#like i wish i could give this record to 13 y/o me . tell them that theres space to exist as both | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nxrthmizu · 4 years

Note

Hey please can i request daichi with an insecure s/o? Just a cute drabble or anything you want just need some soft Daichi in my life🥺

| Reasons to Love You | Sawamura Daichi

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prompt | Reasons to love you’ (You didn’t chose a prompt so I just picked one)

pairing | Sawamura Daichi x Reader

words | 1.7k

author’s note | Thank you for the requests baby! Hope you enjoy :) And everyone needs soft Daichi in their lives uwuuu

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You stared at the floor-length mirror in your bedroom, poking at the rolls of fat around your stomach. It was just so unfair. You tried to love yourself as much as possible, but the world just had to constantly taunt you and bring you down when you were starting to feel better about yourself.

It was just so unfair.

You had put hours of work into your job, working overtime till you were on the brink of collapsing of exhaustion. And yet, your hard work was all pushed aside due to your rounder figure. Instead of you, another woman who had curves in the right places had been chosen to represent the company. Someone who was more ideal for society’s mold of ‘beautiful’.

Of course, you couldn’t deny that she had worked hard, too, but you had seen the report she had handed up and you knew without a doubt you had poured more effort into yours.

Every part of you knew that the world was unfair, and that was just how things worked on this planet. That didn’t mean you felt any less frustrated, felt any less upset from the let-down. You had worked so hard, dammit! And in the very end, your hard work was disregarded because of your appearance.

They were lying when they said: ‘It’s what’s inside that matters.’. No matter how kind your smile is, no matter how hard you work, no matter how much you care, first appearance will always triumph over everything else. It didn’t matter if you looked neat, professional, and hard-working- So long as you weren’t society’s ideal image of ‘beautiful’, you were disqualified instantly.

“Y/N?” You heard Daichi’s voice as the front door clicked open and shut. Hastily, you tugged down your shirt and stepped away from the mirror, trying to busy yourself with other things. “Hey.” He stepped into your bedroom, a soft smile on his face. “How did it go?”

You tried not to show how upset you were. “I wasn’t chosen,” You told him truthfully. “[The other person] was chosen. She worked really hard too, she deserves it.”

Both of you could hear your voice catch in your throat, and you knew that Daichi could sense how upset you were, really.

“Well,” He started, trying to figure out what to say as he clasped your hands in between his, leading you onto your bed. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” He said gently, his eyes meeting yours, showing you that no matter what, he wouldn’t judge, and that he would listen.

The room fell into silence, the background hum of the ceiling fan sounding deafening. “No.” You lied quietly.

“... Okay.” Daichi said at last, knowing full well that you were lying. “You know what, I have something really important to tell you.” He tugged you along with him, both of you settling down on the middle of the bed, you tucked in between his arms, right in the middle of his warmth.

You waited patiently for him to speak, and after a minute or two of silence, he spoke up.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” He begin, his voice sounding like the gentle patter of rain. “I wanted to list out all the reasons that I love you, so let me talk, okay?”

You nodded, burrowing yourself deeper into his embrace.

“1,” He pressed a soft kiss onto your forehead. “You’re always so kind to everyone, no matter what. Like the time you ran out into the rain because you heard a cat outside. And then you climbed up a tree to get the cat down and you were fully soaked by the time you got back inside.”

You laughed, remembering how much he had scolded you for running out recklessly like that. Barely two minutes in his embrace and you were starting to feel slightly better.

“2. You’re always so considerate.” He continued to talk, his fingers finding a place in your hair and brushing through them affectionately. “Whenever I have a bad day at work, you give me extra cuddles and kisses until I feel better, and that’s the best feeling in the world.”

“3.” You were about the mention that he was cuddling you just as you did when he felt upset, but he quickly cut you off with a peck on your lips. “You always sing in the shower when you think I can’t hear you and you have the prettiest voice ever.” He grinned when you squeaked in surprise, not having realised that your bathroom was not sound-proof. “I have a few recordings of you singing on my phone and when I have a bad day at work, I always play them on my phone.”

“Daichi!” You whined. “You never told me you could hear me.”

He chuckled and raised his hands in defence. “In my defence, if I told you, you’d stop singing and I won’t be able to hear your beautiful voice anymore.”

You pouted childishly, whacking his arm playfully.

“Okay let me continue.” He cleared his throat. “4, I adore how you look at me in the morning, when your hair is messy in a sexy way and your eyes are still sleepy. I adore how you look at me before you go to sleep, when the lights are off and I can just faintly see how your eyes sparkle in the dark.” His voice softened. “I love how you look at me like I’m the only person in the world.”

At this point, you were speechless, but he kept going.

“5, I love how you laugh. I love when you burst into full laughter and bend over because you laughed too hard and your stomach hurts.” He smiled, putting over a finger over lips as you started to say something. “For some reason, you always think that laugh is ugly, but I can assure you, it’s the cutest thing ever.” Daichi’s voice lowered. “Plus, I know that when you laugh like that, its’ genuine.”

For the next thirty minutes, your boyfriend continued to list the reasons as to why he loved you.

6. I love how you always fuss over me when I get injured, even when it’s the tiniest wound ever.

7. I love how when I’m with you, time goes by so fast, and when I’m without you, time drags on so slowly.

8. I love how you smile at the littlest things, like a dandelion growing in between the cracks on a sidewalk (It’s not just a weed, you said, it grants wishes).

9. I love how you can be so childish and let loose when most other adults would be afraid to be childish.

10. I love how you always work hard despite everything else.

11. I love how you love the team and my family even though they’re crazy. And they love you so, so much. Just like I do.

12. I love how you insist on feeding me porridge when I’m sick. And how you always insist that I’m not allowed to get up from the bed when I literally only have a cold.

13. I love how you snuggle into my side when we’re sharing an umbrella and it’s raining.

14. I love how you leave sticky-notes with sweet messages on my lunchbox.

15. I love how you always manage to plan things for us to do despite how busy the both of us are. I’ll always have time for you.

16. I love how you’re always so patient with me, even when I forget about our date and didn’t text you because I was busy at work. You deserve so much more.

17. I love how you’re always willing to be the bigger person, saying sorry even when it isn’t your fault.

18. I love how you never get angry at me no matter how many times I forget to do the laundry.

19. I love how you always swap out the wet towels for dry ones when I’m bathing after you.

20. I love how you leave food in the microwave for me to eat when I get home late from work.

21. I love how you just somehow know that I don’t want to talk and just want to be with you. Everything will be fine when you let me lie in your lap and cuddle.

22. I love how you stroke my hair at night when you think I’m asleep.

23. I love how you always whisper ‘I love you’ when you think I’m asleep. Some nights, I lie down and pretend to be asleep just to hear you tell me you love me.

24. I love that you give me space and let me go out to have fun with my friends. And whenever I get home, you never complain about having been lonely (Although you probably were), and instead you ask me if I had fun with a smile; you tell me that you’ve already made dinner; you’re just waiting for me to bath.

25. I love that you always make an effort to be nice to my friends and family, because you know how much they mean to me even though they can be troublesome sometimes.

26. I love how you always sit down to talk to my parents when we visit them. I love how they love you. I love how you love them.

27. I love how you always press yourself closer to me when it’s raining or snowing outside because you’re cold.

28. I love how you always pull the blanket over the both of us and make sure that it covers my legs because you know my feet get cold.

29. I love how you always remember to fix the socks that I tell you have holes in them even though they probably stink even after going through the washer twice.

30. I love how you put up with all my bad habits and that you’re always patient with me and tell me for the thousandth time to throw my dirty clothes in the hamper and not on the bed.

“There are so many more reasons I love you.” He whispered, slightly breathless after his thirtieth reason. “Remember that, okay?”

You smiled, your stomach rolls forgotten. “Thank you. I needed that.” You replied softly, reaching up to press a kiss on his jawline. “I love you too, Daichi.”

Everything was going to be okay, because no matter how unfair the world was, out of all the girls in the world, Daichi had chose you, and that meant more than anything else to you.

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JSJSKJSK I SPENT AN HOUR COMING UP WITH THE 30 REASONS. I LEGIT GOOGLED ‘REASONS TO LOVE SOMEONE’.

For everyone out there (Including men, trans people, and basically everyone) who thinks they’re rounder than the general population, or for anyone out there who’s (like me) basically parallel lines with no curves at all, you are beautiful, amazing, and perfect. I also want everyone out there to know that despite me being a literal ‘bamboo’ (As I have zero curves whatsoever), I have stomach rolls too. Athletes and fit people have stomach rolls too. And that’s okay, because it means you’re eating well and you’re taking care of your body :)

Despite everything we do to our body, our body loves us. Anyone studying biology will tell you that our body does a million things to keep us living and breathing with each passing second. Your body loves you, so love your body.

- Cady

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#cadyh2o #cady writesss «#sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x y/n #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!!#daichi sawamura #daichi fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #daichi #karasuno

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty, “Close Calls”

All chapters can be found here!

Inspiration tag for the story!

I recently completed a character survey from Becky’s POV that you should check out!

Warning! This story contains mentions of: cancer, vomiting, chemotherapy process, and brief mentions of blood.

Sneaky peeeeeeeek!

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. The paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit.

But I can’t, and I don’t try to put the feelings into words. I sit there and cry inside of my car until I can’t anymore. And until I find enough strength to sit up and leave, knowing that I won’t call him back.

Snowflakes flutter in front of my eyes, painting the world white. Cars zoom past on the streets down below, the size of my fingernail. Yeah, it sure looks like the first of February out there, the thought sounds inside of me. The festivities of Christmas are long over as a new year has begun. Thinking of what comes next leads to a disorganized mess behind my eyes. I try to rid my thoughts of it with a hard blink, but instead it brings something else forth.

February 1st.

It’s Harry’s birthday today.

He’s 29. Shit.

Flipping my phone over in my lap, my thumbs get working fast. But once that empty conversation is in front of my eyes, I stall. Before I chicken out, words appear on the screen quickly.

I read them over and wonder how they sound. Or, more like, how they would sound to him. Do they sound too personal? Do they not sound personal enough? Or am I worrying too much and it’ll just blend into all of the other birthday texts he’s sure to receive?

“I think if you stare at that thing any harder your eyes are gonna pop out of your skull, Ree.”

I raise my head to find the voice who said that. My dad. He smiles tiredly at me a few steps away. I laugh, realizing he’s right.

“What’s got your attention so peaked anyways?” he asks. His eyes framed with exhaustion stay for only a second. They return to the Arsenal football match playing on the telly.

“Um, just trying to write a text to somebody. But I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“Don’t think about it so much, sweetie. I mean it, you’re probably thinking too hard about it,” he comments, scratching at the blue wool hat covering his head.

Sometimes I still expect to see the IV tubing dangling from his skinny arm. Like all of the other times at the beginning. Patches of faded red cover the insides of his arms from them now. You wouldn’t notice their small marks, but I know they’re there. The seconds of relief from their absence is whisked away when he tugs at his shirt. The moving of the material reveals the tubing leading to the port in his chest. The one I forget has been there for months when his shirt covers it.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I tell him, and go ahead and hit Send.

Hi. I’ve been thinking of you. I hope you’re doing alright. Just remembered it was your birthday. Wow 29, huh? Damn you really are getting old, you geezer. You better hurry and claim your senior discount now. No, but really I hope you’re having a good day, Harry. Enjoy your day. Have some drinks and do something for yourself, something you enjoy. I hope 29 is a fantastic year for you. Hopefully you’re not as run down yet as Chandler is.

I tap Send again, watching the clip from F.R.I.E.N.D.S go with the text marked by a heart. A smile pulls up my cheeks, thinking of the scene.

The three guys are sitting on the sofa in Central Perk and Chandler talks about not being 21 anymore. He’s 29 now and just wants to relax and go to bed at his bedtime, according to him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” my dad comments, bringing my eyes back to him. A small smile pinches his sallow cheeks. I nod, thinking of those words, but in a different way. If only that could be said about everything.

Setting my phone down, I try to watch the match with him. I’m glad it’s taking his mind off of the poison coursing through his veins. But I’m distracted by the anxious excitement of waiting to hear a ding from my phone.

Point after point is scored and it doesn’t come. And I try not to be disappointed, but I think I’m getting rather good at being disappointed lately.

The last words of a Katy Perry song trickle from the speakers as I put the car in park. A soft glow pours out the living room window, waiting for me.

6:13 pm, the digital clock reads.

I let my head fall back to the head rest. The events of today and their emotions flood my thoughts. As well as the things I still need to do tonight. Bring in the groceries. Put them away. Make dinner, even though he’ll eat 5 bites that he’ll throw up. Sweep and mop the kitchen. Disinfect surfaces. Find time to vacuum when he isn’t sleeping. Change his bedsheets. Do la-

Brrrrrrrrrrring!

The incessant words forming inside of my head cease. Looking over to the passenger seat, my phone buzzes face down. I pick up and answer it without looking.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Becks,” a refreshing voice answers. It almost removes the heavy words inside of me, but not quite.

“Hi, Harry. How was your birthday?” I answer, peering down at my lap.

“It was pretty fantastic, thank you. ‘m sorry I didn’ get t’ yer text yestaday. Tha’s why ‘m callin’, an’ ‘cause I got yer gift. I love it, it was so nice o’ you! I don’ have this Fleetwood record yet, so thank ya very much. ‘s in incredible condition, too! Hope ya didn’ have t’ pay too much. I know how pricey original records can be,” his syrupy voice utters with extra sugar today. It fills me with comfort, but he also picked the worst time to call. Although, maybe it would help to get out of my head for a few minutes. If I can.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it. I uh, wasn’t sure if you had it or not,” I reply slowly, unsure of what to say. I find it hard trying to pick out words from my head as so many others are whirring around. Playing with the zipper on my coat, I wait for his reply.

“I can’ wait t’ listen t’ it. There’s not a scratch on it, ‘s unbelievable. I got sum drinks with sum mates last night afta work, so tha’s why I forgot t’ text back. Had lots o’ fun tho’, an’ ate sum good food,” he narrates for me in an animated voice.

I nod at his words, wishing that would suffice. But I have to talk, even though yesterday I would’ve jumped at the chance to hear his voice. Well, I still would today. Just minus the jumping part.

“Good,” is all I say, amidst the lump building in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe. But it doesn’t help, it never does. “I’m glad you had a good time,” I somehow manage. Cursing myself, I know he heard my voice crack at the end. Because so did I.

“Becks-.”

“I’m glad you had a good birthday with friends. It did sound fun. Um I’m sorry, but can I call you back? I was just going to run into a shop quick,” I cut him off, the lie knitting together fast.

“Ya sure, an’ thanks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later, Becks. Drive safe,” he replies, something amiss in his voice. But I can’t listen any further than that, or else the guilt will make the tears come sooner.

“Thanks, Harry. I will, and happy birthday,” I finish, not giving him a chance to reply before I hang up.

Because the tears already arrived at my last word. And he sounded so happy, and I couldn’t ruin it. Over the course of the few texts we’ve sent back and forth in the last month, it was the happiest he’s sounded. And I didn’t want to share my dark cloud, and reveal that I’m in the lowest of my lows. Another side of me selfishly wanted him to notice, almost begged him to. And that part is disappointed that he didn’t, but the other part knows that I can’t expect that. Or at least it tries to.

It’s going to take everything inside of me. To lift my head from the steering wheel and walk back into that house. And to do yesterday and the day before, all over again. Dole out the meds and write them down. Clean up the vomit. Cook the meals. Clean and clean. Endure watching the pain and suffering I can’t do a damned thing about. And on top of it all, try to deal with my own pain and suffering. Not to forget, the schoolwork.

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. Or the paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit.

“Hey, Becky. Could you do me a favor, love?”

The pictures of puppies I was looking at suddenly feels illegal. Closing my laptop, I look up and find Sophie standing in front of me. I still think for a split second that she’s the mom from The Princess Diaries when I look at her, even after a year of working here.

“Y-yeah yeah. What do you need, Sophie?” I ask, trying to sit up straight, for once.

“Could you run this down to the post room for me, please? I need it sent out today, and I have a video conference in a minute. I’d wait on it, but I know they pickup the post in about 20. I won’t make it since my video conference is an hour long,” she says, her lips lined in scarlet grimacing. She tugs at the end of her corkscrew brown curls, a nervous habit of hers. “I hate to be one of those bosses that makes you do stupid stuff, but-.”

“Don’t mention it, Soph. A little walk would be nice, anyways,” I insist, taking the large white envelope from her. She thanks me with a smile and a handful of ‘thank yous’ before leaving.

Standing up, I feel my joints wake back up with a few cracks. I smooth down my maroon blouse over my black dress pants. A shiver tickles my spine, and I decide to slide on my zip up black Columbia. The last thing I do before leaving is to grab my steel water bottle to fill up.

“Be right back,” I let the girls know at the front desk. They nod with a smile before resuming their hushed conversation.

My pointed flats hardly make a noise on the tiled floor. It’s hard to look for a noise with the wind whipping around the snow outside. Just looking out the windows lining the hallway makes me feel cold, colder than it should be in March. And regret choosing these shoes this morning. I reach a corner and take a left, thinking back to when I first started and always got lost. I pass a handful of people on my way, familiar and not, and we exchange smiles or nods. I pass the doors for Human Resources, and wave at a friend. A gruff bailiff passes without either, but he was a little too scary looking to make eye contact with anyways.

I reach another corner, knowing the post room is only two turns away now. I take a right, but a few steps in, I hear voices. And laughing. My feet stop at the sound, and I turn around. The large doors to Courtroom 5 are down the hallway behind me. A clump of people stand across them talking, leaning against the wall under a clock. One of the laughs stands out to me from the others, like a musician can recognize a note. I can only see the backs of heads of those facing away from me. They shield the others from my view. My head goes from side to side with dismissal as I turn back around. But I don’t get very far, because I hear something they say.

A name.

It’s like it takes control of my limbs, and again I’m spinning around. I make it just in time to watch a figure break away from the group. Smiling and shaking hands, a laugh tickling their lips. And walk over to the drinking fountain. It’s Rose, one of the lawyers from Harry’s firm. Hmm, I think silently before walking away for real this time.

I soon find another water fountain and I decide to fill up. Luckily almost all of the ones I come across here have the nifty water bottle attachment. It was always a pain any place I’d go trying to fill it up directly from the spout. With the thick envelope under my arm, I screw the cap back on. Slipping my finger through the little handle at the top, I take off. But once again, I don’t get very far. Because this time I almost run into somebody.

“Sorry,” I automatically say before even taking a look at the person. But I don’t need to look when their voice tells me what I’m looking for.

“‘s alr- Wait, ‘s that you, Becks? Well hi, love,” Harry coos, his words catching.

“What, I don’t get an ‘it’s alright’ just because I’m not a stranger?” I joke, looking into his brilliant green eyes.

The skin around his eyes crinkles as amusement paints his face. Nodding, his growing curls dance a little on his head. “Yeah, I guess ‘s alright ya almost plowed me ova,” he jokes, his straight white teeth showing behind his happy lips.

Scratching at the back of his neck, his navy blazer pulls to the side. I see more of the cream button down underneath decorated with small navy polka dots.

“Hey, I could say the same thing about you,” I argue, trying to calm the happiness budding on my lips. But my control doesn’t last very long.

Harry replies with a breathy laugh, dropping his hand. “Oh hush, you. Now, what’re ya doin’ here, love? I hope yer not here fer a hearing,” he asks, swinging the leather messenger bag to his side. Probably heavy from his files and laptop, from the look of its bulging seams.

“I uh, work here,” I tell him slowly, my words escaping me. My fingers wrap around and lift the sleek card resting on my chest.

His moss green eyes fall to the lanyard hanging around my neck holding the access card bearing my face and name. I receive my answer when his expressive eyebrows shoot to the sky in surprise. “Here? Really, doin’ wha’?” he questions.

“Um, I do some clerk stuff back in admin,” I reply, watching his expression relax into a content smile.

“Tha’s great, Becks. That’ll look really good on yer resume when ya graduate. Good fer you, ‘m proud o’ you, darlin’,” he comments, patting my arm. I hardly know what to say with everything jumping around in my head all of a sudden. The arm pat. The beaming pride coating his features. The part where he said he’s proud of me, for the second time now. Okay, chill out, Becky. You can’t lose it, not yet. “An’ ya like it here? Are ya learnin’ more ‘bout law?”

“Yeah, I really like it. I work with a small group of people, and we get along really well. I mean there’s always that one coworker you don’t like, but what can you do?” I try to laugh, but I’m afraid it sounds fake. It’s okay though, because his laugh covers the doubt I hear in mine. And the nerves. “And I am learning, too. My boss is really great and I think she uses me being in law school to her advantage. It’s a match made in heaven, I guess.”

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that. ‘m happy t’ hear well, that yer happy,” Harry tells me with a smile framing his words. But when I look at it a second too long, I see the sadness in it. Suddenly, I regret my words, and how they sounded like he wasn’t a good boss. Or that I didn’t like it at his firm. But he doesn’t let me get too far into my thoughts, luckily. “How’s yer dad doin’? I haven’t heard from ya lately, but I undastand yer prolly real busy.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I apologize, looking away with warming cheeks. But his automatic ‘’s okay’ and squeeze to my arm makes me look back at him. “Things have been pretty crazy with classes and being there for my dad. He started chemo again the beginning of last month, since they didn’t get all of the tumor, like they hoped they would. But I guess most people still do it to ensure it’s gone, or something like that. I can’t remember.”

“Stop, ‘s okay,” he says firmly, his eyebrows raising a tick. “How’s he handlin’ tha chemo? ‘ve heard that stuff’s pretty shitty.”

“Yeah, it is. It makes him really sick. It’s hard because sometimes he has to wait to do an infusion of it, because some levels of his are too low. Or they want him to be at a certain weight, even though the chemo makes him lose weight,” I explain, the words coming out effortlessly. “It’s hard to see him like this, and to still be a student and an employee during all of it. But my professors and boss have been really understanding and lenient.”

I bite back the tears, hoping they won’t fall without my permission. But one breaks loose from the gate as I stare at the floor. My flats are separated from his brown leather chelsea boots. Then after a blink they no longer are. I don’t make the decision to look up, but it’s made for me when I feel his thumb wiping the tear away. Peering into his gleaming green eyes always seems to make time stop. A warm smile places dimples in his cheeks, and does something to me. Like it always does.

“‘s okay. I can’t imagine how hard ‘s been fer ya, Becks. Why didn’ ya ring me? I woulda listened,” Harry asks me, his hand regretfully belonging to himself again. But there isn’t annoyance or anger in his voice. There’s emotions from the other side of the spectrum heard there. Like regret and sadness, and others I can’t fathom right this second.

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Plus, I hate to be a Debbie Downer,” I confess, admiring the length of his dark eyelashes when they tickle his skin.

“Yer notta Debbie Downa, Becks, whateva tha bloody hell that ‘s,” he insists. A hint of his giggle meets my ears when I look at him weird due to that revelation. “Ya can call me anytime, ‘kay? Whether ‘s happy or sad, ‘d wanna hear ‘bout it.”

I nod at his words, savoring the sound of his voice. And what it said. His minty breath strokes my cheek as he’s close enough to touch. The words get lost in my throat as his familiar smell wafts over me, catching me off guard. “Thank you,” I mumble thoughtfully, seeing his head move in answer.

“What’re ya takin’ this semesta fer yer LLB tha’s so tough? I mean, I know all tha courses can be, but ‘m curious. Ya must be onto tha heavier courses by now, ‘s that right?”

“Well, I’m still catching up to where I should be as a kind of sophomore. Because they changed the degree around since I’ve been gone, so that’s kinda why I took Crim later than usual. But right now I’m taking Banking Law, Family Law, and Environmental Law,” I answer, watching my words register with him. He nods at certain parts, his brow knitted together as he pays attention to me, like there’s nobody else in the entire room.

“Ugh, those don’ sound any fun. I rememba takin’ those, or what were tha equivalent t’ ‘em when I was in uni. They’re tha ratha borin’ ones, an’ Family’s sad, too,” he comments, a look of disgust playing with his features. It’s amusing, but I get away with not letting it show on my face. Reaching to scratch his chin, I notice the stubble there. And the pops of color on his fingernails. Both fitting, I must say.

“Yeah they’re super boring. I’m surprised you even remember them, seeing as you’re 29 and everything,” I joke, earning a well deserved eye roll from him. But he can’t get rid of the grin showing on his raspberry lips. “Hey, I like your nails. It looks like you did a pretty good job, better than I could even,” I laugh and it grows harder when he holds them out for me to see. A wine red and turquoise blue decorate his fingers. But what gets me is that he puckers his lips, modeling like Zoolander.

“Thanks,” Harry titters, looking down at them. “Me little niece picked out tha colors an’ helped me paint ‘em tha otha night. But I think they’re growin’ on me. Already chippin’ tho they are, whatta shame.”

You let your niece paint your nails?

Wait, you’re an uncle?

Okay, the thought of you with tiny children is not helping things.

“You sound like a fun uncle.”

“Ya, I hope so. Harper says I am anyways, which ‘s quite tha compliment. Also, stop callin’ me old. 29 isn’t old,” Harry whines, sticking his bottom lip out at me.

“Oh stop it, you baby,” I giggle, and soon his joins mine. For a couple of seconds, we’re just looking at each other laughing and things couldn’t be better. But I’ve learned that good things can never last, and soon enough we’re interrupted by a voice.

“Harry, are you coming?” Rose says from across the hallway, a ‘hello’ to me following. The sweet sound coming from his lips soon fades as he looks over to her and nods. Pushing his sleeve back to look at his watch, he clucks his tongue.

“‘m afraid I can’ talk any longa, Becks. ‘m sorry. Rose an’ I are workin’ togetha onna case. It starts in half an hour, an’ we gotta go ova sum things befo’ it all starts,” he explains regretfully. I nod, acknowledging his words. And try as I might, I can’t get rid of the disappointment growing heavy in my gut.

“Yeah o-of course, don’t let me keep you. Good luck, Harry, knock ‘em dead,” I wish him with a small, but sad, smile.

A hint of one inches up his cheeks before he says, “Yer not keepin’ me, I dunno why ya always say that. I enjoy talkin’ t’ ya. ‘s nice t’ catch up again,” Harry tells me. As if in slow motion, I watch him take another step closer to me with outstretched arms. I follow suit and soon find myself in one of his hugs. “Ya ring me if ya need anythin’, ya hear me? Even just t’ talk. Maybe we could get coffee or tacos sumtime.”

The moment in his arms doesn’t last long enough, although I’m sure any amount of time wouldn’t be enough for me. Soon, I’m leaving the safety of his arms and again, I’m alone. “Of course. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome. Tell yer dad an’ Robbie ‘m thinkin’ of ‘em,” Harry rasps, and I just nod. “An’ take care, Becks. Good luck in yer courses, I know ya’ll do well.”

Happiness seeps through the sudden sadness with his kindness, and I muster a smile. And another thank you.

“Have a good day, love,” is the last thing he says, before he turns to walk towards Rose who waits for him.

“You too,” I mumble, watching him walk away.

Bittersweetness lines my thoughts, wondering if the sadness is worth getting to see him. And that hug. God, that fucking hug. They do fix everything that’s wrong, if only for a couple of seconds. It makes me wonder how much happier I’d be if I could have one of those every day, as a respite from the chaos of life. But that would only be in the case of if I was his-.

Yeah, I’m not going there again, I tell myself. And with that, I finally continue my journey to the post room, unsure of how I’ll be able to top that.

For the rest of day.

Week.

Maybe even, month.

The butter melts on my tongue and next the pillowy bread does too. I close my eyes and smile at the taste. Like home. Opening them again, my eyes flit over the half dozen crock pots and several other plates. Frowning, I can’t stop thinking about the meatballs, the macaroni and cheese, the sugar cookie fruit pizza, and the homemade bread.

But with a longing sigh, I walk away and leave the break room. Excited coworkers of mine pass me on the way to the food. My desk eyes me from across the room, but I ignore it. Soon, I find myself in the hallway. Twenty minutes left of my break after scarfing down the monthly potluck meal. It only gets better each month, and makes me wish it was weekly. The last bite of airy bread passes my lips. I wipe my hands on the napkin and toss it in a bin. The new storm delivers snow outside of the hallway-long windows. Although they’re frosted from the chill, I can still just make out the falling flakes.

My thoughts of snow are whisked away by the shuffling of feet. And hurried voices. It takes me a moment to figure out where I’ve gone off too. Soon, I realize I’m back by Courtroom 5. And that the people are bustling inside the doors to sit in the gallery. And watch. The sleeve of my zip up glides over my watch, revealing the time to be one o’clock. Quickly, thoughts come together like puzzle pieces in my head.

My break is over at 1:30.

It’s Friday, so it’s not like I really have anything important to do when I get back.

Sophie has been bothering me for ages to go and learn from the teachers I have just down the hall.

So she won’t mind.

And the only teacher that I can think I want to learn from is in there right now.

About to argue a case that appears to be available to the public.

I don’t remember telling my feet to move, but suddenly I’m behind an older man. And the scene in front of me changes drastically. It fills me with nervous excitement at the sight of the judicial panel, the jury box, and the witness stand. But I don’t have time to gawk, because the chatter around me is quieting down. I quickly find a seat towards the back of the seating in the gallery.

Silence follows the clanging of the doors shutting. Within a few seconds, everybody rises when the judge enters. But the rest of the room - the jury made up of all kinds of faces, the bailiff, court reporter etc. - melt away when I see that head of curly hair. I’d know it was him if we were in a crowd of people, but any doubt I had from afar is washed away when he speaks.

Harry and Rose take turns delivering their opening statement. They’re defending their client, the plaintiff, who from the sounds of it, was harassed by the defendant. It kills me to watch the opening statements unfold, even if all I can see is the back of the girl’s head. The hush over the courtroom is chilling, and goosebumps grow on my arms at the sound of Harry’s tone. His professional voice that I’ve yet to really hear before. Because although I worked for him, I was only his assistant. I never got to tag along to trials, or hear much about them. Yes, I did some of the dirty work for them, but I only saw the outside. I heard about how good or bad it was going, and then was dealt with the good news or bad news of the verdict. No more than that.

It’s awe inspiring to witness him arguing the case firsthand. The way he uses his hands to speak, or the times when his voice does all the speaking he needs to. His eloquent choice of words drills the emotion home, and is accented by the expression on his face. It’s often neutral, but at times, I watch him struggle to hide the effects of the words playing on his face. I find myself having a hard time doing the same when he returns to sit next to the plaintiff, patting her on the back during difficult moments. Unbeknownst to me, the defending lawyer may have been practicing for two years or twenty. But their skill wanes next to Harry’s, even though he’s been practicing for less than ten years. I can’t stand to watch the discrepancies and weaknesses in his arguments. Luckily, my break is over and I don’t care to waste my time watching Mr. Bow Tie over here.

I quietly leave a few minutes into his opening statement, hoping one day I can evoke as much emotion as Harry with my words. And hide from my face all of the ones that I’m feeling inside. Walking back to my department, a smile curls the edges of my lips. But then it falls, because I realize the mistake I made.

I just fell a little bit harder. Again.

“I’m gonna bring the dishes down,” I mumble, watching him nod at me.

The wooden steps creak with my weight as I juggle the tray of barely touched food. A bowl of chicken noodle soup. A piece of toast. And apple slices with peanut butter.

Options, options, options.

The plastic tray hits the counter with a hard slap, and an accentuated huff. I bend down and grab tupperware from the drawers. As I pour the soup into a container, the slam of a door upstairs makes me jump. My thoughts fly to the soup spilled all over the counter, but they stop when I hear another noise. Besides the tv in the living room, it’s the only other one I hear. It pulls my feet out of the kitchen and through the living room until I’m at the stairs. I take the steps two at a time until I’m at the top. The terrible sound carries down the hallway, leading me to the bathroom door.

I nervously rap my knuckles against the door.

“I’m fine,” my dad says from the other side, coughing.

“Dad, they said if it gets bad-.”

“It’s not bad yet,” he interrupts. There’s a pause when he blows his nose. “Please, Ree, I just want to be home. I hate having to go there.”

“I know, dad,” I reply, sighing when I hear him start to vomit again.

Walking away, I give him privacy. And my ears a break from one of my newest least favorite sounds. My fingers drift to my back pocket, sure of their actions before I am. Exhaling, I take a seat on one of the stairs.

It rings and it rings.

“Come on, pick up,” I mutter, bouncing my leg.

Kneading my temple, I listen to it continue to ring. And ring. Finally, it stops. But I’m not greeted by the sound I want to hear. Instead I hear their voicemail, making me groan. I listen to the old recording I’ve heard time and time again, but this time I just want it to go away. So I can hear the instructions, and that final beep.

“Hey, it’s me. J-just call me back when you get this, please,” I say quickly, the words running from my lips. Alongside the tears.

Dropping my phone onto my lap face down, my head falls in my hands. Noises surround me. Those of everyday life bustling around me. The sound of the laundry machine whirring downstairs. The hum of the tv. And the ones I try to ignore coming from the door behind me. The sound of the crying. And the vomiting.

I can’t keep my hands still. They go to rake through my hair. To cover my face. To play with my fingers. To make fists. I even try to sit on them, and it doesn’t help. And I can’t stop bouncing my legs, as my nerves jitter from the thoughts.

The worries.

The uncertainty.

It feels like an hour before I hear my twinkling ringtone. But when I see the time on my phone, it’s only been eleven minutes. I barely take the time to look at who’s calling before I answer it.

Clearing my throat, I say a shaky ‘hello.’

“Hey, I got yer message. ‘m sorry I didn’ answer, I was inna late meetin’, but I can talk now. ‘s everythin’ okay, Becks? Ya don’ sound so good, love,” he inquires. His caramely voice is the first comfort I’ve felt all day. My respite from this mayhem.

“No, I’’ll um, let you go. I don’t want to interrupt your meeting. I can call later,” I insist, guilt weaving its way into my words.

“No, yer okay, Becks. I stepped out. It wasn’t anythin’ important, anyways. I can have Myles tell me later. Now, wha’s goin’ on?” he tells me, but it doesn’t revoke all of the guilt consuming me. I grimace at the pain from my chapped lips when they smash together, salty tears flowing over their cracks. “Becks, talk t’ me, please. Yer not a botha, not ever. Please tell me wha’s wrong.”

“Harry,” I begin, not capable of any other words. Because that one has been constant in my head for the last twenty minutes. Ever since it started. It’s the one I’ve been holding in, and not been able to say, until now.

“‘m here, Becks,” he says. Never did I think three words could be so comforting. And at the same time, hurt so much. Because they’re true, and then they’re not. I want them to be true so badly I feel it in my veins.

“M-my dad . . . he won’t stop throwing up and I don’t know what to do. He had chemo yesterday, b-but it went fine. And then we had dinner tonight, and he hardly had three bites, before he got sick. It’s been like that all day,” I confess, leaning against the staircase railing. Letting it hold me there, because nobody else can. Because I can’t do it for myself anymore. “This happens sometimes with the chemo, b-but . . . . . it was getting better recently. I think I should bring him in like they said, but that means staying the night in the hospital. Again. I’m just so tired, Harry, I want all of this to be over already. I want him to be okay, and I want to feel what it’s like to be okay again.” I can’t get out another word, because the tears consume them. And the anxiety. And the exhaustion. My head falls to my knees and the hand cupping my mouth slides away.

“I think ya should bring ‘im in, Becks. ‘Specially if they said so. Don’ want ‘im t’ get dehydrated, that certainly won’ help things,” Harry murmurs, his voice quiet and controlled. “I know ya don’ wanna be there ‘gain, ‘specially twice in tha last two days. But he needs their help . . ‘s there anybody who can come an’ be with you? Maybe that aunt o’ yers who was at tha hospital that night? Robbie, or Skye? But I s’pose they’re 3 hours away in London . . . ,” Harry sighs, his words trailing off into the air. For some reason I nod, glad to hear that my reasoning for not wanting to ask them to come is valid.

“Yeah, it’s just me here. That’s how it’s been. Robbie and I switch off . . . But my dad doesn’t want me to bring him in, he hates going there. Being poked by them and everything. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day,” I cry, the tears soaking the knees of my ripped jeans.

“Ya hafta bring ‘im in, Becks. What if ‘s sumthin’ else, like tha stomach flu or sumthin’ worse? He needs t’ be able t’ eat an’ drink in order t’ get betta,” he urges, and finally I decide to listen.

Nodding at his words and the truth they hold, my lips part, “I know, you’re right. I-I’ll bring him in. T-thanks, Harry, for answering your phone.”

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I sit up slowly. “Course, Becks. ‘m sorry I was a li’l busy when ya first rang . . . Um drive safe, ‘kay? Maybe bring yer laptop t’ do schoolwork or even jus’ t’ watch Netflix. Sumthin’ t’ distract yerself - a book, or headphones fer music.” His suggestions meet my ears, but they go through one and out the other. They’re not the kind of distraction I want, I think selfishly, but the kind I want, I can’t have. Because it’s you.

“Yeah, I’ll bring something. Thanks, Harry. Have a good night,” I say in almost a whisper, exhaustion stealing my words.

“Yer welcome, Becks. Lemme know what happens, ‘kay?”

I mutter an ‘mmmmhmm’ before hanging up, and trudging up the stairs. Listening for the sound again is hard, because I don’t know what I want to hear. Part of me doesn’t want to hear the vomiting, but the other part oddly does. Because if it stopped then he’ll try to convince me that we don’t have to go in. But I hope it hasn’t, because there’s something at the back of my head telling me we have to. Making me think we need to, because something’s wrong. And I know that if he’s stopped, he’ll tell me that there’s no reason to go in.

My gray striped socks stop on the hardwood floor in front of the door. I knock before I can convince myself to wait. “Dad?”

No answer.

“Dad, I’m bringing you to the hospital. Something’s not right, I just know it. You need to be looked at, and they can help,” I plead from the other side of the slab of wood. A sigh meets my ears and the shuffling of a body.

“Okay,” he relents. I push the door open and am met with his tear-stained face.

Trying to ignore the smell I’m by now used to, I wet a washcloth at the sink. Returning to his side, I bend down and wipe his face with it. And then his mouth. Tossing it in the laundry bin, I wash my hands. Watching him as I do so, his frail figure is slumped against the closed toilet. Embarrassment blanketing him like a sheet.

“It’ll be okay,” I try to tell him. But as I watch his barely there nod, I’m not sure if I believe it either. “Let’s get you downstairs to the car,” I say, drying my hands.

It takes us awhile, to stand up together. To get down the stairs, one step at a time. To slip on his coat. To grab my things. And to drive to the hospital as he threw up into a bucket beside me. But we got there, and the worst part still awaits us.

It pains me to leave his side, but I can’t handle watching them stick him with needles. Or the blood. Not after everything that’s happened in the last 7 months. Combing my hair out of my eyes, I begin my walk down the hallway. Yet another one.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” I respond to the voice I could pick out of a crowd. I try to prepare my words, but I’m not sure what to say. I’m so tired. “I’m at the hospital with dad. Everything is okay. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day, he’s been throwing up off and on. And after dinner, it got worse. They’re taking some blood now to run it for labs. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Shitttt,” Robbie replies, holding out the last syllable. Just like our dad. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ree. I’m surprised he let you take him in, but thanks for doing that. Yeah, I guess all you can do is wait until they have the tests back. Hopefully you two can go home soon,” he says quietly in a tone the polar opposite of the one he answered with.

I echo his words with a ‘me too’ before there’s nothing else to be said. And I let him go. I call Skye too to tell her, and because I can’t go back yet. I just need some time. She talks my ear off, but I’m grateful for it. She tells me about work, her newest boyfriend, the weather, and a show we’re watching together.

After I finally get away from her jabber mouth, almost half an hour has passed. I find my way back to his room in the Emergency wing. As I walk in, he shoots a tired smile at me. One I can barely make out amongst the dark room.

“Early bedtime?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He nods, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah. They did all their tests, and said it would take a little while, so fluids, anti-nausea meds, and naptime it is.”

“Good,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around his. Squeezing them, his dusty lips offer a laugh. Or the closest thing to one. He tries to squeeze back, but I barely feel it. It’s nothing compared to when he’d nearly break my fingers giving my hand a squeeze. Somehow his hands look older than the rest of him as I look. His skin wrinkles among his bulging veins, liver spots, and freckles.

“You should too, baby girl,” he replies, surprising me. My eyes return to his face where he’s opened his eyes to look at me. “You look exhausted too. Get some sleep, I know it’s been a lot taking care of me for this long.”

“Dad,” I begin, an argument forming in my voice. But I don’t get any further than that.

“You know it’s true, and you’ve been doing a fantastic job. Don’t let yourself think any different,” he insists, the area above his eyes raising. But it doesn’t have the same effect with his dark eyebrows absent from his expression. A whimper escapes my lips as tears obscure my vision. Lifting our joined hands, he brushes the back of his hand over my cheek. “Come here, my baby.”

It confuses me when his clean scent doesn’t surround me. But it’s there in a hint when I bury my face into his neck. His right arm pulls me against him, and I cry into him. It’s one of the only times I can remember doing this since this all started. I want to stay strong in front of him, but sometimes it’s too hard. I feel a warmth on my forehead, and my lips break into a smile at his trademark forehead kiss. “Get some sleep, sweetie. They’ll wake us with the results if they need to,” he tells me. I nod into him, feeling him scooch over for me to lay more comfortably beside him.

My words are taken away with a whooshing sound just as a ding meets my ears. A bubble appears at the top of my phone screen. With widening eyes, I hold down the bottom button for volume on the side of my phone. Peeking across the room, I exhale watching his chest lift and fall with every breath, his snoring greeting the air. My attention returns to the dings coming from my phone. I read the first one.

Me - a few minutes ago

Tests came back positive for some type of bacterial infection in his digestive tract. Starting antibiotics now. Keeping him overnight and until further notice for observation because infections can be scary with weak immune systems like his.

Harry

thx for the update. glad 2 hear it isnt anything 2 serious. its a good thing u brought him in when u did becks. thinking of u and him.

Thanks so much, Harry. I’m glad I did too. Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch again, yay!

Harry

get some zzzz’s love. might be a long nite. dont forget 2 eat.

Goodnight

My eyes don’t want to believe the clock when the growling of my stomach wakes me. Shuffling into the hallway rubbing my eyes, I swear under my breath.

“No fucking way it’s only 11 o’clock. Why can’t it be 8 am or something?” I groan, trudging down the quiet halls of the oncology wing. But I’m glad for the quiet compared to the craziness of the E.R. earlier.

Dropping my hand, I’m welcomed once again by the stinging fluorescent lights. And the packaged foods waiting for me behind the glass. Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I scan the many choices. Hmmm, salted nut roll for once, hostess cakes, sour patch kids, hard pretzels, jelly beans, or Cheez-Its? I wonder to myself, blinking the sleep from my eyes.

Another ding meets my ears. But when I lift my phone to my face, there isn’t a new text popping up on my screen. There are some, but they’re from an hour ago or longer. Weird, I think, staring at the screen and reading the words.

There’s a cough as somebody clears their throat. “We’ve gotta stop meetin’ like dis,” they almost laugh, making me turn my head without a choice.

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anthropwashere · 4 years

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phango19: we go around, one foot nailed down

\o/ 30th DP fic and it’s the infamous dissection trope \o/

(you know I had to do it to ‘em)

Legit though, I’ve been wanting to write a DP dissection fic since, jeez, since I joined the fandom in '13 probably. It's practically a rite of passage to have one of these under your belt, isn't it? So here's me, giving you the gift of Danny Having a Bad Time.

There'll be some notes about the research I did for this one for the curious at the end, but apologies to anyone with an ounce of scientific know-how. I almost failed high school chemistry and that was something like 12 years ago. I am but a simple idiot with Internet access. Please call me out if there's something egregious in need of correction; otherwise... blame it on ghostly handwavium?

Title comes from TOOL’s “Pneuma.”

AO3 | FFN

It had been agony, at first. But like anything he’s ever set his mind to, it’s gotten easier with practice.

He’s had plenty of opportunities to practice.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could quit the whole ugly business right this moment. Burn every file, lock the lab up for good, and pray for no more nightmares. But this ugly business needs doing and he’s the only one for it. He can’t allow Maddie to shoulder any more of this burden than she’s already insisted on. He won’t let those white-suited bastards lay so much as a finger on his family either, not while he’s got any say in it. There'll be hell to pay for going toe-to-toe with the GIW, but that's fine. He doesn’t care what happens to him anymore, so long as Maddie and Jazz are kept clean of all consequences.

If his luck holds out the courts will be hashing it all out for a while yet anyway. He’s never had a head for fine print or subtlety, nor doing anything so morally gray as—well. Everything lately. What should be done is clear as day to him, but if the courts agreed that easily with the GIW he wouldn't have a chance to make up for what he’s done.

He needs to do that much.

The courts and those bastards will eventually agree he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, regardless of blood relation or his wealth of experience in an incredibly niche field. Sooner than later those bastards will come, and when they do there's only so much protest and fighting spirit they'll indulge in. That's a fight he'll lose once it comes, but in the meantime those bastards and all their clever little monitoring devices can’t come within 300 feet of Fenton Works without causing an uproar.

He has to take advantage of the time they have left.

This evening the house is empty, just him and—

Well.

Maddie’s out there fighting the good fight, Jazz and Sam and Tucker at her side. The three of them have got more experience than Maddie and him ever realized. They’ll be just fine. They’ll handle whatever toothy specter is out there terrorizing the good people of Amity Park and make sure nothing gets in the way of his work. He needs the peace and quiet. No distractions. He needs to do this by the book.

Working by the book isn't a habit he’s ever had to cultivate, not with Maddie there to shore up his madcap inventions with reams of reproducible data and neatly labeled blueprints, all hard copies done in triplicate and the digital files regularly updated to a secure server off-site. You can’t ever be too cautious when you’re putting pseudoscience to the test and winning, Maddie always said with a grin, and he’d kissed her every time for being so much more brilliant and beautiful than he deserved. What would he do without her? How far could he have gotten without her? Would Danny still be—

He swallows.

Best to banish that train of thought before it can run him down. No distractions. No what-ifs, no maybes. Not if he wants to make up for what’s happened. What they’ve done. What he's done. This one’s all on him, no matter how Maddie tries to tell him otherwise. Either he fixes this or—

Well.

There is no ‘or,’ is there?

He presses the record button on the Jack Fenton-improved observation rig. Blinking red lights and a momentary whine of feedback means he’s good to go. “Nov—”

Too hoarse. Clarity and enunciation are key here. Slow and steady. He’s got to do this right, each and every time. He clears his throat and begins again.

“November 24th, 2006. 9:43 p.m. This is the ninth full examination of the ectobiological aberration self-identified as ‘Phantom,’ legal name Daniel Fenton. General details of the aberration's previously accepted physical characteristics can be found in the recording and transcript of the first examination. General details of the aberration's current physical characteristics can be found in the first, second, and third examinations. Detailed characteristics that have remained unchanged between forms—the wholly living, the selectively living, and the wholly deceased are also recorded in the first and second examinations."

“For the record, I still don't think I qualify as an 'aberration,'" the body says.

He breathes. Swallows. Chooses to ignore the interruption.

“This examination will consist of further study of Phantom's physical deterioration, to include the taking of samples of hair, skin, bone, and various fluids and tissues as necessary. Additionally I—"

He hadn't identified himself, despite the GIW's explicitly written protocols on ghost examinations. He curses inwardly, decides not to bother. He's the only examiner on any of the recordings, after all.

The body takes advantage of his pause to add, “Oddity maybe. Hell, anomaly sounds pretty cool. But aberration? That makes me sound like I'm on the verge of a villainous origin story or something."

He presses on through gritted teeth. "I'll be conducting several tests as outlined separately—exact location in the Phantom file will be added to this examination's transcript—to see if it's feasible to separate the Phantom aberration from Daniel Fenton's remains."

"How many times do I have to tell you that Phantom has always been—"

"Danny."

The body sighs. Well. Its inhabitant does anyway. "Sorry, sorry."

He resists the urge to thank the body. He resists the urge to pat its mottled green hand. He doesn't trust his voice to remain steady if he does either.

"External examination.” He describes the body from toe to tip, his voice measured, unhurried, detached. Dark green skin, healed as flawlessly as it had seven times before. Untamed black hair that shines a glossy green in the harsh overhead lights. Eyes red as holly berries that shine with the predatory gleam so common among true ghosts when the overhead light hits them. The skin is firm, and firmly attached to the lean muscles beneath, and those too still conform to the bones as if the body hasn’t been dead for months. The body is as limp-limbed as a ragdoll in his hands as he goes through the checklist. He confirms that it’s continuing to lose weight incrementally despite no outward signs of decay or starvation—

(Can a dead thing still starve? God, but what were those two years like for Danny? All those worries, those fears, all those questions without answers, and now….)

Nothing untoward or abnormal—in shape, if not in color—can be noted. A normal male distribution of body hair. Teeth in fair repair. Gums, tongue, and oral cavity all normal, albeit pale green. Symmetrical and normal in appearance are checked off wherever they need to be checked off. On, and on, and on. An exhaustive process that embarrassed the body’s inhabitant horribly the first few times. Now it’s borne in silence, with only an occasional gruff sigh.

No deformities. No injuries, except for the postmortem thread that’s bunched up at weird angles as the body stubbornly insisted on healing practically overnight. He makes a note of it as he takes a small pair of shears to the tangles, snipping and pulling as needed. The small holes trace out a capital letter Y that’s gone a bit hunchbacked and knock-kneed. Another day or two and that scar will be gone, replaced by a new one that will stretch stark and symmetrical, for a little while. The small holes left behind don’t bleed. There isn't any blood or ectoplasm pooled or pulsing through the body. The heart is still, a fist-sized lump of dark green muscle. He'd drained the clay-colored fluid that had operated as blood out into a jar marked DP Specimen #58 - 3.85ltr ecto found w/in complex circ sys(!) w/ unk contaminant(s?). It hasn't clotted, and the body hasn't produced more.

They don't know why. They still don’t know why the body continues to heal. There’s not enough energy in the remaining ectoplasm to generate such a speedy recovery, but neither does it heal enough. Danny’s ghost—the aberration—is still bound to this inanimate, impossible corpse. Danny is still trapped.

Not to mention that the healing seems to be failing incrementally as the days pass. He doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know if they’re running out of time or not. He doesn’t know what will happen to Danny if—

There’s no ‘if.’ He’s fixing this.

He has to.

“You’re staring,” the body says quietly.

He swallows, shaking himself out of it. “I—I will now begin the internal examination to compare the body’s current state to that of the eighth examination conducted on November 16th. Additionally, with the data gathered from the previous examinations and tests conducted upon various tissue samples and the body itself it’s believed that optimal results might be achieved with as little biological interference as possible.”

“You said full examination,” the body interrupts. “Brain included?”

“Brain included,” he confirms. He can’t quite keep the apology out of his voice. Not as if those bastards would notice an ounce of kindness if it—

Focus.

The body doesn’t breathe. It can’t. Those lungs gasped their last 36 seconds after Maddie landed a neat hit on Phantom with a full 450 milliliters of their experimental paralytic.

(He’d said it himself, not 24 hours before that day. Enough to lay out a ghost ten times his size! What a damn stupid, blind idiot he was.)

The inhabitant inside the body makes the sound of a slow, steadying breath. It shouldn’t shake. It shakes anyway. “Just. Don’t keep my face c-covered any longer than you have to.”

Danny’s made this request each time. As if he’d forget to give Danny what mean comforts he can through—through this. Danny had screamed all throughout that first examination. Not out of pain—he insisted he couldn’t feel anything anymore—but out of sheer, visceral horror. He doesn’t blame Danny one bit for that.

(He’d hoped removing the brain would do the trick, that it would free Danny’s ghost, put him out of his misery. But it just grew back. There are three of them resting in glass jars of glowing formalin now. At the rate he’s going the entire lab will soon be nothing but bits of Danny in jars.)

“Sure thing,” he whispers, and picks up the scalpel.

He narrates as he works, making small notes on the diagram at his elbow with a gloved hand that grows damp over time with green fluids. He makes the initial incision, running over it repeatedly where necessary, and inch by inch peels the anterior thoracic musculature and subcutaneous layers away.

(He’s almost gotten used to making these incisions, to applying the necessary force as pulls the layers apart. The motions have almost become habit. It’s all the sounds of peeling the body open that continue to haunt him.)

The flesh folds like a thick blanket, draping over the body’s elbows out of the way. There’s no need at this time to study the neck musculature or organs. He leaves that stretch of skin where it’s meant to stay. He focuses on cutting away the pale bits of fatty tissue that might interfere, fully exposing the deep black bones of the body’s rib cage.

(That had been a hard shock, the first time. He’s almost used to the sight now.)

As with the body’s hair and eyes, the bones have a faint green gleam to them. The same iridescence of a raven’s feathers. They yield to a rib cutter the same as any human’s would. He makes the cuts close to the sides rather than near the breastbone; he wants to get a good look at the heart and lungs in situ today.

The inhabitant begins to breathe rapidly.

He pauses, the front of the body’s rib cage gripped carefully in both hands, pulled halfway out. “Do… do you want me to move the mirror?”

Oh, but he had put his foot down about the mirror. There was no way, no way, he would force Danny to observe as his own father cut him open—did this to him. Danny had asked first that his eyes not to be taped shut, because laying there paralyzed and feeling nothing in the dark was so much worse and anyway his eyes don’t seem to be going anywhere, right? The third examination is when Danny had asked for a way to watch him work, and he’d protested and blubbered and even shouted, enough that Maddie had called down the stairs in a voice thick with tears if everything was—if everything was—did he need help?

Yes, he needed help. But he didn’t tell her that. He told her everything was—was—that she needn’t worry, that he had everything handled.

Danny had asked again. Again and again and again, and every time he said no, told Danny all the reasons why he wouldn’t, couldn’t, would never—

But Danny kept asking.

I want to understand, Dad. Please. I’m gonna go crazy if I all I do is just lay here until you and Mom fix me. I—this is all I can do. I want to see what you’re doing to me, instead of trying to imagine. Please. Please, Dad.

He’d relented for the seventh examination. He’d attached an arm to the observation rig above the table, attached a mirror to the arm, and messed with the angle of it until Danny said he could see himself perfectly.

It had been such a terrible thing to do to Danny, but Danny had thanked him all the same.

The body sighs, chuckles weakly. “N-no. No. I just—hate that sound. That—cracking. Gets—gets me every time.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. He tries to be as gentle as he can, separating the breastbone from the clavicle, but some sounds are unavoidable. After setting the rib cage aside he swallows, and swallows again. His voice betrays him anyway. “M-mediastinum intact again as well. Comparable in color to previous examinations. The residual fatty thymic tissue present….”

And on. And on. Cutting and pulling and weighing, comparing weights and textures and colors to the eight other times he’s already done this.

How many more times will this be necessary?

Danny breathes, sometimes, hitching like he means to say something, or like he's trying not to cry.

Danny doesn’t do either, but he hates himself anyway.

“Decellularization continues apace,” he murmurs near the microphone, tracing a careful finger across one lung in the scale. It and its twin had been a vivid lime green in the beginning, but like nearly every other organ it’s begun to shed its inhabiting cells, leaving a colorless scaffolding in the same rough shape of itself behind.

Ghost organs. He’s never heard of such a thing happening outside of a microbiology lab. It’d almost be funny.

He doesn’t know what it means.

He doesn’t know what any of this means.

The accident should have killed Danny completely, left a well-cooked corpse and an entirely separate ghost behind. Not hybridized him. Not at the risk of this. Their paralytic is what killed him—

(his son, his boy, little Dann-o, gone gone gone and it’s all his fault)

—but if he’d died another way would this have been the same result? This powerlessness, this fading? There’s no knowing, and that most of all is what keeps him up at night.

He finishes comparing all the numbers to those previously recorded. Then samples are taken and the cell debris drained, all the vials and containers marked appropriately. Lastly he bags the organs he intends to keep for study to minimize leakage, leaving the rest in their individual trays. If he were to place them all back in the body the bags would—somehow—vanish within a few days, all the organs reorganized and reattached exactly as they should be. If he doesn’t, new ones will take their place.

Maddie suspects this to be the cause of the decellularization. The body is drawing on its own limited materials to regenerate because the ectoplasmic core once sustaining it has been snuffed out. None of their instruments can even pick up that Danny’s still in there, but there he is all the same. No one knows what to make of that.

All in all, it’s been over an hour by the time he carefully suctions out the last of the fluids pooled within the emptied cavities, filling and marking one more container to join the collection on the stainless steel counter. He’d lined the interior of the body with cotton, the first time. It had gone the same way as the bags, vanished or vaporized or who even knows. He doesn’t bother this time, returning the unbagged organs to rough approximations of where they should be. He gives the small intestine up as a bad job, grimacing apologetically. In the space where the right lung sat he places an oblong monitoring device small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Something clever Maddie cooked up to measure all sorts of things, all potential avenues to make sense of the body’s physiology and shake the ghost clean of it. It shouldn’t be too intrusive once the lung grows back. Not that it matters.

It’s far too late to save their son. They know that. That doesn’t make this any easier.

“Brain next?” The body asks once he’s finished up the new Y incision.

“Brain next,” he confirms wearily, setting aside needle and thread. “Your moth—”

He bites his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but that’s not enough to take back the slip. No familiarity. No acknowledgement of their relationship. No divulging more details than strictly necessary. That had been part of the agreement.

He wiggles the rubber block out from under the body’s back, moves it to support the head, cards his fingers—a fresh pair of gloves on—through its thick dark hair. Danny can’t feel it but hums a wordless thanks anyway, watching in the mirror. There’s the faintest shiver of motion at his eyes; not the eyeballs themselves but of a fey light within. It’s the only sign anyone’s still in there.

He makes the incision across the crown, sloping from behind one ear to the other. The scrape of the scalpel against bare bone makes Danny suck in a breath. He peels, he cuts, he peels. He whispers an apology as the anterior flap covers the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the chin. The inhabit’s imagined breaths come faster than ever, but it’s only the dark that upsets him. It is. The dark, the numbness, the helplessness. A hell that can’t be imagined, only experienced.

He moves quicker now, his narration stuttering in favor of action. The posterior flap peeled and cut and folded out of the way, then both of the temporal muscles severed. The scalpel traded for a blade like a bread knife to etch out a rough guideline around the crown of the exposed skull. Then the hammer and chisel.

Danny whimpers all throughout.

As soon as the brain—the same gray-green color of mold—has been removed, he gently pulls the anterior flap back, lets it dangle over empty space as he wipes the body’s face clean of a few green drips. “Keeping this one for testing, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Okay,” the body whispers.

“Nearly finished now.”

“I know. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. He can’t afford to. The brain—what a brilliant kid, a professional ghost hunter, reaching for the stars since he first realized they were up there, the sum of his son cradled in his hands and this isn’t ever going to get any easier, it’s not, it’s not, it’s not—

He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself. Sets the brain carefully aside to be dealt with shortly. Soft as Jell-O, brains are, but unfathomably powerful. Science has only scratched the surface of what goes on in that three-pound mass. Danny might still be—somehow—tied to the body, but maybe the answer lies in the brain.

Nearly finished. He can do this.

The skullcap is held awkwardly in place as he sews the scalp closed. It’ll be good as new in no time, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still take care to make the stitches tidy. He uses the back of his hand, the cleanest part of his glove, to smooth the dark hair over the seam.

“This concludes the ninth examination of Daniel Fenton, AKA Phantom,” he croaks into the microphone, and at last, at last, he can kill the recording. As soon as he has he reaches up to nudge the mirror askew so Danny doesn’t have to stare at himself a second longer.

“Done,” he says, his voice gone hoarse again.

“Yeah,” the body says.

He stands there a long, long minute, braced on the examination table staring down at the twisted corpse of his son, both splashed with any number of ghostly-bodily fluids. Arms shaking, his knees rubbery, breathing through a throat of sand. He’s tired. He’s tired. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this.

As long as he has to. As long as it takes to help Danny. That’s how much longer he has to. No ifs, ands, or buts.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks.

He laughs. It comes out wetter than he meant it to, but it’s fine. All of the recording equipment is off. The only person who’ll see him cry now is Danny. “Sh—shouldn’t I be asking that?”

“Maybe,” Danny says, “But it’s not easy on anybody. Is it?”

“...No. No, it’s not.”

He’s made such a mess of this corner of the lab. Maddie’d be furious with him if she saw. Not that she will. He’s cordoned it off with tall curtains and begged her on bended knee to leave this whole ugly mess to him. She hasn’t looked yet. He’d know if she had. He's seen the way her eyes linger on the curtains while they're working in another part of the lab, how her hands fumble, how her mouth thins. She's not slept more than four hours at a time since—

Since.

"Quit staring," the body orders. "Mom'll blow a gasket if you leave the lab like this. So c’mon now. Hop to it."

He laughs again, sniffling thickly as he pats the mottled green hand nearest him. Danny can't feel or see him do it, but it feels right to do it all the same. "You're a good boy, keeping your old man on task."

Danny hums. "Somebody's got to."

Well. That’s true enough, isn’t it? He’s always needed a firm hand to keep him focused. It’s been Maddie since the day they met in college, his rock in all things. All things but this. He won’t let her carry this burden. Not the messiest parts he can protect her from anyway.

So. Another checklist.

Juggling trays full of specimens off the second examination table to the counter so he can wipe the table clean. Then cleaning the body. Then moving the body to the second table so he can clean and sterilize the first.

(Like a twisted game of musical chairs, Danny had joked once. Neither of them had laughed.)

But before that comes organizing and storing all the specimens for Maddie to study tomorrow with that eagle eye and incredible patience of hers. She’s doing the real work, laying out all the pieces of Danny to see what makes him tick, working on a way to free him even as she tries to understand him. They’ve dedicated another corner of the lab to this; nearly an entire wall, really. All their other work has gone by the wayside, shelved apart from the necessity of dealing with any ghosts that slip out to wreck a little havoc.

Funny, how few times that’s happened—since. They’d worried, once Jazz and Sam and Tucker had told them the whole terrible truth, that the ghosts might celebrate Phantom’s condition. Take advantage of his helplessness to get revenge or at least run amok in Amity Park. They know news got out; the ghost Phantom had been after the day Maddie got her lucky shot in had gotten away.

But there’s been nothing. Almost nothing, apart from a few non-sapient threats. Mean and cunning things, but nothing half so dangerous as they’d feared would come. Danny doesn’t seem surprised, or worried for that matter. If he knows something though, he’s staying quiet.

Once he’s passed back through the curtains the body says, “Jazz visited me again last night.”

The curse slips out him before he can help it, anger and worry and shame and grief a hot migrainous mess hammering away at his skull, matching the pace he’d chiseled at Danny’s. “She knows better—!”

“Yeah, and I told her to get out too.” Danny chuckles. “She never listens though.”

“I….” He sighs and shakes his head, exasperated. “...Yeah. She gets that from your mother. How is she?”

“Figured that’d be obvious.”

“She won’t talk to either of us,” he replies, and goes to clean and disinfect the table and floor. Easiest to get that done with before he spends 20 minutes hunched over the sink and autoclave. His back’s already clamoring for a hot shower and a handful of ibuprofen after—

Well.

“She’s not as angry as she was,” Danny says in a pause between clangs. “She hardly cried at all this time.”

“Good. That’s—good.”

“Hey, Dad? Do me a favor?”

He’s at Danny’s side at once, taking one hand in his and leaning enough to be in more than Danny’s frozen peripheral. “What is it?”

“She’s gonna try to sneak Sam and Tucker down here this week—”

“What?”

“—so can you make sure the security system will let them in?”

His knee-jerk reaction is to put his foot down, to remind Danny and then Jazz of how tenuous a position they’re in with the GIW, of how they can’t afford the littlest slip or look for loopholes or do anything to risk Danny—

But.

Danny’s been down here so long now. Alone apart from him, from Maddie’s voice on the other side of the curtains, Jazz’s midnight visits. Just his family and the ceiling and hours of silence and a hundred experiments and failures and—

And that’s no way to live. That’s no way to live at all.

“Is that what you want?” He asks.

“I… I really don’t want them to see me like this,” There’s nothing but revulsion in Danny’s voice, self-loathing and guilt and horror. “But they’ll do it no matter what I tell Jazz, and I don’t want them to get caught either.”

“Okay. Okay then. I think I can finagle three days before anyone might notice. Make sure she knows.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He goes back to cleaning, finishes the area and moves to the instruments and trays. Ectoplasm is notoriously difficult to scrub out. It takes time. The smell of bleach burns his eyes and nose, eventually overpowering the citrus sting of ectoplasm. Once the autoclave is set to run he tosses the latex gloves into the hazardous waste bin and takes a moment to let his hands breathe. Never did like the feel of latex, but his usual pair don’t allow him the finesse he needs for—well, this kind of work. His fingertips have gone pale and wrinkled. His fingers ache. His wrists are on fire, to say nothing of his shoulders and back.

How many more times is he going to do this?

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” Danny says. Too quickly.

“Be honest, kiddo. Please.”

“I… Cold. Heavy. Like I got stuck phasing through the ground, and any second I’m gonna slip up and go solid and it’ll—” Danny makes a small, miserable noise and falls silent.

He rubs his aching eyes, gritting his teeth against every stupid, useless thing he wants to say. He’d asked, hadn’t he?

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been months.”

“I know.”

Danny’s voice breaks. “I have to get out of here.”

“I know,” he repeats. It’s the only thing to say. He’s exhausted all apologies. “We’re trying, son. We’re working on this day and night. We’ll get you sorted, you know we will.”

“...Yeah. I know.”

He forces his aching legs to the cabinet to pull out a fresh sheet to drape over the body, then Danny’s comforter over that, pulling them both up to the body’s chin to hide the edges of the incision. “Eyes open or shut tonight?”

“Um. What time is it?”

He glances at the wall as he carefully swaps the rubber block under the body’s neck for a plastic-wrapped pillow. “Just after midnight.”

“When will Mom be down?”

“Six sharp, same as always.”

“Right. Um. Shut’s fine.”

He gently tugs the medical tape off the body’s face, smoothes the eyebrows flat and brushes the bangs aside. The green skin feels even colder on his bare fingers.

This is the part where he bids his dead son good night and retreats upstairs. This is the part where he passes by Jazz and Maddie with his eyes firmly on his feet. This is the part where he near boils himself in the shower until he feels almost clean again, scrubbing his skin raw to wash the smell of ectoplasm away. This is the part where there’s only nightmares followed by silent hours spent staring at the ceiling of their bedroom, trying to imagine how helpless and terrified Danny is down here.

He stays where he is, hands braced on the table again. He asks the question that's festered in his gut ever since Jazz threw herself over Phantom's prone shape and spat the truth out through a stream of furious tears. "...Why didn't you tell us?"

Danny is quiet for a long, long time. Then, "I was always gonna end up on this table."

He shudders, pulling away. "We— you don’t really think that. Do you? We love you, Danny. We wouldn't. If we'd known, we wouldn't have."

Another long silence. Then, "Good night, Dad."

“I….” He shuts his eyes, weary in a way he’ll never find the words to express. “Good night, Danny-boy.”

He shuts the lights off on his way up the stairs.

Notes: Decellularization is cool as hell. Check out the >Wiki page< for it, and if you don’t some close-up pictures of a pig heart >here< is a fascinating DIY to create your very own ghost organ as a Halloween decoration! (Scientists are amazing.) For the rest of the research I did for this, I’ll just say that boy! You sure can find some extremely specific How-Tos on the Internent, huh? I sure learned a lot this week!

Anyway, thanks for reading! You’re great. <3

#danny phantom #phango19 #my writing #body horror #gore #dissection #i went all out y'all and i am not sorry #the research rabbit hole was intense on this one #my search history is WILD

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unofficialkfamtranscripts · 4 years

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King Falls AM - Episode 10: Medium Rare

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Summary: September 15, 2015 - Sammy & Ben welcome in studio guest, medium Miss Olivia DuPont, however a miscommunication of her talents brings up some painful memories that both Ben & Deputy Troy wish to forget.

[podcast intro music]

Sammy [agitated] I’m not gonna debate you ma’am, I’m just trying to say that gravity really isn’t something that’s up for discussion, sheesh.

Ben [amused] Don’t take it personally. Mrs. Bodenheimer told me in third grade that she didn’t believe in air.

Sammy …conditioning?

Ben Oh, no! Air. In general. She thought oxygen was a satanic fairy tale concocted by God-hating scientists.

Sammy [disbelieving] Yet she was in charge of educating you and hundreds of other youngsters.

Ben College diploma goes a long way in a little town, buddy.

Sammy Alright, well up next we’ve got a pretty interesting visitor coming in studio with us.

Ben Hopefully so!

Sammy O— you don’t know her?

Ben I do not, but she sent us a ton of emails during the electrolocaust and said she was a big fan.

Sammy All of them say she has a special talent she’d like to share with us and the listeners

Ben Absolutely, and she’ll be coming up after a word from our sponsors.

[dramatic eerie music]

Announcer On the season premier of the nation’s number one paranormal investigation show: Mission Apparition. [theatrical crash] Dan and the team find themselves in a sticky situation. [static]

Dan [echoing] They had to shut this place down after all the accidents. This is Tanner’s Taffy factory and it’s been abandoned since 1991. [static]

Announcer …or has it?

Dan There’s, uh— God there’s a lot of EVP activity around [walkie talkie sound] Larry, Larry I’d think you better go.

[theatrical crash]

Dan [walkie click] [hushed] Larry? Larry! [walkie click] Larry go!

Larry [creepy, ascending, violin-screech sound effects] [through walkie] I see the lights, man, I see it

Dan Larry move your ass!

Announcer It’s another can’t-miss episode from the show that doesn’t miss a thing when it comes to the extraordinary: Mission Apparition

[News music]

NEWS ANCHOR Season premier, tonight at 9pm on King Falls Channel 13.

[KFAM theme]

Ben That is- ridiculous.

Sammy We’re live, Ben.

Ben I know! It doesn’t change the fact that “Mission Apparition” sucks as much as the channel that shows it.

Sammy It sounded pretty interesting to me.

Ben Dan and Larry from that show? wouldn’t know what to do in a haunted situation to save their lives. Stupid meters and light particles, [“stupid voice” imitation] “oh hey I know! let’s shoot some night vision so everything looks pretty scary and suspect!” Idiots.

Sammy You don’t have to get hot about it.

Ben Oh, I’m just fine, Sammy. I’m simply saying, Mission Apparition is a dumb show Made by dummies For dummies.

Sammy Ladies and gentlemen, please be sure to direct all your hateful tweets to @kingfallsam and we’ll make sure Ben answers each and every one.

Ben Get at me twitter! #bringit

Sammy *laughs* On a different note, we have a guest in studio with us tonight. She is a self-professed medium—

Olivia [slight South African accent] Miss Olivia DuPont. Heh, see I knew it was coming.

Sammy [laughing] You’re good Miss DuPont. So Ben tells me you emailed us in hopes of coming on the show?

Olivia I was very eager to come visit my favourite late-night AM talk show and maybe help some people with some closure along the way.

Ben Thanks Miss DuPont, we are happy to have you.

Olivia Oh, please call me Golden Owl. *Who-whoo who-whoo!*

Sammy Ummm…

Olivia *Laughs* What a hoot and riot, you should have seen your face Sammy. Please, call me Olivia.

Ben Ha. S- soo… um, you aren’t from King Falls, is that correct?

Olivia That is, I live a few towns over. Up in Big Pine. That’s where my shop is as well.

Ben I love Big Pine! I- I used to go camping there as a kid! It’s beautiful and so laid-back.

Sammy Laid-back? I didn’t know it got slower then King Falls!

Ben You’ll have to excuse Shotgun Sammy here, he’s a Big City guy.

Sammy Anyway, so how did you find out that you had this talent, Olivia? That you were a medium.

Olivia Oh, from a very young age. My parents were veterinarians and we lived in an apartment above their office, so I used to hear- so many lost souls. Day in and day out.

Ben Lost souls? Wh-why were these people hanging out at the vets?

Olivia [confused] People?

Sammy I’m sorry, Olivia. Maybe we’ve got our wires crossed here. We were under the impression that you were a psychic.

Olivia [firmly] Medium. Psychics are low life charlatans.

Sammy I’m sorry, a medium.

Olivia A medium is someone whose 6th sense is so in tune, so aware, that a bridge is made to the other side, in which we can communicate with our loved ones.

Ben Uh, but- but again why were the souls of people hanging out at your parents’ vet office?

Olivia *scoffs* What does this have to do with people, Ben?

Sammy Okay, this bridge that you’ve-you’ve built to the other side. Is it not for people?

Olivia [laughing] Heaven’s no!

Ben I’m lost.

Olivia Well I’m- one of a kind, I get human interference from- time to time, you know [long-suffering] a mother looking to reconnect with her kids, a brother that died in the war. Ugh. I ignore that. This is about our deceased loved ones. The furry kind, or feathered! or what-have-you.

Ben Wait. You talk to dead pets?

Olivia Harsh, but not incorrect Ben.

Ben [growing slightly frantic]Oh, no, see I-I-I booked you so we could talk about your gift and take some calls from the listeners, but—

Olivia We can take calls Ben.

Sammy So, to be clear, you have contact with human spirits and you just toss them to the wayside to talk to Fido.

Olivia *laughs* Anyone can talk to deceased humans, Sammy, especially here in King Falls. This place is beaming with activity- even the two of you could do it if you tried. But nobody talks to our long-lost pets.

Ben I’m sorry, this isn’t what we were looking for Miss DuPont.

Olivia Golden Owl. Hoh, excuse me boys *loud sigh* this one is coming on strong! MMMOOooo MMMrrrr… Moo. *loud sigh* Sorry boys,[solemnly] that was- that was a rough one. Cassie the Cow was crying out. She lived in one of those factory farms and she- *deep breath* was using me to tell the world about her last days in the Cowschwitz[sic].

Sammy Okay folks, we’re sorry. Just give us a minute or two so we can uh… So we can get this—

Olivia I seeee… a dog? forgive me- AAAOOOoo AWAWWOOooo ARAwwo *growls*

Ben [Irritated] Okay, I think we’ve heard enough.

Olivia Wolfington?

Ben This is insane.

Sammy [seriously] Wait. What color is the dog?

Olivia Black— oh a little-bit of brown. He looks like— a lap dog perhaps? Uhh…

Sammy A terrier!

Olivia Oh, of course, I can see it nowww. He’s just wagging his tail, so happy, chasing his ball- Oh! Ooh, he’s mounting your Teddy Ruxpin bear[1].

Sammy That’s him! Oh my gosh!

Ben [incredulous] Wolfington the terrier? Come oonnn.

Sammy That’s my dog, Ben! He ran away when I was in grade school.

Olivia Woof! RUFF! Ruff-ruff-rUFF! Oh. He wants you to know that he’s fine Sammy, Wolfington had a good life. He isn’t mad that you only ever shared your veggies at the dinner table.

Sammy [entreating] Heh, it’s all I could do little buddy! my mom was always watchin’!

Ben Sammy?

Sammy Uh, *clears throat* I mean, y-you know that’s- that’s good, that’s real good Olivia. Uh, thank you.

Ben What is going on here?! Snap out if it, Sammy, this is obviously a con. Facebook info- or something.

Olivia I seee— [whispered] what is it? Is it a bird?

Ben [mocking]Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

Olivia Is it a tiny… monkey? No— no no, dig deeper. Marsupial!

Ben You aren’t buying this, right?

Olivia I feeel a- a naame… Serendipity?

Ben [shocked] What the Hell?

Sammy Ben, you alright over there?

Ben I’m- fine. Um. Go on, Golden Owl?

Olivia Is it a… sugar glider!

Ben It is! Serendipity the sugar glider! Oh man.

Sammy You can’t be serious, Ben. Your parents bought you an exotic animal and the best name you can come up with is “Serendipity”?

Ben [defensive] It came already named, man, and No, for the record? we found it. There was a travelling zoo that came through the Falls. And the day after, my friends and I found a box, down at the fairgrounds, and inside? there was little Serendipity, looking back up at us.

Olivia He said he’s sorry that he couldn’t stay. He wishes he did, that mean man with the badge- well, [softly] and you know how that goes.

Sammy Uh, how what goes? What happened?

Ben [upset] I don’t want to talk about it.

Olivia He forgives you Ben.

Ben [forcefully] Golden Owl I said I’m done! Let’s Take some callers.

Sammy Ben, I’m sorry, but this seems like—

Ben [distressed] Why don’t you pry your fingers- into the open wound- of my heart, and dig it all out, Sammy? Sweet Jack in the Box Jesus.

Sammy … You’re right, I-I’m sorry Ben. Well, King Falls you’ve heard Serendipity’s story, now let’s hear yours. 424-279-3858. We are live with pet medium, Olivia DuPont a—

Ben Did he live a good life? Olivia? W-was he happy, like Sammy’s puppy?

Olivia Do you not know?

Ben Know what?

Sammy I’m so confused here.

Olivia Serendipity was a bit of an outlaw. Sugar Gliders are illegal to posses in the tri-state region because of the ’72 Sugar Flu outbreak.

Sammy Seriously, okay guys, I just pulled up Sugar Gliders on the googs, adorable!

Ben They were still illegal. My mom tried calling the travelling zoo but to no avail. And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to keep Serendipity, I loved the little guy but, one of my backstabbing “friends” from school said something to Bodenheimer … I-I don’t want to talk about this.

Sammy They took him away?

Ben Mrs. Bodenheimer did. She took him to the office, and I never saw him again. She said she was going to make sure he got back to the zoo, di-di-did he, Golden Owl?

Olivia MMEEEEOOOOOWWW MEOOOWWW *hisses* Sorry, a calico is summoning me.

Ben Cut the crap! What’s this about the man with the badge?

Olivia [nervously] O- of course I’ve just heard this second-hand. Ben— I mean who’s to say exactly- what happened? It- you know, it’s from a different perspective then we can understand.

Ben What happened?

Olivia Serendipity- bit the man with the badge on the drive and- was tossed out the window. Into the river. Then- eventually down the falls. *chitters and hisses*

Ben That son of a bitch, w-wha-who’s name was on that badge?

Olivia It’s murky. Hard to grasp. Serendipity is jumping from nether tree to nether tree- Oh! Oh! I think I have it. [straining] G. U. N. Oh, I can’t see- D?

Ben [angrily] I knnnew it.

Olivia Take it with a grain of salt Ben- I mean, it’s just one version, from [laughingly] a marsupial no less.

Ben He was an awesome. possum. I-I gotta step outside for a minute [chair squeak].

Sammy While Ben takes a little break, let’s take a few callers.[door closing] Give us a call King Falls. Let’s talk about your dearly departed, uh, pets.

Olivia I’m ready.

Sammy Line 4, you’re live with Sammy and Miss Olivia DuPont.

Troy Gosh darn it, Sammy, I’m really sorry to hear about Ben’s little buddy.

Sammy I’m sure he’ll appreciate the kind words Troy, I’ll be sure to pass them on buddy .

[police radio can be heard faintly in bg]

Troy [solemn] I’ve got a confession to make that I ain’t proud of. I… I was the reason for the demise of little Serendipity. Such a sweet little fella. I just didn’t know he get taken away, y’know? For good.

Sammy Wait. You’re the reason Serendipity was taken away?

Troy Ah hells bells Sammy, I was the one that rolled over on Ben but— I didn’t mean for the little furry guy to get taken away! It was just a real kerfuffle on this end.

Sammy This explains so much.

Troy Me and Ben was best buddies coming up, Sammy. I didn’t want to tell on him, but little Serendipity got frisky one day at lunch and sh[bleep] on one of the teacher’s Mexican pizza. Tough ol’ Bodenheimer cornered me ‘cause she thought he was mine. Ben ain’t never gonna forgive me and that’s deserved.

[door closing]

Sammy That’s all in the past Troy. I’m sure- someday –

Ben Sorry about that guys. Some-someday what?

Sammy Oh, uh- y-you know- we-we’re just taking calls from listeners right now Ben. On the line we’ve got- Troy.

Troy [mournful] Hey Ben. Man I was listening to the program tonight, when I heard Miss DuPont pontificatin’ about the dead animals and su—

Ben [Hastily] Now’s not the time Troy, especially from you!

Troy I’m hurtin’ something awful about Serendipity, buddy. How many times do I have to apologize to make it right?

Ben Loose Lips Sink Ships, Troy, the ship of friendship. Have fun on the SS Backstabber. [click, dial tone] Line 1, you’re live on King Falls AM. Prepare your tissues.

Ron Boys, I won’t keep you long. This question is for, Golden Owl? is that right?

Olivia Yes.

Ron Before my question ma’am, you might want to work on that name. It might just be me, but it sounds like a sophisticated lemon party for birds.Not that I’m against that sort of thing. Sh[bleep] even last night—

Sammy Ron Begley, ladies and gents.

Ron Alright I get it, enough foreplay. Brass tacks Miss Owl, how does it work if you didn’t particularly own the pet, but you saw it as a kid, grew up near it, fed it, maybe had a puff the magic dragon relationship with it.

Ben He wants to know if you can tap into your unending source of pain and find Kingsie’s parents. Maybe tell us how they were, harpooned by Japanese tourists in front of Kingsie as a baby and made into sashimi.

Olivia Mr. Begley I’m not sure if that’s really in my wheelhouse, but perhaps if you introduce me to this Kingsie you’re referencing?

Ron Well hell yeah! How can I get a hold of you to make an appointment?

Sammy All of Miss DuPont’s information is on our website Ron, or you can check it out on twitter at—

Ron Yeah yeah, @, ampersand, hashtag, underscore, exclamation mark dot dot dot King Falls dot net. Shut your sweet little trap Sammy! I got it! I’ll be in touch soon Golden Owl. [mildly exasperated] But seriously, work on that name

[click, dial tone]

Ben Other than, re-breaking everyone’s hearts, Olivia— what do you get out of this?

Olivia I’m sorry for the troublesome story, Ben. Not all of them -hardly any of them- end so badly.

Ben So I’m just the lucky one.

Sammy Ben—

Ben I’m so glad to hear that not everyone’s pet got thrown out of a moving car and into Peace river and down the falls by Sheriff damn Gunderson. That’s the silver lining, right?

Olivia If it’s true.

Ben [skeptical] You get a lot of lying cats and dogs in your line of work, Olivia?

Olivia [awkwardly] Not— to my knowledge.

Ben He did it.

Sammy Okay, let’s not go making accusations it could have been any number of deputies, maybe even from a different county, I mean who can say?

Ben [insistent] It was Gunderson, I just know it. He literally damn near spelled it out! Ask him to spell out the rest, Olivia.

Olivia He saysss, *sigh* Golden Owl, your business license is up for renewal, so don’t rock the boat?

Ben BULL!

Sammy *clears throat* Olivia, we’re gonna take another phone call here in a minute. Perhaps, uh, before that you could give us a light-hearted example of a run in with someone’s, uh, expired creature.

Olivia Well, there was this one encounter with Bruce the Stingray.

Sammy [incredulously] A stingray. Now, what’s a dead stingray got to talk about?

Olivia Well, Steve Irwin[2] for one.

[KFAM outro]

[Credits]

REFERENCES:

[1] Teddy Ruxpin - Teddy Ruxpin is an animatronic children's toy in the form of a talking 'Illiop', a creature which looks like a bear. The creature's mouth and eyes move while "reading" stories played on an audio tape cassette deck built into its back.

[2] Steve Irwin - “The Crocodile Hunter” was an Australian zookeeper, television personality, wildlife expert, environmentalist and conservationist. Possibly best known for the show “The Crocodile Hunter” (1996–2007), an internationally broadcast wildlife documentary series, which he co-hosted with his wife Terri. They also co-owned and operated Australia Zoo, about 80 kilometres (50 mi) north of the Queensland state capital city of Brisbane. Steve died on September 4, 2006, after being pierced in the chest by a stingray barb while filming in Australia's Great Barrier Reef.

#king falls am #king falls #kfam #sammy stevens #ben arnold #kfam transcripts #kfam ep10 #olivia dupont #Ron Begley #troy krieghauser #mission apparition

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brokenbloodlinesrp · 5 years

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🎅 secret santa 🎅

Seres sobrenaturales, intuimos que ya han escuchado acerca la actividad llamada Santa Secreto. Por ello deseamos incluirla una vez más en esta época del año. ¡Esperamos que se diviertan! Si tienen dudas, pueden comunicarse al ask o chat del main.

¿De qué va esta actividad?

El Santa Secreto consistirá en el envío de mensajes forma anónima a una persona designada para conocer más de ella.

Instrucciones:

Los participantes, o santas, deberán enviar al menos un mensaje diario a la persona que les tocó. Pueden preguntar por sus intereses, sus personajes en broken, su vida en el rol, sus gustos, disgustos, etc.

Sin embargo, no pueden preguntar aspectos personales. Nos referimos a develar su nombre de algún modo. Nos regimos bajo un seudónimo para la seguridad de nuestros usuarios.

Deberán abrir sus anónimos durante los días de actividad, al igual que activar el submit. No obstante, si existen inconvenientes, les pedimos que nos avisen de inmediato al main.

El último día de la actividad la identidad de los santas secretos serán reveladas, acompañadas de un gráfico hecho por ustedes acerca del personaje que rolea el usuario. Ejemplo: Kol es el santa secreto de Genevieve, el último día envía a su sumit un gráfico de Genevieve más un mensaje revelando que se trataba de él, el cual pueden enviar al submit de cada personaje o subir a su blog y etiquetarlos. Recuerden etiquetarlo como #brokenedits.

Estaremos enviando los mensajes de manera privada durante el día de mañana. A partir de recibir su nombre, pueden comenzar a enviar sus preguntas.

Modo de envío: Este año hemos decidido implementar preguntas estructuras que pueden utilizar. Sin embargo, si alguien prefiere una interacción coloquial, puede hacerlo. La primera parte contiene preguntas para el usuario; mientras que la segunda parte son sobre tu personaje.

¿Debo enviar desde el primer mensaje los ask sugeridos?

No, pueden presentarse primero si lo desean.

¿Es obligatorio utilizarlos?

No, son para hacer más ameno y diferente esta versión. Pero pueden preguntar lo que deseen mientras cumpla lo mencionado anteriormente.

Actividad realizada del día 13 al 21 de diciembre.

Preguntas sugeridas bajo read more.

Preguntas para el usuario.

Playlist. ( x )

1- Best/your fav playlist you have listened to so far?

2- Your favorite playlist soundtrack?

3- Fav sci-fi playlist?

4- Fav D&D/Actual Play playlist?

6- Playlist that makes you laugh the most?

7- Favorite horror/thriller playlist?

10- Which playlist do you listen to the most?

11- Have you listened to any YouTuber’s playlist? If so, who’s was it?

13- How many playlist do you have in your library?

15- Favorite playlist genre?

16- If you could magically travel to the world of one playlist, which one would it be and why?

17- If you had to be one playlist character for a week which one would you be and why?

18- (Random playlist Character) vs. (Other Random playlist Charactet): who would win in a fight?

21- Playlist you are currently listening to?

80′s movies ask. ( x )

bill and ted’s excellent adventure: are you more of an optimist or pessimist?

back to the future: which decade in the last century would you most have liked to live in?

the breakfast club: which high school stereotype do you fit into best?

ferris bueller’s day off: what’s your guilty pleasure?

the goonies: what was the last thing to make you laugh?

the outsiders: why is your best friend your best friend?

the lost boys: would you rather be immortal or objectively beautiful to everyone?

stand by me: why did you last go on a road trip?

pretty in pink: what’s your signature ‘look’?

drugstore cowboy: which historical figure most spikes your interest?

ghostbusters: where were you when you watched your favourite movie for the first time?

sixteen candles: at which age do you consider a person to be mature?

dirty dancing: where were you when you first heard your favourite song?

better off dead: why did you last laugh so hard it reduced you to tears?

heathers: did you apologise the last time you were unreasonably mean?

parenthood: is there anyone you’re not biologically related to that you consider ‘family’?

permanent record: where were you the last time you told someone you loved them?

st. elmo’s fire: what’s one piece advice you would give to someone two years younger than yourself?

dangerous liaisons: which language would you most like to learn?

rumble fish: who do you look to for guidance in times of need?

e.t.: what’s one ‘weird’ feature that you love about yourself?

young guns: what’s one style that you love on others, but would never try yourself?

oxford blues: why did you last pretend to be something you’re not?

dead poet’s society: the last time you made a decision that everyone around you told you not to make, how did it work out?

Ships. ( x )

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr. (You don’t have to care about it or follow it; it just has to be something that Tumblr made you aware of.)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves. (Characters you’re neutral about are fair game, as are characters you merely dislike. Characters that you absolutely loathe with the fire of ten thousand suns are exempt, as there is no point in giving yourself an aneurysm over a character that you hate.)

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

V - Which character do you relate to most?

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

give me a character (from anything ever) in my ask and I’ll rate:

can you relate to this character on a personal level?: no | not really | somewhat | yes | they are me

Give me 6 characters and I’ll tell you who i would: ( x )

Push off a cliff

Kiss

Marry

Set on Fire

Wrap a Blanket around

Be Roommates with

Send me a fandom and i’ll tell you:

adarkling:

the character i least understand

interactions i enjoyed the most

the character who scares me the most

the character who is mostly like me

hottest looks character

one thing i dislike about my fave character

one thing i like about my hated character

a quote or scene that haunts me

a death that left me indifferent

a character i wish died but didn’t

Curiosity

death-is-legion:

Deep Red - I’m in love with you.

Red - I love you.

Pink - I think you’re cute.

Blue - You’re amazing.

Rose - You’re pretty

Purple - You’re hot.

Violet - I would date you.

Aqua - I could stay on your blog for hours.

Lavender - You are my tumblr crush.

Orange - I want to get to know you.

Tangerine - We have a lot in common.

Amber - I wish you would notice me.

Cream - I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog.

Anon or not, make me choose between (and i’ll gif it):

Show: _______ or ________ ?

Character: ________ or _________ ?

Pairing: _________ or _________ ?

Anything: ________ or _________ ?

Preguntas acerca de tu personaje:

Let’s try this

red: seven insecurities

orange: six fears

yellow: five turn ons

green: four life goals

blue: three fears

indigo: two weaknesses

violet: one thing you love

20 asks for writers.

Some of these can also be used for canon muses. ( x )

When did you create your muse?

Where did you find inspiration for your muse?

Tell us something about the world/universe in which your muse lives.

What’s your favourite headcanon about your muse?

What’s something only very few people know about your muse?

Are there parts of your muse that resemble parts of yourself?

How many face claims do you have or have you had for your muse?

How did you choose the name for your muse?

If your muse could be a canon character in any fandom, which fandom would you choose?

Do you ship your muse with any canon characters?

Do you ship your muse with any other original characters?

Share a song that matches with your muse!

If your muse were the main character in a movie/book/show/game/…, what would it be called? What would it be about?

Do you have any NPCs for your muse’s world or story? If yes, can you tell us something about them?

Share a random headcanon about your muse!

Is your muse religious?

What is something about your muse’s background story that you’ve always wanted to have a thread about?

Give us one thing from your muse’s wishlist that you really want to write in a thread!

List some of your muse’s favourites! (eg. food, movie, book, song, drink, place, celeb, etc.)

This or that according to your muse: morning or evening? Marvel or DC? Mayonnaise or ketchup? Books or movies? Red or blue? Black or white? Halloween or Christmas?

For each “ 💐 “ I receive, my muse will tell you one thing about their ideal dream wedding

Headcanons: ( x )

✿: What is your muses favourite scent?

☼: What is your muses favourite kind of weather?

☤: Is your muse allergic to anything?

♫: Does your muse like music? What kind?

✉: What is something your muse would write about?

✈: How far has your muse travelled away from their home?

💕: Does your muse have any crushes?

★: What is your muse’s zodiac?

✞: Does your muse have an religious beliefs? What are they?

∞: Is there something about your muse that has been constant throughout their life?

✘: What are your muses pet peeves?

💲: What is your muse like with their money? What’s their financial situation?

⚽: What’s your muse’s favourite sport?

✔: What is your muse’s sexuality?

✋: Is your muse left or right handed?

👓: Does your muse need reading aids? Contacts or glasses?

🎒: What does your muse normally keep in their bag?

🚑: Does your muse have any disabilities/impairments?

👕: What is your muse’s fashion sense like?

🎲: Does your muse like to gamble?

🍕: What’s your muses favourite food?

🍸: Does your muse like to consume alcohol? What’s their favourite kind?

💉: Does your muse have a substance addiction? To what?

#brokenbloodactividad #secret santa

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 6 years

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-this bitch.....empty

- G o d okay so we all know I'm an absolutely useless person when it matters, right? that’s common knowledge. that’s public record.

- When I got there tonight I tried to help out with wires and lights and shit and I am just so,,,,,,,,,beyond inept oh my God I felt so bad

- Couldn’t tape properly....couldn’t find the right wires TWICE so Tom ended up having to come find them himself anyway when he asked me to do it solely so he wouldn’t have to run back and forth......couldn’t set the lights properly.....couldn’t remember where to plug shit into even though I was told moments before.....hit the wrong buttons causing people to think the lights were broken for a solid fifteen minutes.....somehow ended up completely covered in saw dust.....like I’m truly such a hindrance omfg

- it was???? 900 degrees in the theater???? For no reason???? I had the fucking chills yesterday so I dressed in a sweatshirt this wasn’t fair

- They didn’t get through act one...the world is shocked

- The director tried to move 1 (one) set piece and then said ‘I hate doing stage crew, I don’t wanna do stage crew anymore’ and Tom, in a whisper of barely-concealed rage, was like ‘I don’t want to do stage crew and set design and lights and sounds and projections and-’ and I cant even finish this list bc I cant remember every thing he does but I was just dying honestly this poor guy needs to escape omfg

- The opening scene for ‘Magic To Do’ and shit. okay. listen. It opens on a black screen with whitehanded gloves coming out and then Tom’s putting a black light on them, and THAT looks awesome. But....moving the screen and the screen itself look like garbage oh my God

- The kid she cast as Pippin. listen. He’s funny and I like him. If you’ll refer back to my in the heights posts, he was Sonny

- ...remember how I also said the kid playing Sonny was very talented but seemingly untrained and thus the weakest link in the main cast

- O H M Y G O D

- Listen, he’s good, but the kid that understudied for Pippin yesterday was a much better singer, and he literally didn’t even know any of the songs he was singing...I just have QUESTIONS, you know?

- Steven, who’s playing Charlemagne...his mic just decided it Didn’t Feel Like It today

- Oh my God so the two Leading Player’s right. Okay, the one kid, I’ve known him since he was like, ficking 9 or something and he was practically born on a stage. Amazing projection. His mic died halfway through the rehearsal and we literally didn’t even notice. He’s solid. But the GIRL. I love her but she’s so INCONSISTENT. First she’ll sing too quietly, so we’ll turn her mic up....and then she’ll decide to be loud, so we have to turn it down....over....and over....and over...oh my God. And considering her scene partner is SO LOUD like it’s just. Messy.

- “It’s not even six’o’clock and I already don’t wanna be here“

- A lot of the dances have potential to be good but it just seems like no one in the cast,,,,,knows them

- So much high school musical and bye bye birdie and rent was sung???? But the most unholy moment was when Tom suddenly remembered we were in 13 together a million years ago and fucking went “We alllllll haaaaave....a little more MAAAAGIC TO DO” I almost screamed the worst mashup I could imagine and now its STUCK IN MY HEAD

- There were so many moments where Tom would be like ‘they need to _____’ and it fell on death ears and then less than five minutes later someone else would suggest that idea and he’d be like “OH. OH DO YOU THINK THATS A PLAN???” lmao

- asdfgh they got in their places for ‘War is a Science’ and Tom was like ‘lol they way they’re set up reminds me of La Vie Boheme’ but then they....started doing the dance and we were like WHAT THE SHIT bc it was TOO CLOSE to our La Vie Boehme lmaoooo

- I’m so hung up on the decapitated head that talks to Pippin like I really don’t remember that ever happening and no one will tell me why it’s happening omfg

- The directors baby grandson is Always Here but I got to ‘talk’ to him tonight and like....words cannot truly express but this is literally the most adorable child on the planet??? He deadass has anime eyes, guys, wtf

- We’re trying to get Charlemagne a laser pointer wish us luck

- “Just give him one and see how long it takes the director to fucking notice. It’ll be the last show I promise”

- We had an actual discussion on why purple was a ‘royal’ color

- I swear apart from like the two or three kids I knew for a long time and was like in other shows with,,,,,,these kids hate me or sm like TEENAGERS, man, omfg

- “Ahhh, yes....the company’s official old lady wig”

- “Oh my God. Oh my God it looks like a fucking TED talk”

- “I...okay, kid, I GUESS that was technically a falsetto-”

- Tom: “If she moves my fucking speaker, I swear to God. Don’t-”

The director: *all but kicks his speaker out of the way*

Tom: “JUDITH ESTELLE-”

- I had to explain who Matthew McConaughey is

- Tom decided today, after 8? 9? years of knowing me, to suddenly start calling me “Moll” but when he’s across the room no one can fucking tell if he’s saying “Moll” or “Mom” so we were confused half the night

- “How do you not know who the Visigoths are?” “Listen I went to Catholic school we just kinda lightly touched on the Crusades okay”

- I got physically ill from how hungry I was

- “Drowsy Chaperone is much better at being a meta musical” “It’s newer, it learned from Pippin’s mistakes”

- There’s been so much staple gun drama for some reason and my mother literally ran into the directors husband at Lowes because of it

- “Imagine going to your Grandma’s house hoping for a fun and meaningful visit but then she just sings for like five minutes then has a group of men carry her away”

- Oh my God,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,the scene where Pippin’s like banging everyone in the country

- So what’s SUPPOSED to happen: He has a dance with a bunch of girls, some guys come out and join the mix, the dancers pair off and get into ~~~suggestive~~~ poses until Pippin becomes tired and disgusted and decides Sex Isn’t The Only Reason For Living

- What’s ACTUALLY happening: He’s got this weird dance with like twenty girls, right...And then six boys come out...and line up and they do this lean thing while Pippin’s on his knees (”he’s EXPERIMENTING”) and then the girls have another dance break but it’s just like. random dance moves. Like, I’m NOT game for having a bunch of teenage girls pantomime the fucking kama sutra out here but the dance makes no sense and with the fact there’s only six ensemble boys who do Barely Anything it just reads less as ‘Pippin tires of sex’ and more as ‘Pippin gets chased away by a bunch of lesbians who were sending a lot of mixed signals’ asdfghjk

- All the body parts were thrown onto and taken off the stage by the tiny little kid playing Theo and it shouldn’t have been so funny but it WAS omg

- This cast is NEVER CENTERED onstage and it’s driving me INSANE like there’s always a few stranglers on stage right and it looks so sloppy but my complaints are falling on death ears rip

- The foam sun....took like 20 minutes to hang up

- it’s there for O N E S C E N E

- I can’t type anymore I'm tired and literally still have saw dust on me but anyway: still not considering throwing myself into a fire pit

#pippin vagueblogging 2k17 #pippin #musicals #theater #molly mumbles

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cardcaptorcoconut · 7 years

Text

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card Arc Chapter 12 Translation

Sorry to be a little behind with this month’s full translation. I think there are already a few other versions floating around on the web already too, so I’m a bit late to the party this week. :)

I corrected the mistake I made in the first preview draft where I’d written one of Yue’s lines as being said by Tomoyo. Sorry for the confusion. As always, if anyone notices any errors, feel free to PM me. I do this for fun, but more often than not I only have time to translate when I’m already tired from work so I can miss things from time to time. ^^;

NOTE: There will be no new Clear Card Arc chapter next month. CCS will be on break for June, but Chapter 13 will be available on Monday, July 3rd in the August issue of Nakayoshi.

☆★Translations Notes Reminder★☆

Disclaimer: These are just fan translations. Please support the official release.

Cover Page Text: Nice to meet you. My name is Yuna D. Kaito.

Sweets, meals, and bentos -- he’s flawless at (making) everything and has watched over Akiho-chan. The very dreamy Yuna D. Kaito makes an appearance.

P1 Sakura: This is definitely… Sakura: If you touch it, it’s like a book is “there.” Tomoyo: Eh? But (we) can’t see anything. Sakura: Release!

P2 Sakura: You who is without a master, by (the power of) this staff of dreams, I command you to become my strength. Sakura: Secure!

P3 Sakura: It was a card after all. Sakura: “Lucid.” Sakura: It looks like this card makes things transparent so you can’t see them. Sakura: Tomoyo-cha-- Tomoyo: Once again “I thought something like this might happen!”

P4 Tomoyo: I’m so glad I brought my smartphone with me! Sakura: Hoeeee! Tomoyo: I’m a little worried about camera shakiness and image quality, but you have to make sacrifices when the going gets tough.

[Lit: …you have to make sacrifices in an urgent situation.]

Tomoyo: Sakura-chan! Please hold up a card and strike a pose! Sakura: O-o-okay. Sakura: Ah! Sakura: I left my smartphone behind and Kero-chan with it. Tomoyo: That’s right, isn’t it? Sakura: He’ll be upset that I didn’t bring him at a crucial time again.

P5 Akiho: Sorry to keep you waiting! Akiho: It’s this book… Akiho: Is everything okay?

[Lit: “Did something happen?” or “Is something the matter?”]

Tomoyo: This is such a lovely library, would you mind letting me take a picture? Akiho: Yes, of course! Akiho: This is it. Sakura: Huh? There’s no title.

P6 Akiho: It’s not written on the cover, but this book is called “Alice in Clockland” Sakura: “Alice in Clockland”? Tomoyo: It’s not “in Wonderland”? Akiho: Yes. Akiho: It’s not by the same person who wrote “Wonderland” and “Through the Looking Glass”, but it’s (very) interesting.

P7 Sakura: The cover is lovely too. Sakura: The hand of the clock is… Sakura: This clock… Sakura: I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before… Sakura: Where have I seen it…? Akiho: Sakura-san?

P8 Sakura: Sorry! I was really fascinated by how beautiful it is. <Text by Akiho says “Warm (feelings)”> Sakura: I wonder what kind of story it is. <Akiho opens the book> Sakura: I-I can’t read it… Tomoyo: It’s not English (text). I wonder what language it is. Akiho: I don’t know. Akiho: But I was taught how to read it, so I can somehow understand the story. Sakura: That’s amazing, Akiho-chan! Akiho: Oh no… not at all...

P9 Sakura: I’d love to know what kind of story it is.

[Lit: I want you to tell us what kind of story it is.]

Akiho: (It’s)-- <Phone rings and Akiho picks it up> Akiho: Kaito-san is asking if we’d like something cold to drink. Sakura: Is that alright? Tomoyo: <to Akiho> If you’re alright with that.

P10 <The book glows on the table> <Scene changes to Sakura’s house> Sakura: I’m home. Touya: Welcome home. Sakura: You’re (home) early. Touya: I got a break from one of my part time jobs.

[Note: The nuance is that his part time job might have gotten cancelled at the last minute.]

Sakura: Is that so? The cake shop? Touya: Nah, moving (company).

P11 Sakura: What’s for dinner tonight? Touya: Fried rice. Sakura: Waaah! Sakura: I’ll go get changed. Touya: Sakura. Sakura: What is it?

P12 Touya: Nah. Sakura: Hoe? Touya: Can I put konjac jelly in the fried rice?

[Note: For anyone who doesn’t know what konjac/konnyaku is, it’s a sort of jello-like food made from a konjac plant/vegetable. You can read about it here and see a photo of the kind Touya was most likely going to put in the rice here.]

Sakura: No way! Sakura: Man, you’re always so mean! Touya: Not yet, huh…

P13 <Scene changes to Sakura’s room> Sakura: After all of that, in the end Kero-chan was asleep when we got back to the living room. Sakura: <to herself> Even though he said things like “If anything happens, I’ll (help)!” <Sakura hugs Syaoran’s bear> Sakura: I’m home. Sakura: I can’t wait until next Sunday.

[Lit: I’m looking forward to next Sunday.]

P14 <Someone is watching Sakura from outside> Narration: The next Sunday…

P15 Sakura: I’m so glad the weather is nice! Sakura: Ah! I’ve got to hurry! I want to get there before the meeting time! <Scene changes to Kero and Yue video chatting> Kero: And so… Kero: Sakura went out with the brat. Yue: You didn’t go with them?

[Lit: 付いて行かなかったのか / You didn’t follow them?]

P16 Kero: Well, that’s to be expected today. Yue: I thought you’d be happily following along behind them… Kero: That’s what I thought (I / we) were going to do. <Flashback to Kero and Tomoyo’s conversation> Tomoyo: Let’s (give up on following) them, Kero-chan. Kero: Why? It’s a long-awaited chance (for you) to record. Tomoyo: As much as I also really want to… If I could, I’d REALLY, REALLY want to… Kero: …You seriously want to, don’t cha.

P17 Tomoyo: They haven’t had many chances to spend time just the two of them. Tomoyo: And it’s their long-awaited date. Kero: Yeaaah… That’s true, but… If something strange happens again… Tomoyo: If that happens, Li-kun will be there. <End flashback and scene switches back to Kero and Yue’s chat> Kero: …and that’s how we (ended up not going).

[Lit: …and that’s how we refrained.]

Yue: I see…

P18 Kero: But man, what’s up with Suppie not answering my calls too? Kero: I’ve got so much free time… Kero: Ah! Yue! Play an online game with me. <Yue hangs up> Kero: HEEEYYY!!

P19 <Scene switches to Sakura arriving for the date> Sakura: Syaoran-kun!! Sakura: I’m sorry to keep you waiting! Syaoran: No, I came too early. We (were) supposed to meet up in 12 minutes. Sakura: B-but I still made you wait!

P20 Syaoran: Don’t worry about it. Let’s go. Sakura: Yeah! Syaoran: What is it?

P21 Sakura: It’s nothing! <Sign reads “Tomoeda Botanical Garden”> Syaoran: To think there was a Botanical Garden here… Sakura: In early elementary school we came here on a school trip, but I heard that you hadn’t been (here). <Sakura hands Syaoran a ticket> Sakura: Here. Syaoran: Are you sure?

[Lit: Is it okay?]

Sakura: My dad got these for me at the university. He said to go with someone I’m close with.

P22 Syaoran: <blushing> …someone you’re close with. <Sakura blushes too> Syaoran: L-Let’s go! Sakura: Y-yeah! Sakura: All the flowers here are beautiful, aren’t they!

P23 Syaoran: They really are. Syaoran: Wow… you must’ve worked so hard to make all this.

[Lit: It must’ve been hard to make this.]

P24 <Sakura furiously shakes her head no> Syaoran: Can I eat it? <Sakura furiously nods her head yes> Syaoran: I’ll have some. Sakura: <to herself> How will this go? How will this go?!

P25 Syaoran: It’s delicious! Sakura: I’m glad…

P26 Sakura: I wish (this moment) would last forever…

P27 <Something starts to happen and interrupts Sakura & Syaoran’s date> Narration: A mysterious strong wind descends on Sakura and Syaoran during their precious time together…!

NAKAYOSHI ANNOUNCEMENT: Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Arc will be on break next issue. The next chapter will be available in the August edition of Nakayoshi (on sale July 3rd)!

#cardcaptor sakura #card captor sakura #cardcaptor sakura clear card arc #card captor sakura clear card arc #clear card arc #ccs #translations: clear card arc

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jae-bummer · 7 years

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My Idol: Part Eleven

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Wednesday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in specific missions to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what three idols will move on to the second date.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22

You had left Seunghyun slack jawed and confused, excusing yourself from the table and powering down flight after flight of steps. By the time you reached the sixth floor you were lightheaded and emotional, attempting to guide yourself through a veil of tears. As you continued down, your mind and your heart screamed, completely in a battle with themselves. You wished you had never even signed up for this stupid show. You felt like you were being consumed by fire from the inside out. What a pretty disaster this had all become.

You could just barely see the exit, one more set of stairs between you and your escape. You rushed down the steps, not taking heed of your movements. You knew as soon as your foot had missed the stair that you were in for a rude awakening. Your stomach dropped and there was nothing you could do as you began to tumble downward, blacking out as soon as your body hit the floor.

You opened your eyes slowly and groaned from the pulsing white lights. Loud beeps and mechanical noises erupted around you. You blinked repeatedly, trying to process the situation. Your eyes shifted across the room, coming to terms with the fact that you were laying in a hospital bed, covered in wires and blankets. Your gaze staggered across the room, taking in things of importance, but halting once they met a hunched figure wearing a grim expression.

“It’s still my date you know."

You closed your eyes, exhaling a hiss through your teeth. "I can’t do this anymore, Seunghyun."

You looked up wearily to Sweaty and Armpit who has appeared as if they moved by magic. The little green light blinked on their recording devices, neither looking conflicted with their actions. You should’ve read that contract more closely.

Your face moved to analyze Seunghyun. He looked tired…and disappointed. You took a deep breath, trying to recall exactly what had happened, but only remembered a fuzzy picture. You remembered running from your commitments, running from him. You were lost and didn’t know how to find a way out. You were hardly concerned about your physical status, but more concerned about your mental state.

"You have to,” Seunghyun sighed after a moment of silence. “If not for yourself…than for us."

You tilted your head and furrowed your brows, causing an instant pain to radiate through your skull. You made a mental note to remain as still as possible as you looked at Top.

"You should get some rest,” he sighed. “The nurse said you’re fortunate to not have cracked your skull. You have a sprained wrist, some internal bruising that will heal with time. Your saving grace was that you passed out before you completely hit the floor. Apparently when your body is limp, you’re less likely to break bones because you aren’t trying to catch yourself."

Seunghyun stood, hovering near the door as he looked back at you. He gave a brief nod before clutching the handle.

"Seunghyun,” you whispered, trying to process the new information. You weren’t ready for him to leave just yet. “What do you mean…?"

”…none of your bones-“ he began slowly.

"No, no, I got that part,” you croaked. “But what do you mean by…doing it for “us”?”

Seunghyun chuckled bitterly, leaning against the door jam. “For such an intelligent girl, you can be such a fool."

"Ex-excuse me,” you whispered.

“You’ve seen the show, the guys-"

"We can’t discuss the other episodes,” you interrupted.

“I don’t give a damn about what a piece of paper tells me that I can and can’t discuss,” Seunghyun grumbled. “You’ve watched these episodes Y/N, you know these men are infatuated with you…myself included."

His words hit you like a swift smack to the face. In the weeks you had spent on My Idol, you had attempted to convince yourself that most of the men’s actions were for production, simply a way they acted before cameras. You had never really considered that they were developing feelings as deep for you as you had subconsciously been doing for them. You had gone back and forth on their individual merits, cataloging every memory they had given you in your mind.

You had thought about what would happen after the show, shrugging it off as a simple experience with a new array of celebrity friends. But this show…my idol…could really end with two people falling in love…and a public relationship with a musician. The simple thought of it made your blood run cold. You felt nauseous as you looked at Top’s handsome face.

"Seunghyun…” you trailed, trying to shake the tears from your eyes for a second time today.

“I’m anticipating the next episodes,” he nodded. He took a few quick steps, crossing the room and appearing at your bed side. He placed a gentle hand through your hair, allowing you to nuzzle his palm as his fingers grazed your cheek. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me."

"But I can’t-” you began.

“Do I have to repeat the whole disregarding a piece of paper speech again?” He chuckled. He patted your cheek gently and smiled.“Don’t give up on us just yet."

”Is she crazy? she’s dating idols?!”“Maybe that fall will knock some sense into her!”“Ungrateful brat”“She’s not even that cute”“#votemr.kimintothefinaldate”

You grumbled to yourself, slamming your laptop shut before sliding it to the opposite side of the couch.

"If it sounds so great maybe you’ll get selected for next season.” you spat to no one in particular. “Jerks."

You checked the clock on the wall, pulling yourself to your feet. You were already tired and the day hadn’t even begun yet. Admittedly you were emotionally exhausted on top of the visible bruising that had now appeared on various parts of your body. You adjusted the brace the doctors had wrapped around your wrist a week or so ago and sighed. Only two more dates, and then the midseason voting. You tried to keep your thoughts carefree, just as the newly appointed My Idol counselor had suggested, but it was admittedly tough. The incident on last week’s episode had made it’s way across the cover of every tabloid and you were nervous that it would effect the next idol you would meet.

You tried to put on your bravest persona to conquer the day. Going from a nameless face in the bustling crowds of Seoul to a character on a reality television series was not for the faint of heart. You were constantly left questioning yourself and the whole process. You were scared. Not just of the notoriety and fame…but of falling in love.

And not having that love reciprocated.

This was a new fear that you hadn’t prepared yourself for initially. It had never really even begun to cross your mind until you had had the conversation with Seunghyun as he stood in the door of your hospital room. The whole situation felt surreal now as you looked back, but the feeling was eerily permanent.

You gathered your things, checking the time again as you made your way to the door. You were to meet your date at the cinema at three o clock.

Or at least that’s what you had thought.

You pulled on the handle of your front door and dodged, just as a strong hand nearly punched you in the face.

“Holy shit!” he gasped, springing backwards and covering his hands with his mouth. “Sorry! For the language…but more importantly almost hitting you. I was mid knock, and couldn’t stop the muscle memory, and I had to connect with the door, but I almost connected with your face instead. Did I mention I’m Sehun? Because I’m Sehun. Oh Sehun from EXO. I assume you’re familiar with EXO?”

You chuckled, nodded,and tilted your head as you looked up at the handsome man before you. Initially meeting your date was one of your favorite parts of My Idol. It was refreshing to see their different personalities and the relationships you would form. You remained cautious with Sehun though, especially after your mild emotional breakdown.

“Uh…” he trailed, scratching the back of his neck. His nervous energy radiated from his body and you couldn’t help but smile sadly to yourself. “Should I like…shake your hand…or?”

“We can bow,” you chuckled, giving him a small nod. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” he nodded with a smirk. “Oh!” HIs eyebrows shot up as he began digging through his pockets, smiling as he finally found what he was looking for. “I know like…every guy so far has gotten you flowers, so I thought you had more than enough of those, so I thought I’d give you this!”

You took the small paper gingerly from his hands and bit your lip. “Uh…Sehun, this is your photo card…”

“It’s collectable,” he nodded proudly, sticking his hands deep in his pockets as he began to rock back and forth on his heels.

“Right,” you nodded, trying to stifle a laugh. “Thank you?”

“Oh, it was no problem,” he smiled. “Just a little something to remember me by.”

“How could I forget,” you whispered, sticking the card into your bag. “Shall we?”

Sehun placed his hand awkwardly on your lower back as he ushered you through the door and into the cinema lobby. You looked up, making brief eye contact before he looked away, his cheeks a bright crimson. For someone so confident on stage, you were surprised by how shy he was.

“I picked a scary movie,” he nodded, biting his lip as he searched your face for any sort of reaction. “I’m not necessarily good with jump scares, but my arms are open if you need protection.”

“Is that right?” you croaked, thrown off by his greasy comment. It made you grin that he was beginning to loosen up and actually start flirting with you.

“Nope, I’m just saying that to lure you into a false sense of security,” he laughed. “So when the monsters attack, you have no one to run to.”

Your eyes grew wide, nearly falling over at Sehun’s abrupt use of sarcasm. You had heard that he was sassy, but hadn’t expected for the mood to shift so quickly. On the way to the movie theatre, he was a nervous mess, stumbling over his words as he tried to provide a comeback for nearly every tease you threw at him. He seemed to have reached his own element now, completely at ease with you after only a train ride.

“Well now I’m disappointed,” you nodded, regaining your wits quickly. Sehun was sharp, so you had to focus to be able to keep up. “What a pretty face to run to.”

“Glad you’ve noticed,” he grinned. “But my face looks like a Picasso painting when compared to yours.”

You looked down, smiling at the floor. Sehun’s compliment had caught you nearly as off guard as his sarcasm had. Maybe this date was what you needed to reassure yourself that you belonged on this show.

“I’m going to grab a popcorn and soda…two straws?” Sehun asked, tilting his head. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or shall we share one?”

“How scandalous,” you chuckled. “Two straws is fine.”

Sehun nodded before turning on his heel and walking toward the concessions stand. You spun as well, hugging your arms, and smiling to yourself. You bit your lip as you looked around, silently pleased with how the date was shaping up.

The emotion was short lived though as you furrowed your brows, noticing what seemed to be a familiar frame by a standee near the door of the lobby. He was half hidden behind a large cardboard cutout, advertising a new children’s movie to be in theaters this fall. You squinted, taking in the figure who wore a baseball cap and a black mask tight around his mouth. The face behind the mask looked at you with wide eyes, before shoving sunglasses onto his face, and spinning around. You stomped the few feet over to the man, dressed completely in black, and tapped on his shoulder.

“Jay,” you hissed. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

To be continued…

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wellamarke · 7 years

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ULTIMATE PLAYLIST: 2016 EDITION

Woops, it got to be March without me posting these. Here’s a little thing I’ve been doing since 2010, where I make a playlist of my favourite songs from the year. The 2016 list is very Lenka/Ingrid Michaelson heavy, for various reasons (but a big one being that Ingrid’s newest album ‘It Doesn’t Have to Make Sense.’ is one of my favourite albums of all time. The entire record features on this list - that’s never happened before.)

Putting the track listing under a cut because I tend to ramble on!

1. Blue Skies - Lenka “It's gonna be blue skies for you and I, we'll step out of the shadows and walk into the light” In some ways this song doesn’t feel very Lenka-y, being a little bit techno-y with echoes and such, but in all the ways that matter it’s a classic piece of Lenka goodness, uplifting and cutely cutely cute.

2. Somewhere Out There - Danny Pudi and Donald Glover “And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby, it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky!” So, if you’ve been following me for any amount of time you probably know that I became utter trash for the show Community this year (like, we’re talking, top 2 TV shows of all time level of trash, I love it so much, I don’t know how or why I lived before it) and especially Troy and Abed and their friendship. They sing this song as a duet to their rat in season 1 episode 10, aka the episode where my soul was finally consumed into Community hell never to return. The whole end section of that episode is a true gift, and it’s overlaid with this song. Which then becomes HORRIFICALLY APPROPRIATE for the two characters later in the show, leading to me just wanting to cry and/or die every time I hear it. So y’know. Top quality stuff.

3. Another Life - Ingrid Michaelson “It's in the galaxies and all the history books - I think we shared another life, don't you?” A beautiful song to start off the torrential downpour of tracks from this album (I’m not joking, every multiple of 3 on this list is from ‘It Doesn’t Have to Make Sense’. This is serious obsessive business.)

4. Get Together - Lenka “Now we're all together and I hope it lasts forever, got my people here tonight” Listen, show me a song that somehow alludes to a group of friends who love each other, and I’ll show you my new favourite song. I can’t. Get. Enough. (If you were wondering what appeals to me about the aforementioned Community, I’ll, er, give you 3 guesses?)

5. Ampersand - Bittereinder “Daar’s iets primitief in ’n stem en ’n beat, dis die eerste musiek, dis die voete om ’n vuur” I think this is the first year that Afrikaans has made it as the only extra language (not an Italian track in sight, woops) and this is prooobably the first song that’s ever got on one of these lists that could properly be called a rap, haha. I don’t know what it is about Bittereinder...I don’t usually like anything like this....but... it’s Bittereinder. They own me.

6. Celebrate - Ingrid Michaelson “This is my throwback song, it’s just like the ones, the ones that we used to know” My my, is this a nostalgia song? Welcome to my favourite songs ever, you rose-tinted bag o’ wistful feelings!

7. No Harm Tonight - Lenka “Nothing will harm you tonight, all of your darkness will turn into light” This song is sooooo beautiful, lyrically and musically and gaaaaah, it’s just so adorable. In a year when I have become even less emotionally demonstrative than ever (I know, but yeah apparently there was room to go further) I have compensated by collecting some of the mushiest songs going. Ya gotta reroute it to somewhere, I guess.

8. Toe Vind Ek Jou - Francois Van Coke (with Karen Zoid) “Ek het genoeg gegee, ek het genoeg geskree, ek het lankal terug geleer, maar nog steeds het ek probeer” AAAAH this song maaan. So good. If you’ve ever read one of these lists or just in general seen me talking about music, you may know I have a bIG weakness for duets, and particularly male/female duets, so, with the added bonus of it being Francois, this was always going to be a winner for me. Such a good song UGH.

9. Drink You Gone - Ingrid Michaelson “Like a sinking ship while the band plays on, when I dream you're there, I can't even sleep you gone” This song is honestly so painful. Aaah the emotion in the chorus is just, that shouldn’t be allowed in mp3 format. No, Ingrid, stop. (By which I mean never stop.) A deliberate misinterpretation of this song makes it an EXCELLENT and DEVASTATING Karen/Pete song (Humans ship of sadness). She can’t drink him gone, she can’t smoke him out... she can’t eat away the way that he ate her heart out.... because she’s a robot... ha .... geddit.

10. Joni Was Right - Marit Larsen “Time just sent me off to bed, love was just a word we said, I thought someone would always keep me safe” For obvious title-based reasons, I would have loved this song even if it was three hours of a duck trying to play a harmonica, but as it turns out, it’s my favourite kind of nostalgia-laden, bittersweet lyric and it’s so, so beautiful. Like, Marit Larsen didn’t even have to try to win me here but she still brought this masterpiece. Amazing. (More on the ridiculous levels of coincidence surrounding this album later in the list.)

11. Grow - Frances “You know I'm here holding on, tying up your loose ends and your drifting esteem” I can’t remember how I came across this song now... was it a fanvid for something?... but I’m glad I did, because it’s beautiful. You know how my writing is so often in a kind of wannabe hurt/comfort genre? Yeah, my music isn’t all that different. Supportive friendship is such a great concept! The application is... ew.... but the theory’s great.

12. Hell No - Ingrid Michaelson “Stop crying, stop crawling, can’t you see that I have stopped falling?” This sooooong has the kind of attitude I strive for, I LOVE it. As much as it’s a rage anthem, it has a positive message about self-reliance and is SO FUN TO SING. That’s an important ingredient for me. (Also, there are lines in it - like the ones quoted - that are scary relatable.)

13. Roll With the Punches - Lenka “When life tries to knock all the wind out of you, you've got to roll, roll, roll with the punches” Now THIS is the Lenka I have known and loved for so long - she made my first Ultimate Playlist and she’ll probably make my last. But for so long I had only ever heard ‘The Show’, the album I was obsessed with in 2010. This year I discovered, like, 3 other Lenka albums, which was a joy, and this song....SO FUN. SO CUTE. SO SINGABLE. SO LENKA. I can’t say enough good things about it.

14. Fools - Lauren Aquilina “I don't want you to go but I want you so, so tell me what we choose” I kind of wish this song had come to me earlier, because it really caught me on the very tail end of its relevance to my life, but then, these things often do. I like having a concise way to look back on things, though, so this works just as well in hindsight as it might have in realtime :D

15. I Remember Her - Ingrid Michaelson “Things they fade, things turn to grey. As much as I try to save them, they turn to grey.” Just. I cannot. This song is sooo sad. It might be the saddest one ever to make it to one of these lists, unless I had ‘Song for Josh’ last year, which I think I did, so call it the joint saddest. I mean I guess both subjectively and objectively 2016 was a pretty sad year, so it makes sense. Damn it, Ingrid!

16. Kwaad Naas - Bittereinder “I grew up in the Moot, but my Afrikaans is limited to net ‘n paar woorde” Another awesome bilingual raptastic track from Bittereinder, my loves. This lyric especially illustrates why I love it so much, for I too communicate sometimes in a mixture of Afrikaans and English (usually when trying to Afrikaans and forgetting half the words. Dis ‘n curse, ek kan nie help dit.)

17. Sad Song - Lenka “Everyone's compelled to look into the mirror when they're crying, but just because your tears are pretty doesn't mean they'll get you by” Oh Lenka, you sound so happy but you talk so wise. I love this song so much, it doesn’t sound like it’s gonna be deep when you hear the general sound of it, but then it is. That’s kinda Lenka’s thing, I guess. The chorus especially is IMMENSELY singable.

18. Light Me Up - Ingrid Michaelson “Well you’re not what I was looking for, but your arms were open at my door” There are a whole bunch of repetitive lyrics towards the end but my oh my, what a beautiful sound. Just gorgeous.

19. Morgan, I Might - Marit Larsen “I might have been guilty of thinking one day I'd find myself waking up with you.” Listen, Marit Larsen has always had a timeshare on my brain. I just accept that now. That’s the only way it makes sense that she can write things so exactly right. But she used to be subtle with it, you know? She used to leave the names out, so that I could sleep at night able to tell myself that it might just be a coincidence, that she can’t have actually stolen my diary. But this year? All of that went out of the window. She wrote the sequel to the first song that ever made me go, “damn, somebody gets it”, she splashed that name all over this song, and then she splashed my name all over the album title. Honestly, woman, was it so hard leaving room for reasonable doubt? (At least she had the decency to get the timing a little off, because this isn’t how this is anymore, but it so, so, so was.)

20. Mr Brightside - The Killers “Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, turning through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis” This song is such a classic but it became much more meaningful to me this past year, mainly because it featured on our group’s roadtrip playlist for Scotland in May, and...yeah, it’s just a #quality song and finally its time has come. 21. Miss America - Ingrid Michaelson “I am the one who is always singing, louder than the rest, louder than the others” Songs that mention singing are the best songs, okay? I don’t make the rules. However, I wish I could get out of the habit of singing ‘I wanna be Miss America’ instead of the actual lyric, which is ‘I’ll never be Miss America’. I mean, there’s basically no way to get the song’s ethos more wrong. Shame on my tongue’s faulty muscle memory.

22. When It Comes to Us - Frances (& Ritual) “You and I, we're one too many worlds apart, it really shouldn't work, but it does” Oh what have we here? It’s another male/female duet. Which is a shame, really, because if it was a female/female duet, it would be a really great Nistrid song. But anyway. Beautiful track with beautiful words, yes please stay with me forever thank you.

23. The End of the World - Lenka “At the end of the world, we will kiss for the last time, and we won't feel the earth collapse into a mess of flood and fire” Listen up, The 100 and other angst-fest post-apocalyptic nightmare shows. This is how you do this. Cheesy and cute and with lots of “aahhh-aahhs”. Get on it. (No, but this song is adorable, truly.)

24. Old Days - Ingrid Michaelson “Heaven help the ones who fly away, heaven help the ones who have to stay and place the blame” Honestlyyyy, what a haunting and beautiful song. All of the lyrics are just so... atmospheric? Like, in an almost eery way but still so pleasing to listen to. I dunno what it is, but this is a damn fine song from my main girl Ingrid.

25. Quicksand - Tom Chaplin “Love's gonna leave you broken, time's gonna work you over; you get up, you get up, you keep rolling on” Awww, it’s Keane’s voice but without the rest of Keane! I love this guy, what a pro. Considering that a massive part of my early music life was taken up by Keane, I really haven’t grown out of my love for his voice. Aaanyway. This is actually thematically quite similar to Roll With the Punches. Was it really that hard of a year?! Ha.

26. Unique - Lenka “No, I don't really make sense, but I know that you know what I mean” Hehe, such a cute song. I want to be Lenka if I grow up.

27. Still the One - Ingrid Michaelson "We dance in the living room, and we dance to the beating of our blood” Aaaah this song is so great, so singable. This was one of the first ones I fell for before hurtling deep into the abyss of adoration for this album.

28. No - Marit Larsen “You could give up, I won’t give in, ‘cause where you end is where I begin.” Another beauty from my girl Marit. A little lighter on the coincidences in this one, thank goodness, because I don’t know if I could take another hit, but still solid gold.

29. We Are Powerful - Lenka “We fell in love on the same dark night, when the moon was high and the stars were bright” Another adorable song, another catchy, catchy tune. Lenka, my love, never stop with your beautifully singable tunes. (When I say singable, I mean both fun to sing and not vocally challenging enough to make me have to swap octaves halfway or sit out the middle 8 because the tune is too crazy. Aka the best kind of music.)

30. Whole Lot of Heart - Ingrid Michaelson “I said, "Let's rule this kingdom now, let's live and love and tear it down, to build it up"” Well, when I listen to this playlist in order, I will fittingly be left with the achingly catchy notes of this last Ingrid track in my head once it’s over. By faaar the catchiest of the bunch, this kind of addictive pulsating sound I can’t get enough of. I think this is might be my favourite from IDHTMS, but that changes regularly, so I won’t commit. Suffice to say it’s a fitting song for the end spot, down to the very last ebbing notes.

.....

Well, that’s it!

I haven’t done the math for every year, but I think this is the most female my playlist has ever been. Only 1/5 of the songs have male lead vocals, compared to the copious amounts of Frank Turner etc that have dominated previous years. GIRL POWER!

If you’ve actually read this post, I applaud you, and I also worry about your apportioning of time. What should you have been doing instead?!

As always, if you make your own one of these lists, please tag me for the sake of my ego and to give me new songs to listen to, because if we’ve learnt one thing from 2016′s list, it’s that I could do with some variety! ;D

#joni's ultimate playlists #music #ingrid michaelson #donald glover #lenka #bittereinder #francois van coke #marit larsen #frances #lauren aquilina #the killers #tom chaplin #jonisultimateplaylists

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fourteenacross · 7 years

Text

2016 in Review

I’ve done these stupid surveys every year for the past ten years and I don’t care if LJ is dead, I’m gonna keep doing them.

The writing one is still in progress because it involves a lot of linking and thoughtful responses. Below are Fandom in 2016 and Life in 2016, mostly for my own records.

Fandom 2016

1. Your main fandom of the year?

Oh god, this has a different answer for the first time in five years, but definitely Hamilton? Up until SM, the only fannish words I wrote this year were Hamilton, most of the shit I reblogged on Tumblr was Hamilton...jesus, it’s like 2004 up in this joint.

2. Your favorite film watched this year? This is really difficult. Um, probably Ghostbusters because it blew me away and was totally unexpected as a favorite. I knew I’d probably like it, but not necessarily six-times-in-theatres level of liking.

Runners up are The Conjuring 2, which would have won without Ghostbusters, and Moana, which I found surprisingly moving and would probably see six more times without getting bored.

3. Your favorite book read this year? I’m gonna say Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older, which is an amazing modern urban fantasy set in Brooklyn about an afro-latina teenager who discovers she’s part of an old spiritual order that can channel spirits into art. IT’S SO GOOD? But I will say that The Diviners by Libba Bray and the Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo were neck and neck with it right up until I made my final list for our WBS year-end episode. The best middle grade book I read was George by Alex Gino.

4. Your favorite album or song to listen to this year? I honestly am not sure that I listened to any “new” albums outside of The Hamilton Mixtape this year? I spent the start of the year listening to Hamilton and Great Comet non-stop, then listened to every Dar song in order and all of the 69 Love Songs in order for a couple months...but yeah, the only ~*~new~*~ thing I can think of is The Hamilton Mixtape.

5. Your favorite TV show of the year? Prooooobably Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Or maybe the end of Gravity Falls.

6. Your favorite online fandom community of the year? idk. To be honest, I still don’t quite ~*~get~*~ tumblr (tho I had some nice conversations via the chat function, despite my general awkwardness as a human), LJ is dead, and while I connect with fandom friends and talk about fandom on Twitter, I don’t do that as much as I whine about my life. I guess AO3 has been great via comments received, but that also feels one-sided, as chatty cathy as I sometimes get when responding to people’s comments. Most of my fandom conversations this year have PROBABLY been over text?

7. Your best new fandom discovery of the year? I’m trying to think if there was anything new I was super into? Maybe Six of Crows, which I talked about a lot and read a couple fics for?

8. Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year? X-Men: Apocalypse, for sure. Man, after DoFP, I had SUCH HIGH HOPES for XMA, which was totally my own fault. Every time someone made a comment about how weird something looked or how dumb something sounded I rolled my eyes, because they had done the exact same thing for DoFP, which was AMAZING. But, uh...this time they were all right. The more I thought about the movie, the more it fell apart for me.

9. Your TV boyfriend of the year? Strictly teevee, probably...idk, Luke Cage?

10. Your TV girlfriend of the year? I don’t watch SNL regularly, but can I cheat and say Kate McKinnon?

11. Your biggest squee moment of the year? Seeing Hamilton. Seeing Great Comet. Ghostbusters.

12. The most missed of your old fandoms? I really missed the joy I got from DoFP when I was watching XMA :(

13. The fandom you haven’t tried yet, but want to? I’m p mono-fannish, so I’m good for now.

14. Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year? Going to Chicago in May! Heroes! DragonCon! WBS liveshow! Maybe other things! I don’t know, I haven’t planned that much of the year yet!

***

General 2016

What did you do in 2016 that you'd never done before? Voted for a woman for President. Went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Um...probably other stuff too? Gosh, I don’t know, I’m so boring.

Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

+ Make a writing schedule and stick to it Did not do this. Like, at all. I got maybe a week on schedule over the course of the whole year /o\

+ Go on more dates Yes! I did do this! None of them really went anywhere, but I went on a whole bunch!

+ Get into the cooking habit and stay there Ish? I got better about making lunches for the week, but I wasn’t super consistent with it. Another thing to try in 2017.

+ Read more I did do this! Sort of! I didn’t keep super good track of it and I was mostly trying to read more adult books and I failed MISERABLY at that.

For 2017: + Read more adult books + Keep track of good things that happen + Make a writing schedule and try to stick to it for at least a month + Be better with money--pay off half the credit card + Go on more dates

Did anyone close to you give birth? Joni had a baby! It was so weird! One of us grew a tiny human! He’s ADORABLE.

Did anyone close to you die? My (step)grandfather.

What countries did you visit? Just this one! But within this one I went to...Charlotte, ATL, Orlando, Arkansas...and, you know, the Northeast in general.

What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016? I'd like to feel more on top of things. I'd like more organization in my life. I'd like more sleep. I'd like a girlfriend.

What dates from 2016 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? November 8, not for good reasons, unfortunately. May 21 (Hamilton, Hadestown), November 12 (Great Comet), stuff like Heroes and DCon.

What was your biggest achievement of the year? Finishing the goddamn ghosthunters fic, HOW DID THAT EVEN HAPPEN?

What was your biggest failure? idk what my biggest PERSONAL failure was, but I certainly know what my biggest failure as an American was :\

Did you suffer illness or injury? Brain stuff, some colds, and I broke my foot.

What was the best thing you bought? Great Comet tickets, plane tickets to visit various people. My dumb Silhouette machine that I love. Tiny John Laurens and The Washingtonians, both of which are within my sightline. This fuzzy blanket.

Whose behavior merited celebration? My friends. A lot of excellent activists.

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? The American people as a whole and everything associated with our clusterfuck election outcome.

Where did most of your money go? Grown-up type stuff (rent, utilities, groceries), cons, and travel.

What did you get really, really, really excited about? HeroesCon, DragonCon, Hamilton, Hadestown, Great Comet, The Conjuring 2, finishing the ghosthunters.

What song will always remind you of 2016? I mean, mostly just The Hamilton Mixtape, probably.

Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Uh. Up until November I would have said “happier,” but currently I’m definitely sadder and more anxious. b) thinner or fatter? Same. c) richer or poorer? Same.

What do you wish you'd done more of? Writing. Sleeping. Hanging out with people.

What do you wish you'd done less of? Being depressed. Obsessing over stupid shit people said on the internet.

Did you fall in love in 2016? With this fuzzy blanket.

What was your favorite TV program? Brooklyn Nine-Nine!

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Many, many people. THANKS, POLITICS.

What was the best book you read? Shadowshaper by Daniel José Older. See above for more details.

What was your greatest musical discovery? Nothing really new, tbh.

What did you want and get? Cons, brunch, travel, Great Comet tickets.

What did you want and not get? A female President. A girlfriend. More sleep.

What was your favorite film of this year? Spy or Star Wars or Jurassic World, I guess?

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 31! The weekend before, me and @pearlo and @cygnaut and @littledust saw XMA a couple times! And Laura and Erica and I went to the Gardner and then I had a party and people mostly hung out and played Drawful and drank a lot of champagne. On my actual birthday, @ginthusiastic and I just went out for dinner after work and I had a drink that was the same color as my dress.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? A different election outcome. Literally anything. A box turtle could be our president and I’d be happy.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016? Retro-y dresses.

What kept you sane? @ginthusiastic @pearlo @caphairdadbeard @isjustprogress @intrikate88 @anachronistique @lisapizza @charmingpplincardigans @brilligspoons and the rest of the Boston crew whose tumblrs I don’t know/remember, and the DCon crew and The Hamilton Mixtape and theatre and the cast of Hamilton and crime show marathons.

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I have a Daveed Diggs problem. And an unfortunate swing crush on Morgan Marcell. And Kate McKinnon was A THING that happened. And Jasmine exists and also Stephanie Beatiz and XMA was a bust, but Sophie Turner was A+.

What political issue stirred you the most? Gee, I wonder.

Who did you miss? Pretty much everyone when they are not right next to me. Sarah Bay, a lot, but I feel weird singling one person out. [This is exactly what I wrote for the last two years, but I'm keeping it because it's still true.]

Who was the best new person you met? I’m trying to think of actualfax new people I met? Boston Maja is the only IRL person who comes to mind immediately? Oh, and I met Ellen at DCon? Online-wise, I met a slew of great folks through Hamilton-related crap and you’re all lovely 💜

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016: I’m still not sure what the lesson from the ‘16 election is. Don’t trust polls? People are more misogynistic than you think? People are more racist than you think? I don’t know. I guess I’m still learning it.

Quote a song that sums up your year: I am the one thing in life I can control

Maybe THAT’S the lesson of 2016. idk, man.

#stuff about me #year in review #2016

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