, clearing her throat. “Sorry, uh… Nari…? Was that it?”

Nari nods.

“Yeah. Nari. Um, I have to go…”

“Oh, we shouldn’t be interrupting your work, should we?” She laughs. “Thanks for… uh… everything…”

“No problem.” They giggle again. “I really have to get going though… Bye.”

“Bye, Chohee.”

“CHOHEE SEO! IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE NOW YOU’RE FIRED! DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Chohee’s eyes widen. “Oop, gotta go. Bye!” She runs off, Nari yelling one last “BYE!” as she waves.

When she finally closes the door and meets your eyes, she’s practically jumping up and down, heated cheeks glowing a fiery red.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Now do you believe in fairytale love?”

She coughs, picking at a scratchy stud on her arm. “I… no… I mean… maybe…”

You clap your hands once, grinning as you watch your friend’s face burn hotter. “Well, would you look at that! For once, I’m not the one that’s crazily in love and stupidly giddy!”

“Stop, Y/N!” She whines, playfully hitting your arm. “And plus, um, our face masks are hardening. It’s time to wash them off. I’m going to the bathroom. Um. Bye!”

And she’s taking off towards the bathroom, the sound of running water jolting you from your thoughts about… him.

Yoongi.

You bite your lip, wondering how pathetic you could possibly be. He doesn’t love you. He probably has a girlfriend and is about to get engaged. He probably doesn’t even remember you.

You look up at the blinding white ceiling, the soothing forest sounds playing from the speaker you forgot about now your only source of comfort.

Because the last two were “probably”’s, but the first one was a fact- Yoongi didn’t love you, and he never did.

~’’~

“For the last time, Nari, I’m 100% sure she likes you back. Just text her, tell her to meet up with you, confess at some cute caf-”

“No, Y/N! You don’t get it, I’m, like, really, really sure she likes the coffee shop server we met the other day, they were practically making out and- oh god, don’t even remind me about the lovey dovey googly eyes!” Nari stomps her foot childishly as you sigh for the upteenth time.

“Nari, just-” Your eyes widen, a brilliant yet sneaky-ish idea popping into your head. “Actually, it’s okay if you don’t want to just yet. I advise you to go take a shower though, wouldn’t want to be stinky, right?”

“But I’m not going anywhere special-”

“HAHAHAHAHA it doesn’t matter HAHAHAHA just go, go take a shower, go go go right now!”

“You’re acting weird…”

“HAHAHAHA am I now?”

“Um. Yeah. Alright. I’ll go shower. Bye.”

“BYE!”

“You’re being very enthusiastic.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah… bye though.”

It was an ordinary Saturday morning with Nari lounging at your place, complaining that Chohee wasn’t paying attention to her. So you’d tried to convince her to confess- which didn’t work, by the way.

Anyway, with Nari now in the shower and screaming along to “Chandelier” by Sia, you were ready to launch your plan into action.

Swiping her phone off the counter, you typed in the password (which she’d told you, as you told her yours as well) as fast as your glittery fake nailed thumbs could manage, plastic click-clacking against the oil-smudged screen. Nari had a habit of never washing her hands before texting, even after some good ol’ cheetos or fried chicken.

You click on the Textalk app and swipe down until you find Chohee’s contact (written “Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑").

10:42 am

Nari Lee said: hey chohee :) u there? Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: nari Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: r u ok Nari Lee said: of course im ok :D Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: O-o hmm but u never use emoticons Nari Lee said: oh i just found out that i like them haha

10:43 am

Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: *raises eyebrow* Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: ok yeah im here, wassup? Nari Lee said: so… i was just wondering if ur free today for lunch, i have something to say to u Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: oh yeah ofc! where?

10:44 am

Nari Lee said: um how about magnolia cafe? @12? Chohee baby ♥❦✶⭑ said: awesome! ill be there <3 Nari Lee said: sweet!

~’’~

“So…” You say, casually sliding into Nari’s room. She’s in a fluffy white bathrobe, brushing her hair and singing to herself. “What do you say for lunch at the Magnolia Cafe today?”

She shrugs. “Why not? I just showered, anyway.”

You smirk evilly. “Great! Make sure to put on some makeup and wear something nice.”

“Got it!”

~’’~

“Y/N!” Nari whisper-yells to you. “What in the name of my fuckin’ soggy underwear is Chohee doing here?!”

You hum, unbothered, as you skim over the menu. “How should I know? Anyway, I’m going to order some brunch. How about you?”

“Y/N! Ugh, shut the fuck up, I’m having a life threatening crisis right now! And why is she looking at me? And waving?”

You just smirk, shrugging. “Oops, gotta use the toilet. Bye!” You then dash off towards an empty table right behind theirs, wanting to laugh like a commando mad scientist. Your plan was done, and now it’s just time to see if it works.

Chohee walks over to Nari, and you see her visibly gulp. “Hey, Nari! You said there was something important you wanted to say to me?”

“Uh… I don’t… no? I don’t have anything to say?”

“Oh? Ah, I see. You’re making it suspenseful. Haha, I think I’ve had enough suspense. Spill!”

“Um… I like omelets?”

“What?”

“I… I like plants?”

“Excuse me?”

“Uh, I like you- WHAT AM I SAYING?!” Nari’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. Chohee furrows her brows.

“You… like me? Like, like like me? As more than a friend?”

“I-”

Chohee leans over the table and kisses her full on the lips, the sight so endearing you chuck out your phone and snap 18 photos. When they separate, Chohee’s grinning, Nari’s face a dark crimson and her bottom lip trembling. She touches it.

“You… kissed… me…”

“Mhm.”

“So does that mean-”

“I’d love to go out with you, Nari.”

And they’re giggling again.

~’’~

“HAVE A SAFE TRIP!!” Nari and Chohee call after you for the 26th time, waving like maniacs. You smile.

“I WILL!”

This was going to be the most exciting 2 weeks of your lifetime- you were going to Italy.

Italy.

~’’~

The small coffee shop is cute, light Italian jazz music playing in the background. The wooden walls are adorned with pictures of the owner’s family, the sweet smell of coffee beans drifting in the air.

To put it simply, it’s perfect.

Perfect for an exhausted coffee lover like you.

“A latte, please-” You pause when the server furrows his brow.

“You… eh… wan’ coffee wit’ milk, no? Not jus’ milk?”

“I mean, um…” You immediately pull up your phone and type into Google Translate. “... caffe latte.”

He nods. “Non c’e problema!” And a minute later, your latte is in your hands, the delicious smell wafting up your nostrils.

You sit down on a cushioned seat, marveling at the decorations and how cozy and warm it makes you feel. Taking a sip of your drink, you smile.

The moment is peaceful and happy, the chatter of the other customers fading in your ears as you just smile. No one to interrupt your daydreaming, no one to come over and call your name-

“Y/N?”

Your eyes shoot up, a familiar pair of cat-like ones staring at you. His hair is black as night, swept carelessly against his perfect forehead. His cute pink lips are jutted out in a tiny pout, pale moonlight skin practically shining. He’s ethereal, and hasn’t changed one bit.

“Y/N?” He says again, tilting his head slightly.

“O-oh. Um. Hey, Y-Yoongi, um, didn’t expect to see you here…” You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head.

He laughs too, sitting down in the seat opposite yours with a black espresso in his hands. “Yeah, I found a job here. You?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“Cool.”

You stare at each other, having nothing to say. It’s like you want to stretch this moment out forever, stretch it until it erases all the horrible things he said and did to you.

He speaks again. “How long has it been?”

“What?”

He closes his eyes, clasping the mug between his hands tightly. “How-how long has it been- since I last saw you?”

You look down at your lap. “2 years.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your eyes start to wet, a lone tear slipping past your eyelids. There was no barrier now, more droplets following the first one’s lead and cascading down your cheek. “Stop.”

He doesn’t stop, instead choosing to nab at your heartstrings with more words. “I’m so sorry, I only realized how bad I fucked up when you left… I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N, I thought about you every fucking day-”

“Stop it now-”

“And I realized that I love you more than anything, that you were the treasure I held onto without even knowing I valued you that much. Why do you think I chose to come to Italy? Because I knew it was always your dream to visit here, and I hoped I would run into you somehow. I lived like that, in heartbreak and hope and desperate love and whatever the fuck else every single day, just praying you’d forgive me, praying that you’d come here and tell me that you still love me-”

“Yoongi.” You stand up, slamming the table. Your chest is heaving, breathing heavily as you try to take in everything that he said. “Stop. It. Stop saying sorry. “Sorry.” So what? Sorry won’t help anything, I don’t love you and we are over. In fact, there is not even a “we” anymore. You are you and I am me, completely separate, all ties cut, whatever you want to call it.”

“Y/N-” Yoongi’s voice is desperate, those forlorn eyes swimming with melancholy. You cut him off.

“Shut up, Yoongi!” His lip trembles, looking up at you. You feel a pang of guilt, but throw it away along with all your other feelings. Everyone at the coffee shop is looking at you two, the server mumbling something.

You don’t care.

No, you don’t care about anything.

Not about how much you missed him, how much your heart ached, how much you wanted to just fling yourself into his arms and kiss him- convinced he was a changed man.

Not about how he was pleading you right now, fat droplets rolling down his blanched cheeks as he whispered “I love you”’s over and over again.

Not about how the coffee shop server was hurriedly jogging towards you, incomprehensible Italian filling the air.

This was supposed to be a safe place.

The sweet scent and lulling conversations you fell in love with just moments ago, replaced with bitter words and the sound of tears.

You don't care.

Why are you crying, then? Why are those salty droplets cascading down your face? Why are you fighting so hard between your heart and your brain, trying to decide which to listen to?

Should you take him back, act like nothing has happened like your heart tells you to? Or should you give him the ignorance he deserves, leave the coffee shop and try to forget about this whole catastrophe like your brain says?

"Do you love him? Yes, you do. So choose me, your heart."

"Choose me, Y/N, your brain. I'm telling you to be rational."

You shut your heart out, brain taking over control. Yoongi deserves this. This of indifference, apatheticness, maybe even hatred.

“I don't love you, Yoongi.”

And you were out.

~''~

That night in your hotel room, you cry and cry and cry until the familiar “ding a ling ding a ling ding a ling ding dong” of a Textalk video call wakes you up from your thoughts.

You pick up, wiping all your tears until there is no trace of them left. “H-hey, Nari,” You hiccuped.

“Y/N, what is going on?” Nari’s eyebrows are furrowed as she tries to read your face. “It’s the first day of your dream vacation and you’re crying? Tell me what happened, please.”

“Yeah, you don’t look too good…” Chohee chimes in, sticking her head into the screen. “Don’t tell me you were robbed or something? Oh, no. No no no no. Please let it not be that.”

You smile halfheartedly, trying to change the subject. “Hey, Chohee. Staying the night?”

She nods, concern still painted over her face. “Mhm. But that’s not important, can you please just tell us what happened? It’s okay if it’s something small or stupid, we’re your friends and we’ll be here for you no matter what. We’re just… really concerned, and-”

“Yoongi.” Nari says suddenly, eyes wide.

“W-what? Y-Yoongi? What- what about him? I-I mean, I d-didn’t run into him, I-I’m just a-asking…” Your eyes are wider than cantaloupes, praying she wasn’t some psychic and had mystical powers or whatever.

She sits up from her previous lying-on-her-stomach position abruptly, looking at your stunned state. “Yoongi… do you remember he said he always wanted to visit Italy? He… was he there? Did you run into him?”

You are unable to speak, stuttering as your lip trembles. “Y-yes.”

Chohee and Nari both scream.

“THE WHAT?!”

“YOU RAN INTO YOONGI?!”

“Guys!” You yell, trying to somewhat calm them down (although you needed calming down yourself, too). “Stop! It wasn’t much, okay? Just- just some… talking, and then I left! That’s all!”

They look at each other, not sure whether to believe your explanation or not. Chohee opens her mouth a few times, as though pondering if she should speak or not- and no words come out.

“Really!” You exclaim, trying to convince them. You throw your hands up into the air for exaggeration, trying your hardest to look like you’re telling the truth. “We were like, um, best friends! Like nothing happened! And the coffee server didn’t come and shoo us out! He didn’t! And Yoongi didn’t cry or apologize or anything!”

Nari sighs. “Look, Y/N. I’m only saying I believe you because if I don’t you’ll bug me forever. But seriously, as your best friends, Chohee and I hereby promise to smack Yoongi in the face and shove skunk poop up his pretty nose. Right?” she looks at Chohee expectantly.

Chohee nods. “Yep. And don’t forget about the eating facial cream and drowning in turnip juice part. Y/N, I don’t care who it is, but if they dare to hurt you I will not hesitate to knock their teeth out.”

“If they even dare to insult you in any way, I’ll help Chohee knock their teeth out. I'll do most of the work, obviously, since... actually…” Nari pauses, biting her lip as she thinks. “Maybe, if it’s Mingyu that insults you, I’ll let him go…”

Chohee smacks her arm, rolling her eyes as Nari yelling a loud “what was that for?”. “For heaven’s sake, Nari! That totally ruined the moment.”

Nari shrugs, shooting Chohee a glare. “What, are we shooting a drama or something?”

You smile, looking down into your lap as your two friends bicker and give each other friendly smacks.

Maybe, just maybe, this world wasn’t unfair to you after all- you found happiness outside of Yoongi and the world of romance.

Maybe.

~''~

Okay. I did okay with the ending, right???? I did okay with the plot, right???? I didn't make Yoongi too horrible, right????

Right.

Okay.

Welp, anyway, remember to check my blog for updates on when part 2 is coming!

-*+ Rose +*-

#yoongi angst #yoongi series #yoongi x you #batb yoongi #bts angst #bts series #bts x you #sniffle sniffle my bbs

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captainaudreyjensen · 4 years

Text

new beginnings

Prompt: hi! idk if you take requests still, but can you do an imagine with audrey where y/n, audrey and noah have a horror night together and noah mistakenly puts on a movie where an animal dies ( maybe either hereditary or the conjuring ), even though y/n draws the line at horror films with animal deaths? then it really shakes y/n up a lot and audrey ends up comforting her.

This was a really cool request because I also hate when animals die in horror movies

Words: 1951

Warnings: swearing and mention of a animal death I do state before the paragraph that it happens. The film is the babadook, so spoiler warnings and also its a dog.

Following the murders, it had become something of a tradition with Audrey and Noah to hold a movie night every Friday. Once a month they’d invite the rest of the Lakewood Five, every now and again Stavo would join and occasionally they’d invite whoever they’d happened to be seeing at the time.

You were relatively new to town and you’d fallen in with Noah pretty quickly as you were smart and funny. You also happened to be openly *your sexual orientation* and taking the same classes as him. From the start he’d pegged you as a good match for Audrey as you had the same style, sense of humour and, well, Lakewood was a small town, the pickings were slim.

Noah had waited a few weeks for you to settle in before he brought up the idea, but recently he’d become more insistent. Today had been no exception, he’d caught you as you left the last class of the day and done some insisting.

“You’re perfect for her, Y/N. You’re so sweet, you’re smart and funny,” he’d laughed “and you have no random ties to Lakewood from a past life that might come back to haunt us,” a cautious pause, “that we know of.”

Honestly you quite liked the idea. Audrey had always been nice to you, she was funny, and so hot; but you didn't want to push it or force anything on her that she wasn’t super into. Because of this, you’d resisted getting to know her too well. You were also immensely aware of the fate of her exs. Audrey had been devastated by Rachel’s death, and though she had dated a couple of other girls, none of them had seemed to work out. It was no secret that all of the girls of the Lakewood Six had struggled with their relationships after the Kieran revelation.

“I really don’t know, Noah,” you’d replied, “is this something you’ve even discussed with Audrey?”

“Uh, well,” he’d laughed, flustered, “not exactly.”

“Okay then,” you smiled, but you felt a little hurt, “bye Noah.” Why had he been so persistent if Audrey didn’t even know it was a conversation he was having?

“Y/N, please,” he grabbed your arm, “hear me out.”

And you did. He explained that Audrey had told him (on separate occasions) that she felt she was ready for something new, and -in passing- that she thought you were cute. “I know she’s ready, I just don’t want to push too hard too soon,” he’d told you.

You nodded, still unsure, the last thing you wanted was to be something Audrey would regret.

“So, I was thinking,” Noah was ecstatic, like he’d just had the greatest epiphany of all time, “you should come to movie night tonight.”

“Isn’t it an invite only, private movie night, just for you guys?” “Well, kinda. But it’s also a way for you guys to hang out outside of school, no pressure.”

“And the group won’t feel weird that I’m there?” “It’s just Audrey and I tonight,” he couldn’t have been more proud of himself, “and you, of course.”

You’d attempted to tell Noah that you weren’t sure, especially because you weren’t 100% clear on anything other than the ‘movie night’ part, but before you could say anything else Noah was out the door, yelling “see you there, text you the details” as he ran.

You aren’t even sure whose house you’re arriving at as you pull into the driveway. Your watch reads 8:45; you’re early, but only just. You grab the snacks from your passengers seat -if you were going to come you were going to come prepared- and head for the door. You only have to wait a few seconds after ringing the bell before the door opens and you’re greeted by Audrey.

“Oh, Y/N,” Audrey exclaimes, dressed in a black tank top and plaid PJ pants. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

Of course Noah didn’t tell her.

“Noah invited me,” you blurt, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you sound.

“Cool,” Audrey nods, “you’re early, though. Like, super early.”

“Noah said nine?”

“It’s usually nine thirty,” Audrey nods.

“Oh,” you feel your cheeks burning. “I brought snacks,” your arm flies up, and the snacks fling around in the bag.

“Reusable,” she smiles, “that’s cool,” Audrey says as she steps out of the way, gesturing for you to come in.

“Yeah,” you smile, “save the environment and all.”

“Sure.”

It’s so awkward you could kill Noah.

Audrey leads you into the kitchen and stops on one side of the counter, “can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, sure,” you say, looking around, “your house is so quiet.”

“Yeah, my dads out for the weekend,” she pauses and smiles, “business and all,” she mocks your awkward remark from earlier.

You laugh, starting to unpack the bag as she pours you a drink.

“Wow, you really brought everything,” Audrey laughs, impressed.

“Oh yeah,” you remark, “I come prepared.”

“These are my favourite!” Audrey exclaimes, picking up a packet of sweets.

“Mine too,” you laugh, “I brought ‘em in every flavour.”

“Nice.”

Audrey pulls out bowls, and you start filling them with all your supplies. Time seems to pass at an exceptional speed, because before you know it, Noah’s knocking at the door.

“He’s late,” Audrey states matter-of-factly, before grabbing and opening another packet of chips.

“So you’re not letting him in?” you laugh. “Not immediately,” she smiles, shrugging, “he made us wait.”

You spend a couple more minutes in the kitchen filling bowls and chatting, and almost forget about Noah altogether.

Noah, however, refuses to be forgotten; knocking incessantly until the door opens.

“Took you long enough!” He exclaims, pushing past Audrey. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”

“You’re late,” Audrey states, crosses her arms; she looks so cute when she’s pretending to be mad.

“But I brought snacks,” Noah smiles, holding up a bag of popcorn and a chocolate bar.

You gesture to the table you and Audrey have spent the past almost hour filling with chocolate, sweets, chips and popcorn -among other things.

“Woah, where’d all this come from.”

Audrey smiles at you, and you state, “I like to come prepared.”

“Well then,” Noah winks at you, “let's get this party started.”

Audrey turns to you, “it’s Noah’s turn to pick films this week, so they’re probably going to be some outdated indie films with a very disjointed plot.”

“Classics, Audrey, not outdated. And by the way, they’re classics for a reason,” Noah smiles, “but no, actually this week I was thinking: new cult classics.” “How can they be cult classics if they’re new,” you smirk.

“They just are,” Noah huffs, falling onto an armchair.

You nod, taking a seat on the couch. Audrey sits next to you, almost a bit close.

“So what are we watching, then?”

“We’re starting with the Babadook, then It Follows and finally Cabin in the Woods.”

“Cool,” you nod, you haven’t seen any of them but you’re open to it.

“Shall we begin?” Noah asks, grabbing the remote. You and Audrey nod as he types, Babadook into the menu.

Audrey gets up to turn out the lights, you grab a bowl of popcorn and watch as the film starts. Audrey sits back down and shuffles closer to you, placing her hand in the bowl; your stomach settles, maybe this won’t be so bad.

The first half of the film wasn’t for you but as it progressed Audrey had moved incrementally closer, and as the film reached its climax she was almost in your lap. You had pretty much stopped focusing on the film altogether, and you were fine with that, Audrey smelt like sandalwood and vanilla. You’d been watching what was happening on screen but -with almost no context- it made little sense.

*animal death mentioned*

You were up to a part where the Babadook has possessed Amelia, and just as you were starting to get back into the film, it happened. Amelia breaks the neck of the poor little dog.

*mention over*

You jump at the sight of it, immediately feeling ill. Tears well in your eyes, and you begin to struggle to breathe.

Audrey turns to you, concerned.

“Are you okay, Y/N.”

Tears stream down your face, and you choke out a, “yeah.”

Audrey isn’t convinced, “Noah, turn it off,” she says, growing concerned.

“But this is the good bit,” Noah wines, “she’s just about to-”

“Fucks sake, Noah, turn it off!” Audrey yells. She pulls you closer to her.

This time Noah compiles, jumping for the remote. You’re still in shock.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, “it’s fine,” you repeat with mascara stained cheeks.

You try your hardest to hold it in. It's just a movie, you tell yourself. But you can’t control yourself as you start to sob. You feel yourself curl up, resting your head in the crook of her neck.

“Y/N,” Noah realises what’s going on, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Now you’re the one almost in Audrey’s lap. You feel her hand on your back where your shirt has started to lift; it's warm on your bare skin, slowly moving to soothe you. Her other hand sits on the back of your neck, fingers at the start of your scalp.

You forget what it was that you were crying about. All you can think about is how good you feel being held by Audrey. So comfortable; so safe.

You’re reminded of how good Audrey smells; the sandalwood and vanilla from before are mixed with the butter and salt of the popcorn, as well as the sweet raspberry and grape of your favourite sweets. She smells delicious, and you become overwhelmed by your urge to kiss her.

You don’t remember when you stopped crying but suddenly you have. Everything is still. You lift your head from Audrey’s shoulder, staring up at her.

“You okay?” she asks.

You nod, realising Noah is no longer in the room.

Your back feels cold as her other hand moves up to your neck. Audrey wipes away a streak of your mascara, resting her thumb on your cheek. She now cradles your face in her hands, her eyes darting between your lips, tear stained cheeks and your eyes.��

She hasn’t moved to kiss you but she hasn’t moved away, so you inch forward. Audrey closes the gap, leaning her forehead against yours. You close your eyes, brushing your lips against hers. They’re soft. Her scent is so strong now, you feel like you could get drunk on it.

Smiling, you pull back; Audrey lingers. Her eyes open and she smiles at you. You laugh, unsure of what to say.

Audrey pulls you back in, kissing you again but harder. Her left hand finds its way to your waist. Your right hand moves up, resting on her cheek.

You hear Noah re enter the room, but you aren’t sure of what he said. You and Audrey pull apart, and she gives you a peck, before turning to look up at Noah.

“What up, mood killer?” she questions.

“I was just going to ask if you guys wanted to watch a different movie maybe? But I can leave again,” Noah heads back in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” you and Audrey say in unison, laughing at the coincidence.

“We can watch another one,” Audrey says, before turning her attention back to you, “do you want to stay tonight?”

You simply nod.

Noah smiles at the two of you together and nods before saying, “how about just Scream?”

“A classic,” you laugh, “sure.”

Noah sets up the film. You and Audrey shuffle around on the couch intertwined, trying to get comfortable.

#scream #audrey jensen imagines #imagines #audrey jensen #audrey jensen scream #noah foster #mtvscream

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carrotsofavonlea · 5 years

Text

(Love)sick

The minute Anne saw Bash alone at the door of Green Gables she knew something was wrong. But never, never, in her wild imagination did she ever think she’d hear the words “Gilbert’s dying.”

Well, Bash didn’t say those exact words but from the way his voice broke when he talked of Gilbert’s illness, he may as well have said those dreaded words. Anne ran from the house, pushing past Bash in the doorway and ignoring Marilla’s shouts after her. In her haste, she didn’t even consider riding a horse, and fled on foot.

Her heart was in her throat as she ran all the way to the Blythe farm. She didn’t even knock on the door, and burst through giving Bash’s mother the fright of her life.

She hesitated as her hand rested on the door handle, terrified of what she might see. But it was Gilbert and despite everything, she did still love him even if he didn’t love her back.

He was asleep when she entered and so, so pale. Her heart ached just looking at him like this. All around his room, there were diagrams he’d drawn, notes he’d made, medical journals he hadn’t finished reading, and other little souvenirs from his travels. Anne didn’t think there was anyone more deserving to live such a full life as Gilbert, and the idea that he may never get there brought her to tears. The life he was trying to build was all around him, and Anne couldn’t bare it if that medical journal was left untouched forever, always bookmarked where he had paused.

“Anne?” the weakest voice she’d ever heard spoke her name, and she realised she’d been frozen in place.

“It’s me.” she collapsed by the side of his bed on her knees.

His curls were stuck to his forehead from sweat, but she didn’t care and pushed them back so she could see his face. They’d never been this close before, and Anne didn’t want to think that this would be the last time.

“Anne.” he seemed to continue mumbling, and Anne realised he probably wasn’t aware she was even here.

“You can’t do this.” for some reason she felt angry at him. It wasn’t the first time in her life Gilbert Blythe had caused her such anger, but this was certainly the worst. “You can’t just die. After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to leave me? You’re already leaving me for Paris, but I’d always thought we’d still be friends even if...if I can’t have you. Because Gilbert...I'm in love with you. And I'm sorry I never told you, that I made you think I didn't. But I do. I truly do, with all my heart. But it's too late…"

Anne's head fell against his bed, her hand still tightly clasping his as she let out a quiet sob.

The door suddenly burst open and Winifred rushed in, followed by Dr Ward. Normally she was so calm and proper, but there was panic behind her eyes. Anne sat up, dropping Gilbert’s hand.

Winifred rushed to Gilbert’s other side, yet remained ever proper and refrained from collapsing on her knees as Anne had done.

“We came as fast as we could.” she said to Anne, gesturing to Dr Ward.

"There's too many people in here. One of you needs to leave so he can rest." Dr Ward said, rummaging through his doctor's bag.

Neither Anne nor Winifred made to move.

"I think I should be the one to stay." Winifred said, "after all, I am his fiancée."

Anne snapped quickly, "Well I happen to be his... friend." But she closed her eyes, realising how awful she must sound right about now. Of course Winifred shouldn't be made to leave, Anne was the one who didn’t belong in this situation, no matter how it pained her to admit it.

Maybe she’d never see Gilbert again, and he deserved to spend whatever time he had left with the woman he loved. Even if that wasn’t her.

Aunt Jo was right about love. There’s no sense to be made of it. And as Anne made to leave, she cast one glance back at Gilbert. She loved him, but if she couldn’t have him she was glad he was at least happy. That’s all she really wanted. Maybe that really was what love was about: being selfless.

"Promise me you'll send word when he's better." She didn’t want to say “if”. In her heart she knew Gilbert would somehow find a way to get better, he was certainly stubborn enough.

“We’ll do what we can.” Dr Ward said, and Anne turned away with tears in her eyes.

///

Anne was busy cutting vegetables for Marilla’s soup, she’d do anything to keep her mind off of Gilbert. It had been a few days, and no word had come from Bash, or Winifred or anyone. Her mind must have been going mad because she could have sworn she saw the familiar figure of Gilbert strolling up the path through the window.

But when his eyes made contact with hers through the screen door, she knew it was real.

“Gilbert?” she dropped what she was doing and ran, throwing her arms around him. It was inappropriate but she didn’t care, she was thrilled to see him alive. “You’re looking much better.” she breathed out as she pulled back from him, hoping it wasn’t obvious on her face how truly happy she was at seeing him here.

His face changed, “Can we talk? Perhaps we could take a stroll?”

Anne nodded, grabbing her coat before following him outside. His face was grave and she couldn’t tell if it was the sickness or something else. He had lost weight, and his face still seemed a little sunken, but for a moment his eyes had been the way they always were: bright and inviting.

“I suppose Winifred is relieved,” Anne didn’t know what to say to break the uncomfortable silence. “Now she can continue wedding plans.”

“I doubt that…” Gilbert stopped walking, turning to face Anne. “I uh, called off the engagement.”

Her heart stopped, “What? But...but the Sorbonne? Winifred? You love her.”

He shrugged, “Almost dying made me realise. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to get married. Especially as I’m in love with someone else. I always have been…”

Anne couldn’t hear him properly, her heartbeat was drumming in her ears. But did he say he wasn’t in love with Winifred.

“I heard what you said, when you came to see me.”

“You…” Anne’s face flushed and she brought her hands up to cover her cheeks. She was certain he had been asleep, but he had heard her confess her love to him? This was so mortifying, mortifying couldn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling.

He took her hand away from her cheek, holding it across his chest. “It’s you Anne. It’s always been you. I’ve been in love with you since you hit me with your slate.”

She laughed, feeling tears prick in her eyes, but for once it wasn’t out of sadness.

“For years I’d thought you wouldn’t ever feel the same, so I tried to move on. And when you said you didn’t think there’d be a chance for us...I thought I’d just have to accept being your friend. But then you told me you loved me too, and I knew that if I ever made a recovery I couldn’t go through with marrying Winnie.”

“I can’t let you give up on your dream.”

“My dream wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” he smiled for the first time, and there in his eyes was that romance she’s so craved to see again. “If going to Paris means giving up you, then I’d drop it in a heartbeat. I’d give up going to the moon if it meant I’d still have you by my side. We’ll figure something out together.”

Anne didn’t know what to say, but Gilbert slowly dropped to his knees. “Anne Shirley Cuthbert, would you join me in an e-n-g-a-g-e-m-e-n-t?”

She fell to her knees with him, “You added the “e” this time.” Her hands cupped his face and she kissed him, hoping he understood that for a “yes”.

He pulled back, a huge smile on his face. “It’ll be a few years, after school and everything. But one day…”

“We’ve waited long enough, what’s a few more years?”

#angst? a little?#awae #anne with an e #shirbert #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #winifred rose

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onisiondrama · 5 years

Photo

PART 2 - videos #3 & #4

(I just wanted to note: some of the things he’s saying are misrepresented or completely untrue, but I decided not to point them all out because it was taking me too long to get through the first two videos and I still have a lot to go.)

so...

- Not everyone handles controversy and drama the way he’s done in the past. Some people want to run away or stay silent because they’re sad or heartbroken. Some people say silence makes it look like you’re guilty. Says speculation isn’t fair. You shouldn’t believe what someone says about someone else without getting both sides, but when you stay silent when someone asks you about it people assume guilt. It’s unfair. People have to talk about unpleasant moments in your life otherwise people will talk about those moments forever. - It’s crazy you broke up with someone 7 times in 2011 and in 2020 people are still dragging it out. Imagine going on shows talking about things that already concluded years ago. - Shiloh never had to call the police on him because he was never like her. She would accuse him of things and he’d call the police so they could have a professional review it. - There are two people he lived with who when he broke up with them, he slept against the door because he was afraid they’d kill him. They are so mentally unstable they’d rather you die then for you to break up with them. - He says his mom, his aunt, and Shiloh’s producer Damon saw how she was. He told Damon he felt bad for Shiloh because of her mental illness. Damon said she was evil and Greg disagreed because he loved her. - Shiloh would admit to wanting to do illegal drugs. He doesn’t remember her actually doing them. She was sitting in front of her laptop and he saw her Skye history. She closed her laptop real quick, but he saw she said she wished she could go back and do illegal drugs with someone. - He says there is consistency with people in his history that lie and do illegal drugs. When a drug is illegal, you’re putting your whole house at risk - He was an air force cop until he was diagnosed with major depression. - Shiloh went on a livestream and said horrible things about him. He wants to respond but he can’t bring himself to watch an ex trash him. He’s sure she said horrible things. - Someone told him she said he’d self gratify to the sound of her crying. That’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard in his life. It’s not true, but this is an example of someone making up a fake story. Instead of calling them out for lying, you keep asking them “and then what happened?” and their story keeps getting more and more outlandish and weird. He’s encountered a lot of people like that. He thinks that’s a sign of a disorder. - He’s glad she never called the cops on him. She never felt in danger with him, but he felt in danger with her. - Shiloh made a kickstarter for getting “Gregory” removed from her neck. He never told her to get that. She told him to get “Remember love”. She said she went to a tattoo artist in Toranto and the artist said they wouldn’t do it unless the name is of someone in her family so she told them it was her grandfather’s name. She came back and showed it to him and he felt nervous and panicky because he thinks it’s a bad idea to get someone’s tattoo on their body. She seemed happy and it was too late so he played along. Their relationship didn’t work out so that’s a bummer. He was told she got everyone to pay for her cover up, but he can’t confirm that. The irony is his name is James. - Apparently she got in an argument with Madison about what the point of the livestreams and he was told Shiloh got upset and abandoned the cause. She was upset Madison started beef with her. He saw a screen shot of the livestreams and saw Shiloh’s video got the most views. - Next video is Billie.

now

- Billie is a beautiful woman, she had blue hair. Kai was exploring his interests. Kai is trans but at the time identified as a girl because he didn’t explore himself too much. As he expressed himself Greg encouraged self exploration. They both wanted to explore polyamory because Greg worked too much and he felt like Kai could use a s/o that was there for him. Kai met a 19 year old and they hit it off. - He says he and Kai have their own phones. Kai has reviewed a lot of stuff on Greg’s phone, but that died off because Kai learned he could trust Greg. - Says cuddlegate happened. Billie came over and Billie would kiss Kai for a video and they would take selfies. He said it felt wonderful. Everything felt right to him. This is the way he wanted his life to be. One time they went to the water and Billie and Kai were hanging out and they looked so wonderful together and he was happy to be part of that. - Says Kai would get jealous of Greg and Billie talking and interacting too much. - Eased into a situation where they were all kissing. He and Kai fought about Billie because Greg was hanging out with Billie too much. Kai got mad and left the house for a little bit. Billie and Greg decided to watch a movie about a guy that’s good with drums. He asked Billie if she wanted a massage. Before that when his mom was a massage therapist, she have him a massage and he was wearing no shirt and his underwear, so he asked Billie if that’s what she wanted and she was all about it. When he went to take off her bra, she warned him that she was flat chested. He said he didn’t care. She layed down and he rubbed her whole body, but didn’t pay too much attention to the middle area because he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. He says for some reason something clicked in his mind and he felt like a professional masseuse and he handled everything professionally and it felt comfortable. It was a nice experience because she never had someone do that for her before. “That was cool for me.” She showered off and came back and they cuddled. He says he heard someone said she grinded on him, he says that might have happened. He was laying down and she was on top of him and her legs were spread over him. They were laying and hugging. Says it’s a possibility rubbing was going on. He told Kai this happened and Kai freaked out and said they were done. Says Kai didn’t like Greg massaging and cuddling Billie even though they were kissing prior. - Shortly after he asked Billie to kiss him. He says he should have not done that and it’s weird. He was just dumped by his husband. He was in a sad state, but it was ridiculous he was in bed with this woman and thinking about kissing her. Billie did something honorable, she said it felt weird and didn’t want to. He says he respected that and thanked her later on for saying that. What she said felt right. She was the voice of reason. They fell asleep in each other’s arms. - They were having a good time the next day, but Kai came back and tried to reason with him. Kai got through to him and Greg told Billie she couldn’t be there anymore. He says she apparently did a livestream with Ayalla and Social Repose and she was giggling about how she didn’t destroy a marriage, she just bruised it. He wasn’t hurt by that but other people were very hurt by that. - He and Kai worked things out and he made a video about it. Kai made a video about how Greg was an a-hole for that and Greg agrees. - Billie came back, they took her back to try a relationship. When it was good it was good, but Billie and Kai would fight over jealousy issues. There are romantic and things they did that are good memories for him. To share too much information, he did a thing with them and dog collars. Kai loves that. They got on their knees and was on a leash, it’s BDSM. He said everyone consented and he hopes Billie looks back at that fondly. He said they were kinky and would make out all the time, but later found out Billie wasn’t supposed to be making out with Greg as much as she was. - Says he likes telling this next story because it shows you how Billie was. He was in his tesla model x, which he had to get rid of later on. Billie put on a song about dating older guys and hopped in his lap. He says it was a really cool, hip song with a hip hop beat. They were making out heavily and he was so into her and he wanted to do everything with her, but according to Kai they were only allowed to do certain things as a group at the time. Billie would settle for grinding on him when he was sitting in the model x and other places. Those are great memories for him because she was so into him. She would look at him like he was amazing even though he felt ugly. He felt special around her and he felt beautiful to her. - They would go into his green screen room. She would close the door and hop on him and they’d make out. He told Kai this was ok but they couldn’t sleep together. He makes it clear he also made out with Kai. - When Greg told Billie he was going to work things out with Kai, Billie texted “wait don’t”, not exact words but she wanted to be with him. He appreciates that but he was too broken up about his family and prioritized his family. Even though he screwed up Kai gave him as second chance and hes greatful. - Says you’ll find out why the making out thing was a huge problem in the next video.

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aggressivelyclueless · 5 years

Text

hey @kiinotasha this one’s for you

human!Danny/runaway/pitch-pearl

a handful of regret, a little solace, and a pinch of fluff

i know it’s super late but thanks so much for being patient! the end bit took me like six tries to get it to stick how i wanted

i will also be posting this on ao3 at some point fyi

Winter had officially rolled in that morning. Amity Park had all but shut down with the snow - after-school activities had been canceled; the highways had turned to skating rinks in the mid-morning sleet; even retailers had begun to close their doors for the afternoon to wait out the worst of the storm. Before five o'clock, when the sun would have set, the streets were vacant. Everyone, it seemed, had holed up at home.

Everyone except Danny. Nevermind the snow - he couldn't stand to spend another minute at the house. His mother's accusing voice still cut through his mind: you'll never listen to reason, will you? Look at the facts, Jack! It's simply not possible! None of it had been directed at Danny, but he resented both of his parents nonetheless. December, to him, was the season of hey-Tuck-can-I-stay-the-weekend and please-Sam-I'll-do-anything-to-be-out-of-the-house and if-I-have-to-keep-putting-up-with-this-I'll-die. When he wasn't home, at least he could hear himself think!

It wasn't fair. He hated how easily any conversation could slide into animosity, he hated the gnawing misery that crept up steadily from November onwards (and that was if he was lucky - one year the radio stations had all conspired to deliver tell-tale sleigh bells as early as October the twenty-first), and he hated how no one listened whenever he said he disliked the holidays. It was always oh, but you've got to celebrate something, don't you? or how can you be so sour at such a lovely time of year? or the affronted but surely everyone loves Christmas! as if he'd stricken the event from the calendar simply by wishing it ill.

If only.

So, despite the snow and despite the cold, he'd made his way out to the Nasty Burger in the hope it would still have been open, and in the hope that Sam and Tucker might still be there. It wasn't; they weren't; and after a moment of overwhelming frustration and despair he'd turned tail and run. In that moment, he didn't care where he ended up, or how far away it was - all that mattered was that he left his stupid house and his stupid parents and their stupid fight behind. Forget the snow, the fire in his belly grumbled, forget the cold. Just run.

By the time he'd run out of breath, he'd made it as far as the bus station out of town. He had a few bucks on him, but only one line was still running due to the snow. He didn't care; he took it, ignoring the rough night out there, isn't it? from the driver as he boarded, and collapsed into one of the seats in the back. He wondered how far he'd really have to go before he could escape the last echoes of his mother's voice. Even then, as the bus trundled sluggishly through the snow, he could still hear her.

It's not possible, Jack! Such a feat defies science! Jack, you can't be that foolish!

How many years of it did they expect him to take?

By the time the bus dropped him off, he was numb. The doors creaked open, he shuffled out, and the cold bit him anew. It was dark out now - how far had he gone, he wondered. The streets certainly looked the same. Had he ended up a town over? Three towns? Ten? Distance meant nothing; the bus doors closed behind him, and it lumbered off.

He was on his own.

The snow appeared to have let up, although it hadn't quit entirely. It fell not with icy malice but was fat-flaked and lazy, and the scene before him was silent save for a street-plow that rumbled from the parking lot down the road.

Isn't this what you wanted? to hear yourself think?

His mind began to tick again, and the lonesomeness finally struck him. He really was on his own, without Sam or Tucker or even Jazz at his side, and the silence of the town seemed to press in on him. Go on, something in him whispered, you wanted to be alone, didn't you? How long do you think before they'll even notice you're gone? Two or three days, maybe? Or maybe they'll only think twice on the twenty-sixth, after they've wrapped up?

He couldn't bear to think that. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes, refusing to be dismissed by his palm or the back of his sleeve, and the tightness of pent-up anger gave way in an instant to a cold hard lump of dread. He really was alone.

Now what?

He turned to the road again. The bus had dropped him off near the edge of town, it seemed - how far had he really gotten from Amity Park? Where had he ended up? He didn't remember which line he'd taken, just that it had been the only one available to him, and he cursed himself out for it. How stupid are you? Out of all the days you could have picked to run off, you decided that the best time to do that was in the middle of the snow? Great going, idiot!

He held his mobile in one hand. It didn't like the cold; it had been at 66% earlier that afternoon, but had steadily dripped down to 27% within the span of an hour or two, and it skipped to 16% even as he stared down at it. You know no one's going to be able to come get you, right? said the sharp voice of guilt. You think even the Fenton RV could handle the roads like this? and that's assuming Mom and Dad quit arguing long enough to even answer if you call home. . .

He had to call anyway. He knew that much, even as his vision blurred around the edges and tears froze in the corners of his eyes. He slipped behind a line of shrubs to escape the wind, hit Home, and tried to collect himself as he waited for anyone to pick up.

Come on, please, I'm so sorry. . .

"Hello - ?"

"Mom? I'm so sorry please don't be mad I need you to - Mom?"

The mobile had died in his hand, but for a desperate moment he failed to process. "Mom. . .?"

Something in him cracked, and he stared down at the device. The screen was dark, and failed to respond to his touch, but it felt as if he'd been purposefully abandoned. Look what you've done. This is your fault. What are you gonna do now?

He didn't have an answer for that one. Don't stay out too late, kiddo, you'll freeze out there! He remembered his father saying that once, when he'd said he and Tucker were going to go out. That had been last year, in January after the fights were over and there was enough snow to go sledding. He remembered, too, that he'd had a second jacket then.

Would he really freeze?

He shoved the mobile back into his pocket. It hadn't been quite so cold earlier - how long had he already been out? There had been daylight for a while. An hour, maybe? That sounded about right. It always got dark early in December. Still, he'd have to find someplace to hole up. Maybe this town's Nasty Burger, or MacMeaty's - they'd still be open, probably, and they might even have a phone he could borrow.

That, and then he'd find out how far he'd gotten himself from home.

With a basic objective in mind, he set off again. So long as he was moving, the cold didn't seem so bad. The storm had relented, at least, and it didn't look to have snowed as badly as it had in Amity Park - but, out of familiar territory, he was lost. With only one direction to go, he kept along the side of the road in the hopes it would lead him into town.

The road led him through a stretch of trees, all heavy with snow and ice and bowing downwards, and he knew the rest of the town couldn't be too far ahead. The hazy yellow of the streetlights was cast into the sky somewhere to his left, and as soon as he spotted the path off the main road he took it. He hardly registered anything else until the pavement gave way to uneven dirt under the snow, and he paused; not city streets but a cemetery sprawled out before him, but he only hesitated for a second before treading onwards, ignoring his own superstitions. Graveyard, went his mind blankly in an effort to get the word to stick to something. It didn't.

The breeze shifted suddenly, and Danny stopped. It wasn't that the snow was going to pick up again - it appeared to have quit for the moment - but something was so awfully and so suddenly wrong that, for one perplexing instant, he was pulled out of coherent thought altogether.

Graveyard finally stuck.

Danny turned about himself. The only tracks in the snow were his, and without the snowfall everything around him was perfectly still. Why, then, could he so clearly feel the eyes upon him? Where were they coming from? Without meaning to, he cast his gaze downwards - have you stepped on someone? - but could discern nothing from the blanket of white beneath him. It was bad luck, he'd been told once, to tread on a body at rest. Had he just done that? He stepped back as if he had, although he couldn't really tell for sure. "Sorry," he mumbled, as if it was adequate, and felt stupid. Look at you by yourself in the dark, apologizing to someone who's already dead, who you probably didn't even step on anyhow. What, like they're going to care?

Ghosts, according to Danny, weren't real. That was a fact in his mind. Both of his parents had been ghosthunters for their entire careers, as far as he was aware, and neither one of them had actually seen one. If the anomalies did exist, surely one would have been caught by now?

What manifested before him, however, looked very much like how he imagined a ghost to look. It appeared, suddenly but without a sound, on one of the headstones still visible under the snow. Its body was cast predominantly in shadow except for two bright green eyes which were most definitely affixed on him. It was vaguely human-shaped, although Danny had to squint a little to see it; it was peering out at him from behind the stone, or at least that's what he thought it looked like it was doing, and when he stared it flinched back.

Ghost, went Danny's mind, and the sentiment stuck the first time. It couldn't have been real, and yet it was exactly like every explanation his parents had ever given him about one. Great. What does it want? Do you really have to deal with this too now?

The spirit - if that was what it really was - stared back in equal silence. Danny hadn't fled; emboldened somewhat, it crept upwards to peer over the top of the tombstone rather than from around the side. Its body remained mostly in shadow, and only when it moved were the white wisps of its fingers and hair visible against the backdrop of snow. It grasped the corner of the stone, as if looking over a tall countertop, and was still again. After a moment of deliberation, it finally spoke: (Lost?)

Danny hesitated. What could he reasonably expect to tell it - that he'd come out here by himself to get away from his parents and that he couldn't get back home? Nevermind, for the moment, that this was a genuine ghost. "What?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, almost optimistically, eyes still on Danny. (How come?)

Danny stiffened. "Hey, wait a sec, what's it to you, anyway? Are you even real?"

The shadow slumped, and the eyes fell. (Yeah)

A small part of Danny was surprised at how quickly he'd accepted than answer - then again, he'd been told since infancy that the anomalies were real, and had only really rejected it out of spite for his parents - but that led to the pricklier questions. If ghosts were real then they were also dangerous (he'd been told that, too, countless times) and he was acutely aware that he was on his own. "What do you want? Don't you have anyplace to go terrorize, or is this it?"

The spirit met his gaze again. (Terrorize? Why would I - ?)

"Because that's what ghosts do," said Danny, "Probably. Look, no offense, or maybe some offense, but I didn't come here for you to show up and bug me."

(Then why did you come here?)

"Hey, that's none of your business," Danny snapped, refusing to acknowledge exactly how ridiculous it was that he was in a graveyard at night having an argument with a real ghost, "Go away."

The apparition's eyes flashed. (Why don't you go away? This is my spot. I was here first)

"Fine. Whatever." Danny jammed his hands an extra inch into his pockets, shoving the encroaching chill away and turning to stomp across to the other side of the graveyard. Stupid ghost.

The ghost, on the other hand, seemed to change its mind. (Wait, I didn't mean it - please come back)

Despite himself - you wanna freeze out here? - Danny turned.

The shadowy spirit wafted up from its place by the headstone and floated closer. In the air, Danny could make out the suggestion of its limbs, and the white fog of its hands and feet, but even when it faced him he couldn't distinguish any features aside from its eyes. (Please stay)

Danny wanted to run. Everything his parents had told him about ghosts was marching through his mind - they're dangerous, kiddo! you don't wanna face off against one by yourself! - and it had finally dawned on him what might happen if he didn't get into town. Despite that, he found he couldn't run. The spirit sounded desperate. Probably because it'll tear you apart as soon as it gets your guard down, snapped the relentless voice of his mother, but he shoved it away. What if it really was desperate? What if it needed his help?

What if it wanted to rip him to shreds instead?

The spirit's eyes dimmed, as if perhaps it was thinking about something, and when it asked its voice was slow and careful. (You're not okay, are you?)

Danny frowned. "How do you know that?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, (everyone runs)

"Yeah, maybe both my parents are ghosthunters," said Danny, as if that might ward it off if it decided at any point to attack him, "Maybe you'd better leave me alone."

(You think I'm going to haunt you)

"I'm supposed to think you're not? I don't know you - didn't know you - ugh, you know what I meant. You're dead. I'm not. Ghosts haunt people. That's kinda their thing. Why would you not come after me? Why are we even having this conversation? I told you to leave me alone."

The ghost went silent for a moment. It slunk downwards onto the snow, huddling a little tighter against itself as if wrapping its arms around its knees. (I guess I thought maybe since you didn't run you wouldn't be scared of me. I just wanted someone to talk to)

"Don't you have - oh I don't know - ghost buddies or something for that?"

(They moved)

"Moved?"

(On)

Danny bit his tongue. The loneliness struck him again, just as mercilessly as it had before, but this time it wasn't his own. All of a sudden he felt foolish - is he really the only one that's lonely? - and he let all his breath out in a prolonged puff. "You're the only one left here, aren't you?"

The spirit nodded; despite that it only barely held a coherent form, the motion was clear.

"You're lonely."

(Aren't you?)

Danny recoiled as if struck. Of course you are. Lonely, lost, and real stupid. You did this to yourself, remember? He turned, dashing a palm under his eye as if the ghost wouldn't have seen it. "Maybe."

(Maybe?)

"Yeah," Danny snapped, although there was little anger he could muster. "You heard me. Look at you, asking all these questions - who even are you, anyhow?"

(Just a phantom) said the phantom, glancing back at the headstone from which it had appeared, (name's long gone)

"Just a phantom," Danny echoed, making the spike in his chest twist. You still wanna just leave him there by himself? He couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. Nevermind the cold - he wasn't going to abandon anybody that had no one left, even if it was someone who was already dead. "That's - that's really it, huh?"

(What about you?) the phantom asked, (you're still kicking. You've got a name, don't you?)

"It's Danny."

(Oh, I like that one) said the phantom brightly, sliding upwards a little, (you promise you'll stay?)

"Yeah. I mean - maybe. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but - I'm kind of in huge trouble. With everything. Ugh, I'm so stupid - "

(Tell me about it) the phantom ventured, (I mean, if you want to)

Danny sat with a soft crunch in the snow. Once it started to come out, he found, it suddenly became much easier. "I guess I did it to myself. Maybe I thought I wanted to be on my own, I mean I can't just keep listening to them argue like that, so I left, I thought it'd be easier, maybe it doesn't matter, but now I can't get back and it's so cold and it's my own fault I'm so stupid - "

(I don't think you're stupid)

"Look at me. I'm sitting here, in a graveyard, in the dark, talking to a ghost about my problems, which are my own fault to begin with," said Danny, one sob coming out instead as a sardonic laugh. "Sounds pretty stupid to me."

The phantom hesitated. After a moment it slid over to sit next to him, and its eyes brightened. (I don't think it counts unless you can't fix it)

"What are you talking about?"

(You're still breathing, aren't you?)

Danny felt like he'd struck a nerve somehow. "I didn't mean it like that - "

The phantom's eyes turned upwards. The snow had started up again; even in the past few minutes it had dusted Danny's hoodie with white, and if given another few minutes it might pick back up to the storm that had rendered Amity Park helpless. The phantom stared for a moment, and the snow paused. (Ice core) was the only explanation it offered, and its eyes turned upwards in what Danny could only assume to be a smile.

"You did that," said Danny, who was a second slower to process, "How'd you - ? I didn't know you could do that - "

The phantom nodded slowly. (Usually, it's only for a few seconds at a time. Closer it is to the solstice, though, sometimes I get a little leeway. Longer nights or something like that. I wasn't gonna question it)

"Huh."

The phantom rose abruptly, turning back and offering one wispy hand to Danny. (Can I show you something?)

Danny took the hand and flinched. The sensation was like ice, not physically tangible but piercingly cold, and he was pulled up to his feet as well. "Where are we going?"

The phantom kept Danny's hand. It floated higher, pulling him off the ground with it; he yelped, wide eyes darting back up to the shadow in the air, and his grip tightened. (Don't let go, okay?)

Danny wouldn't dare. "What are you doing - ?"

The phantom was smiling again, but wouldn't answer him. They both ascended over the ice-white treetops, and all of a sudden the town opened up below them through a yellow-white haze. (You said you were lost) said the phantom, (didn't you? Lost and lonely, same as me. I wanted to help)

Danny was silent. His mind had all but ground to a halt - the first time he'd ever seen a ghost, and the ghost had just plucked him up off the ground with no effort whatsoever. I wanted to help, it said. Weren't spirits like that supposed to do the opposite?

The phantom turned back to the town beyond the cemetery. (There's houses over on that side) it said helpfully, pointing with its free hand, (you think one of them's yours?)

"Well, I - " Danny forced his mind back into processing again, once he was very certain he wouldn't fall. He kept the phantom's hand tightly in his own, knowing that was the only thing keeping him up, and finally cast a glance across rooftops and streets below. "No," he said, "They're not. Look, I. . ."

(Oh jeez this is too much, isn't it? I'm sorry)

"No it's not that - I mean, don't get me wrong, this wasn't exactly what I was expecting to be doing tonight, it's kinda out-there, but - "

(I'm so sorry I swear I just wanted to help)

"Hey wait - no don't go down yet - you really can see pretty far from up here, can't you," Danny scanned the streets below, hoping to spot someplace that was still open. The cold was really starting to get to him, especially up in the open air - he couldn't quit shivering, and his fingers and nose had gone all but numb. Even his lips had begun to resist movement, and he had to be careful to articulate when he spoke. "I came in from that way," he spotted the road the bus had taken when he'd been dropped off, and gestured vaguely downwards. "Don't suppose you know how far Amity Park is from here?"

(You're cold)

"Well, yeah," said Danny, "But I gotta get home - "

The phantom's eyes widened, and it shook its head. (Not like that! Oh, man, you're still kicking, you have to stay warm, I forgot I'm so sorry) the phantom descended, taking Danny down too, and they both landed at the side of the cemetery.

Danny shoved both hands back into his pockets, although they wouldn't warm up entirely on their own. At least the wind's not so bad down here, and you know where the town is. You'll have better luck than you will out here, anyhow.

The phantom was unblinking. (That was my fault. I should have remembered. You have to be careful - when you're alive, I mean. Stuff can happen, I wasn't even thinking about it - )

"Hey, don't freak out. I'll be fine. So it's snowing a little. Big deal."

(Yeah but I don't wanna see you freeze out here, not on account of me, anyhow, you know - )

"Wait," said Danny, and asked before he could stop himself, "Wait is that - that's how you - well, you know - isn't it?"

The phantom didn't answer. Its eyes slid pointedly away form Danny's, opting instead to stare through the snow-laden trees. The distant rumble of a street-plow came and went, and the snowfall slowly started up again.

Now you've gone and done it. Should have kept your mouth shut, idiot. "I'm sorry." He let his breath out all at once. "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that. Please don’t be mad."

(You're really far from home, aren't you?)

Danny hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah. I am. I really screwed up this time. Look, no offense, I get that you wanted to help me out and all, but - I don't think this is something you can just fix, you know?"

(You're having troubles at home) said the phantom, (I think. That was what you said earlier, wasn't it? That’s why you came all the way here)

Danny nodded again. "Yeah. My parents have this stupid fight every year, and I said I wasn't gonna let it get to me this time but it did anyway. So of course like some kind of moron I thought maybe getting away from it all would have been just fine - "

(Well, you're the first moron I've talked to in a long time) said the phantom helpfully, (you can't be that bad)

Danny sighed. "Thanks. I guess."

(Besides, you don't have to be out here all by yourself either. I think we both kind of win, right?)

Danny frowned. "Not sure that's how it works? If I didn't run away then none of this - "

(Then you'd still be having a bad time, right? But just at home. And if you hadn't come out here then I'd still be having a bad time too. Like I said. We both kind of win)

"Well. I mean," Danny gave up. "Sure. Yeah."

(And you'd be sad if I left now, wouldn't you?)

"Yeah."

(Then I'm not going anywhere) said the phantom, and its eyes turned up again. (Consider yourself haunted)

Despite himself, and despite everything that had happened, everything he'd done, and that he was a mess standing at the edge of a graveyard in the snow with a ghost as his only companion a town or more away from home - despite it all, Danny laughed. Something in him released all at once; perhaps the coil of stress wound one tick too tight and snapped, or perhaps it was the realization that he wasn't on his own, not really, not so long as the phantom hung around, even if it couldn't help him on a tangible level. Haunted. It was so succinctly absurd, and so, so good to let everything else fall away. Before he fully realized he'd meant to, he'd reached over and taken the phantom's hand again. "Thanks. I guess I really needed that."

The phantom just smiled back. (You're really stuck with me now. How're you gonna get home otherwise? By yourself?)

Danny was somber again in an instant. "I don't know. Buses back to Amity don't start up again 'til morning. Phone's dead. Can't even ask anyone to come and pick me up."

(Well) the phantom turned back to the town beyond the trees. (Hm. Oh, hey, I wonder if some the gas stations are twenty-four hours? I think there's at least one. Maybe they'd have a phone you could borrow?)

"You think so?"

(Yeah. Come on. You thought flying was cool? Check this out) and without waiting for an answer it flew ahead, pulling him through snow and frozen trees and shrubs as if they didn't really exist. For the moment, they may as well not have existed, and the next thing Danny knew they'd come out in the back parking lot of what appeared to be a Denny's.

Danny turned back to the phantom. "What'd you do?"

(Shared) said the phantom, (thought it'd be faster than going around. Don't you think?)

"Yeah, but - " Danny paused, and then tried again: "I don't know, just - warn me next time? Phasing through solid objects isn't really as straightforward, you know?"

The phantom gave Danny what he assumed to be a half-hearted shrug. (Okay, but I think the place is a few blocks over from here)

Danny trotted ahead, following the sidewalk around the corner of the building and having a look across the front lot and down the road. "All I'm seeing is streetlights. I’m guessing you know this town better than me." He shot a look back to the phantom, expecting it to take the lead.

The phantom hesitated, but only for a moment. (The living don't really - you know, you don't see the dead wandering around most times, do you?)

"Wait, what're you getting at? You think I'm just gonna ditch you from here on out?"

(I'm just saying don't act all surprised) said the phantom. It was as if it was taking a deep breath; he materialized fully, finally allowing himself a face, and appeared in a simple jacket and black jeans. His eyes still carried their ethereal glint, but apart from that he appeared human - he shook his head briefly, sending his white hair flying, and then gave Danny a grin. "I get leeway, remember?"

"You're a showoff," said Danny, who had not known the phantom could manifest so clearly - so that's what his face looks like - and was not about to let him get off easy about it.

"What, I gotta go around looking like an oil slick all the time? Give a guy some credit, will you? Besides, you know what'd happen if people saw a shadow like me on the loose? They might call your parents. That's what."

Danny's gaze fell. "Right."

"C'mon," the phantom took Danny's hand as he passed, and led the way into the streets. Danny noticed, after a moment, that he was the only one leaving footprints behind - he also appeared to be the only one exuding clouds with every breath. That's because he's not breathing, stupid, he chided himself, duh. Still, something just seemed right about the phantom, and it wasn't only because it was the only other option to being on his own again.

For the life of him, though, he couldn't place the feeling.

The two of them stood in the parking lot outside the gas station. Sure enough, the lights inside were still on, and the sidewalk looked to have been shoveled fairly recently. That was probably for the best; the snow had gotten going in earnest, and Danny speculated it had probably caught up to them from Amity Park where the worst of it had been earlier. He trotted ahead, pausing with one hand on the door to turn back to the phantom. "You coming?"

"Yeah," said the phantom, "Just in time, too. You don't look so good. Told you you'd freeze."

Danny ignored that last comment, and ignored the numbness from his feet and the tips of his fingers, and pulled the door open. The single clerk behind the register looked bored, but it wasn't until Danny asked to borrow the phone that either he or the phantom were acknowledged at all. He took it, giving the clerk one of those awkward-thanks smiles, and took a deep breath.

You know you're gonna have to fess up, and you know it's probably Mom who's gonna answer.

Let her, if it means I can go home.

It only rang once; sure enough, it was his mother.

"Mom," said Danny, daring himself to keep his composure. Despite his best efforts, his voice splintered and he was crying. "Mom - look, I'm okay, I just - "

"I promise I'm fine"

"I know"

"Can you and Dad come get me"

"Please"

"No, I'm with a friend"

"Yeah"

"Okay"

"Hi, Dad"

"Yeah"

"Yeah, I'm okay"

"No"

"Okay"

"Love you too."

- - - -

"Phantom?"

The two of them sat on the curb, watching the snow and waiting for the Fenton RV to pull up. Danny's mother had said forty-five minutes; his father had promised fifteen.

"Yeah?"

Danny hesitated, knowing he probably wasn't going to get an answer he liked. "Don't suppose you'd wanna come back with me, would you?"

The phantom snorted. "You kidding? Your parents are ghosthunters, man. You said so. No offense, or maybe some offense, but like. Yikes."

"Yeah," said Danny quietly, "Thought so."

The phantom was silent for a moment, but then shifted to lean back on his hands. "You were right, though. Earlier."

"What?"

"When you asked how I died."

Danny turned to him, opened his mouth to protest - you shouldn't have to tell me if you don't want to - but the phantom put up a hand to keep him silent.

"It went pretty much how you think it did. Lemme tell you, dying really sucks. I don't know if it's like that for everybody, maybe I just got unlucky, but - I just didn't want you to end up like me, you know?"

"Hey - are you okay?"

The phantom turned skyward, doing his best to blink away the tears that dared to creep up into the corners of his eyes, but after a fruitless minute he swiped at them with the back of his wrist anyhow. "Look at this, you got me feeling stuff, I can't believe it. I'm almost as much of a wreck as you now."

"Hey," Danny protested halfheartedly, but knew there was little he could say in his own defense. He really had done it to himself; everything that had happened the whole evening had been more or less directly his own fault. That said, he was glad that the phantom had stuck with him. He wondered what might have happened if he'd been alone all night - no, he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened, and he didn't really want to find out for sure. Dying really sucks.

The phantom had recomposed himself, and stood as an excuse to stretch out. "Hey, s'that them?"

Danny followed the phantom's gaze - sure enough, a double pair of headlights had turned onto the road, visible even through the haze of snow. He rose to his feet, turning back to the phantom and giving him a final smile. "Thanks," he said, "for sticking with me. I guess I owe you one."

The phantom had his arms around Danny in an instant. The motion was on impulse; it took them both a second to realize what had happened, and a second after that for the phantom to feel Danny's arms around him in return.

"Don't forget about me, I mean it."

"I won't."

The headlights swerved into the lot, and the phantom faded into thin air. Danny was alone only for a moment before both of his parents burst out and immediately began to fuss. He let them; he knew he'd catch heat, but not until they got home, and he had until then to sort everything out.

I wanna see you again, he'd meant to say, but had been cut short, and now it was probably too late. He wondered, if he came back into town sometime, if the phantom would still be there. You think he's got anything better to do? said something in him, but that part was at war with the part that insisted why would he sit and wait around? just for you? aren't you a bit selfish to think that?

Was he, really?

- - - -

The phantom watched Danny go. Ghosthunters had sit ill with him since the living boy had mentioned them, and he knew he didn’t want to get involved. Who could blame him, really? He'd seen the kid off, and made sure he was alright. Now he could get back to. . .

. . . what, exactly?

Not much. That was what it amounted to. The phantom had, for most of the evening so far, been able to fend off the crushing loneliness of death. He was lucky - very lucky, considering that Danny hadn't fled at the sight of him, and luckier still that they'd gotten along. He should have counted it as a decent night. All had ended well.

The empty pit in his stomach, however, begged to differ.

Even if it had just been for one fleeting instant, just then, before he'd vanished into thin air so the hunters wouldn't have seen him, he'd felt alive again. Maybe it was the solid warmth of a living body, or maybe it was the assurance that, in that moment, he wasn't on his own.

Now Danny was gone, fading with the taillights of the RV as it turned a corner and disappeared altogether.

That pained him.

It pained him - now you're back to the usual, and isn't it horrible? - and it was too much. He burst into silent tears, alone and unseen in the parking lot of the only gas station in town that was still open. He'd never see Danny again.

Why didn't you go too?

He wished, beyond anything, that he could have gone, but he knew the hunters would have caught him if he'd dared show his face. He'd seen them coming, and he'd vanished before they'd gotten so much of a glimpse of him. Look at you. You let him slip through your fingers, and you know exactly why.

There were plenty of reasons why. Ghosthunters was only the first; I've never been out of town; finding him again would be such a long shot; everything I have is here; besides, maybe he'll come and say hi sometime; I don't even know how far it'll be.

Some small voice in his core grew sharp. You’re making excuses. You're just afraid to go. What's keeping you here?

That made the phantom pause. His grave had never been the most appealing place to hang out, but it was the only thing with his name on it (in theory, anyhow - a gang of vandals had seen to that once a few years back). What did he have left, when push came to shove?

Why didn't you go? You're just a scared kid, that's why. You thought you had it together, didn't you? Now you've missed your chance, and you get to go back to being alone. You did it to yourself.

You're a lot like him.

He'd turned down the only living being that had spoken to him in over a decade. How stupid was he? He wanted, more than anything, to take it back.

Quit making excuses.

He swiped the last of his tears away, and cast a glance skyward. Amity Park, Danny had mentioned. That must have been where he lived. The phantom had never been there before. In life, he hadn't traveled much.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

He ascended over the ice-covered trees and drifted for a moment in the air. From the height, he could see the town below, and he could see the cemetery where his grave and his dusty old carcass lay. Who needs that old thing, anyway, he thought, eyes tracing the smooth road carved out in white between the trees. I came in from that way, Danny said. It wasn't much to go on.

Wonder if I could fly all the way from here? Never done it. Might make it. Might not.

You never know.

This time of year - might get a little extra leeway.

#holiday truce #kiinotasha #Danny Phantom #fanfic

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animepopheart · 5 years

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Review: Human Lost

Imagine a future where death has been conquered—any injury or disease can be healed through a government-run medical system, one that not only cares for its citizens’ physical well-being, but upon which the entirety of society is based. Yet, the vision of such a future isn’t fully secure, nor is it immune to favoritism, malfeasance, and a form of dangerous transformation, a mutation that one man will manipulate while another must control as he decides how to approach his own powers and the critical role he’ll play for the future of the world.

Human Lost, inspired (mostly superficially) by Osamu Dazai’s masterpiece, No Longer Human, is a film of staggering sci-fi vision. Set just a couple of decades into the future, Japan is now under the auspices of the S.H.E.L.L. healthcare system, to which all humans are connected, kept alive, and restored through remote nanotechnology when illness, injury, or death occurs. The best benefits of the system are enjoyed inside massive city walls; on the impoverished outside, Yozo Oba, a disaffected youth, joins a friend’s biker gang and the mysterious Masao as they make a high-risk effort to push their way through the boundary. However, their operation reveals that Oba has powers previously unknown and connected to the “civilization bringing curve,” a model that shows the current path of civilization. It is also divulged that Masao is an “applicant,” a human who wields tremendous power, which he plans to use to destroy both S.H.E.L.L. and society itself, which has forced its workers into 19-hours work days to pay for a pension system for an aging population, led by elders who want to live longest of all as they “stabilize” society. But most of all, Masao hates a system that forces people to stay alive—the exception being those that under duress transform into monstrous beings with destructive power and the unique ability to die.

There’s a strong philosophical narrative at work here that will be familiar to fans of sci-fi. The ground is laid early when one character remarks, “In order for humans to be human, we need death.” That philosophy and the opposite one are the motivating factors for most of the major characters in the film, but not for the protagonist, Oba. When he first appears on-screen, Oba isn’t even alive. His corpse, brought back to life through S.H.E.L.L. tech, is an apt analogy for his life to that point, one that feels meaningless, one where he’s trying to make a connection but to whom or what, Oba does not know. His own awakening during the wall assault conducted by his friend begins to drive him forward, though it’s the friendship he forms with Yoshiko, another “applicant” like Masao and himself, that gives him purpose.

The direction of the film is as big as the narrative. There are some wonderful “shots” in the movie, with director Fuminori Kizaki makes careful choices throughout the film: close-ups are frequent, top-down shots dominate scenes conveying the grandness of inhuman monsters, and shaky-camera animation brings us into the action when necessary. The first act also has a wonderful aesthetic, one that has a touch of cyberpunk in it, with a chase sequence that feels like Mad Max meets Minority Report. In fact, those movies feel like strong influences on the movie, the latter being no surprise with executive director Katsuyuki Motohiro’s filmography including the Minority Report-influenced, Psycho-Pass. However, the energy spent in art direction seems to dwindle away in the last 2/3 of the film, maybe by design as the animators have so much story to tell, and such a complicated one, that it’s almost as if they don’t want the art to get in the way. But it does, with 3D animation that isn’t advanced enough to animate a film of this magnitude.

While 3D animation has come a long way, it still struggles to attain the beauty and fluidity of more traditional work. Dark sequences marked by brilliant bits of light dominate Human Lost, but they can’t hide the failures in animation. The action sequences are flawed, but more troubling are the characters themselves. They look too much like they’ve walked out of a video game and not far enough from the uncanny valley effect from the first photorealistic animated film, Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, developed some two decades prior. The faces, when not expressing any particular emotion, look really good, but as soon as they have to show anger or sadness, the facade is exposed. It becomes almost laughable when tears or sweat appear—they look like shooting stars streaking across the characters’ faces, not likely to incite the emotions the director wants us to feel. It’s a shame, too, because strong voice acting performances are wasted, both in the English dub (particularly from Macy Anne Johnson in playing Yoshiko, a challenging role as the moral center of the film, and Robert McCollum, who is making quite a career out of playing complex antagonists like Masao) and the original Japanese track—Mamoru Miyano is particularly expressive as Oba, but his voice seems at odds with the rubbery character animation; Kana Hanazawa fits better with Yoshiko, who is more even keel, but as her role grows more important and more emotional, the same problem occurs: the animation can’t properly convey her talent.

But ultimately, it’s not poor CGI that ruins Human Lost—it’s a screenplay that’s too grand in scope for 100 minutes. There are two tales simultaneously occurring—Oba is transforming from a (literally) brain-dead painter with a traumatic family history to a man whose heart (literally) can change the world, joining with a mystery sci-fi tale about S.H.E.L.L., the Qualification Ceremony, and Masao’s background, as well as a mental game of Who is right? The latter story is overly complicated, and despite giving the audience some wonderful questions to chew on, is told in a way that’s like jumping from the first two episodes of Evangelion to the clap-happy final two episodes (this is effectively what happens in a movie that runs the same length as four anime episodes and is obviously influenced by the property). Meanwhile, there’s no subtlety in the character development. We’re meant to see Masao as at once a frightening figure and one who may not be entirely wrong, but he comes across only as a crazed maniac since it’s difficult to comprehend why the system is so evil that it requires an entire “Human Instrumentality Project”-level reprogramming, as he intends. Oba, meanwhile, is wasted even further—nothing he does feels remotely human. He moves quickly from one world-altering decision to another, and while we understand why he might get to these places, the screenplay hasn’t earned his sudden changes nor his heroic growth. Lines like “I was always jealous of you” may work to help develop character in normal settings, but not when the speaker has only known the other character for two days.

The disconnected screenplay and inadequate animation veer what could be a great film off course, leading to a disappointing result. The good elements prevent Human Lost from being a truly bad film, but with it so chock-full of information that never quite connects, the end result might even worse: a film that’s forgettable. A movie lost.

Rating: C-

Human Lost’s limited theatrical release is this week, with showings today (subtitled) and Wednesday (dubbed) in the U.S. and November 6th and 9th in Canada. Visit the official website for theatrical locations and more information.

#human lost #funimation #kana hanazawa #sci-fi #anime

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fire-toolz · 4 years

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My family's beloved 16-year-old Siamese cat, Webley, died in my arms last year. He'd been a sleek fat kitty before he got ill, but he'd lost weight and lost weight till he was little more than a bedraggled shadow. At the end he could barely lift his head, and then the vet gave him the shot and he couldn't lift his head at all. I was scratching his ears as I'd so often done before, and suddenly they dropped, and whatever I was petting wasn't Webley anymore. It's one of the worst memories of my life.

I've been thinking about Webley a lot while listening to the new Fire-Toolz album, Rainbow Bridge, which comes out May 8 on local label Hausu Mountain. Angel Marcloid, a Chicago musician who records as Fire-Toolz (as well as under several other names), made Rainbow Bridge about her 16-year-old cat, Breakfast, also a Siamese, who died in December 2018. The album is an idiosyncratic collage of guttural death-metal roars, electronic bleeps, and vaporwave ambience. Bleak, sweet, and quietly unflinching, it slides back and forth between two emotional poles: one boils with rage and grief, while the other is steeped in a comforting lyricism as gentle as a cat rubbing its chin against your hand. "It's been a while, but I think about her every day," Marcloid says. "I still have moments where I feel her close and I just cry a whole bunch. I've got her ashes two feet from me right now. I have a tattoo of her on my chest. So yeah, I'm happy to honor her in my music."

From as early as she can remember, Marcloid says, music made her feel things "that are just so abstract and visceral and hard to put your finger on." She was born near Annapolis in 1984 to a music-loving family; her parents constantly played CDs of hair metal, the Beatles, and her all-time favorite band, Rush. Marcloid started making little drum sets out of pots and pans almost as soon as she could walk.

Her first public performance was when she was seven. Her parents knew a local bar band, and she sat in with them to play drums on a cover of the Black Crowes' "Hard to Handle."

"This is a smoky bar, women showing their boobs and stuff—it was not an environment for kids!" Marcloid says. "But I sat down with the drum kit and we played the songs, and they were just amazed. They were looking back at me while we were playing, like, 'Holy shit! This kid's actually keeping time!' I'll never forget walking off that stage, and all these drunk, smelly adults cheering me on, and a couple of people just gave me money. 'You're awesome, kid! Here's 20 dollars!'"

Marcloid soon taught herself to play guitar and bass too, and her musical interests expanded. As a child she had a formative late-night exposure to Morbid Angel's 1993 video for "Rapture" via MTV's Headbangers Ball, and soon she was also listening to jazz and electronica. She performed in several short-lived bands, and in the late 2000s she launched her own label, also called Rainbow Bridge. Through it Marcloid released cassettes and CDs by other musicians, as well as a blizzard of her own music under various names—including ambient acoustic music as the Human Excuse, punky dream pop with the trio Shadow Government, and electroacoustic noise as Water Bullet.

Marcloid came to Chicago in 2012 to move in with a girlfriend, who owned several cats and had just adopted Breakfast. Like most Siamese, Marcloid says, Breakfast "has always been a little strange." She was neurotic and disliked the other cats, and she never really warmed up to Marcloid's partner. In fact she only had one clear favorite. "She took to me immediately," Marcloid says, "and always wanted to be on me and just wanted to spend all her time with me." When Marcloid and her partner split up, there was no question who Breakfast would go with. The kitty ended up spending most of her life in Marcloid's bedroom to avoid other cats. "The rest of the house was just scary for her. There were too many other cat smells," Marcloid says.

"On the one hand, it may seem weird or maybe even borderline cruel to keep a cat in a single bedroom for their entire lives. But that's what she wanted; she was happy."

Marcloid has featured Breakfast in tracks throughout her oeuvre. "Spirit Spit" from the 2017 album Drip Mental (Hausu Mountain), for example, is a short wordless suite in which Marcloid imagines the usually shy Breakfast grown adventurous enough to go exploring in the house during a storm. The track opens with Breakfast engaging in some Siamese vocalizing and squawking, with thunder in the background. The rest of the narrative unfolds through auditory cues. "She comes down to the basement and turns on her ancient computer, which dials in to AOL," Marcloid explains. "Then she puts on a Telepath CD, which is a vaporwave artist that I absolutely love. You can hear the CD drive opening, you can hear the Telepath song start. And then she types some stuff and is meowing. And then she turns off the computer and goes back upstairs."

In 2018 Breakfast began to go into kidney failure. She was constantly peeing in Marcloid's room, and she wasn't eating. Eventually she was so uncomfortable and miserable Marcloid had to euthanize her. "And that was just so fucking traumatic for me, and so emotional," Marcloid says. "It really energized the search for truth and meaning that I had already begun years ago."

Marcloid began making Rainbow Bridge during Breakfast's illness. The title isn't just a callback to her record label (which she folded around five years ago) but also a reference to contemporary folk mythology about a rainbow bridge that, in Marcloid's words, "our pets either cross when they die to go to the other side, or they go there and they wait for us." The cover art, by Marcloid and Jeremy Coubrough, shows a Siamese cat sitting in a green field with her back to the viewer, looking at the prismatic steps of a bridge that leads upward into a kind of bloated growth of exploding colors.

The chaos of different hues fits the Fire-Toolz aesthetic. As Hausu Mountain cofounder Doug Kaplan puts it, "There's just nobody else that sounds like this, and there will never be another. Each track goes a billion different places but has a strong sense of oneness." Marcloid's other projects often follow particular rules or fit into particular genres; Mindspring Memories, for example, is mostly slowed-down and otherwise manipulated smooth-jazz samples. A recent album under the name Path to Lobster Believers is tape-collage improvisation. But with Fire-Toolz, Marcloid says, "Anything goes. It's a no-rules catchall; everything reports to it. It's the top of the pyramid."

The violent shifts in tone and genre on a Fire-Toolz track often feel exuberant and playful. On Rainbow Bridge, though, they create splatters of emotion: nostalgia, confusion, loss, hope. The opening track, "Gnosis .•o°Ozing," starts out as ranting death metal, with Marcloid screaming distorted, virtually indecipherable lyrics: "Arms wrapped in neon like a warning / A rainbow bridge unfurling / And now I lay listening to nothing / I feel my organs locking up."

By the second verse, she's superimposed smooth-jazz keyboard flourishes atop the noise, so that it sounds like the metal is battling easy listening, anger struggling with happier memories. "Layers in grief not unlike stages of passing / There are many / Not too many / Not so much."

The video for the song "Rainbow ∞ Bridge," created by Marcloid with Armpitrubber (aka Christine Janokowicz), provides an intense visual analogue for the music's smeared palette. This song too starts with a death-metal feel, pairing double kick drum with Marcloid's throat-tearing vocals. "Please don't be mad that I cut your cord / Fear lodged in my gums / Pressing into my face with fingerlike force / Breakfast!" she yells, as images of the kitty strobe and dissolve into colors, lights, emojis, a door opening, SpongeBob screaming. Tinkly new-age keyboard ambience plays over purple clouds and the on-screen words "Heaven! They say I can sit and soak you up." A guitar solo fit for a classic-rock ballad cuts through the shifting landscape, and then the song briefly fades into ambience as Breakfast romps across the screen and dissolves. It's a vision of a loved one disintegrating, perhaps into nothing, perhaps into memory or heaven, while pain and happiness alternate in spasms of glitches.

"Heaven has no location," Marcloid howls near the end of the track. That's a statement of spiritual hope; heaven is everywhere, Marcloid believes. "It's not any particular place. It's something that is all-encompassing," she says. "I think that it's everywhere and everything. It's the flow of life." You can hear that hope on tracks such as "⌈Mego⌉ ≜ Maitrī," which is all gentle surging keyboards and pattering electronica, encouraging you to gently drift into an ether of soft fur and purring.

A heaven without location can also simply be a heaven that doesn't exist, though, and that fear and doubt is also part of Rainbow Bridge. On the jittery "Microtubules," a throbbing beat loops around and around as Marcloid asks, "Were you afraid of crossing?" It's an unsettling question: of course she'd worry about a cat who never wanted to leave the bedroom going off on a long journey alone.

"When Breakfast was sick, anxiety was a huge, huge part of it," Marcloid says. "And even after she passed, and I knew that there was nothing to be done, there was still so much anxiety. I became frustrated because I wanted to know where she was, if she was anywhere. I just want the truth. I don't even care what it is, even if the truth is we're all just dead, and that when my body stops working, it's completely over."

Marcloid finished Rainbow Bridge months ago, and of course she didn't know it would be released at a time when anxiety, uncertainty, fear, and isolation would be so pervasive. In the context of a pandemic, the album seems even more relevant, not just because of its grief but also because of its prescient reminder of the importance of pets: during the stay-at-home order, animal adoptions have broken records as humans turn to cats and dogs to keep them company, and keep them sane, in isolation.

Marcloid adopted another cat herself after Breakfast died, and she now has three. "It's incredibly comforting to have them during a time like this," she says. "They're a solid rock for me to lean on. Especially lately, because they just don't fight with themselves. They're just such simpler creatures, and they're so much more connected to reality than any human could possibly be because of how complex our lives are. When they're in pain, they'll react—they won't like it, but they don't conceptualize and theorize about it. They don't get into this existential dread. They're just in pain, and they just want the pain to go away. That's all it is. It's that simple. We are just hopeless cases in comparison."

Marcloid's music, for all its genre shifts and chaotic oddness, can also reach for that kind of simplicity of thought and emotion. The six-minute instrumental "Angel (of Deth)" is elegiac, oceanic Muzak—a soundtrack to play while the waves roll in, or while watching a kitty sleep. At its conclusion the track breaks up into electronic blips and warbles, as though the world were coming apart and something else were wavering into existence behind the static.

"It's a mystery because we don't know," Marcloid says. "So I have to love and honor that mystery. I don't even know what God is, or if God exists, but whatever it is, that's what I love." Marcloid's tribute suggests that cats may know more about love than we do. They trust you even at the end, to help them die. Rainbow Bridge is not just a eulogy but an expression of hope that they'll lend you a paw in turn when your time comes. It's a comfort to think that when you start up those stairs, there will be a small someone to show you the way.

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beesmygod · 6 years

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netflix’s new horror movie “bird box” sucks ass and not in a funny, enjoyable way: a review

first im going to preface this review with this: im sick. i caught a cold on the way home from reno and spent the day recovering watching this garbage instead of doing anything that required a working brain. i knew i wasn’t going to get anything mind-blowing but “bird box” teeters heavily on “insultingly bad” instead of just “bad” and it kept me mad about having wasted two hours of my life for a solid 24 hours straight.

so if this review doesn’t make sense, its partly because im sick, and partly bc this movie doesn’t make sense. this review is also impossible to structure because i dont even know where to begin. maybe here: the directing is derivative, boring and bad. its like watching paint dry. the whole movie looks like your grandma’s house smells.

to re-iterate: this movie is 2 hours long. i’ll save you 2 hours by telling you that you never see the monster, ever. sandra bullock admitted to laughing out loud repeatedly on set at the monster when it was revealed to her which lead to it being cut from the movie. if we had seen the monster, maybe the movie would have been bumped up from a d- to a c+ just because the mental image of a long green baby with john malkovich’s voice is pretty funny.

the bird box, probably

for a movie about a monster, this movie has a serious monster problem. in that the monster is not a problem. the monster (which is never given a name in the movie) can’t seem to actually do anything to you if you don’t look at it. its only power seems to be making you kill yourself when you see it (unless you’re crazy which, thats a whole other kettle of fish. give me a minute). so if you don’t look at it you’re fine? there’s several points in the movie where the monster is physically close to them but doesn’t actually do anything except beg them to take off their blindfolds and look at them. its almost pathetic. as far as i can tell, the monster’s only powers are to make leaves fly upward for no reason (i.e. to indicate its in the area without the camera having to focus on anything specific) and yell at you. but, like, as long as you don’t take off your blindfold (and somehow, people do in this movie) then you’re probably fine.

now, if you’re “crazy” (I KNOW YOU’RE ALREADY ASKING QUESTIONS HOLD ON) then looking at the monster turns you into a stereotypical evangelist for an eldritch horror. you run around saying “crazy” things that read like enemy npc chatter in ps2 era survival horror game. for example:

then, you spend all your time trying to get people to look at it by holding their eyes open. “bird box” does not bother to explain what “crazy” means in this context. according the the story, roving gangs of tokyo-drifting escaped asylum patients rule the post-apocalyptic landscape of the pacific northwest. its impossible to tackle how many layers of like morally wrong it is to yet again shove the mentally ill into the role of antagonists (im getting exhausted just thinking about piling up all the reasons this is so fucking bad) to the point of making them a fucking enemy class. its almost more succinct just to point out that “bird box” thinks mental illness is an on/off switch you toggle rather than a spectrum. i know this movie is a relic of the past (dec 2018) but i feel like this is such a basic fact about the world as we know it today that the decision to ignore it makes me wonder if the writer was operating under the assumption that horror monster “rules” need to be clearly defined as though they were conceived for use in a videogame.

if_crazy=“yes”, then bird=box

speaking of the titular “bird box”: the movie is called that because they literally keep birds. in a box. the birds tell you when the monster is coming, so you can put on your blindfold. but heres the thing: the monster makes GGGGRRRRRROOORRORORO sounds nonstop when its running around in the area. you know when it’s coming. you can hear it coming from a mile away. so there’s really no point in having, a bird box. at one point the monster is so loud they can’t hear the birds over its roaring. whats the point of the birds? as it turns out, the birdbox, is useless. much lIKE THIS MOVI

this movie is a never ending cascade of cliches and stolen plot points, characters, ideas. it steals from “the happening” (blatantly, its the same movie right down to the ugly color scheme of every frame), “dawn of the dead”, “pontypool”, “the mist” and pretty much every post-apocalyptic monster movie ever. bd wong is confirmed as a gay man literally 2 minutes before he dies on screen. the black comedic lead dies next. a pregnant woman is introduced and you’ll NEVER guess what happens to her. you could set your watch to this movie. its pathetic.

welp, he’s dead

i’m going to link this guy’s deconstruction of the weird incestual overtones that are also impossible to miss and interpret without wanting to die.

im getting exhausted again. this movie is not fun bad. this post is to serve as a warning to the curious. in fact, im going to spoil the end for you, so you truly understand why i’m so fucking mad. i want you, right now, to imagine based on what i’ve told you what the most hackney, cliche, stupid, moronic ending twist could be to this movie about a monster you can’t look at. fully form it in you head. dare to imagine the dumbest thing you can.

ready?

YOU SEE

#bird box #review

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mikibaby94 · 5 years

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Sick of This, You’re Bullies

Okay. Ive been seeing a lot of crap that just is driving me nuts.

If your easily offended, please stop reading. I AM allowed to share my views, my opinons and thoughts. IF YOU DONT LIKE IT, or again GET EASILY OFFENDED, then do not, DO NOT read.

And if you do read it and get easily offended, please do not come at me, I WARNED YOU

Okay, so, in the tmnt fandom, or just tumblr in general Ive been seeing people harrassing a girl whos been voicing her opinions, VOICING HER OPINIONS.

On gay ships. She dared to say that she wasnt comfortable seeing gay shippings, or see how toxic some of these lgbt people can really get, she dared to go against the norms of today and to speak out against it. God forbid people on this site sees things differently and are actually uncomfortable with gay ships, or hates the fact that these gays are shoving their views down everyones throats, thats UNHEARD OF thats HOMOPHOBIC OF THEM right? Wrong. Its honestly not. Its pretty sickening that a SIXTEEN year old girl is getting death threats, because she doesnt like seeing the gay shoved in her face.

Frankly, Im on board with her. Not because I hate gays, no way. Its because of people on this site, who cant let people mainly the straights say their peace without sending death threats and getting all up in arms about it.

It all started with a rant, thats now deleted, why?

I didnt get a chance to read it, and I wish I did, instead I had stumbled on this Ask

The rest of the screencaps from that answer you can read

Now normally Id link the source but considering this poor kid is getting DEATH THREATS, I will not expose her.

Instead, Ill share some more screen caps.

Not every character has to be gay/bi/lesbian. It goes both ways anon.

Shes right, this anon was being a DENSE motherfucker. (( or daddyfucker, i mean it could go both ways, tbh.))

Shes not mad at the fact that trans people have headcanons, shes mad at the fact that the lgbt community is doing nothing but being hypocrites on here. THEY SAY RESPECT THEIR OPINIONS but yet, when a STRAIGHT PERSON dares DISAGREES its YOUR HOMOPHOBIC. YOUR TRANSPHOBIC, YOUR AWEFUL. YOU STALE STRAIGHT!

Like, do you people not see the hypocrisy here? Oh wait, its tumblr. The land of toxic.

AND NO, NOT ALL LGBT COMMUNITY PEOPLE ARE DOING THIS.

IM POINTING OUT THE ONES WHO HAVE TO COME ON HERE AND GET TRIGGERED BY A STRAIGHT PERSON SAYING THEY DONT WANT TO SEE GAY ALL THE TIME 24/7

So, kindly disregard if you dont get easily triggered, by what i point out and the word, triggered.

Lets continue.

OH LOOK AT THAT, THERES THAT DEATH THREAT. SEE GUYS, DONT YOU JUST LOVE THAT HYPOCRICY?!

Look guys, this person who im sure is gay, lesbian or bi is doing the exact same thing that straights did to gays back in the days where being gay was still in the closet. Instead of homophobia, its now heterophobia. Gotta love that. RIGHT? Imagine being this person who has to shame your sexuality just because they were so upset by someone elses opinion. AND A STRAIGHT PERSONS TOO.

Moving on

ANON, you can be for gays, bis, lesbians, but you can also say, “I dont wanna see it everywhere i go.” You can support the lgbt community, while not wanting to see or hear it 24/7

For example, cartoons, I dont wanna see that stuff in my cartoons, its not that i dont support it, i just dont wanna see two guys getting it on, or two girls getting it on.

Just like some gays dont wanna see straights, i mean, its a preference, that we are allowed to share. Tell me, why is it that gays can be loud and outspoken against straights, but when its the other way around, we are labeled as bad people and homophobic?

Honestly most people on here in the lgbt community, from what ive seen do need to calm down. They really do.

So calm that they are sending death threats to a sixteen year old kid. And will probably send me death threats because i voiced my say in this rant. Yeah, SO CALM.

note: I was being sarcastic

Sweetie, never voice your opinions on this site. Tumblr is the most toxic site ever. Ive learned that the hardest way, and after I post this, Im sure my inbox will be flooded just as yours having the community labling me, probably wont even dare read this, theyll see all the things ive said above and pick out the ones that make them upset the most then give their threats to me, tell me how bad i am, or how i need to die, and let me tell ya, you just gotta let them roll off your back. Not everyone will like you, and thats okay. You do what you love doing, because there are people that support the hell out of you, like me and these people

and theres probably a lot more others that’ll support you, some even disagree with you but still support you.

Ill end this with STOP HARASSING THOSE WHO DONT CARE FOR THE GAY BEING SHOVED IN THEIR FACES.

It only shows how toxic you really are, and those actions are what we mainly cant stand. People who get so mad and bent out of shape because theres others that dont share the same mind set as them, and then tries to force their view onto others, using fear, or shaming someone, and plain out bullying.

That is why I made this rant. I cant stand bullies, so Im speaking out.

Hate me, I dont care, Im saying my peace. You dont like it, then thats your problem. Not mine.

And of course if you come to me, respectfully and nicely, then yes, ill be that right back, be a dick to me, and Im gonna be a bitch. Its your choice how you handle this. For me, I feel a lot better now that I got this out. My opinions, views and thoughts will offend you.

Have a fantastic day/night.

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btsybrkr · 4 years

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What A Time To Be At Home!: The Best And Worst Coronacontent The Internet Has To Offer

Remember that joke that’s been around for ages, but was being told literally everywhere back in 2019? The one that went something like, “I hate it when people ask me where I’ll be in a year’s time - I don’t have 2020 vision!”?

Well, I bloody wish someone did.

In fact, in early January, I wrote out my own predictions for the decade ahead right here on my blog. They were obviously entirely hypothetical and - I thought - ridiculous. They were just a series of daft ideas that I thought I could take the piss out of, in the hope that people might read it and take a second out of their day to do an amused little nose exhale for me. But now, even the post-apocalyptic TV show ideas I pitched in that piece seem less ‘far-off dystopian chaos’, and more like they could be pleasant additions to the BBC Summer schedule.

The world is in the throes of a global pandemic, the likes of which haven’t been seen since… I don’t know, The Black Plague, maybe? As a result of that, the instructions have been clear: stay home, save lives.

At first, the thought of being given a period of Government-sanctioned laziness seemed like a dream to many. We could write our autobiographies! Learn Klingon! Build ourselves a whole new house! But six weeks in, it appears to have started messing with the collective consciousness of the human race. Brains are fried, your Weekly Screen Time is up 103%, stomachs are full to the brim with banana bread and dalgona coffee, and certain celebrities’ egos are in a fight to the death with their common sense. In a time when we’re all supposedly doing nothing, there’s still so much going on.

With that in mind, I thought we could recognise some of the things we’ve seen online that have kept us talking in lockdown, not just because of Coronavirus, but in spite of it.

Welcome to the first (but hopefully not annual) What A Time To Be At Home! awards. The WATTBAH!’s, if you like.

The ‘Why On Earth Did You Think This Was A Good Idea?’ Award

Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen a sizable handful of blunders by the rich and famous that have, at worst, knocked them down a fair few places in our estimations and, at best, have left us scratching our heads, wondering what response they were expecting in the first place.

With that in mind, it’s only right that this title goes to the original celebrity lockdown mistake: Gal Gadot’s ill-advised acapella cover of Imagine, featuring a variety of different Hollywood stars - not one of whom had the foresight to ask “are you sure this doesn’t make us look like complete arseholes?”, which, unfortunately, it absolutely does.

youtube

Between the bizarre and insincere ‘I have a dream’-style speech at the beginning, the boldness of some of those featured to be quite clearly just taking the piss, and the fact everyone appears to be singing ever-so-slightly below the note without ever actually hitting it for the entirety of the song, this was tone-deaf in more ways than one. It’s even worse when you realise that this was posted less than one week into the lockdown, but then what would I know? Maybe madness sets in faster in multi-million dollar mansions. Probably because it echoes louder and bounces off the walls of your massive living room.

The ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ Award

This award recognises content we’ve been witness to over the last few weeks that was so awful, so completely uncomfortable to watch, that after you’d gotten over the initial disbelief at what you’d just seen, you immediately had to send it to somebody you know, so that you can suffer through it together.

Despite how many celebrity lockdown moments have left me with my head in my hands over the last few weeks, this award could only go to a very recent contender - one which isn’t simply an embarrassing piece of celebrity lockdown content, but will likely haunt the inner corners of my brain long after this virus is simply a topic taught about in GCSE History lessons of the future.

I am, of course, talking about Olly Murs. I’m talking about Pringlegate. I’m talking about Olly Murs removing the bottom of a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles to trick his own girlfriend into touching his penis. On video, on TikTok.

Twitter: @buckyw1ng

There’s something inherently quite chilling about Pringlegate. It might be something to do with the 10,000 watt grin on Olly’s face as we watch him carefully maneuver a tin opener around the bottom of the can, or perhaps it’s just the question of how long he’d been sat there holding it around his naked penis as he and his girlfriend watched a film, patiently waiting for the moment to strike. Perhaps it’s the way the video freezes as she reaches over for a Pringle, allowing time for Olly Murs’ to add in an audio clip of himself, shouting “SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND”.

Maybe it’s the uncontrollable show of amusement he launches into as she snatches her hand back in shock, laughing away, heartily, as if to say “Ha! You thought it was a normal can of Pringles, but it was actually my PENIS covered in Pringles crumbs! You just got PUNKED!”, like it was all simply a clever ruse.

Above all else, I think the most uncomfortable thing about it is that I can’t help but feel like all bets are off in 2020, and that this is a fairly tame warm-up for things to come.

So, Olly Murs, you are inarguably the rightful winner of the ‘I Had To Suffer Through This, So You Do, Too’ award. Congratulations! Don’t do it again, yeah?

The ‘Are You Actually Aware Of These Words Coming Out Of Your Mouth?’ Award

I’ve said some stupid things since this lockdown started. Personally, I put it down to the lack of social interaction, which I think might be frying my brain a little bit, or at least that’s what the ornament of a turkey that sits on my kitchen windowsill told me the other day. However, I don’t think I or anybody I know has said anything even one fraction-of-an-iota as void of intelligent thought as Vanessa Hudgens’ terrible opinions on social distancing, shared in a now-infamous Instagram live last month.

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“It’s a virus,” she clarified, helpfully, before going on to explain, “I get it. I respect it.”

I’m sure your respect means the world to it, Vanessa, but do you ‘get’ it?

“But even if everybody gets it, like… yeah… people are gonna die,” she explains, in a tone so chirpy that the word ‘die’ might as well be replaced by the phrase ‘have such a bloody lovely old time’, “which is terrible, but, like… inevitable?”

In all fairness, death is inevitable, but I don’t know if suggesting speeding up that process for thousands of people because you were disappointed that Coachella was cancelled is an equally logical take.

After a brief - and probably quite profound - moment of self-reflection, she laughs “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this right now”. Oh, you think? Which bit? Just holding these insane ideas, or actually broadcasting them to your 39.1 million Instagram followers?

She did post a video the day after, clarifying that - despite what she said - she is staying at home, and is urging others to do the same. I guess she does respect the virus after all. Now, if everyone could hurry up, catch it and die from it, so that she can go to Coachella 2021, Vanessa Hudgens might respect you, too.

I guess We’re All In This Together, after all.

The Show Of Support Award

I’ve already talked a lot about the rich and famous here, so maybe it’s time to take a break from that madness - although, I get it, I respect it - and have a look at how the rest of our lives look at the moment.

One weekly occurrence that seems to be set to stick around is the weekly round of applause for the NHS. Whilst it’s nothing short of blood-boilingly annoying seeing Boris Johnson absent-mindedly clapping in celebration of a service that he recently admitted he hadn’t even noticed the strain on until he, himself, nearly died of the virus, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the rest of us getting involved. If anything, it’s heart-warming to see the videos of NHS staff being applauded by neighbours as they leave for work, and to hear the cheers echoing through the streets at 8pm every Thursday. There’s a lot of people being quite cynical about it. We obviously know it’s not going to stop Coronavirus in its tracks, but sometimes it’s just nice to be nice, alright?

One thing I’ve noticed recently is how many people have adopted different noise-making strategies, possibly in an effort to effectively boost their support by a factor of 300%. Banging pots and pans together appears to be the most popular, but the winner of this award saw your pots and pans and said “how sweet”, before showing us how it’s really done.

I present to you, a genius. The ultimate hype-man.

Twitter: “a deeply disturbed national psyche” - @willuminare

There’s something so chaotic and angry about the energy in this video, just one man, a cricket bat, and a wheelie bin, banging away to show his gratitude. Just living in the moment. I wish the neighbour who’d captured it on camera had caught more of it, or at least just enough to edit the footage with Electric Youth’s soaring synth anthem ‘A Real Hero’ from the soundtrack of the movie Drive against it.

I’ve been trying to learn to play the keytar in lockdown, to near enough no avail. Maybe at 8pm next Thursday, I’ll just take it outside and smash it against the pavement. You know, for the NHS.

Honourable Mentions: The Very Best In Coronacontent

It’s not all been so questionable - there’s been a lot of uplifting, funny, positive and thoughtful things shared online over the past few weeks. John Krasinski’s YouTube series Some Good News has provided a much-appreciated contrast from the bleakness of traditional current affairs programmes. There’s five weeks worth of episodes on his YouTube channel at the moment, so I would definitely recommend checking it out, especially if you feel like you need a lift!

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Over on Twitter, there’s been a lot to laugh about, as ‘front camera comedians’ are well and truly in their element (my personal favourite recently has been Alistair Green), as well as plenty of other users who are utilising their free time to create some brilliant stuff - this six-part opera based on a 2007 Facebook argument by Archie Henderson is genuinely one of the funniest things I’ve seen in weeks.

Twitter: “I made a six-act opera out of a conversation between some 14 year olds on my Facebook from 2007″ - @jazzemu_

All in all, these are obviously bizarre times that we’re living in. We don’t know how many more weeks of lockdown we’re going to have, when we’ll get back to normal, or even if ‘normal’ will mean something completely different from now on.

What we do know is that the internet, and everyone on it - whoever they are or whatever they’re saying - will continue to surprise us, inform us, entertain us, provide a place for our quizzes and conversations, and keep us together in some sense, when we have no choice but to be apart.

Thanks to anyone who’s read this far. I hope that you and your friends and families are keeping well, and that you took even a slight shred of lockdown enjoyment from even one thing I’ve said over the past couple thousand words!

Finally, before I go, I thought we might share a little song. It goes like this:

Imagine there’s no heaven....

if you like, can follow me on twitter here or instagram here :-)

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antoine-roquentin · 5 years

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“Recent research suggests that human societies will experience disruptions to their basic functioning within less than ten years due to climate stress. Such disruptions include increased levels of malnutrition, starvation, disease, civil conflict and war – and will not avoid affluent nations.”

– Jem Bendell, professor of sustainability leadership, University of Cumbria, UK

“Perseverance porn goes hand in hand with the rise of a GoFundMe economy that relies on personal narrative over collective policy, emotional appeals over baseline human rights. $930 million out of the $2 billion raised on GoFundMe since its inception in 2010 was for healthcare expenses, while an estimated 45,000 people a year die a year due to a lack of medical treatment. Meanwhile, anchors across cable news insist that single-payer healthcare is “unaffordable,” browbeating guests who support it, while populating their broadcasts with these one-off tales of people heroically scraping by.”

– Adam Johnson, Media’s Grim Addiction to Perseverance Porn, (FAIR)

“The liberal class thus divides into two breakaway clans, those who limit themselves to lip-service monologues with which they publicize their sense of injustice over comfortable meals, wine glasses brandished as weapons to punctuate their outrage. Then there are the true thespians, who take to the streets, wielding placards filled with exclamations and chanting songs of resistance as their throngs progress clumsily down the avenue, thoughtfully cleared of traffic in advance by local authorities. On the one hand, gestural politics; on the other, theater.”

– Jason Hirthler, The Curious Malaise of the Middle Class, (Dissident Voice)

“This present momentism appears, at least on the surface, as a therapeutic solvent for all our problems, making our present situation more bearable. But this bearability of the status quo amounts to a permanent retreat to the psychic bomb shelter of now, a kind of bury-your-head in the sand mindfulness which acts as a sanitized palliative for neoliberal subjects who have lost hope for alternatives to capitalism.”

– Ronald Purser, The Faux Revolution of Mindfulness, Open Democracy, author of McMindfulness: How Mindfulness Became the New Capitalist Spirituality

“Empires are death cults, and death cults, on a subliminal basis, long for their own demise. Paradoxically, the collective mindset of imperium, even as it thrusts across the expanse of the world, renders itself insular, cut off from culturally enhancing novelty, as all the while, the homeland descends into a psychical swamp of churning madness.”

– Phil Rochstroh, 2 or 3 Things I Know About Capitalism, Counterpunch

In the waning days of the American Empire a sort of collective madness has seemed to take hold of its ruling class. It is perhaps most clear in the unhinged and incessant decrees of the bloated emperor via tweet. But it is also in the idiotic ramblings of his minions redefining fossil fuels as “freedom gas” or rapidly melting Arctic seas as an economic “opportunity.” It can also be seen in the reactionary and warmongering responses of the so-called resistance in the corrupt Democratic Party establishment and corporate media regarding Russiagate. Or Bolton and Pompeo inventing evidence to justify more imperial wars just years after the disastrous assault on Iraq and during the longest ongoing US war in Afghanistan. It extends to the incredulous claims of Michele Bachmann that Trump is “godly and biblical” and televangelist Kenneth Copeland, who described his aversion to flying commercial airlines as getting in “a long tube with demons,” calling for a national day of prayer for the orange-tinted tyrant. It is truly staggering to behold.

Amidst all this madness, crimes and atrocities are being committed in broad daylight by that same ruling class both domestically and abroad. In the Middle-East the ruling class, via their corporations General Dynamics, Raytheon, Lockheed Martin and Boeing, is aiding and benefiting from outright genocide in Yemen by the most brutal and criminal of America’s colonies: Saudi Arabia. Similar profits are garnished from backing the apartheid regime in Israel and the military junta in Egypt. In Brazil the ruling class has only just begun to see the dollars roll in from Bolsonaro’s further opening up of the Amazon, the planet’s proverbial lungs. In Modi’s India, they are salivating at the chance to despoil more of the sub-continents riches. And around the world corporations and the fossil fuel industry continues its mad and blind dash toward species extinction.

Back in the US police violence against people of color remains steady and the prison industry is still booming. Along the southern border, migrants from Central America are seeking legal asylum, scores of them young children. Their only “crime” is fleeing their homelands which have been ruthlessly torn up by US foreign policy for at least a century. But they are being rounded up by militias and sent to concentration camps. LGBT and mentally ill migrants are being tortured in solitary confinement. Families are being separated, children caged, violated, dying from preventable diseases.

In the era of social media all of this information is readily available for those interested. Even those uninterested are exposed to what is happening via the ubiquitous social media newsfeed. Indeed, a subdued disquiet among the bourgeoisie has become undeniable. But endless imperialistic wars, rampant corruption, human rights abuses, waning economic advancement, and mass species extinction hasn’t yet prodded most of them from their homes to shut down the machinery of this cult of death, even though it threatens the very futures of their own children. When the bourgeoisie in the US do get out to protest the events are generally scripted, scheduled, sanctioned and televised by the establishment itself. The appropriate permits are obtained. No traffic is stopped. No building is occupied. The status quo remains intact and the necessary steam of middle-class angst is let off until the next event. In the meantime, the war, prison and surveillance industry expand, police militarization continues apace, the environment continues to be raped and pillaged, and fundamental freedoms like speech and reproductive rights are systematically dismantled. By comparison, any actual dissent is met with swift authoritarian violence by the corporate state; Standing Rock Sioux and BLM as stark examples.

Perpetually harried and fearful of losing the tenuous privilege afforded to them by the ruling class, the white middle class in the US has little time to focus on anything outside their prescribed bubble of experience. They inhabit a world constructed by the capricious and cynical designers of the free market. A place devoid of the words “ruling class,” where the mantra of “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” reigns supreme in an era of neoliberal barbarism. Where even if one is working fulltime they may still not have access to basic healthcare coverage. Where they are saddled with enormous debt that can never really be paid off in anyone’s lifetime. Peering at the world through the lens of glowing, hand sized screens, connecting algorithmically to the pulse of a commercially constructed world, most essentially exist in a pixelated prison of suspended and unconnected moments, reinforced by procedural programs which have been meticulously written in the posh and sterile board rooms of Madison Avenue and in the Silicon Valley. History is extinguished here, as are agency and imagination. It is a consumerist world that conforms to the dictatorship of money.

Americans have been socially conditioned for decades to accept these contradictions of their economic, social and political arrangement. Meanwhile suicide is rampant, punctuated by mass shootings. Opioid abuse is taking many more lives. Indeed, the pharmaceutical industry has thrived off this angst, convincing millions that their psychic and social maladies are all due to a personal or chemical defect, not the system itself. That working people barely stave off homelessness and middle class families are increasingly separated from their loved ones and communities by having to travel long hours to a job (or jobs) which hardly covers daily expenses, is a struggle not considered telegenic enough, unless it is cast in the heroic light of “personal responsibility.”

Indeed, Hollywood and corporate media reinforce the mythology of American greatness while its populace becomes ever more weighted down by the late stage capitalist nightmare. Whether it be CNN or MSNBC, distraction from issues related to class or economic disenfranchisement rule the day. Russiagate, the “scary” (and non-existent) migrant caravan, or Trump’s latest outlandish or absurd tweet dominate the news cycles. Catastrophic climate change, the staggering loss of biodiversity, burgeoning suicides among youth, the elderly or veterans, the never-ending and expanding war machine of the Pentagon, growing police violence and a bursting prison industrial complex, corporate and banking corruption, increased economic disparity and hardship? Not so much.

Movies and programs about dystopia have been ubiquitous for many years now, but the factors that contribute to these apocalyptic futures have nothing to do with the actual existential threats we are now facing. Zombies and terrorists dominate the themes presented, and this reflects back on the enormous influence of the Pentagon, Department of Defense, CIA, et al. on mass media. Even video games mirror the warped and expansionist aspirations of the American establishment and its bellicose foreign policy. For decades, these agencies have sought to steer the narrative of American angst toward conformity with the capitalist status quo. And they have been largely successful thanks to many attributes of American life itself. Suburbia and automobile culture after WW 2 erased the commons to create a sort of facsimile of community, often devoid of central spaces, character or originality, and connected by ribbons of featureless highway. Vast dead spaces that are simultaneously everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

But even relatively innocuous programs and movies are divorced from lived reality. I was watching one recently at a friend’s house about a group of friends taking a trip to the wine country. With some mild and typically safe humor to garnish a few chuckles, it was rife with convention and contrivance. The most glaring thing of all, though, was the lack of any class reflected in the character’s diverse lives. All were of the American middle-class in one form or another. Some single mothers, others working highly paid jobs. But none of them facing what the majority of Americans actually face. None of them living pay check to pay check, lacking basic healthcare coverage, paying exorbitant rents or mortgages, or saddled with perpetual debt. But as long as their character’s clothing and surroundings were furnished by Zara, Williams-Sonoma and Pier One, the circumstances of reality were easily eclipsed. Forgotten.

Indeed, the Age of Trump, which is the product of decades of capitalist rot, has demonstrated that the American bourgeoisie have been largely inured to their continually degraded status. They cannot see class oppression because those words are not in the lexicon. Corporate capitalism has created an insular world of sterile detachment from the real world in which it inhabits. “Human resource” departments, situated in nearly every workplace, effectively erase class and context by enforcing optimism and encouraging a kind of self-policed dialogue. Outside this world, mass media manages “threats” by externalizing and otherizing. So little has really changed in the narrative. Once upon a time it was the communists, Jews, Khrushchev, the Vietcong, the sexually “deviant,” people of color, Russia. Now it is migrants, Muslims, Julian Assange, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, LGBTQ, people of color, Russia. All scapegoats for the country’s failures and abysmal state. All psychic projections of animus and angst for a bourgeoisie in America that never understood the machinations of its ruling class or shook itself free of the “exceptionalism” of its Calvinist puritanical roots.

But the angst of the American bourgeoisie is demonstrated more by what it doesn’t speak about than what it does. It is a disquiet which is at once terrified of the collapse that looms ahead and horrified at the idea of losing the status quo arrangement, even though that status quo is benefiting fewer and fewer people. It stands simultaneously aghast and paralyzed before the obvious madness of its rulers, and yet continually grasps at failed “lesser evilism” as a solution. And it largely still buys into the noxious mythology of it being the “greatest country on earth.” The corporate elite, having stripped down civic education over decades, robbed them of their political agency and resistance and replaced it with a sanitized history and demoralizing optimism, or “positive thinking,” which places all blame for their collective state and its inadequacies on the individual. That it has been so lauded by Wall Street should cause anyone to wonder why it has been so internalized by the disenfranchised masses.

To be sure, this arrangement is rapidly meeting its end. Banking and corporate corruption, never really having been dealt with in the last “Great Recession” or its notorious state funded “bailout,” has only become more blind and reckless. The membrane of the bubble created after that fiasco, born in avarice, is thinning in plain sight. It is about to burst again, and this time it will be far more catastrophic. The endless imperialistic wars that the US has engaged in for the last decades are also creating a financial strain. Coupled with climate breakdown those expensive bases of aggression around the world will begin to cost more than they bring in profit. In the US itself biblical floods are wiping clean the soil graded for agriculture throughout the Midwest and causing tremendous economic hardship for scores of rural and commercial farmers. Droughts offer a grim alternative to this increasingly chaotic climate pattern. Food prices will undoubtedly rise in the future thanks to a capitalist system which creates artificial shortages and surpluses.

Indeed, around the world the climate is shifting dramatically between drought and deluge affecting huge swaths of habitat. Already countless species have succumbed to this ramification of a warming world. But also to industrial pollution, defilement of the oceans, misuse of land and extraction of minerals and fossil fuels: the excesses of capitalism. According to a recent study, a million more species are being marched down the halls of extinction today. Trash is filling the world’s oceans, with birds, turtles and whales washing up by the thousands with bloated bellies full of plastic detritus. It’s literally raining plastic particles now in many places. And all the while the beneficiaries of this pernicious and omnicidal system are dwindling to a select few who are incapable of grasping the quietus of all life on the planet, let alone their own. But without a doubt, this small segment of society will fight ferociously for their continued privilege no matter how untenable, absurd or suicidal it is.

The concurrent madness of the ruling class and the angst of the bourgeoisie in our age isn’t anything surprising. Like the phenomenon of Trump, it has been an unholy union in the making for a long time. The product of empire itself. Social media and the death throes of capitalism have only made it more visible to the general public as of late. But it should be understood that while the ruling class are moneyed and powerful, they are not omnipotent, nor are they more intelligent than the rest of us. On the contrary, even as it sees the demise of the biosphere on which it depends, this “elite” class can do nothing else but marshal the language in an attempt to save its failing economic trajectory. Thus, it is militarizing our collective existential moment: not to save the planet, but to save capitalism itself. And it will do this by deflection, brutally punishing or even eradicating those who have the least impact: the poor, the working class, and the global south.

Under a darkening, climate changed sky, created by the avarice of a few and their ceaseless wars and atrocities, an imperiled and disappearing biosphere lies before us all. Therefore, remaining silent and accepting the status quo in the face of ruling class folly, cruelty and madness, should only be interpreted as complicity to the crime.

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