#weezy wtf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seitmai · 1 year ago

Text

Wtf did I just read 🫠

He’s so cold--so, so cold. And he’s been cold since he went out into the night, since he was struck. He’s known, from the very beginning, that he’s dying. He just didn’t know how to tell anyone else. And he knew everyone else was too afraid to tell him.

😭😭😭

“Dear Heavenly Dylan,” Mable starts. Bob lets out a quiet laugh--a weezy, tired thing. It is the last time he will ever laugh. “Please take Mister Bob’s pain away--he’s been in an awful lot of it since the attack and I think he’s tired now. He’s a real nice guy--he never yelled at me or anyone else. I don’t think it’s very fair that he’s got so many boo-boo’s.”

I had chills reading about Bob's end and he deserved so much more but Mable's prayer is so cute, I mean 😭

And the reveal?! I'm sick to my stomach 🫠(even though I mentally prepared myself that it probably is Bradley lol)

I'm excited though for like all the hints that had been dropped during the series to reveal who it was because I'm delusional and didn't (want lol) to see it coming that it was him

And Jake sacrificing himself? Wouldn’t expect less of him

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟖.𝟓𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“Whose is it, birdie?” Bradley asks, eyes wide. "It's all over--whose blood is that?"

He hasn’t moved his hands from your warm and sticky face--he’s still cupping your cheeks, face contorted in anguish as his eyes pour into yours.

You drop the ax and the shotgun on the ground--they make a dull thump, one you can feel in the soles of your feet and in your pulsing head. There’s a lump in your throat so obstructive, so thick and overwhelming, that you can’t speak.

All you can do, as Rooster looks down at you while the swallows begin to swoop from roof to roof and the irises emit their sweet scent, is cry.

How can you explain to Rooster, who’s held it together this entire time, that you can’t hold it together right now because of what you just witnessed? How are you going to explain to him that you had the person cornered--that you could’ve shot him--and you didn’t because Paul needed help? And even then, even when you abandoned your firing position to help Paul, it was all fruitless because Paul is dead and his body is in the woods all on its lonesome.

“Birdie,” Rooster mutters. He smooths a hand through your hair, dirty with lake water and leaves and blood, and shakes his head softly. “Who’s bleeding?”

“Paul,” you finally choke, shaking your head. He thumbs your tears, but it’s for naught. “It--it was Paul’s.”

It was Paul’s.

Rooster looks you up and down--the blood is all over you. Up to your ankles and covering your shoes, all over your shins, dried up your legs, staining your poor dungarees again.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers to you. His bottom lip trembles. “Is he…?”

You nod--just barely.

Rooster doesn’t ask any more questions.

You think, suddenly and very clearly, that you’re not sure how much fight you have left in you. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this.

Mable was right. There is no way out. You will bathe in your own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for you. There is no way out.

If you let go, if you give in, if you wait to die--then what will happen? Everyone else will die. No one else is as good a shot as you. No one else is willing to trek through the woods. No one else can suture a gash or staunch a wound or cauterize a limb.

So, you have to push forward. It’s a decision that is made with haste.Very swiftly, you realize you’re not going to lose your head now. You’re not going to break down again. You’re gonna keep going--you have to keep going.

“He…he said he’s back,” you whisper to Rooster, wiping your own cheeks now. “He said…he told me to--to run away. I didn’t think he was--I didn’t listen to him. He said that he’s back--he’s back, he’s back. I don’t know what he…”

You don’t rest your head on Rooster’s chest and you don’t lessen the burden of that lump in your throat. You’re in shock, you know--which is why the tears running down your face are involuntary.

“Who?” Rooster presses, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Your head is spinning. “I don’t know.”

Only a moment before Rooster is going to pull you to him, only a moment before you’re going to ask him if he found anything in the woods, the walkie deep in your pocket comes to life.

“Gale!” Phoenix sobs through it. “Gale! Are you there? Oh, God--Gale, please!”

Scrambling to grab the walkie, Rooster leans down and takes the ax in his hands. It’s with his heart in a cold, cold puddle that he sees that it’s the ax from the mess hall. D.G. He says nothing to you, just holds onto the handle tight.

“I’m--I’m here,” you answer Phoenix, shuffling to grab the shotgun. You start for the bus barn, wiping your face clean of tears.

“It--it’s Bob,” Phoenix sobs. “I think he’s--I think he’s--!”

“I’m coming,” you tell her. “I’m coming.”

Phoenix, who’s trying desperately to blot the cold sweat from Bob’s face as Coyote sends all the children to the back of the bus, doesn’t feel relieved by your answer. She thought she would--if not to just know that you’re alive then simply because she won’t have to be alone with Bob anymore. Help will be on the way. Bob will be okay.

“I’m so--fuck, I’m so cold,” Bob whispers to her, lips quivering. “Can you start the fire?”

Phoenix’s tongue is dry.

“Bob, we’re on the bus,” she says, voice thin and flat. “There’s no fireplace.”

He’s confused. He’s been confused for a few hours now. Phoenix knows this is the infection--that it must be spreading. But still, she desperately runs her palms up and down his arms to try and get some friction. This cold that Bob feels, though--it’s not one she can fix. It’s not even one a fire could fix.

She pulls the walkie to her mouth again, breathing heavily.

“Gale, quick! Please!”

“I’m on my way,” you say back.

You don’t say I’m going as fast as I can, but I’m so tired. I’m so scared. I want to give up. I’m only coming because it’s you and it’s Bob and it’s Coyote and the campers. But that’s it, that’s all. I want to lie down. But it’s what you’re thinking.

And you’re by yourself suddenly as Rooster falls behind you, taking a glance at the perimeter of camp just in case Jake shows his face. He doesn’t fall in step with you again--he’s going to stay out here and guard. You think maybe it’s because Bradley isn’t brave enough to see it up close--Bob hurt, infected, writhing.

And, really, you don’t blame him.

You’d rather be anywhere else.

The sun is warm on your back. The blood is itchy on your skin. You’re running as fast you can, limping with tired, your temples throbbing. Your heart thumps in your ears.

At any moment, an ax could come whizzing out from the woods. There could be a hiding place just yonder, far enough away that you never see it coming. You could hear its noise, fast and sharp like a whip, and then that could be the end. An ax to the head, to the back, to the legs, and you’re down. A peculiar sensation prickles your spine, torments the swollen muscles in your legs and arms: you could die at any moment. Right here, at Camp Arcadia, on the gravel just outside the bus barn. No one could do a thing about it either.

Oh, God, you think. Where are you?

When you step onto the bus, you know.

It is quiet--so very quiet. No one knows what to say to a dying man and that is what Bob is. None of the campers are whispering and none of the counselors are rustling. Phoenix is sitting in the front seat with Bob over her lap, sobbing as Bob blinks up at her, only barely conscious. Coyote is kneeled beside them, his lip being sawed in half by his own teeth as he tries to keep from crying.

The smell comes first--that distinct perfume, so familiar and pungent with musk. It’s the rot, you know. It’s the body shutting down, the organs giving in, the skin infected. But to you, it just smells like death. The two of you are thick as thieves.

And then, when you look at Bob and everyone else looks at you to save the day, saliva gathers underneath your tongue and your lashes begin to quiver. Pennies settle beneath your tongue.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your throat burning. “I’m here now.”

Phoenix doesn’t understand why you’re not rushing to Bob’s aid. She doesn’t understand why you’re not suturing or cleaning or wrapping or whatever else the fuck you’re suppoosed to do to save him. You should be ordering everyone around, saving Bob. You should be stony right now--but your face is soft and wet.

“Help him,” she cries. “Get over here--help him! Help him, he’s dying!”

Coyote knows when he looks at you. The sun is just barely puncturing the bus barn, just barely lighting the side of your face. You’re covered in blood, limply holding the shotgun, looking down at Bob with an agonized sense of forbearance. You cannot save him. Nobody can--he is too far gone. Coyote bows his head and that is when the tears come.

“Phe,” Coyote whispers. He sets a hand on her elbow. She jerks away from him, looking at him as if he’s just burned her. Her eyes are wild with grief. “Phe, there’s nothing--!”

“--Fuck you,” Phoenix spits at Coyote, her face split in half by anguish. She’s never felt this way before--she’s never felt this mind-splitting, chest-numbing pain. But it’s suddenly drowning her and she feels that no one is throwing her a life preserver. You’re all watching her flounder. “Please…please…”

Slowly, you kneel beside Coyote. Everything smells like sweat and dust, but this close to Bob, you are practically rubbing noses with death. You can see the freckles on its cheeks.

You carefully place your hand on Bob’s leg. He looks down at you, pale as white-sand and shaking. Cold sweat covers his face, stains his shirt. His eyes are focused, but untrained.

“Bob,” you whisper. “We’re here.”

That’s about all you can say to him. Not just hold on, we’ll fix you up. Not only another minute, it’s okay, it’s alright. Not help is on the way. You’re going to make it.

But when you say that--we’re here--something grows warm in Bob. He’s been in and out of fitful dreams, sometimes dreaming about his father’s fingers on the strings of a guitar and sometimes dreaming about his less than stellar date with Michelle Johnson. It’s peculiar--he never thought dying would be so slow, so tedious.

“Payback and Fanboy haven’t walkied,” Coyote whispers to you. The only recognition you show is a slow blink. “Maybe they’re close.”

“Maybe,” you whisper back.

The both of you know that it wouldn’t matter, anyhow. By the time the tree is moved, by the time the brigade is here if they’re coming, Bob will be gone.

Reaching up, you take Phoenix’s hand. She looks at you, brown eyes wide with horror, and almost pulls away. But then Bob, with the last bit of his strength, puts his hand over hers, too.

“Thank you,” he tells Phoenix. She looks down at him, shaking her head with her eyes wide. He doesn’t break their gaze, lips trembling. “You’re my best friend.”

“Stop that,” Phoenix demands softly. “Cut it out, Bob! You’re fine!”

“I’m dying,” he whispers. He swallows hard. His throat is so very dry. “I didn’t know how to…how to tell you.”

Phoenix sobs.

“No,” she whispers. She blinks hard, shaking her head. “Bob, I can’t--please, please, please…”

Leaning down, she holds Bob’s body against hers. He blinks a few times, the sunlight coming over his face just barely. It’s good to feel warm, he thinks.

“I know…I know you hate Cutting Crew,” Bob starts. With the last bit of his strength, he smiles. It’s a barely-there, strained thing. But it’s there. “But they wrote our song, huh?”

It takes a moment for everyone to register what Bob’s saying. For a second, you think he’s delirious. But then Coyote chokes out a loud laugh, a few stray tears running down his face.

Phoenix looks up, puzzled, and then it dawns on her.

(I Just) Died In Your Arms. Cutting Crew. She groans every time it comes on the radio just before tuning to another station. She’s literally left coffee shops over the song. Bob knows this. But now it’s the song that will make her think of Bob because he’s willed it so. It’s the song that will remind her of this exact instance--sitting on the bus, terrified, dirty, holding her best friend as he dies.

“Bob,” Coyote laughs. He’s about to say that he’s a sly, sly dog. That he’s got the jokes. But just the sound of his name falling off his lips is enough to halt Coyote. That is the last time he will ever call Bob’s name and have Bob answer to it. “I…I love you, man.”

Bob smiles.

“I love you, too, man,” Bob whispers. “Don’t tell Phoenix.”

And then Bob is looking at you. You with your eyes heavy with tears and your face a calm and placid sea. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it--he doesn’t know how you haven’t given up yet. But he knows that he loves you for it.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to Bob, tears pouring down your face. You sniffle and sigh. “I’m really, really sorry Bob. More sorry than I’ve ever been.”

He knows what you’re apologizing for: not saving him.

“No hard feelings,” he whispers to you. Another meek smile tugs on his lips. “You did good.”

You did good.

Choking on your grief, you can hardly stand to look at him anymore. You can hardly stand kneeling here, breathing in all this death. But you know this is where you’re supposed to be.

Just as Phoenix is about to sob again, a meager voice finds place in the stale air around everyone.

“Can I pray for you, Mister Bob?” Mable asks softly. There are tears in her eyes as she blinks at everyone. “If that’s okay…”

You glance at Phoenix, who looks like she never wants to see Mable Brandt’s face ever again in her long, long life without Bob. Bob was born Godless and will die Godless. But then Bob is nodding.

“That’d be swell, kid,” he whispers. A shuddering breath falls from his lips. “Make it out to Bob Dylan, would ya?”

Mable sniffles. She rests her hands on your shoulders because you, out of everyone here, are the only one that can hold her up. And you let her hold you--even close your eyes and feel the heat of her body against you and fall into a dreamless, sleepless state.

No one speaks as Mable continues praying, everyone’s head slightly bowed and eyes drifted shut. Everyone’s face is wet with tears that are shining in the yellow light.

“And we know that you’ll have a place for him when he gets to where he’s going, alright? So, make sure it’s nice and clean. And make sure there’s aspirin there because Mister Bob doesn’t feel so hot right now. But most of all--keep him safe on his way. Miss Nightingale and Miss Phoenix did the best they could. It’s your turn now.”

An overwhelming sense of peace finds Bob. His fingers are numb--he wonders, strangely, if they’re already dead. Maybe when you die, it’s piece by piece, a little at a time. And maybe his fingers went first.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix whispers to Bob, looking down at his pale cheeks. “I can’t…I can’t never see you again.”

He takes a deep breath. His lungs are warm, very warm.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he whispers to her. “You’ll manage.”

He’s accepted this. This is okay. He is looking up at his best friend in the world and it is the last thing his eyes will ever see. And he thinks, with a sudden swell of pride, that he did good. She’s really the cream of the crop--the best friend he could have asked for.

Something flickers behind his eyes, bright yellow and aquamarine and jet black--memories. They flutter past his vision, clear and crisp, like he’s pulling the little plastic lever on a viewfinder of his own life.

The smell of his mama’s hotcakes on late Sunday mornings, Bob sleepy and syrupy and reaching for more butter despite his mother’s tutting. Lazing around the pool with his kid brother, Neil Young humming on the radio as his daddy grills. Sitting in the movie theater during Star Wars, too engrossed in the movie to realize that Lisa Patterson is making googly eyes at him. Finally kissing Michelle Johnson at the roller rink, her tight curls gleaming beneath the disco ball, her skin shining blue and pink. Reading Kurt Vonnegut in his car before class, holding in tears when the profoundness struck him over the head like a brick. Holding hands with Phoenix during games of Red Rover, their mouths wide open, their hairlines dotted with sweat. Swimming in the lake after tipsy bonfires, bobbing his head beneath the water, listening to the muted sound of you squealing when Jake pulls you up on his shoulders. His toes in cold, cold mud. His face against the warm, warm sun. The first snow of the year blanketing the front lawn. His dorm room, which always smells like crayons for some reason. His best friends pedaling down the street, swerving at cars and whooping and hollering, switching gears up the big hill on Freemont. His daddy taking his mama’s hands and dancing her around the wrapping-paper covered living room, her new necklace gleaming on her throat like a personal star on a silver chain. Holding his baby cousin for the first time, breath caught in his throat and arms stiff because he’s never held anything so tiny. Cutting his knees on concrete. Hitting his head on that shelf in the living room. Learning how to change a tire. Driving down his street for the first time. Playing his guitar in his room, shutting his eyes, and quietly whispering Bob Dylan songs.

He can hear it now--Bob Dylan is playing. And it isn’t him singing and it isn’t him playing the guitar. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from or why it’s so loud, so clear, so sudden. But there it is--clear as the day is blue. It’s like there’s a private concert just for Bob and he’s in the front row, the sun warm on his face and shoulders, his arms raised in ecstasy.

That long black cloud is comin' down

I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

He always wanted to be front row at a Bob Dylan concert. He was saving up to take him and Phoenix.

Funny how life works that way, he thinks.

Oh, well. So it goes.

“Please, if you could make it easy, we would all really appreciate it. And in Bob Dylan’s name we pray…amen.”

And then, with a final shuddering breath, Bob Floyd dies in his best friend’s arms on a disjunct bus on the worst Thursday of anyone’s life. He was the newest counselor at Camp Arcadia. This was only his second summer.

“Bob?” Phoenix asks. Panic shoots up and grabs onto her ears, tugging hard. His lips are parted, his eyes are open. He is not moving. “Bob! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!”

Mable leans down to your ear. You’re so thoroughly covered in blood that you look like something that crawled out of a horror film--she can make out the tracks of your tears as the salt cuts through the gore on your cheeks. It’s an image that will stay with her for the rest of her life, one she’ll doodle inside book covers and on the backs of restaurant napkins. She’s so young now that when she’s older, she’ll wonder if her juvenile mind was exaggerating just how gory you look. But it is not an exaggeration at all.

“You have to fight it,” she whispers in your ear. Her cut begins to bleed. “It’s here.”

When you look up, your eyes fluttering open again after seemingly being pasted shut, you see another dead body. Your second this morning. There is less blood and more sunlight, but it is still there right before you.

As if a mortar has suddenly gone off beside your cheek, your ears are hollowed out and ringing. You can see Phoenix screaming, can see her patting Bob’s cheeks, but you can’t hear her shrill tone or the lifeless thumps on his skin. Coyote touches your shoulder and you think maybe he’s saying something to you, but you don’t look at him.

Vision beginning to vignette, you stand slowly. And then you turn and walk all the way off the bus, the blood on your shoes matted with dirt and grime. You take a few stumbling steps, the gun clenched tightly in your hands. Then you open the doors, let the sunlight in. If someone was running full-speed at you, intent on cutting you down, you wouldn’t hear it. And you think you wouldn’t fight it either.

The only way you know you’re on the ground is when the gravel slices your knees open. It is not from brute strength that you have fallen--no one has hit you. It is because you are drained. Entirely, completely, wholly drained.

Bradley finds you only a few moments later.

You’re on your hands and knees just outside the bus barn, clutching the gravel with the gun laid out just beside you. Your back bows, curved like the neck of a preening swan, and you suddenly heave. Vomit spews across the rocks--all stomach acid.

Oh, he realizes. Bob’s dead.

He stops where he is, only a few paces from you, and watches all of your humanness from afar. Surely you’ve seen dead bodies before in your line of work--in fact, he knows you have--but maybe you’ve never seen it this close. And it has never, ever been a friend. That must be what’s different about this one, he thinks. That’s it. That must be it.

And then he watches you stop. You suddenly swallow hard and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, eyebrows furrowed and lips trembling. Then you fight to your feet, wobbling and quivering, leaning over once more to grab the gun and hold it to your body.

As if you knew he was there the entire time, you look at Bradley. He can see it from where he is, dazed and heartbroken and lovesick: there is fight in your eyes. It is dim, it is full, it is small, it is hazy--but it’s there, gleaming in the early morning light.

You have to fight it. It’s here.

“We have to find him,” you tell Bradley. Your voice is ragged and thin. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No one else is dying today, alright?”

Bradley nods at you, dumbfounded and grief-stricken. His throat is tight.

“Alright,” he answers. He takes a deep breath, fills his lungs.“Birdie, I…I think I might have an idea.”

♀

“What do you mean?” Coyote asks. “You two are gonna just…play music? And get him to come? Like…a dog or something?”

“So he knows where we are,” Bradley defends, his voice hard and serious. “We’re not, like, whistling for him.”

“And you think that’ll make him come?” Coyote asks, brow perched.

He glances at you. You’re not looking at him.

“He’ll come. He’ll come if he knows Gale’s there.”

Coyote opens his mouth to argue, but then you quietly add, “What other option do we have? I can’t…I’m not strong enough to go back out in the woods.”

“I could go,” Coyote offers.

You shake your head.

“I’m the good shot,” you whisper. And all that responsibility weighs down on you again. “It would have to be me. And you’re hurt.”

Coyote knows you’re right. He carefully touches the back of his head, wincing when the gash stings beneath his fingers.

Phoenix’s eyes are on the floor. Her throat hurts too bad to say anything. She won’t look up at you and Bradley as you stand outside the bus with Coyote, relaying the plan.

“And when he--if he comes, then what?” Coyote asks. He swallows hard, his head pulsing. “You’re gonna…?”

“Wait. For help,” you whisper.

Coyote looks at your face--still covered in blood, but stained with a detached sort of anger. You’re resolute and morose all wrapped up in bloody dungarees.

“Back to square one, then, huh?” He asks softly.

“What’s the alternative?” Bradley counters. “Killing him?”

“No one else is dying today,” you say matter-of-factly. You look at the two men, who are looking at you already with their mouths flat and their chests heaving. “I mean it, alright? No one else.”

“Alright,” Coyote answers. “So, Phoenix and I should just hang around? Wait?”

You nod. Coyote shudders at the thought of just waiting.

“We’ll come get you when it’s…” you start, trailing off with your brows furrowed.

“Over. We’ll come get you when it’s over,” Bradley answers. “Don’t open the doors for anyone but us, okay?”

“Yeah,” Coyote answers. He takes a long, deep breath. His head hurts. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to help? Strength in numbers, right?”

You glance at Phoenix. She’s still holding Bob. Though now that the tears have stopped, she’s completely quiet. You fear, suddenly and completely, that she’ll never speak again.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Stay here with her.”

Glancing up at the bus, you see all the campers already looking at you. Knives in their little hands, fear in their little teary eyes. Their faces are almost begging, you think.

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it.

Toes numb with panic, you look back at Coyote. He’s already looking at you.

“Don’t let anyone in,” you say again. You think of last night when something tried to get into the mess hall--just how close they came. “And if they do get in…corner them. Get them.”

Coyote nods firmly. You can count on him. He can count on you. The two of you have never bullshitted each other before.

“I will,” he says. “I’ll die fighting if I have to. No one’s touching those kids.”

Die fighting. How silly that phrase seemed before, when you’d throw it around at random. And now there’s two dead bodies and three missing counselors at Camp Arcadia. You hope you don’t die fighting like Paul, like Bob. But it would be a valiant way to go.

“Let’s go,” Bradley says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You’re rigid underneath his hands--it stains him, wounds him. But he doesn’t punish you for it. How could he? “We’ll be right back.”

Coyote swallows hard. His heart is pounding.

“Don’t say that,” Coyote pleads. “Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? Ever?”

“This is real life,” Bradley argues. “Not some story.”

But it was a story--before, at the bonfire.

Damien and the Devil. Six counselors, one nurse. Slashed. Dead, gone, buried, away.

Saying nothing more, you turn on your heel.

It’s time to end this.

The walk back to the mess hall is very quiet. Underneath the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky, you and Bradley say almost nothing to each other. You’re holding the gun, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. He’s holding the ax, the one that killed Paul, and the other one he took into the woods with him. He’s glancing around the perimeter to make sure nothing’s sneaking up on the two of you.

You’re stumbling slightly when you step--Bradley isn’t sure if it’s because you’re tired or if it’s because of the gashes on your knees or if it’s because of your shock. He does know you’re in shock--that you’ve been in shock since you tumbled out of the woods covered in Paul’s blood. You look shell-shocked, but brave. Like you know the bomb is about to drop, but you’re ready to arm yourself against whatever’s coming even if it’s for naught. Do svidaniya.

Ears still ringing, stomach still churning, you feel like the walk is too quick. Suddenly you aren't outside anymore--you’re in the mess hall in all its disarray, walking towards the kitchen with the intent of grabbing more ammunition.

Bradley’s closing the buckshot-broken doors, brows furrowed as he examines the shots. Shit. You really did it. Something in his belly feels better knowing that you’ll shoot. You’ll pull the trigger.

As soon as you’re through the kitchen doors, your heart stops. There on the dingy tiles is what remains of Bob’s blood--it’s smeared, dried, browned. But you can still see where he laid. And just beside the bucket, which is still full of bloody water, are Bob’s broken glasses.

Leaning down, legs shaking, you pick the glasses up and hold them up to your face. They’re broken--the glass is cracked and the frames are bent.

But it’s okay. He doesn’t need them anymore.

“Oh, Bob,” you whisper. You grip the glasses hard. Tipping your head forward, you let the metal fall against your closed mouth. A sob ripples through you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gale?” Rooster calls. He turns--sees your form frozen in the doorway, kneeling with your head bent. Starting for you, he swallows hard. “Birdie?”

His presence behind you is warm and solid, like standing against a water heater. His chest just barely grazes your back. It brings you back a little bit--his steady and even breaths. You can count them--you can count on them. They’re there, steady, as you look down at Bob’s glasses.

Rooster, his jaw squared, sighs gently.

He tugs under your armpits until you’re standing on your feet again.

“Are you…are you, like, alright?”

Dumb question, he thinks. Jesus. Dumb, dumb question.

Shaking your head, you let your eyes fall shut.

“I’m numb,” you whisper. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…I can’t feel anything at all.”

A pang of pain radiates in Rooster’s chest. You’re so quiet, so drawn into yourself. Maybe this is your surrender. Maybe this is when you give up. Maybe this is when you call it a day and lay down and just wait for the end to come. Rooster can’t have that.

“Can you feel this?” Rooster asks.

And you’re about to crane your neck to look at him, about to ask him what he’s doing, when the very softest of kisses lands just below your left ear.

Oh. You can feel that. His warm lips, full of blood and live cells and made up of skin, send a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you mutter. “I can.”

Another kiss--this time in the middle of your neck. Rooster can still faintly smell jasmine on your skin. It makes him ache all over.

“That?” He whispers.

You nod, choked up.

And then he’s very carefully brushing your hair off your shoulders, pushing it aside so he can see your throat and the curve of your jaw. It’s covered in blood, flaking off whenever it’s disturbed. He doesn’t care.

He kisses a trail down the back of your neck, his own eyes fluttered shut in just a moment of peace. And your body is growing softer beneath him--so soft that when he reaches around and pulls the gun from your hands, you don’t fight it. You just let your head fall to the side, eyes flickering shut.

His palms splay on your hips. He holds you tight, pulls you until your back is flush against his chest. And your mind is buzzing and your body is growing warmer and warmer, but you cannot deny the pleasure of this encounter. This is the most human you’ve felt since all of this began, since you jumped out of bed naked when Phoenix came into your cabin.

And even though you’re suddenly crying, even though you’re gripping his hands, you know that you need this to keep moving forward. You cannot fight if you feel like there’s nothing left to fight for--maybe the faces of the campers, stained with fear, aren’t enough for you. Maybe seeing Phoenix holding Bob still isn’t enough for you. Maybe you need this--to be touched and held. To be reminded that you can feel still. To be reminded that when this is over, there will be life to live and sex to have and jobs to hate and cars to drive and stars to gaze upon.

This, right here, is proof of that.

“Hold me,” you whisper, suddenly desperate. “Hold me, please.”

You cannot remember the last time you asked someone to hold you. Rigidity sometimes feels like your natural state. Steeling yourself against death, against blood and hurt and pain. And now you’re so soft as Rooster wraps his arms around you.

He holds you so tight that all the air leaves your lungs.

You’re stuck still, breath stilted, lungs empty.

Yes, you think. This is how tightly I need to be held.

Rooster buries his nose in your neck. He can feel the tears dripping down your cheeks as they land in his hair and he only holds you tighter. He can feel that he’s squeezing the life out of you, but for some reason, he knows you want it like that.

“I’ve got you,” he mutters to you. “I won’t let you go.”

But just as quickly as you found comfort in his arms, in his heat, against his pumping heart and hot skin, you become uneasy. It’s the thought of seeing his dead body, it’s him calling you hysterical, it’s the spit flinging out of his mouth as he called Jake the killer, it’s his naked body you left behind to find Bob.

All of it comes at once, slaps your face until your cheeks are raw.

Wriggling your way out of his grip, you take a half-step away from him and grab the shotgun again. Rooster, slightly stunned, watches you with his mouth ajar.

“Set the music up,” you whisper. You sniffle. “I’m gonna reload and…and get in position.”

Jake’s trudging back towards camp, openly weeping. He hasn’t openly wept since his toddlerhood, he thinks. But he is right now: shoulders shaking, spine curving, snot dripping, tears pouring open-mouthed weeping. There’s bile covering the front of his shirt and blood on his hands, which is why he won’t look down, which is why he’s stumbling.

He’s been walking all night long--ducking behind trees, stumbling over jagged roots. He’s so tired that his bones feel brittle. He’s so thoroughly exhausted that he’s stumbling towards the mess hall now, even though he knows it’s a trap, even though he knows this might be his final location.

Kate Bush is playing over the loudspeaker--it was loud enough for him to hear where he was just before in a puddle of blood, vomiting and swatting away swarming flies. Through his heaving, through his tears, he knew immediately that he had to go to where you were calling him from.

Do you wanna feel how it feels?

You must be there. You must be the one calling out to him. He wonders if maybe it’s a call for help. But no--it must be a trap. Maybe Bradley swayed you. Maybe everyone swayed you. Maybe you want him dead. Maybe, as soon as his feet cross the threshold, you’re going to shoot him in the chest. He wouldn’t be angry with you. But, boy--would he miss you if he died.

But all he wants, as his stuttering footsteps grow nearer and nearer to the mess hall, is to keep you safe. And if you’re with him--if you’re even near him--you aren’t safe.

Limping, he approaches the doors to the mess hall. They’re closed, but damaged. You already shot through them, Jake sees. And there’s blood dotting the doors--so much of it that he knows you must’ve really got ‘em.

Atta girl, he thinks.

“Jake?” Your voice comes from inside, echoing in the empty mess hall. “Is that…is that you?”

Instead of answering, he opens the door.

You

It's you and me

And there you are. Standing a few paces ahead of him, holding the shotgun like you’ve held it a million times before, eyes narrowed and focused on him. You’re covered in blood, even your heavy eyelids, and sniffling as you cry quietly. But even through your tears, you’re strong. He can see the fight still tugging on the ends of your hair and straining in your wobbling thighs.

Bradley is just behind you, armed with an ax, sneering at Jake.

“Don’t you come any closer,” Bradley demands. He rears back so the ax is in position to swing down at any given moment. “I mean it, you fuck!”

Jake stumbles slightly as he steps into the mess hall.

“Jake,” you whisper, shaking your head. Your throat aches with grief. “Where have you been?”

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

It all comes rushing back to him, a wave of grief and exhaustion and derangement. Taking a shuddering breath, he tries to communicate with you, his words coming out like a fluttering and distant bird that flies right over your head.

“Get away from him,” he whispers.

You furrow your brows, straining to hear him over Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God).

“He’s got a weapon,” Bradley whispers to you. His heart is pounding. “Gale, he’s got an ax.”

Fingers numb with panic, with pain, you shake your head at Jake.

You don't wanna hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo)

“Where did you get that?” You demand quietly, nodding to the ax in Jake’s hand.

Jake glances down at the ax. He got this just a few miles outside of camp. He pried it out of Fanboy’s hands--his cold, dead hands. And then he promptly spewed vomit onto the rocks just beside his body and Payback’s. He found them, their bodies hacked, lying together. They never left each other’s sides. Not for one moment.

“I…” Jake whispers. He swallows, head pounding. “Get away from Bradley. Please, baby, please get away from him.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle your skin as they raise.

“Can it,” Bradley spits. You don’t have to see him to know how angry Bradley is right now, sneering and snarling at Jake. “You--you fucking son of a bitch! Bob is dead! You fucking killed Bob!”

“Stop,” you beg softly, the gun shaking in your unsteady grasp. “Jake, just…just put the ax down, alright? And then we can talk.”

“Talk? Fuck that,” Bradley yells. “He killed Bob!”

“You did,” Jake utters. “You killed him, Rooster.”

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

You hear him loud and clear as if he’s just whispered in your ear. Heart pounding, you shake your head. Fuck. Fuck.

“He’s lying,” Bradley laughs bitterly. “You fuck--you stupid fuck! You really think she’s gonna fall for that? You think she’s gonna believe you? You destroyed the fucking cabin and went AWOL and then people started dying!”

But Jake isn’t responding to Bradley. He’s just staring at you, cowering where he stands, defeated and terrified. His shirt is ripped and his hair is messy and there’s blood underneath his fingernails.

“Just drop the ax,” you tell him. “I don’t want to--I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re not going to hurt each other, right? Just drop it.”

It's you and me

Jake drops it--it clatters onto the floor unceremoniously. Your lungs deflate.

“Nightingale,” Jake whispers. His eyes are pouring into yours, red-rimmed and wide. “You have to get away from him, baby. He’s gonna hurt you.”

Panic is pulsing in your chest now. You’re desperately clinging to reality right now--even though you’re not sure what that is.

“He’s trying to confuse you,” Bradley whispers. “Don’t let him.”

“Gale,” Jake begs, sobbing. He steps closer to you. You reposition your fingers so they’re not sitting on the trigger anymore. “Please…please…just get away from him! Please!”

Eyes wide, you watch as he stumbles closer. Bradley is grunting behind you, rearing the ax up further and further.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Bradley sneers. “I mean it, man! Stay the fuck away!”

“Jake,” you whisper. “Please. Please just stay where you are.”

“Where’d you even get the ax?” Bradley asks. His voice echoes.

Jake is still looking into your eyes, openly weeping. Bile dribbles down his chin.

“They’re dead,” he whispers. “I--oh, God, they’re dead. I found ‘em. I found them together.”

Be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

You immediately know that he means Fanboy and Payback. They’re dead. They’re gone. They haven’t been answering the walkie calls. They’re not close to town at all--they’re just dead.

A sharp and punctuated sob ripples through your entire body. Goddammit.

“Who?” Bradley demands. “Who the fuck are you--?”

“--You know what you did,” Jake whispers to Bradley. Suddenly, Jake isn’t deflated. He’s almost close enough to reach out and touch you. Your finger isn’t on the trigger. His chest puffs up and his shoulders roll back. He can protect you. He can do that. “Don’t you fucking touch her, man. Don’t you fucking ax her like you axed them! You--you fucking got ‘em when they were sleeping, didn’t you? You’re a fucking coward.”

Eyes wide, you begin to beg Jake to move back.

“It’s you,” Bradley spits. “You’re the fucking killer!

Oh, come on, baby (yeah)

Oh, come on, darlin' (yo)

“Enough,” you try desperately. “We’re gonna sit here and-and wait for Mav and Penny to come get us, alright? All of us!” But they’re not listening to you. Jake is staring at Bradley and Bradley is staring at Jake. “No one else is dying, okay?”

“Who else is dead?” Jake asks. “Who else did he kill?”

Your mind is racing. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know who’s telling the truth. All you know right now is that Jake seems earnest and Bradley seems angry and the truth is lying somewhere between them in no-man’s-land.

“You know damn well Paul is dead,” Bradley sneers. You see it--Jake’s shock. Thoroughly, in your bones, you can tell that no, Jake did not know that. Your spine tingles. “You fucking killed him! And you cut Mable, didn’t you? Snuck out while Gale was sleeping, right? You coward.”

Swallowing hard, Jake looks at you. His face is very serious, very anguished.

Oh, come on, angel

Come on, come on, darlin'

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Jake begs. He’s desperate, shaking his head at you. “I’m still me. I’d never--you know that I’d never--!”

“--You’re sick,” Bradley screams. His voice booms, drowns out the music. “You’re worshiping the same twisted demon Gwyar did, aren’t you? Or is it that--that you’re worshiping Gwyar? Him and his fucking ax and his sick fucking game! Feeding on everyone’s fear, scaring the tar out of everyone! Or is it that you’re cutting down anyone that gets too close to Gale? Huh? Is that it? You sick fuck!”

Furrowing his brows, Jake looks at you. And you know that he doesn’t know what Bradley is talking about at all.

You’re getting lightheaded.

“Gale,” Jake whispers. It’s a desperate, desperate plea. “Get away from him, baby. Please, please, please. I won’t even--I won’t even touch you. Just get away from him. Point the gun at him.”

And here it is: you’re getting ripped apart. You didn’t even make it to the end of summer.

But then Jake is falling to his knees, sobs tearing him to bits, looking up at you like a depraved and despaired. It’s horrific--having Jake there before you.

“If you’ve ever done anything in your life, listen to me right now,” Jake sobs. “Please, Gale--get the fuck away from him. I’m not the killer, baby--Bradley is. You’re not safe!”

Your fingers are shaking.

And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

“Enough,” you try. “Please, Jake--Bradley! Just stop!”

Head swarmed, you look at Jake with wide eyes.

“Maybe you’re possessed,” Bradley says, laughing humorlessly. “Maybe you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to it…you found the ax ‘cause it called for you, didn’t it?”

Bradley’s chest is hot with rage. He wants to get Jake away from you--now.

And then Jake isn’t just on his knees before you, he’s throwing himself forward and against your legs. But your feet are planted so firmly that you don’t shake, you don’t fall. He isn’t trying to knock you over--he’s just hugging himself against your thighs, burying his face in the bottom of your belly and looking up at you.

“I’d never hurt anyone,” Jake pleads with you. “You know that…baby, you know that. I don’t even know what he’s talking about! I don’t know who Gwyar is! I’m so confused…Gale, please…we have to get away from him!”

“Get the fuck away from--!”

“Stop!” You cry desperately. Jake is holding you so tight that you can’t breathe. “Stop it!”

But they’re not listening to you.

I'd be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

“It isn’t me!” Jake sobs. “We have to get away from here!”

“You fuck,” Bradley continues. “It took your blood! It wanted you! Sliced your hand when you were chopping that tree down!”

The song ends.

Your hearing goes out--fuzzy and fading. Every muscle beneath your sizzling skin is locked in place. A noose of fear wraps itself around your neck and tightens, tightens until you cannot breathe at all. Your lungs are stunted at a deep exhale. And you can’t close your eyes for even a millisecond to blink. Sulfur floods your nostrils--abundantly clear and thick in the air.

Jake stares up at you, horrified. He watches, in real time, as the realization dawns on you.

He was telling the truth. Bradley is the killer.

“Bradley…” you whisper, voice quivering. Just barely, you turn your head. And Bradley is behind you, still looking like himself but ugly with rage and red with anger. “You cut your hand on the ax.”

At first, his face contorts in confusion. He stutters, mouth parted. Brows furrowed, he attempts to say something. But his tongue is dry. But when he sees the fear in your eyes and hears Jake’s sobs, he knows the jig is up. He just gave himself away.

You watch, in utter terror, as his face drops completely. And for the first time, as you stare at him, you see it: the pure, unadulterated evil. It’s there in the black in his pupils. The flecks of gold in his amber eyes are faded, gone. His smile is wide and broad, but it isn’t the smile you saw at the beginning of the summer. It is wicked--dry and nefarious.

“Damn,” he says, sighing. He beams at you wickedly. So wicked that your arms go limp, the gun falling onto the floor. Good. He’s got you where he wants you. “I was doing so well, too.”

Lips open wide in shock, two stray tears fall down your face.

And it is not a moment later that he brings the ax down.

Jake, with all the gall and gumption of the soldier his father wanted him to be, acts fast. So fast that he doesn’t even think--he just does.

“Gale!”

Closing your eyes, you accept it at once. You will die at the hand of Bradley--he’s killing you and you don’t know why other than he’s sick. And you’re already covered in blood, you already saw two dead bodies today. People are dying. You’re going to be another one to add to the pile. Your body will be covered with a sheet and your father will identify you with tears in his eyes and he will wonder why and you will die not knowing why.

When you hit the ground, head slamming against the hardwood floors and neck cracking, you’re waiting for the pain to come. The first hit, the first hack. You’re waiting for release.

But instead, you just feel heavy--something is brushing your nose because it is so close to you. And when you open your eyes, you’re staring into Jake’s. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth, too.

For a moment, you’re not sure what’s happened. Then you hear the strangled moan he releases, the barely-there and quiet thing. A steady stream of blood floods out from his parted lips and into your mouth.

“Jake?” You whimper, terror flooding your body until you’re cold with it.

And he’s so heavy on top of you and so warm--deadweight. And the warmth, it isn’t just his body heat. No, no…it is a wet and slick warmth. It is his blood that is leaking from his body and onto yours.

Choking out a sob, your spit red with his blood spewing onto his face, you try desperately to move your arms. He has you pinned--and he’s so heavy that you can’t move.

“My, my, my…” Bradley laughs. He leans down, wraps his hands around the handle of the ax and steadies himself by pressing his foot on Jake’s back, and rips the ax from his back. Jake coughs--blood spews across your face and you whimper aloud, stunned. Bradley totes the ax over his shoulder like it is as friendly and unassuming as his guitar. “Sacrificing his life. Now, that’s love, huh?”

Jake can’t feel anything. Not the gash on his back or the blood he’s losing. He can’t feel your body beneath him or the sobs ripping through your shocked form. He can’t feel any of it. He’s just looking at your face, his mouth wide open and gaping, and praying that Bradley will go.

“Jake,” you sob again. You can’t breathe. You can’t move. “Jake! Jake!”

If Jake could speak, he’d tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry he can’t do more. But he can’t, so he just slowly lowers his head until it falls into your neck. He stops moving.

Bradley watches from above you. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, sighs deeply. It feels good to be out in the open like this--no more lying, no more sneaking around. Just him, just you, just Jake. And he’s about to finish off the two of you and head to the bus barn. He’ll finish what was started thirty years ago--almost to the date, that sly dog.

“Jake,” you keep whispering, shocked, stunned, horrified. Your body vibrates with panic. You don’t care about Bradley hovering over you. You care about Jake and the way his green eyes are losing the color, the way his cheeks are becoming pale. He can do nothing but stare at you, his vision beginning to blacken around the edges. “Jake, I…”

And then Bradley kicks the shotgun--it slides across the floor and clatters against the wall. As if you weren’t already defenseless. You look up, quivering, and Bradley grins down at you.

“I’m more of an ax guy myself,” he says, smiling. He leans down, settling the ax beside him. And then he strokes your hair back from your face, relishing in the horror that crosses your features. “Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

BOB BE LIKE:

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

@thedroneranger

@fandom-life-12

@avaleineandafryingpan

@popsycles

@guacala

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@oliviah-25

@zalmael

@chicomonks

@aboutelijahhh

@angelbabyange

@zbeez-outlet

@dempy

@awkwardgiraffe726

@awesomebooklover17

@ofxinnocence

@nyx2021

@callsign-joyride

@flashyourgreeneyesatme

@one-sweet-gubler

@olliepig

@beyondthesefourwalls

@cherrycola27

@hangmans-wingman

@malindacath

@thenewdaysalreadyhere

@shehulkracing

@vemonbby

@ohemgeewhat

@emi-flaces

@mishala005

@headinthecloudssblog

@anony1080

@bellaireland1981

@djs8891

@xoxabs88xox

@stiles-banshees

@birdy-bat-writes

@bananas1234

@shotgunhallelujah

@pono-pura-vida

@agentminnesota187

@onethirstyunicorn

@furiousladyking

@fandomxpreferences

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@rintheemolion

@daggerspare-standingby

@harper1666

@princess76179

@roosters-girl

@jstarr86

@blahblechblah

@aemondssiut

@twsssmlmaa

@shawnsblue

@wolfiealina

@gothidecorem

@the-philthepill13

@hangmanscoming

@whoeverineedtobe

@lostinheavensworld

@laneyspaulding19

@averyhotchner

@peakascum

@jjlevin

@endofdays56

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@hypatia93

@sunlightmurdock

@tvjunkie08

@okyeeaaahhhh

@ijustwantedplums

@darkheartcherry

@sometimesanalice

@angelbabyyy99

@bradshawseresinbabe

@unhinged-btch

@bradshawbabe

@topguncult

@kmc1989

278 notes · View notes

violetsandshrikes · 4 years ago

Note

I've lived in new zealand my whole life and wtf is a cheezy wheezy aksjdlkasjd (might just be because I'm from christchurch tho)

this is so funny bc one of my flatmates is from chch and she had no idea what they were either at first?? what is HAPPENING down there

to be fair, i do associate the humble cheezy weezies with poor rural areas in nz and like eating them on a beach or in a paddock after school with combined lunch money so this could be a limited nz experience

#they’re conceptually so foul and yet?#delicious #asks #ask

5 notes · View notes

rock-and-roll-renegade · 3 years ago

Video

youtube

SF Giants Buster Posey announces retirement after 12 seasons

Well..well.. well..The old slapdick catcher is hanging up his spikes..Buster just announced his retirement...No he did’nt cry..he welled up a little bit but Buster is a pretty stoic humble man..It’s hard to replace a man like Buster..I am convinced that if he was with the Giants in 2020 they would of secured a playoff birth at least a week before the season ended..It was tough coming up short by 1 game knowing he would of been the difference and then getting a shot maybe at the Dodgers..

This year he was huge as he helped the team secure 107 wins (The most in franchise history) Catchers can be overlooked in great pitching performances just ask Bum..Timmy..and Cain (Perfect game) . The catcher is the manager on the field..They usually make the best managers after their playing career. is over..He also can be the heart of the team where everyone looks them for leadership and a cool attitude that makes everyone relax and stay loose..

Buster has always been one of my favorites..and when he bitch slapped Latos in Cincinnati for a Slam in 2012 Game 5 he went to a even higher level. Buster and Bum became Butch and Sundance to me as the years have gone on. They always looked like they were thick as thieves and I wish I was on the phone line when Bum dumped his dirt bike and fucked himself up... (Sundance) Hey Butch WTF dude? ) (Butch) Yeah ..sorry partner..) (Sundance ) We need you cowboy) (Butch) Yep..I know..I screwed up) (Sundance ) How the hell did you fall off your horse anyway? ) (Butch) Doing a cowboy trick) (Sundance ) Well..trick or treat slapdick...Do me a favor and stay off the horse for a while and heal up..OK) (Butch) Thanks for calling partner..I needed a pick me up) (Sundance)Take care ..and go hug your wife..She has to take care of your sorry ugly ass now..hee hee) (Butch ) Thanks again ..Sundance..)

Yeah..Buster and Bum and the Buster hug..Who will ever forget the Buster hugs..Nobody..Magical special times..B-Weezy..Romo ..The Buster hug is legendary..Buster Posey will always be a legend in the City by the Bay..HOF or not..

One last thing..............SID “FUCKING “ BREAM !..I thought Barry was gonna bust through the retirement send off door and pull a gun on Buster and blow his ass away ! hee hee...First murder ever in retirement sendoff history ! hee hee

Oh well..take care Buster my friend..Thanks for the memories and those shiny WS trophys brother..Take care of your wife and your beautiful family..it’s good to be a family man.. Enjoy the ATL and I know we will be seeing you down the line..

Thanks..much love and respect brother..

Go Giants !!

0 notes

sleepisfortherich · 4 years ago

Photo

🚨🚨🚨 STOP WTF YOU’RE DOING!!!!!🚨🚨🚨 And Go Tell Our LiL Sister CiCi Congratulations... Not Only is She a Devoted Mother, Wife, Daughter, Cousin, & Homegirl... But She’s Also Now the Founder/Owner of the New @cicolours_creames Inside of ShreveCity (3100 Knight St.; Ste 11)... 👑 Back when I first Started Building the Brand, CiCi was not only One of My Earlier Streetwear Models. But She May Very Well Be one of THEE first people ever to get the #SleepisForTheRichTattoo...(it’s outta Her & @melia_forever 🤔😂) 👑 I remember how we used to Walk through Downtown trying to Find the Perfect Spots to Snap it Up.... I remember Hanging Out @ Trendsetters Tattoo Studio ALL DAMN DAY... Me, You, Big Weezy, @puckdaddy24 , Joe, Cali Rick , Zoe Drunk Ass, Sly, LiL Bit nem, Tokyo, Kidd outta Cedar Grove, Scotty at one point.... Now Look at Us... We Got Our Own Spots to Hang Out At All Day...😂🤞🏾⚜️👑 #LouisianaQueens #ProtectTheBlackWoman #WhyNot™️ #InvestInWomen #TheTexasStreetChapter #CiColoursAndCreames #SupportTheHustlersInYourFamily #BIGCiCi #BigNick #ISSAMFnBigDawg #GODBlessTheHustlers™️ (at Sleep is for the Rich Clothing) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEgTushheO3/?igshid=1up2lyxztogfy

#sleepisfortherichtattoo #louisianaqueens #protecttheblackwoman #whynot™️#investinwomen #thetexasstreetchapter #cicoloursandcreames #supportthehustlersinyourfamily #bigcici #bignick #issamfnbigdawg #godblessthehustlers™️

0 notes

adambstingus · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s What The Stars Of The Internet’s Most Famous Memes Look Like In 2018

Since its inception in 1990, the World Wide Web – invented by computer scientist Tim Berners-Lee – has revolutionized humanity. We now shop online, order take-out online, study online, look through photo albums online, make travel arrangements online, game online, talk, gawk, and stalk online!

In fact, I couldn’t imagine having to do so many daily tasks without the internet. I wouldn’t have survived university by actually reading books, and I could never get through my Christmas shopping without Amazon. But perhaps the biggest change is the way we communicate with one another.

From email to MSN to MySpace to Skype to Facebook – it is now easier than ever to start a conversation with somebody on the other side of the planet. Social Media has allowed us to chat with our friends and family, keep up-to-date their lives, and even plan parties and events without sending one thing in the post. It’s truly made the world a smaller place.

And following the rise of social media in the noughties, we have seen many “trends” come and go – with some becoming iconic, and others more… moronic. For example, everybody out there now converses using emojis, and every year people genuinely get excited to see what new emojis the next updates will bring (here’s looking at you redheads). We’ve seen positive challenges, such as the Ice Bucket Challenge, raise millions for charity, and we’ve also seen a slew of idiots eat detergent in the Tide Pod Challenge.

But if there’s one thing that has stayed around far longer than anybody would have ever imagined, it is the humble meme. If you’re truly out of the loop, a meme is defined as “an image, video, piece of text, etc, typically humorous in nature, that is copied and spread rapidly by Internet users, often with slight variations”.

Basically, they’re funny pictures and videos of relatable things, often with a funny caption. And over the years, the subjects within these memes have become unintentional celebrities… for doing absolutely nothing except having a sharable expression. Now, we’re taking a look at these very modern stars have changed since being immortalized on the web.

1. Success Kid (Sam Griner)

Never before has a child epitomized the feeling of success more than Sam Griner. After his mom, Laney Griner, uploaded the picture to Flickr in 2007 (yes, it really was that long ago), she never thought she would have turned her young son into a viral star.

Sam was actually trying to eat the sand when the picture was taken, and Laney originally captioned the image ‘I Hate Sandcastles’, but his triumphant expression soon transformed him into the ‘Success Kid’.

2. Side-Eyeing Chloe (Chloe)

In one of my favorite videos on YouTube, Chloe and older sister Lily are surprised by their parents with a trip to Disneyland. However, whilst Lily starts to cry in delight when the camera pans to Chloe, she stares straight into the lens with a “WTF is going on?” expression. It is hilarious.

Amazingly, Chloe’s expression transformed her into “Sid- Eyeing Chloe”, the perfect meme for when people wanted to express their unimpressed disbelief to whatever was going on in the world.

3. Disaster Girl (Zoe Roth)

She could have been a cast member from Village of the Damned with that demonic expression. However, a young Zoe Roth was not taking sick pleasure in the destruction of a house she had just burned to the ground, she was just enjoying a training drill by the local fire department two blocks away from her home in Mebane, North Carolina.

The picture was taken all the way back in 2004 by her father, Dave Roth, and now that Zoe is looking to complete college, she said: “I’d love for the meme to help me get into or pay for college somehow. But I ultimately want people to know me for me.”

4. Trying To Hold A Fart Next To A Cute Girl In Class (Michael McGee)

On March 2, 2014, Redditor aaduk_ala submitted a humorous picture titled, ‘Trying to hold a fart next to a cute girl in class’ to the /r/funny subreddit. It wasn’t long before his strained expression was seen across all of social media.

When asked whether he had any regret about his unexpected fame, McGee responded: “My take on being ‘internet famous’ is cool and all. But I regret not copyrighting the picture right away because I could have made a lot of money there!” Ironically, his expression would be my face if I were to discover that I could have made thousands of dollars by copyrighting one silly picture.

5. Scumbag Steve (Blake Boston)

I have so many personal memories of using this meme whilst at college. In fact, I became a “Scumbag Steve” after waking up my dorm friend every two weeks at 6 am because I needed to use his printer.

The first known time this image was posted on Reddit was January 21, 2011, and it wasn’t long before a commenter in the Reddit thread identified the young man in the pic as Blake Boston (also known as “Weezy B.”)

In an interview with Know Your Meme, Blake revealed that the picture was originally taken by his mother. “I have no regrets in my life… no matter what I do. I can completely f**k up on something and I still don’t regret it. Because at the end of the day, that makes me who I am, so I wouldn’t go back and erase anything, if I were to go back in time.” I think we can all agree that Weezy B. is a very cool guy…

6. Overly Attached Girlfriend (Laina Morris)

Back in 2012, Justin Bieber asked his dedicated followers to enter an online sing-off competition in order to promote his celebrity perfume ‘Girlfriend’. In response to this, YouTuber Laina Morris uploaded a simplistic webcam video in which she performed a parody version of Justin Bieber’s single ‘Boyfriend’, with her own personalized lyrics.

Morris’ over-the-top expressions immediately led to her face being used to symbolize the ‘Overly Attached Girlfriend’, but sadly, she did encounter several issues regarding her fame: “Strangers were finding my personal Facebook page and talking to my friends. They were finding where I worked and trying to access my college records”.

7. Good Luck Charlie (Mia Talerico)

Actress Mia Talerico’s exaggerated “I don’t know” face from an episode of Disney’s Good Luck Charlie has taken comments sections by storm. And thanks to her charismatic acting, the nine-year-old now has over 1 million followers on Instagram.

I’m 26 and have under 400. Where did it all go wrong?

*I don’t know*

8. Bad Luck Brian (Kyle Craven)

Fake News! Did you know that the guy in the picture is not actually called Brian? His name is Kyle Craven. Used to symbolize bad luck, the very first use of Craven’s image was first posted on January 23, 2012, by his long-time friend, along with the caption “Takes driving test .?.?. gets first DUI.”

9. Ridiculously Photogenic Guy (Zeddie Little)

I think we can all agree that we have never looked this good whilst exercising. When I’m at the gym, my expression closely resembles that of when I’m perched on the toilet.

However, Zeddie Little, AKA “Ridiculously Photogenic Guy”, was snapped running in the 2012 Cooper River Bridge Run whilst looking impeccable. Literally better than I’ve ever looked in my life.

When asked about his newfound fame, Little responded: “I really don’t know, but I kinda feel honored to be part of a joke that’s in good spirit because sometimes the Internet can be a little vicious or jokes can get bent the wrong way. But these are all kinda, for the most part, positive. It’s funny that everybody is kinda taking like to it. It’s, I guess, the most flattering way to get spread across the Internet.”

10. Ermahgerd (Maggie Goldenberger)

For those of you out of the loop, “ermahgerd” is a rhotacized pronunciation of “oh my God”, in order to recreate the speech of a nerd (sorry Maggie).

This meme first emerged on March 14, 2012, along with the caption: “Just a book owners smile…”. The girl in the meme, Maggie Goldenberger, said that the picture was created in fourth or fifth grade when she and her friends seriously got into playing dress-up. It’s good to see she’s got a sense of humor about the whole thing, because I can think of about 734 pictures of me from high school that could have been used in the exact same way, and it would have destroyed my life.

11. Grumpy Cat

There’s a face only a mother can love.

Grumpy Cat – the appropriate nickname given to Tardar Sauce – is an always-moody-looking snowshoe cat that rose to fame after several pics of her annoyed facial expressions were posted to Reddit in September 2012. According to Huffington Post, Grumpy Cat now has a reported net worth of $100 million! That’s right, this cat has more money than you ever will.

12. First World Problems (Silvia Bottini)

Amazingly, this is no bog-standard stock-image model. Silvia Bottini is actually a relatively successful Italian actress.

13. Blinking White Guy (Drew Scanlon)

This perfect GIF originally came from a live stream shot back in 2013, when Drew Scanlon was a video producer at the popular gaming website Giant Bomb.

During one of the team’s weekly “Unprofessional Fridays” shows, Scanlon watched as the editor-in-chief played Starbound, a two-dimensional action-adventure game.

However, things got a little awkward when Gerstmann said: “So I’ve been doing some farming… with my hoe.” Scanlon reacted with the bewildered expression now known as the “Blinking White Guy”.

14. Hipster Barista (Dustin Mattson)

Even though this meme has become more appropriate for every year it has existed, it was originally uploaded to in August 2011! However, the guy in the picture, Dustin Mattson, has not seen the funny side:

“I do find it discouraging and disappointing that there was so much exposure brought to an attempt at making a joke of a culinary industry and the professional barista. To me, it’s very telling on how we laud farm-to-table food, craft beer, cocktail mixology, but it’s ok to have no respect for the specialty coffee world and the people who are committed to it. On the other hand, the whole thing only makes me want to work harder at my job, make better coffee, serve my customers better, and bring more positive exposure to both the company I work for, the barista profession, and specialty coffee as a whole. If anyone were to see my and my coworkers’ work in the café, they’d see that it doesn’t quite match up to most of the jokes made against the ‘Hipster Barista’.”

15. Doge

I’m just going to put this out there: I love Doge.

Back in February 2010, a Japanese kindergarten teacher called Atsuko Sato posted several photos of her rescue-adopted Shiba Inu dog Kabosu to her personal blog – it is something we have all done. However, unlike with me and my Yorkshire terrier, Sato’s photos went viral and the world fell in love with the side-eyed confused pup. The best of boys!

So there you have it! And although so many of these unintentional internet celebrities have changed so much since their images were originally posted to the web, there’s no doubt we’ll always remember them for the hilarious memes they spawned.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/heres-what-the-stars-of-the-internets-most-famous-memes-look-like-in-2018/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/184330360477

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s What The Stars Of The Internet’s Most Famous Memes Look Like In 2018

1. Success Kid (Sam Griner)

2. Side-Eyeing Chloe (Chloe)

Amazingly, Chloe’s expression transformed her into “Sid- Eyeing Chloe”, the perfect meme for when people wanted to express their unimpressed disbelief to whatever was going on in the world.

3. Disaster Girl (Zoe Roth)

4. Trying To Hold A Fart Next To A Cute Girl In Class (Michael McGee)

5. Scumbag Steve (Blake Boston)

6. Overly Attached Girlfriend (Laina Morris)

7. Good Luck Charlie (Mia Talerico)

I’m 26 and have under 400. Where did it all go wrong?

*I don’t know*

8. Bad Luck Brian (Kyle Craven)

9. Ridiculously Photogenic Guy (Zeddie Little)

I think we can all agree that we have never looked this good whilst exercising. When I’m at the gym, my expression closely resembles that of when I’m perched on the toilet.

However, Zeddie Little, AKA “Ridiculously Photogenic Guy”, was snapped running in the 2012 Cooper River Bridge Run whilst looking impeccable. Literally better than I’ve ever looked in my life.

10. Ermahgerd (Maggie Goldenberger)

For those of you out of the loop, “ermahgerd” is a rhotacized pronunciation of “oh my God”, in order to recreate the speech of a nerd (sorry Maggie).

11. Grumpy Cat

There’s a face only a mother can love.

12. First World Problems (Silvia Bottini)

Amazingly, this is no bog-standard stock-image model. Silvia Bottini is actually a relatively successful Italian actress.

13. Blinking White Guy (Drew Scanlon)

This perfect GIF originally came from a live stream shot back in 2013, when Drew Scanlon was a video producer at the popular gaming website Giant Bomb.

During one of the team’s weekly “Unprofessional Fridays” shows, Scanlon watched as the editor-in-chief played Starbound, a two-dimensional action-adventure game.

14. Hipster Barista (Dustin Mattson)

15. Doge

I’m just going to put this out there: I love Doge.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/heres-what-the-stars-of-the-internets-most-famous-memes-look-like-in-2018/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/04/21/heres-what-the-stars-of-the-internets-most-famous-memes-look-like-in-2018/

0 notes

allofbeercom · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s What The Stars Of The Internet’s Most Famous Memes Look Like In 2018

1. Success Kid (Sam Griner)

2. Side-Eyeing Chloe (Chloe)

Amazingly, Chloe’s expression transformed her into “Sid- Eyeing Chloe”, the perfect meme for when people wanted to express their unimpressed disbelief to whatever was going on in the world.

3. Disaster Girl (Zoe Roth)

4. Trying To Hold A Fart Next To A Cute Girl In Class (Michael McGee)

5. Scumbag Steve (Blake Boston)

6. Overly Attached Girlfriend (Laina Morris)

7. Good Luck Charlie (Mia Talerico)

I’m 26 and have under 400. Where did it all go wrong?

*I don’t know*

8. Bad Luck Brian (Kyle Craven)

9. Ridiculously Photogenic Guy (Zeddie Little)

I think we can all agree that we have never looked this good whilst exercising. When I’m at the gym, my expression closely resembles that of when I’m perched on the toilet.

However, Zeddie Little, AKA “Ridiculously Photogenic Guy”, was snapped running in the 2012 Cooper River Bridge Run whilst looking impeccable. Literally better than I’ve ever looked in my life.

10. Ermahgerd (Maggie Goldenberger)

For those of you out of the loop, “ermahgerd” is a rhotacized pronunciation of “oh my God”, in order to recreate the speech of a nerd (sorry Maggie).

11. Grumpy Cat

There’s a face only a mother can love.

12. First World Problems (Silvia Bottini)

Amazingly, this is no bog-standard stock-image model. Silvia Bottini is actually a relatively successful Italian actress.

13. Blinking White Guy (Drew Scanlon)

This perfect GIF originally came from a live stream shot back in 2013, when Drew Scanlon was a video producer at the popular gaming website Giant Bomb.

During one of the team’s weekly “Unprofessional Fridays” shows, Scanlon watched as the editor-in-chief played Starbound, a two-dimensional action-adventure game.

14. Hipster Barista (Dustin Mattson)

15. Doge

I’m just going to put this out there: I love Doge.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/heres-what-the-stars-of-the-internets-most-famous-memes-look-like-in-2018/

0 notes

mewohy · 5 years ago

Text

Lil’ actually means of a young god. Plz plz don’t take that prefix without considering what it means. Anyways, lil’ weezy? wtf? I never listened to V anyways.

0 notes

freshthoughts2020 · 3 years ago

Text

#weezy wtf #weezy

4 notes · View notes

nulledscripts5 · 6 years ago

Text

Fortnite Funny WTF Fails and Daily Best Moments Ep.608

youtube

Hope you enjoy this episode 608 of Fortnite funny moments and funniest wtf best plays of fortnite daily fails highlights in battle royale gameplay. 📩📩Send us Your Moments, Get Featured! – https://goo.gl/forms/Fw4EJF3ugAMMhjin1 👍👍 LIKE THIS VIDEO & Turn Notifications for a Free Shoutout! 🔔🔔 🔥🔥More Fortnite Videos – https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMsbFHETu2hvRkp8SriEXluxlsjloyrs7 ►►Chat with us on Discord – https://discord.gg/gyuYnjr

❤Source: SULTAN__TTV – https://clips.twitch.tv/KathishShakingTitanLeeroyJenkins No Breezy – https://youtu.be/TTPtgrUj-TA LiquidLord21 – https://youtu.be/AcmS-c05Hjg Caua0204 – https://youtu.be/eQUqaA1ZC3w TSM_Daequan – https://twitch.tv/TSM_Daequan xO-NightFury-Ox – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjXGDqmb83A SplashManOnYt – https://youtu.be/jYmYWTSt_pE dakotaz – https://twitch.tv/dakotaz SULTAN__TTV – https://clips.twitch.tv/RudeMiniatureCakeJonCarnage iTriied – https://youtu.be/2rR3NpnsdTQ Twitch_EpicBrownAsian – https://clips.twitch.tv/MiniatureColorfulSrirachaCorgiDerp Abunymous – https://clips.twitch.tv/HelpfulAlertWaterDuDudu DOLTEXX – https://youtu.be/JusguZUgaCE RemAlien – https://youtu.be/akXHKNGZLy4 TSM_Daequan – https://twitch.tv/TSM_Daequan Ahmed Yassine – https://youtu.be/FnSFZEUTzNw Ron24356 – https://youtu.be/syZ5p7pcuHI DrLupo – https://twitch.tv/DrLupo GNtk69 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbXpY0h6F8k&feature=youtu.be SypherPK – https://twitch.tv/SypherPK WAZZAAA08 – https://youtu.be/V-_Fnzy0Ej4 Hazza man 8 – https://xboxclips.com/hazza+man+8/5613af9c-6953-4da1-94ed-1d1340ab1578 hUm3x25 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na2c5pi-FMw Twitch.tv/zemizes – https://youtu.be/CoaKyyWrmqw DatBoiAlexV2 – https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WCzB5jkHg4s DragaoDeElite – https://youtu.be/KK5XEvp0lp8 MarceloXCTF – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsoci7F9EdA&feature=youtu.be BaseBallCODman – https://youtu.be/bq2KbkGt0Qs YungTSauceGod – https://twitter.com/YungTSauceGod1/status/1036344356578512896 Weezy Cacti (https://twitter.com/CactiWeezy) – https://1drv.ms/v/s!Ajhd0r3py4_CgS75nqTsQA13MjXG E3rich xd – https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SVn_J-8vDfg TTV_Snyper – https://clips.twitch.tv/CrepuscularSpunkyClipsdadPermaSmug Harjunmaa01 – https://youtu.be/wwllMleF6Zs Bread15Water – https://youtu.be/kb9bZsT2SKk Xdefualtboii – https://youtu.be/ad55wLOmy5c X_214 – https://clips.twitch.tv/AcceptableOnerousShallotDAESuppy?tt_medium=clips_api&tt_content=url Chicken Master – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5rvcDjcS6w Kaxapo69 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hU4Awk5z04 UpRise_Fundip_YT – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAwb2tIp0S8&t=6s ItsProTaylor TWITCH – https://youtu.be/eItYlKzjtXg DrZeszty – https://clips.twitch.tv/MoralDrabKathyPeanutButterJellyTime Joelitto71 – https://youtu.be/VwdqYdGEONY

❤Music: https://player.epidemicsound.com https://www.monstercat.com/

►If you have a request related to moments in this video, or this video in general, email – [email protected] (If there was mistake in credits, or you want something more, then contact us on Youtube or email – [email protected]) PLEASE DON’T SEND YOUR MOMENTS TO THIS EMAIL, WE ONLY ACCEPT MOMENTS THAT ARE SUBMITTED THROUGH THIS FORM – https://goo.gl/forms/Fw4EJF3ugAMMhjin1 ————————————————————————————————————————— ◆Everything is licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

from https://battleroyalefortnite.club/fortnite-funny-wtf-fails-and-daily-best-moments-ep-608/

0 notes

kidsviral-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Live Twitter report: Cops at Junior Seau’s home, gunfire heard; Update: Seau dead, suicide confirmed

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/live-twitter-report-cops-at-junior-seaus-home-gunfire-heard-update-seau-dead-suicide-confirmed/

Live Twitter report: Cops at Junior Seau’s home, gunfire heard; Update: Seau dead, suicide confirmed

http://twitter.com/#!/ASHBLANC/status/197746556965879810

There are cops at Junior Seau's home… we are told something really bad happened. More to come…

— Harvey Levin (@HarveyLevinTMZ) May 2, 2012

Shootings at Junior Seau house? What is going on with him in the last couple years. Oh no!!!

— Theresa Seid (@RockOnMommies) May 2, 2012

Something is going on at the home of future NFL hall of fame linebacker Junior Seau’s home. We’ll update this post as more information comes in.

UPDATE: This doesn’t sound good at all. Initial reports say Seau is dead.

spoke with an investigator at Coroner's Office who said they're on way to scene..and a law enforcement source says Jr is dead.We're checking

— Harvey Levin (@HarveyLevinTMZ) May 2, 2012

Reports are circulating that Junior Seau is dead. I really hope this isn't true.

— Logan Stringfield (@BuzzCityPunk) May 2, 2012

People in law enforcement are telling us Junior Seau is dead … but we are unable to confirm that right now. #TMZ

— Dew Master (@MrDewMaster) May 2, 2012

I just heard that Junior Seau's is dead and cops are at his house as we speak. Anyone know anything about this. If he is man what a sad day

— Kivaka (@kivaka) May 2, 2012

Damn. News 10 is saying Junior Seau might have committed suicide. Sad.

— jodie hughes (@JodieAHughes) May 2, 2012

UPDATE 2: We are sad to report that the initial reports have been confirmed. Junior Seau is dead at the young age of 43. He has 3 kids.

Cops are investigating the shooting, but suicide is suspected. Seau attempted suicide back in 2010 when he drove his SUV off a cliff.

Seau becomes the 8th member of the of ’94 Chargers to pass away.

Junior Seau dead in suicide, source says. Link to story to come.

— UT San Diego North (@UTNorth) May 2, 2012

Report: 911 Call Reports Possible Suicide At Former NFLer Junior Seau's Home http://t.co/0cY81Cbx via @TPMLivewire

— David Kurtz (@TPM_dk) May 2, 2012

**UPDATED BREAKING NEWS** Very sad *Tears Flowing As I Type* Junior Seau "Reportedly" committed suicide about 60mins ago.. #RIP Junior

— Incarcerated Bob IBN (@incarceratedbob) May 2, 2012

Fans of the NFL as well as current and former NFL players are offering their condolences.

My prayers and condolences to the family of one of the NFL's greatest linebackers to ever play the game.. Junior Seau.. R.I.P

— Chad Johnson (@ochocinco) May 2, 2012

RIP to Junior Seau. One of the best defensive players the league has ever seen. He will be missed.

— Lakers Nation (@LakersNation) May 2, 2012

RIP Junior Seau. Sad. Extremely sad. May peace be with your family and loved ones at this horrible time.

— Kevin Iole (@KevinI) May 2, 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/MoMass11/status/197753264450711553

#RIP Junior Seau. Got to know him on the sports show and a bunch of charity stuff. Great guy. GREAT ballplayer. Respect to his family.

— Tom Arnold (@TomArnold) May 2, 2012

I guess it is true. #RIP Junior Seau. Thoughts and prayers go out to his three kids.

— Kisha Tapangan (@KishaT) May 2, 2012

Wow, I'm just sick over the story of Junior Seau. Always loved whenever I got to be around him. One of the funniest dudes around. RIP man

— Jay Glazer (@JayGlazer) May 2, 2012

RIP Junior Seau. Interviewed him many times over the years in covering the NFL…was never anything but decent and kind. Terrible news.

— Josh Elliott (@JoshElliott32) May 2, 2012

I first met Junior Seau when I was 18 yrs old and a Freshmen at San Diego State. He actually told me I had NFL potential and I believed it.

— Kirk Morrison (@kirkmorrison) May 2, 2012

Saddened to hear Junior Seau has died. He was proof that a 40-year-old linebacker could still dominate among a league of 20-year-olds #RIP

— ryan sutton (@qualityrye) May 2, 2012

The passing of Junior Seau is pretty tragic. The list of post NFL players dealing with depression and suicide grows. Hate to hear this.

— Gregory Shane Helms (@ShaneHelmsCom) May 2, 2012

I'm so sad. RIP JUNIOR SEAU. He was an amazing player and an amazing man. I looked up to him when I was young. 🙁

— Kendra Wilkinson (@KendraWilkinson) May 2, 2012

Beloved man w/ a charitable heart. Inspirer, hero to many & friend to all. RIP Junior Seau pic.twitter.com/jlWsxiXn

— Kiptyn Locke (@Kiptyn) May 2, 2012

Very sad news about Junior Seau if the reports are in fact true. RIP #55

— James Ham (@James_Ham) May 2, 2012

My thoughts & prayers are with Junior Seau's family right now. He was one of the best to ever play the game. Sad, sad day.

— Chase Daniel (@ChaseDaniel) May 2, 2012

I cannot believe all of this about Junior Seau!! Man was a legend! What could've possibly caused this?!? Someone had to notice something!

— Hank Baskett (@TheHankBaskett) May 2, 2012

We must enjoy each day like its our last…RIP Junior Seau

— Pierre Thomas (@Pierre_Thomas) May 2, 2012

Dear @ESPN, Junior Seau is dead, no one gives a shit about bounties anymore, besides Saints fans

— BuckeyeEmpire (@BuckeyeEmpire) May 2, 2012

Junior Seau may not have been the 1st great USC LB to wear #55 but he'll always be the Trojan most identified with that legacy #.

— Bruce Feldman (@BruceFeldmanCFB) May 2, 2012

Junior Seau was a dear friend of mine. This is a very sad day. He was a great player and a better man. Rip my brother.

— Alfonso Ribeiro (@alfonso_ribeiro) May 2, 2012

At a loss for words right now. R.I.P Junior Seau.

— Justin Tuck (@JustinTuck) May 2, 2012

A man's worth is measured by what he does for others, not what he does for himself. Junior Seau was a great man. You are missed Junior. #RIP

— Jim Trotter (@JimTrotter_NFL) May 2, 2012

Saddened 2 hear of the death of NFL GREAT Junior Seau! A great football player but an even GREATER man! He will b missed! #fb

— Kurt Warner (@kurt13warner) May 2, 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/michaelombardi/status/197761775242973185

WOW RIP Junior Seau. He will be remembered as his amazing on field talents. If you are depressed seek help as suicide is never the answer.

— Shane Carwin (@ShaneCarwin) May 2, 2012

Truly heartbreaking reports about Junior Seau. He gave so much to others and had more to give. RIP. Prayers are with him and his family

— Jason La Canfora (@JasonLaCanfora) May 2, 2012

Wow. And then we lose Junior Seau…not such a beautiful day after all. RIP

— Lil Wayne WEEZY F (@LilTunechi) May 2, 2012

to put this whole day the situation in perspective… RIP Junior Seau. what a tragedy.

— Scott Shanle (@scottshanle) May 2, 2012

RIP Junior Seau u inspired me to play sports with ur great energy and dedication, its a sad day, u will be missed, #55

— Frankie Delgado (@frankiedelgado) May 2, 2012

I'm in stunned disbelief and completely crestfallen over the news about Junior Seau. Prayers and well wishes to him and his family.

— Rich Eisen (@richeisen) May 2, 2012

My prayers & condolences to the family of Junior Seau…great player & even better man. Glad to have had the honor to suit up with you bro!!

— Donte' Stallworth (@DonteStallworth) May 2, 2012

RIP Junior Seau. There's nothing funny whatsoever about suicide. So save your jokes, show some class. Thoughts & prayers go out to the Seaus

— Moreno (@Moreno) May 2, 2012

RIP Junior Seau!!… wow that's crazy sad day for the NFL

— Austin Daye (@Adaye5) May 2, 2012

RIP 2 junior seau… 1 of the best LB's to ever play the game

— LaMarrWoodley (@LaMarrWoodley) May 2, 2012

JR RIP 1 of our game's all time greats more importantly a reliable friend & inspiration 2 many 4 his kindness, generosity & charitable ways.

— Larry Fitzgerald (@LarryFitzgerald) May 2, 2012

Wow shocked right now, I tapped Juniors picture every single day before heading out to practice at USC. R.I.P. to a legend n awesome person.

— Brian Cushing (@briancushing56) May 2, 2012

A sad day prayers for the Seau family. Jr was a good friend a good teammate but a much better man.

— Mark May (@mark_may) May 2, 2012

Don't think anyone truly understands how hard it is to play in this league. Seau played 20yrs. 1 of the greatest of our gen. Rest peacefully

— Chris Ogbonnaya (@ChrisOgbonnaya) May 2, 2012

Junior was a true competitor and a special player. My heartfelt condolences go out to the Seau family.

— John Elway (@johnelway) May 2, 2012

So saddened by the news of Junior Seau's passing. The hearts of the Trojan family go out to his relatives and friends.

— Pete Carroll (@PeteCarroll) May 2, 2012

All of us are deeply saddened about Junior Seau, a great player loved by teammates who also worked hard to serve his community. …

— Roger Goodell (@nflcommish) May 2, 2012

… Junior and his family will remain in our thoughts.

— Roger Goodell (@nflcommish) May 2, 2012

#RIP Junior Seau. Great friend and competitor….. Had great times together. Will be missed.

— Michael Strahan (@michaelstrahan) May 2, 2012

If you follow Twitchy.com, you heard about this news WHILE it was happening. If you still live in the stone age and get your sports news from ESPN, you may have been disappointed.

There is a reason @espn is not reporting junior seau suicide. Gathering facts rather than retracting later I assume,

— Sports Bets Daily (@SportsBetsDaily) May 2, 2012

@Buccigross so Junior Seau apparently has passed away due to a self inflicted GSW to chest? @SportsCenter @espn not reporting?

— Ara (@ArchieBaldEagle) May 2, 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/GaPeacHnicKi/status/197756778455379968

@AdamRubinESPN junior seau has been dead for four hours and espn is still not reporting it. Wtf?

— Mike McNamara (@hampton16) May 2, 2012

Love how ESPN is reporting about the Saints bounty and not mentioning Junior Seau's death. Football is not serious. Life is. 😔

— Maria Laurelle (@RiiAAAAkinZZ) May 2, 2012

ESPN still not reporting on supposed suicide of former Chargers LB Junior Seau. Strange…

— Dan Meyer (@MeyersMusings) May 2, 2012

UPDATE 3: It has been confirmed that Jenior Seau committed suicide.

https://twitter.com/#!/AdamSchefter/status/197772726675582976

Damn, Junior Seau committed suicide…wtf?

— Major G.A.U.G.E. (@majorgauge) May 2, 2012

Can't believe junior seau committed suicide….so sad…R.I.P #chargers

— Chargers (@ChARGERSx619) May 2, 2012

Suicide is complicated and hard to reconcile. Heartbreaking news regarding Junior Seau. #RIP

— Adam (@a1d7a1m7) May 2, 2012

Damn. It's all ways sad when you hear "suicide"…. R.I.P Junior Seau

— Fatal Attraction (@JermXbruh) May 2, 2012

Heart goes out to Junior Seau's family…. the @nfl concussions are no joke. Leads to depression and often to suicide. So sad. 🙁 RIP

— Travis Wright (@teedubya) May 2, 2012

UPDATE 4: Apparently Seau left a suicide note explaining that he shot himself in the chest to preserve his brain for NFL concussion related testing. This report has not yet been confirmed and should be considered a rumor at this time.

https://twitter.com/#!/Radio_Champ/status/197767091233890304

https://twitter.com/#!/Steiny31/status/197769827539095552

if rumor about Seau's note is true, to have the forethought to preserve his brain for research, while in the midst of suffering, is amazing

— Brandon Gee (@brndngee) May 2, 2012

Ugh, just read about Seau's suicide note. That's absurdly sad. Hopefully a link to CTE is made and his death can mean something.

— Captain Buzzkill (@Matthew_Bremner) May 2, 2012

Sad to hear about the suicide death of former NFL star Junior Seau. He supposedly left a note saying he wants his brain donated to research.

— Jason Solomon (@solomonster) May 2, 2012

Story of Seau's suicide note is super depressing. Requests his brain be researched for prevention of future tragedies.

— Alex Huang (@alexjhuang) May 2, 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/dukefan805/status/197780575627644928

UPDATE 5: We reported it as a rumor and it turned out to be just that. New reports indicate that Seau did NOT leave a suicide note.

San Diego newspaper. RT @nctimes: Oceanside police claims there was no suicide note found at Junior Seau's home.

— SPORTSbyBROOKS (@SPORTSbyBROOKS) May 2, 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/sgallman/status/197790234853916673

Oceanside police claims there was no suicide note found at Junior Seau's home.

— UT San Diego North (@UTNorth) May 2, 2012

Read more: http://twitchy.com/2012/05/02/live-twitter-report-cops-at-junior-seaus-home-gunfire-heard/

0 notes